_PLANNING RURAL BUILDINGS_
The farm house is not what is called, a “paying investment.” It is not a
direct source of income; neither can the other rural buildings be said
to produce a direct income. Generally speaking, the farm house can
fulfil but four purposes if properly planned and well constructed: the
house may serve to keep the family warm in cold weather, cool in hot
weather, dry in wet weather, and to gratify a love for the beautiful.
Since the farm house as a paying investment is usually a failure, if it
does not supply the wants of the household and fulfil its object, it
becomes a failure indeed. The first great mistake which the prosperous
farmer usually makes is to invest too much money in expensive, hastily
planned buildings. The house should be built to serve its inmates; too
often the inmates become the servants of the house. A farmer’s wife
cannot well afford to devote one room in the overcrowded house to the
storage of expensive, useless upholstery and bric-a-brac, nor time to
keep them presentable and in order.
The debt incurred for a part of the purchase price of the farm forbids
the employment of help to keep in order this home museum of things
useful and beautiful, and things useless and ugly. If plainness,
durability, and natural beauty in parlor, sitting-room and chamber would
only become fashionable, what a burden would be removed from the
shoulders of housewives, both in country and city! The time is at hand
when health and intelligence should count for more among American women
than show and the possession of a miniature upholstery shop. The
furnishings of the rooms should minister to the comfort of their owner,
and not tend to make life burdensome.
Not infrequently farmers of energy and ability become possessed of more
than a competence near the close of life. Having lived in somewhat
restricted circumstances, they think to make the close of life more
comfortable and luxurious. So, notwithstanding the fact that most of the
children have left the paternal roof, they set about building a large
house, tear down or remodel, and add to the outbuildings; and at the
close of life they leave the possessions encumbered and a farm
overloaded with buildings as an inheritance to a child unable, by reason
of youth and inexperience, to secure a competence sufficient to live and
keep up repairs.
A beautiful farm of 180 acres, in central New York, is provided with the
following buildings:
[Illustration: Fig. 8.
The buildings on a 180-acre farm.]
A house, part 2-, and part 1¹⁄₂-story, 110 feet long.
A horse barn, 30 by 80 feet.
A grain barn, 40 by 80 feet.
A straw shed, 20 by 30 feet.
A machinery and husking barn, 20 by 80 feet.
A hay barn, 16 by 30 feet.
A cart shed and chicken house, 20 by 24 feet.
A piggery, 20 by 24 feet.
A corn crib, 12 by 18 feet.
A carriage house, 24 by 32 feet.
[Illustration: Fig. 9. The farm house that is too big for the farm.]
Some of this lay-out is shown in Figures 8, 9, and 10. These buildings
could not have cost less than $15,000. A fair valuation of the farm at
the present time would be $14,000 to $16,000. The family which now
occupies the house consists of man and wife, one child, and two regular
employes, one of whom has his own home. The father overloaded the farm
with buildings, his son is struggling to keep them in repair, and the
wife labors to keep unused rooms presentable. These buildings might well
serve for a section of land and a family of twenty.
[Illustration: Fig. 10. Scattered farm buildings.]
[Illustration: Fig. 11. A cosy farm house.]
Another house not far from this one was built nearly a century ago (Fig.
11). If the upper story was a full instead of a half-story, it would
fulfil all the demands of a house, except possibly beauty. It stands on
a rather steep front slope, which stops abruptly on the shore of one of
our beautiful inland lakes (Fig. 12). By reason of the steep incline at
the front of the house, a tall building would be far less beautiful than
this lean-to, severely plain structure. This simple old house has a
restful, almost beautiful appearance when viewed in conjunction with the
trees, the steep, sloping lawn, and the broad, placid lake. The shaded
veranda gives the idea of social repose far more than does the formal,
stiff, restricted one shown in Fig. 9, which has scarcely room for two
easy chairs, and is so constructed that no grateful shade is secured.
Woe be to the man who destroys this restful old house and substitutes
for it a lofty, narrow-waisted one adorned with peaks and spires, bay
windows and a filigree cornice!
[Illustration: Fig. 12. The lake view in front of the house.]
Before ground is broken for the foundation, carefully considered plans
suited to the site, the size and productiveness of the farm, and the
probable income, should have been made. It may be said that the size of
the house should be governed by the size, or the probable size, of the
family. But “it is better to dwell in the corner of the house-top than
in a wide house” with insufficient means to maintain it. The general
plans should be outlined at least a year before a new building or
extensive enlargement of the old is begun. The houses which are to be
built in the future should be planned with a view to greater economy,
convenience, beauty, and durability. There is now little excuse for
erecting poor, uncomfortable, inconvenient houses on the farm. True, the
rural population is handicapped, for few city architects have made any
study of the plain rural house, and fewer have paid any attention
whatever to farm barn construction. Even if architects had given
attention to the needs of the rural population, the farmer would feel
that he could hardly afford to pay $100 to $200 for the plans of a house
costing $1,000 to $2,000, exclusive of the labor which the owner, his
men and teams were able to perform upon it. The task of planning a
country house is too great for the country carpenter; he cannot even
interpret plans correctly; his range of observation and training have
been too limited. Then, who is to plan the house? Why, the farmer and
his family, and it will take at least two years of study and observation
of other houses and their modern conveniences before intelligent, crude
plans and instructions are ready to be placed in the hands of the
draughtsman.
[Illustration: Fig. 13. A house of seven gables.]
Few persons are original; therefore, if the little conveniences which
help to lighten work and make life more pleasurable are to find a place
in the house, they must be seen in other houses. All men have more ideas
than any one man; therefore, the range of study should be wide, that
whatever is suitable to the conditions may be adopted. After having
built many farm houses and barns, and having made a long and most
careful study of them, I estimate that from 30 to 40 per cent of the
cost of farm buildings is useless, and sometimes worse than thrown
away.
A small farm house on a modest-sized farm is shown in Fig. 13. The site
is beautiful, and is worthy of a house better fitted to the situation,
the farm, and the farmer. The illustration shows seven gables, and the
house, therefore, might serve as a model for a work of fiction; but the
left-hand side of the house is like unto the right-hand side, so it will
not do for fiction, for if the truth must be told, there are eleven
gables and twenty-two valleys on this house.
[Illustration: Fig. 14. Filigree work is expensive, and does not look
well on a farm house.]
The vine-covered veranda is most beautiful, and looks cool and
comfortable, but there are too many vines, and, with the exception of a
few days in summer at midday, the air under this veranda would be damp
and uncomfortable. It is far better to secure shade by means of awnings
and a few tall, well trimmed shade trees, which preclude dampness and
permit air drainage, than to overburden the veranda with vines. The
covering of this veranda is an unprotected floor, and extends along the
front and well around both sides. Notice the too expensive balustrade
and frequent fancy posts, an enlarged section of which is shown in Fig.
14. All of this expensive wooden material is exposed to our
ever-changeful, paint-destroying climate. The tinsmith, the painter, and
the carpenter will reap a rich harvest if the external part of this
house is kept in order. It seems hardly necessary to call attention to
the chambers, which, of necessity, must be of such a character as to
preclude comfort, beauty and repose.
[Illustration: Fig. 15. Ground plan of a house which is out of character
on a farm.]
A house built after the ground plan, Fig. 15, might make a not
unpleasing picture in the landscape, but it would not be appropriate for
the farm, and would be unnecessarily expensive in construction and
maintenance. It would be difficult to heat, on account of the great
surface exposure due to the broken outlines and numerous corners, which
are seldom air-tight. The style might not be altogether inappropriate
for a cheap seaside cottage.
[Illustration: Fig. 16. A good model for a farm house, having strong
lines and much character.]
A rear view of a somewhat larger house is given (Fig. 16). It would not
cause the passerby to stop and stare. It may be compared to a well,
appropriately, and simply dressed lady, while the other is a reminder of
the over-dressed, furbelowed damsel, who attracts the prolonged stare
and the thoughtless comments of every sidewalk idler. Here are seen
repose, beauty, elements of durability, and freedom from expensive
ornamentation and repairs.
A back view of this house has been shown purposely to emphasize the fact
that the rear side of a house may be made nearly as beautiful as the
front side. It would be improved both in looks and convenience if a
partially enclosed porch were placed over the door and two of the
windows.
[Illustration: Fig. 17. Ground plan of the house shown in Figs. 16 and
19.]
The planning of a house is not difficult if wants are clearly defined
and the principles of economy, dignity, durability and repose, as
applied to the exterior of the house, are fairly well understood. If the
site is ample, and it always is in the country, you have but to draw a
rectangle, the length of which is one-third to one-fourth longer than
its breadth. Fig. 17 is a ground plan of the house shown in Fig. 16.
The farm house shown in Fig. 18 is located thirty feet from a dusty,
muddy, much-traveled public highway. Opposite to it, and immediately on
the road, are located the ill-kept farm buildings. How the aromas of the
stables and kitchen are to be kept each on its respective side of the
road is a question difficult to solve. Here, as in so many cases, the
wife showed better training and more commendable pride in her
surroundings and her workshop than the husband. She may coax him some
day to set a few trees, which may serve in part to hide his workshop on
the other side. There are many things about this farm house which are
commendable, and the only wonder is that so few mistakes were made in
planning it. Farmers’ wives must have a sort of natural intuition; how
else can the fewness of their mistakes be explained, for they have
seldom received the slightest instruction along the lines of
house-building. True, the tower on the corner is expensive and
inappropriate, but if the house had an appropriate setting of trees and
shrubs it might be beautiful.
[Illustration: Fig. 18. The house is too fancy. The small projections
make it look weak. The view is not attractive.]
The farm house should have one large bed-room on the first floor, a well
appointed kitchen and living room. When the size, number, and
arrangement of the other rooms are fixed, the lines which bound the
outside of the rooms will not, of necessity, always coincide with the
rectangular lines. On one side the house may extend slightly over, on
another fall short of the lines which bound the rectangle. Does the
rectangle embody fitness and beauty? If the manufactured things by which
we are surrounded are noted, it will be seen how many of them are
rectangular. The book, the sheet of paper, the pamphlet, the photograph,
the picture frame on the wall, the rug on the floor, the writing case,
the chiffonier, the trunk, and thousands of objects of use and beauty
naturally take the rectangular form: then why not the house? Man
constructs along the lines of acute, obtuse, and right angles unless
there are specific reasons for adopting curves, while nature’s modes
adhere closely to circular and curved outlines.
A front view of a substantial, appropriate house fronting to the west is
shown in Fig. 19. It is the house of which a rear view is shown in Fig.
16. The wide, projecting eaves, the simple roof over the second-story
windows, and the plain veranda, all protect the windows from storm and
the glaring afternoon sun. The eave-trough near the edge of the roof
serves to relieve the plainness of the projecting roof, which really has
no cornice. The side and ends of some of the rafters are seen, and no
attempt has been made to box them in. The treatment is dignified,
plain, inexpensive, and suitable,--therefore it is beautiful. The
planting at the left is too thick for any but a dry climate. A lofty elm
tree would serve better for shading the veranda in the late afternoon,
and permit of better air drainage. The trees shown are deciduous, and
therefore cannot form an ideal winter windbreak. If they were evergreens
they would be entirely too close to the house. The mournful sighing of
evergreen trees in the bleak November winds does not promote
cheerfulness.
[Illustration: Fig. 19. A dignified, restful, economical house.]
Four college buildings are shown in Figs. 20, 21, 23, and 24. School
buildings can hardly be said to be a part of the farm lay-out, but they
will serve quite as well as farm buildings to educate the taste and to
train the eye and the judgment. The reader will see at once which two of
these buildings are most dignified and pleasing.
[Illustration: Fig. 20. University building,--gray stone and tile roof.]
In the schools, the people of the rural districts have had no
instruction which would lead them to carefully observe and compare
buildings of any kind; and hence, with but rare exceptions, they are
ill-qualified to make an intelligent study of them. They are totally
unprepared to grasp the fundamental principles which should govern the
erection of structures on the farm, and totally ignorant of the
principles to be observed when large public buildings are planned and
erected. Fortunately or unfortunately, some farmers will be called upon
to judge of the plans for school and other public buildings. The plans
for a president’s house and an expensive college building were submitted
to a board of thirteen trustees of a flourishing agricultural college.
Ten of these trustees were farmers of more than local reputation. I
forbear giving illustrations of the results: suffice it to say, that
happily the house fell down before it was roofed in.
[Illustration: Fig. 21. University building,--red brick and slate roof.]
A school building for the higher education should be light and airy; but
light does not enter a building freely through narrow windows placed in
thick stone or brick walls. Fig. 22 shows the effect of narrow and wide
windows in the lighting of a building. Observe the shadow cast by the
wall between the two narrow windows. The sun is directly in front of the
windows for but a small part of the day. Usually it enters at a more or
less acute angle, in which case a window three feet wide may be more
than twice as efficient in lighting a room as one two feet wide, and a
four-foot window three or four times as efficient as one half its width.
[Illustration: Fig. 22. Showing the greater proportionate amount of
light admitted by one broad window, as compared with two narrow ones of
equal combined opening.]
[Illustration: Fig. 23. University laboratories,--red brick and slate
roof.]
Figs. 20, 21, 23, and 24 serve to illustrate some of the fundamental
principles which should be observed in constructing expensive public
buildings, and they may also serve for comparison, and for educating
the eye and the judgment. The knowledge acquired in a study of these
buildings may be useful in the planning and erection of rural homes, for
in some respects all buildings should be alike. The farmer seldom has
opportunity to contrast and study large detached buildings in which
beauty, dignity, durability, and, above all, utility, are combined, and
he seldom plans and erects more than one homestead; therefore, many
buildings should be observed, the desirable and undesirable features
noted and discussed thoroughly before the erection of a new structure,
however simple it may be, is begun. It requires no little knowledge to
construct in the best manner even a modern chicken house.
[Illustration: Fig. 24. University building,--gray stone and slate
roof.]
The consideration of these four school buildings, so different in
character, may not be dismissed at once. They are introduced for the
purpose of arousing interest and for giving opportunity to study the
principles of external construction. The true principles once mastered,
their application to rural homes will not be difficult. If Fig. 20 be
studied carefully, it will be noticed that the lines are dignified,
restful and even beautiful, although the building is constructed on
straight lines, with little attempt at ornamentation. This building is
sometimes taken for an art gallery, and so it is, for in it is taught
the fine art of butter making. Its strong tile roof, ample projection of
eaves, and freedom from peaks and valleys give assurance that this
building, barring accidents, will stand for centuries with slight
repair, and be more beautiful as time tones down and softens the colors.
The building shown in Fig. 21 satisfies neither eye nor judgment. It is
a noble building as to size and material, but are not the twenty
miniature peaks out of place? It does not have the appearance of a
restful school building, but of a mammoth seaside hotel. The many little
gables might have been combined into a few large, noble ones, which
would have given abundant light and lent dignity and charm to this well
built structure. If we now transfer our thought from the large buildings
to the brick dwelling house (Fig. 25), we find the same strong lines,
the same dignity, and the same durability of roof structure, with a
little added ornamentation, as are found in some school buildings. It
should have been two-story instead of a story and a half, and the
veranda might well have been more ample. This house, too, like the large
stone structure (Fig. 20) is restful and satisfying. One instinctively
sees that the cost of maintenance of this durable structure will be
comparatively little. If this house be compared with the one shown in
Fig. 26, it will be easily seen how much more appropriate and beautiful
it is. One is built of cream brick and roofed with soft-colored tile;
the other is roofed with poor shingles, has a cheap hemlock frame, and
is sided with wood, which is covered with gaudy, ready mixed earth
paints, which may fade out before the bill for them is paid.
[Illustration: Fig. 25. A simple and attractive little dwelling house.]
Some day a genius will set forth for the farmer, in simple language and
illustrations, the fundamental principles which should be followed in
the building of rural homes. When that time comes the present children
will then be mature and will have been so energized by nature-study
work, which is now being introduced so extensively in the schools, as to
be able to appreciate and profit by such literature.
[Illustration: Fig. 26. Another type of dwelling house.]
Some of the tree-embowered farm houses have such a restful look and
often embody such true lines of beauty that it seems almost sacrilegious
to change them. On the other hand, some of them are so ill adapted to
farm life, so unhandy and uncomfortable, that radical changes should be
made. After the farmer has prospered, he naturally has a desire to build
a new house or to transform the old one, not only to secure needed
conveniences, but that greater beauty and a more luxurious home may be
secured. It is difficult for him to find adequate help to solve the
problem if he keeps the cost within reasonable limits. He may know where
to begin; he seldom knows where he will end. Usually the first thought
should be to preserve the old home, or the greater part of it. The
architect is almost certain to advise demolition and the erection of a
new house, asserting that the new structure will be no more expensive
than the remodeling of the old, which may or may not be true. But he
does not always know what is best, as he is usually unfamiliar with the
farmers’ needs and traditions. Sacred associations usually cluster round
the old farm house; every room and door and window may be associated
with some epoch in life’s history. Through yonder door came the happy
bride a half century ago; in yonder room the children were born;--every
nook and corner has some tale to tell, some happy association. We cross
oceans and mountains to view the birthplaces and homes (which happily
sometimes are preserved and held sacred) of a Burns and a Shakespeare.
Then is it not well to preserve the farm houses, where possibly are the
birthplaces of many “Cromwells guiltless of their country’s blood.”
The first thought, then, should be to save and improve the old house,
not to destroy it. But most of these farm houses are either too low or
too high: that is, they are neither one- nor two-storied, but a story
and a half. A two-story wing may often be placed either at the front or
side, and may serve to give dignity to the house; or a lower room or
two, a few comfortable chambers, and an entrance hall or vestibule may
be added. Such addition would make it possible to remove the low,
flat-roofed, leaky kitchen to more appropriate quarters. The formerly
unused parlor might be transformed into a living-room, the former
living-room into a dining-room, and the old dining-room into a kitchen.
The details by which this evolution is made must, of necessity, be
worked out by those who are to occupy the house. That home is enjoyed
best which is planned by those who have to pay the bills; therefore, I
shall not go into detail of arrangement. My object will have been
accomplished if I succeed in creating a greater respect and love for the
houses of our ancestors, and shall have stayed the hand of the
iconoclast. Any one can destroy, but few can create.
So reasoned the college graduate on his return to the old homestead. The
old house (Fig. 27) was improved by making slight additions and some
minor changes. Even the green window blinds and the white siding were
not disturbed, only brightened by the use of old-fashioned,
unadulterated paints. The major effort was along the line of improving
the live stock and making the acres more productive, soon resulting in
surplus funds, which were used to erect the large and commodious barn.
Simultaneously with the barn came the icehouse, and the windmill for
pumping water. The observant passer-by instinctively knows that here are
all the outward indications of morality, intelligence, and a rational
and progressive system of agriculture. If the family be judged by what
is seen in this picture of the farm above ground, the conclusion must be
reached that here is a true home.
How different the impression is when we look through the open roadside
gate in the next picture (Fig. 28)! Lack of intelligent purpose and of
neatness and thrift is written upon every structure, and is especially
shown by the want of any logical plan in the arrangement of the numerous
small structures. The house, which stands just to the right of the
beautiful tree, is modern in many respects, but the front is supported
by numerous Grecian columns nearly twenty feet long, as inappropriate
and as useless for a farm-house as is a coon’s tail on a lady’s hat.
[Illustration: Fig. 27. The old homestead.]
[Illustration: Fig. 28. Lack of intelligent purpose.]
Instinctively we judge people at first sight, and largely by the clothes
they wear and the manner of wearing them. So we judge, and often very
accurately, of families by the houses which shelter them and the objects
which surround them. One can easily tell much of the character of a man
by the style and tip of his hat. What noble deeds, what lofty
aspirations in this day and age of plenty and opportunity, should we
expect to have birth and fruition in the house shown in illustration
Fig. 29! This building is not located in the country, but in the suburbs
of a small, prosperous inland city. Unfortunately, this village is
unlike many beautiful country villages and small cities in western New
York in which there are no poor people. What a depressing effect this
building must have on the well bred country lad who passes it weekly on
his journey to and from the post office!
But how easy to go from one extreme to the other! Too many farm houses
stand alone, unrelieved by noble trees or by modest planting of
appropriate shrubbery, looking in the distance at the setting sun like
lofty, whitewashed sepulchres. On the other hand, the house may be made
dark and damp by over-planting. The house shown in Fig. 30 is a
comfortable, fairly attractive stone structure, but is made gloomy and
damp by the superabundance of evergreen and deciduous trees which fill
all the space, barely thirty feet, between the house and the highway.
[Illustration: Fig. 29. Environment often makes the man.]
The church, as well as the farm house, is or should be the home of the
farmer; but the church, like the individual, may become proud, in which
case the old meeting-house is demolished and replaced by a modern new
one, which may serve for a time to stimulate laggards and appear to
take the place of changed purposes in life. But the debt saddled on the
congregation tends to drive the church-goers to the rear seats and
eventually out of doors. I have sometimes thought that a country church
could not well be too small. Man is a gregarious animal, and does not
enjoy church-going when the seats are but partially occupied.
[Illustration: Fig. 30. Buried in trees. The opposite extreme from Fig.
26.]
The plain, substantial stone church shown in Fig. 31 is located in a
sparsely settled district on the windy prairies of Kansas. It is
certainly most appropriate and fits its environment; all it lacks to
make it beautiful is a suitable setting of trees and shrubbery. It would
then serve as a reminder of “God’s first temple not made with hands,”
and not of one made with a jig-saw.
[Illustration: Fig. 31. A plain, substantial stone church.]
“It is a plain, rugged, austere structure, like the men who built it,
and any proposal to modernize it would be received with disfavor; for it
means more to the people than merely a church building--it is a sacred
possession that is a part of their life,” and it is an appropriate
monument to the sturdy religious character of the pioneers who stood in
the forefront as a wall guarding human rights and liberties in those
stormy days of the past. The country church should be as truly a part of
the farm structure as are the house and barn, located on land held in
fee simple.
[Illustration: Fig. 32. Where horses are kept.]
[Illustration: Fig. 33. Where boys and girls are taught.]
The school-house also, as well as the church, should form a part of the
farm above ground. We sometimes build parlors for the pictures, and
palaces for the horses and cattle, and neglect the school-house. A city
of 12,000 inhabitants in central New York has many expensive stables,
some of them works of art. The barn shown in Fig. 32 is not more than
half a mile from the school-house shown in Fig. 33. The beautiful stable
might serve as a well appointed dwelling house by making a few minor
changes. While such buildings are being constructed, the country
school-house, the pride of the American, is left to fall into decay; or,
if rebuilt, it is located too often on a little scrap of land which may
be almost worthless, as though land in America were the most precious of
all our inheritance. This school-house is designed to provide
accommodations for both farm and city children living in the suburbs.
The school-house has not a tree for shade nor a shrub to admire,
situated on the commons among weeds and rocks, provided with one
dilapidated outhouse unscreened by fence or tree or vine or shrub, while
the stable is surrounded with rare trees and shrubs artistically
arranged and a smoothly shaven lawn. Are horses and cattle worth more
than boys and girls?
To leave the reader to infer that all school-houses are like the one
shown would be misleading. A more pleasing illustration is presented in
Fig. 34. Here the meeting-house, the school-house, and a bit of the farm
are shown in juxtaposition, as they were found at the meeting of the
roads in a shady grove. Since moral character should be the foundation
upon which to symmetrically build intelligence and industry, the church
may be treated first. While taking the photograph, I was struck by the
inexpensive character of the meeting-house. The outside covering was of
plain, matched, vertical boards, but they were kept well painted and
therefore looked neat, and the seats were entirely comfortable. I judge
that here true, practical religion finds a congenial home, for a long
line of comfortable sheds were being built to house the horses during
the hours of devotion. Then, too, the sheds will serve a doubly humane
purpose, for where the pupils live long distances from the school the
horse driven in the morning will have comfortable quarters until the
school closes in the evening. A public water-trough near by, kept full
from a spring, gave evidence that this little church and the
school-house were potent factors in promoting civilization. To the right
is seen a lad plowing. Here, then, in this picture is represented the
three great corner-stones of civilization upon which to build a
symmetrical, beautiful superstructure. To build on either one alone is
to insure disappointment; when life is grounded on all three the result
is practical religion and intelligence eventuating in a better
understanding of the complex soil and the interrelations of nature’s
modes of action. It means steady and effective employment, the
abandonment of nomadic life, and in lieu thereof a permanent home and an
abundant supply of the necessaries and comforts of life. The Bible, the
school book, and the plow should all be engraven and intertwined in our
modern civilization.
[Illustration: Fig. 34. School house and church at the corners.]
So far the general characteristics, fitness, durability and beauty of
the country farm house have been discussed and illustrated, together
with such public buildings as are directly related to rural life. But
having discussed the size, best proportions, and most suitable materials
for the house, and having put them into visible form, the building may
be made hideous and unnecessarily expensive by careless or ignorant
treatment of external details.
[Illustration: Fig. 35. The sway-back house.]
Most of the farmers who now occupy the country west of the Alleghanies
came from the east and brought with them a varied assortment of styles
of architecture inherited from the many European countries from which
they or their ancestors came. These people, though of limited means, had
pride and tenacity of purpose, and they could not easily change to the
plain and appropriate exterior treatment of the farm house. This
inheritance and persistence, as shown in the farm houses of the middle
states, is fitly illustrated by the expensive and heavy return cornice,
the massive columns, and the complicated and ornate entablatures which
are supposed to adorn an otherwise plain house.
[Illustration: Fig. 36. The expensive box cornice.]
[Illustration: Fig. 37.
A plain and durable cornice.]
I have said that there is no place for the story-and-a-half house. Here
is shown (Fig. 35) the results of two serious mistakes; viz., an effort
to build a cheap frame of such a form that it is almost impossible to
tie the building together, with the result that the roof is in danger of
collapsing; and the attempt to beautify this cheap structure by
over-heavy, complicated cornices. An enlarged detailed drawing of a
typical return cornice is shown in Fig. 36. On the right is shown a
cross-section outline of the members of the cornice. There are ten of
them. The mouldings are now “stuck” by machinery, but these were made by
hand, and 10 and 8 were formed of two pieces each, making twelve
members in all. The infinite pains and labor in preparing the material
and placing it cannot be realized except by a carpenter who has spent
weeks and months in sawing out, in planing and “sticking,” and mitering
such an elaborate system of useless ornamentation. Compare this with the
cornice, or rather projection, of a house (Fig. 19) which cost $6,000.
Fig. 36 shows a projecting eave of scarcely one foot. The next
illustration (Fig. 37) shows one of nearly two feet. The latter is far
superior to the former in that it is quite as beautiful, is inexpensive,
and protects the external paint and woodwork far more than does the
former. The piece at the top of the rafter serves to cover the
projecting cornice, and as a roof-board as well, and gives opportunity
to place the eave trough well outside, which prevents damage to the
house should it ever leak. The frieze board is simple and serves its
purpose well. It has taken a long time to learn that a wooden roof which
is at least one-third pitch is far more durable than the flat roof shown
in Fig. 38. Here the return cornice is carried across the entire end of
the house, and the gable is ceiled with plain matched boards, both
likely to leak and to rapidly become paintless.
Many veranda and porch floors and outside doors have no roof over them,
or other protection. This is poor economy. It would be better to reduce
the cornice to the fewest possible members, if it were necessary to do
so, in order to secure means to roof the veranda, which, unprotected,
decays rapidly. Or the money expended on the cornice, which results in
neither use nor beauty, might well suffice for the building of an
additional room, or to provide many conveniences, such as hot and cold
water, storm sash, and window screens.
[Illustration: Fig. 38. The old-time gable end cornice.]
[Illustration: Fig. 39. Framework of a ship.]
When the farmer reached the fertile, treeless prairies he was compelled
to economize in lumber. Some genius soon discovered that the best and
most scientific method of constructing the frame of a house was along
the lines of ship construction (Fig. 39): that is, ribs, joined to a
sill or sills, encircling the entire structure and placed at equal
distances apart. Two keels or sills joined together by joists, straight
ribs--joists--instead of curved ones, a roof instead of a deck, and the
balloon frame (Fig. 40)--the best of all frames when properly
constructed,--was invented. Unwittingly the ship construction, slightly
modified, was adopted. In this frame the westerner departed radically
from the style of his ancestors, but he could not be satisfied with a
plain oversail projection. He could not afford the heavy box cornice.
Having succeeded so well on the frame, he set about inventing a new
style of decoration for the projecting eaves, but the cornice was not a
success. The decorations shown in Figs. 41 and 42 serve to make hideous
many a cheap dry-goods-box house, which blisters and cracks in the hot
prairie winds. These houses sometimes receive no paint or one coat, or
at most two, and in a few years, what with storm and sun, mischievous
boys and wind cracks, this ginger-bread, dog-eared cornice, made of inch
lumber by the use of scroll saw, looks as dilapidated as a college boy
after a cane-rush.
[Illustration: Fig. 40. The balloon frame.]
[Illustration: Fig. 42. The jig-saw cornice.]
[Illustration: Fig. 41.
Too elaborate and short-lived.]
The thought of permanent beauty, as well as economy and usefulness,
should enter into the plans of a house. But what is beauty? I am well
aware that many of my readers will not agree with me, for
“The standard of beauty ofttimes it doth vary:
Two pretty girls are Eliza and Mary.”
They may be very unlike, yet both beautiful. From the farmer’s
standpoint it may be said that the chief characteristics of beauty are
fitness, naturalness and simplicity.