modestly, merely aiming to avoid positive ugliness. Do not feel bound
to enclose your house by four straight unbroken walls,--brick are no
more difficult to build in irregular shape than anything else,--and do
not, on any account, make square-topped openings, as the builders of
the old-fashioned brick houses were wont to do. Doubtless you have
read Mr. Ruskin's vigorous protest against this particular
architectural sin; if you have not, by all means do so, only he proves
too much, and would fain make us believe that our doors and windows
must not only be crowned by arches, but they must be Gothic
arches,--doctrine to be received with some grains of allowance. A
pointed Gothic arch may be, often is, very beautiful; but, applying
our test of utility, it is most obviously out of place, and therefore
inartistic, where close economy, convenience, and abundance of light
are required. For the sake of strength, if for no other reason, let
the top of the openings be arched, but a low arch of one arc or two is
often preferable to a high one. If, for economy's sake, you wish to
make the top of the sash square, do so, curving the upper portion of
the frame as a sort of centre on which the masonry may rest; but do
not attempt this if the openings are wide, and in any case relieve the
wood segment by ornamental cutting or some other device, otherwise you
will have a weak and poverty-stricken effect. Or you may use a
straight lintel of stone, taking care to build a conspicuous,
relieving arch above it of stone or colored brick. You will get the
idea from the sketches, and see that there is room for endless
variety of expression and ornament without violating any of the first
principles, which you will do if you try to cover a square-headed
opening with a "straight arch" of brick, or leave a light, horizontal
stone cap without a protecting arch above it.
[Illustration: SQUARE HEADS WITH BRICK CAPS.]
LETTER XII.
From John.
THE WEAKNESS AND SHAM OF BRICKWORK.
My Dear Architect: You must have had a brick in your hat when you
launched your last letter. I suppose there's no doubt that brick walls
will stand thunder and lightning in the shape of Chicago fire and
Boston gunpowder better than anything else. In fact, I've always had a
notion that if there are any houses in a certain place where they
don't need them to keep out the cold, they must be made of brick,
Milton's gorgeous testimony to the contrary notwithstanding. But when
you undertake to show up the softness and beauty of brickwork, you
soar a little too high for me. If our masons would only make walls
that are able to bear their own weight; not use more than half as much
mortar as brick, and that made of sand instead of dirt; if they would
build chimney-flues that will carry the smoke to the top of the
building, instead of leaving it to ooze out around the window-frames a
dozen feet away, as I once saw it in a costly building belonging to
one of our ex-governors, and remember that a wooden joist running
square across a chimney-flue is pretty sure to get up a bigger draught
than most of us care for; if they wouldn't fill up the inside of the
wall with bricks that it isn't safe to drop for fear they can never be
picked up again; in short, if they'd do the work that can't be seen
half as well as what is in plain sight, I'd never say a word about
beauty, I wouldn't even ask for those elegant caps the masons are so
fond of poking out over windows. You can find at least ten thousand
such in Springfield. Some folks paint them, sprinkle sand into the
paint, and then go on their wicked way rejoicing in the notion that
they have told such a cunning lie as "no feller can find out."
Now and then the corner of a brick building is cobbled up into blocks
and polished off in the same style. If these are some of the beauties
of brickwork, I pray you have me excused. If you have anything better
to offer, go ahead, I'm open to conviction; would rather be knocked
down by an argument than a brickbat any time.
Mrs. John says she doesn't care a straw about bricks, and hopes you
won't spend much time talking about them. She's bound to have a stone
house, whether or no, and wants you to give us your notions about
inside fixings, especially the kitchen. (Between you and me, she
wouldn't have said a word about the kitchen, if I hadn't accused her
of caring for nothing but bay-windows and folding-doors.) Her sister
Jane has been over to see her, and they've had a host of projects to
talk over; part of 'em I get hold of and part of 'em I don't. Jane
isn't married, but she's got some capital notions about housekeeping.
Great on having things nice and handy inside, especially for doing the
work, but she don't care much for the outside looks. So she hopes you
will get out of the brick-yard as soon as possible. Of course, I shall
read what you have to say whether they do or not, but don't run wild
on the subject.
Yours,
JOHN.
LETTER XIII.
From the Architect.
SKILL DIGNIFIES THE MOST HUMBLE MATERIAL.
Dear John: Please tell Mrs. John and Sister Jane that I am as anxious
to get into the kitchen as they are to have me; and if I can succeed
in giving suggestions that shall make the domestic work, on which our
comfort and happiness so largely depend, easier and
pleasanter,--restoring the wellnigh lost art of housekeeping to its
native dignity,--it will be a grander achievement than designing the
most beautiful exterior that ever adorned a landscape. I'm perfectly
aware that the outside appearance of the house is to the interior
comfort thereof as the body to the soul,--no comparison possible
between the two. Still, they must possess their souls in patience and
allow me to work according to my own plan. Moreover, they must not
neglect a careful study of the brick question. A decided opinion is a
good thing, provided it is grounded on the truth; otherwise it is a
stumbling-block.
For yourself, I assure you my head is level; would that all brickwork
were equally so. Beauty and bricks are not incompatible; but remember,
there is one beauty of brick, another beauty of stone, and another
beauty of wood. Do not confound them or expect that what pleases in
one can be imitated in the other. As you were admonished, some time
ago, "be honest; let brick stand for brick," then make the most of
them. Your criticism on a very common form of "brick-dressing" is
quite to the point. Aside from the stupid folly of painting them to
imitate stone, not only these window-caps, but all horizontal belts
having any considerable projection are essentially unfit for
brickwork. The mortar is almost sure to fail at the upper side, giving
the whole a look of premature decay, even if well done at first. A
level course of long stone, running through a wall of small stones or
brick, gives greater strength by binding the whole together. This has
not always a good excuse for extending beyond the wall-face. But a
projecting belt of brick adds nothing either in appearance or in
reality. If horizontal lines are required to diminish the apparent
height of the building or affect its proportions, make them of brick
of different color from those of the main wall or laid in different
position. Remember this; fanciful brick decorations are quite sure to
look better on paper than when executed. As a rule, the more complex
the design the greater the discount. Such work is apt to have an
unsafe appearance, as though the whole was at the mercy of the bottom
brick.
[Illustration: FRAGMENTS OF BRICKWORK.]
Your own sense of fitness must decide what shall be the general
character of your house, whether light, open, airy, or sober, solid,
and dignified. If the latter, let the strength of the walls be
evident. Set the window-frames as far back from the wall-face as
possible, in spite of any obstacles the builders may raise; make the
arches above the openings massive, and the recessed portions of the
cornice or any other ornamental work deep and narrow. There are not
the same objections to a recess as to a projection; it is better
protected, any imperfection is less apparent, and the desired effect
of shadow is more complete. Much variety in color will not increase
the appearance of strength, but the expression will be emphasized by
pilasters and buttresses; also by the low segment arches and wide
piers.
On the other hand, for a lighter effect, make the windows wider and
crown them with semi-circles or pointed Gothic arches. Leave out the
corners of the piers in building them up; introduce belts of brick
laid in various positions and of different colors, if you can get
them, as I trust you may. Indeed, this very season, a brickmaker has
reported himself prepared to furnish black bricks and buff, red bricks
and gray, all of good and regular standing. You may be sure I gave him
my blessing, and invited him to press on. I do not know whether he
will prove to be the coming man in this department, but whoever brings
a greater variety of brick in form and color within reasonably easy
reach will do a good work that shall surely have its reward; for brick
houses we must have, ugly ones we won't have, and rich decorations of
stone we cannot afford for common use. Meantime, if you can do no
better, do not hesitate to use brick that have been treated to a bath
of hot tar. They may look old-fashioned, by and by. No matter; an old
fashion, if it is a good one, is more to be admired for its age than
despised. It is only by reason of its falseness and inconvenience that
it becomes absurd.
In the same category with colored bricks (indeed, they are a sort of
spiritualized bricks) are the brilliant-hued encaustic tile that are
finding their way hither across the Atlantic. Let us hope that the
greatest country in the world will not long send three thousand miles
for its building materials. A variety of forms and sizes of bricks we
may easily have when we demand it in earnest. Beyond question there is
room for almost unlimited exercise of fancy in this direction. We only
need the taste to design appropriate shapes and to use them aright.
Mr. Ruskin mentions certain brick mouldings as being among the
richest in Italy. The matter of size relates rather to construction
than ornament, but it is very important here. I think it will some
time seem as unreasonable to make brick of but one size and pattern as
it would now be to have all timber sawn of uniform dimensions.
[Illustration: BRICKS THAT ARE NOT SQUARE.]
You are more liable to attempt too much in the way of decoration than
too little. Don't make your house look as though it was intended for a
brickmaker's show-case. You will find the simplest designs the best. I
have seen a really good effect on the side of a large building from
the mere holes left in the wall by the masons' stagings.
One thing more: Do not become possessed with the idea that a brick
house must be a large or an expensive one. It may be small and cheap,
but withal so cosey and domestic, so thoroughly tasteful and
picturesque, that you will have an unquestioning faith in the
possibility and the desirableness of love in a cottage, the moment you
behold it. On the other hand, by making the best of your resources,
it is possible to build a large, plain, square house, a perfect cube
if you please, that shall not only be homelike in appearance, but
truly impressive and elegant. How? I've been trying to illustrate and
explain. By being honest; by despising and rejecting all fashions that
have nothing but custom to recommend them; by using colored and
moulded brick if you can use them well; by _not_ laying the outside
work in white mortar, and by exercising your common-sense and
independence, both of which qualities I am sure you possess.
I must beg Mrs. John and Sister Jane (by the way, I'm flattered to
know that a notable housekeeper finds anything promising in what I
have thus far written you) not to give up the ship. One more broadside
for the brick-yard, and we will pass on to loftier themes.
LETTER XIV.
From John.
EVERY MAN TO HIS TRADE.
My dear Architect: There is one point you might as well square up
before you go any further. I understood that I was to build my house
for myself to live in, not for my neighbors to look at. But I appeal
to any white man, if you haven't had a deal more to say about the
outside of the platter than the contents thereof. To be sure, it's
what I might have expected. It's a way you architects have. You can no
more help thinking how a house is going to look, than a woman can help
hoping her first baby will be a beauty. I allow it would be a
first-rate thing if we could have some streaks of originality, just a
trifle more of variety, and a few glimpses of really good taste, along
with the crumbs of comfort; and I'm willing to admit that your moves
in that direction, as far as I can follow them, are all right. Still,
it's a downright fact, that, unless a man is a great simpleton or a
small Croesus, he is more anxious to make his house cosey and
convenient, than he is to outshine his neighbors or beautify the
landscape.
Sister Jane wants to know whether, in case one wishes to begin
housekeeping on a small scale, it would be as easy to make additions
to a brick house for future need, as to a wooden one. She doesn't ask
on her own account, but for a friend of hers who is talking of
building.
I expect you'll inquire pretty soon who's running these letters,--you
or I; but if we don't sometimes show our ignorance by asking
questions and making comments, how are you going to know what sort of
information to shed?
Yours,
JOHN.
LETTER XV.
From the Architect.
THE COMING HOUSE WILL BE FAIR TO SEE AND MADE OF BRICK.
Dear John: Once for all, your questions and those of Sister Jane or
any of her friends and relatives are always in order. The more the
better. I will do my best to answer them, if not exactly by return
mail, yet as soon as may be.
Other things being equal, a house built of brick may be as easily
increased to suit a growing family as one built of wood. There is
necessarily a loss attending any change in a finished building, yet it
is often well to arrange one's plans with reference to future
additions. Will it be in order for me to express to Sister Jane my
approval of any young man who is willing to begin life on a small
scale, undertaking no more than he can do honestly and well, yet with
ambitious forethought providing for future increase? You seem to be
slightly in error upon this point. I have not said you must build your
house without any regard to the exterior, or intimated that it would
even be right to do so. I only protest against building for the sake
of the exterior,--against sacrificing thoroughness and interior
comfort to outside display,--against using labor and material in such
fashion that they are worse than thrown away, their whole result being
false and tasteless,--against every kind of ostentation and humbug.
The truth is, we have all gone astray, literally, like sheep. We
follow, for no earthly reason than because some one, not a whit wiser
than we, happens to have rushed blindly in a certain direction.
"Of domestic architecture what need is there to speak! How small, how
cramped, how poor, how miserable in its petty meanness, is our best!
How beneath the mark of attack and the level of contempt, that which
is common with us!"
Thus Mr. Ruskin on the domestic architecture of England. What would
that merciless critic say, or rather what profundity of silence would
he employ to express his opinion, of ours? It will be well for him and
for us if he holds to his resolve never to visit America. This servile
spirit of imitation, blind following of blind guides, is by no means
confined to the outsides of our houses; it not only penetrates the
interiors, but more or less influences all our affairs. Charge me with
a professional interest if you will, I assure you no man can, in
justice to himself or the community, build a house for his own use
just like any other. He must attempt something better adapted to his
needs and tastes than that can be which precisely suits some one else.
If he can give no better reason for building as he builds, for
furnishing as he furnishes, for living and thinking as he lives and
thinks, than that another has done so before him, he may serve for the
shadow of a man, but will never make the substance. Eastlake, another
English authority, refers to continental cities and villages "the
first glimpse of which is associated with a sense of eye-pleasure
which is utterly absent in our provincial towns." And then, to drain
the dregs of our humiliation, we are asked by his American editor to
believe that, nevertheless, certain towns of the British Isles are
miracles of picturesqueness "as compared with American towns, which
have nothing but a succession of tame, monotonously ugly, and utterly
uninteresting streets and squares to offer to the wearied eye." Yes, I
am anxious about the outside of the house, but do not for a moment
forget that it should always be subordinate to the weightier matters,
the higher and holier uses of "home buildings."
[Illustration: "PICTURESQUE AMERICA."]
Have I squared up your point? Let us return to the trowel.
The somewhat vexed question of mortar you shall answer according to
your taste, so far as to choose between dark gray--"black" it is
commonly called--and some shade of red, resembling the brick used.
Between these two there seems to me to be one of those questions of
taste, concerning which we are not permitted to dispute. With the dark
mortar the joints will be visible, modifying the color of the wall,
in some cases, perhaps, improving it; while the red will give a more
uniform tint, on which not only colored brick or stone will appear to
the best advantage, but the lines of the openings and other essential
details are brought out in clearer relief. You would perhaps expect
coloring the mortar the same shade as the brick to give precisely the
effect of painting the entire wall. But it is not so. As in wood or
stone, though in less degree, there is a kind of natural grain, even
in the unnatural material, strengthened by oiling, but softer and
richer than any painted surface. There seems to be no evidence that
the mortar is injured by proper coloring-material,--mineral paints, or
even lampblack, if you like it; I don't. Whether you like it or not,
you are _not_ to use _white_ mortar for the outside work. Unless,
indeed, you propose to build of pressed brick, in which case you will
need it to show your neighbors how fearfully and wonderfully nice you
are. If you are so devoted to worldly vanity as to build in that
fashion in the country, I don't believe it will be possible for me to
help you.
Chimneys deserve a chapter to themselves, they are so essential and so
often abused. Let them start from the cellar-bottom and run straight
and smooth to the very outlet. If you wish to be exceptionally careful
and correct, use round pipe, cement or earthen, enclosed by brick.
When it is so well known how often destructive fires are caused by
defective flues, it is surprising that more care is not taken in
building chimneys. They should be intrusted to none but workmen who
are conscientious as well as skilful, otherwise every brick must be
watched and every trowel full of mortar; for one defect ruins the
whole, and five minutes after the fault is committed it can never be
detected till revealed by the catastrophe.
If the spaces between the bricks were always filled with good mortar,
it would be better not to plaster the inside of the flues, as the
mortar is liable to cleave from the brick, and, hanging by one edge,
form lodging-places for soot. As commonly built it is safer to plaster
them within and without, especially without, for that can be
inspected. The style of the visible part must depend upon the
building. One thing lay up in the recesses of your lofty mind: A
chimney is most useful and honorable, and you are on no account to be
ashamed of it. Don't try to crowd it into some out-of-the-way corner,
or lean it off to one side to clear a cupola,--better burn up the
cupola,--or perch it daintily on a slender ridge like a brick
marten-box; let it go up strong, straight, and solid, asserting its
right to be, wherever it is needed, comely and dignified, and
finished with an honest stone cap. Ruins are charming in the right
place, but a tattered chimney-top on an otherwise well-preserved house
is vastly more shabby than picturesque.
A common objection to brick houses is their redness; but there is no
law against painting them, if their natural color is really
inharmonious. Paint will improve the walls, will last longer on good
brickwork than on wood, and there is no deception about it, unless you
try to imitate stone. Still, it is not necessary, oil being just as
good; and there is a sort of solid comfort in knowing that your house
will look just as well fifty years hence as it does now, that it will
mellow and ripen with age, and not need constant petting and nursing
to preserve its tidiness.
The model house to which I alluded in beginning this subject will be,
in brief, somewhat as follows: The outer walls will be vaulted,
thoroughly non-conducting both of heat and of moisture. All the
partitions will be of brick, precisely adapted in size to their
use,--I am not sure but they will be hollow. The body of the floors
will be of brick, supported, if need be, by iron ties or girders, all
exactly fitted to the dimensions of the rooms, so that not a pound of
material or an hour of labor shall be wasted on guess-work or in
experiments. From turret to foundation-stone, the house will be a
living, breathing, organic thing. If the weather prophet will declare
what the average temperature of the winter is to be, we can tell to a
hodful how much coal will maintain a summer heat throughout the
establishment. You may be sure it will not be more than you now use in
keeping two rooms uncomfortably hot and in baking the family pies.
There will be no lathing, except occasionally on the ceilings; even
this will not be necessary. You may make a holocaust of the contents
of any room in the house, and, if the doors, finish, etc., happen to
be of iron, as they may be, no one in the house will suspect your
bonfire, until the heap of charcoal and ashes is found. Dampness and
decay, unsavory odors and impure air, chilly bedrooms and cold floors,
will be unknown. The ears in the walls will be stopped, there will be
no settlement from shrinking timbers, no jelly-like trembling of the
whole fabric when the master puts his foot down. Finally, the dear old
house will be just as sound and just as lovely when the future John
brings home his bride as when his grandsire built it. And it won't
cost a cent more than the weak, unstable things we're raising by the
thousand.
The coming house will surely be a brick one, but before it comes there
will be plenty of work for the carpenters, and I shall not be at all
surprised if you finally decide to build of wood.
LETTER XVI.
From Mrs. John.
DOMESTIC DISCIPLINE.
MR. ARCHITECT: Dear Sir,--Yesterday afternoon Sister Jane and I went
out after May-flowers. We didn't find any, but on our way home met the
schoolmaster, a friend of Jane's, who knew where they grew and offered
himself as a guide. I was too tired to walk any farther, so they went
off without me. Coming into the house, I was taken all aback by the
sight of John lying on my best lounge, his muddy boots on his feet,
his hat on the floor, and your last letter crumpled savagely in his
hand. I was vexed, thankful, and--frightened.