We are not among those who cast off, and on a sudden condemn, as out of
all good taste, the time-honored white house with its green blinds,
often so tastefully gleaming out from beneath the shade of summer trees;
nor do we doggedly adhere to it, except when in keeping, by contrast or
otherwise, with everything around it. For a century past white has been
the chief color of our wooden houses, and often so of brick ones, in the
United States. This color has been supposed to be strong and durable,
being composed chiefly of white lead; and as it _reflected_ the rays of
the sun instead of _absorbing_ them, as some of the darker colors do, it
was thus considered a better preserver of the weather-boarding from the
cracks which the fervid heat of the sun is apt to make upon it, than the
darker colors. White, consequently, has always been considered, until
within a few years past, as a fitting and _tasteful_ color for
dwellings, both in town and country. A new school of _taste_ in colors
has risen, however, within a few years past, among us; about the same
time, too, that the recent gingerbread and beadwork style of country
building was introduced. And these were both, as all _new_ things are
apt to be, carried to extremes. Instead of _toning_ down the glare of
the white into some quiet, neutral shade, as a straw color; a drab of
different hues--always an agreeable and appropriate color for a
dwelling, particularly when the door and window casings are dressed with
a deeper or lighter shade, as those shades predominate in the main body
of the house; or a natural and soft _wood_ color, which also may be of
various shades; or even the warm russet hue of some of our rich
stones--quite appropriate, too, as applied to wood, or bricks--the
_fashion_ must be followed without either rhyme or reason, and hundreds
of our otherwise pretty and imposing country houses have been daubed
over with the dirtiest, gloomiest pigment imaginable, making every
habitation which it touched look more like a funeral appendage than a
cheerful, life-enjoying home. We candidly say that we have no sort of
affection for such sooty daubs. The fashion which dictates them is a
barbarous, false, and arbitrary fashion; void of all natural taste in
its inception; and to one who has a cheerful, life-loving spirit about
him, such colors have no more fitness on his dwelling or out-buildings,
than a tomb would have in his lawn or dooryard.
Locality, amplitude of the buildings, the purpose to which they are
applied--every consideration connected with them, in fact, should be
consulted, as to color. Stone will give its own color; which, by the
way, some prodigiously smart folks _paint_--quite as decorous or
essential, as to "paint the lily." Brick sometimes must be painted, but
it should be of a color in keeping with its character,--of substance and
dignity; not a counterfeit of stone, or to cheat him who looks upon it
into a belief that it may be marble, or other unfounded pretension.
A _warm_ russet is most appropriate for brick-work of any kind of
color--the color of a russet apple, or undressed leather--shades that
comport with Milton's beautiful idea of
"_Russet_ lawns and fallows _gray_."
Red and yellow are both too glaring, and slate, or lead colors too
somber and cold. It is, in fact, a strong argument in favor of bricks in
building, where they can be had as cheap as stone or wood, that any
color can be given to them which the good taste of the builder may
require, in addition to their durability, which, when made of good
material, and properly burned, is quite equal to stone. In a wooden
structure one may play with his fancy in the way of color, minding in
the operation, that he does not play the mountebank, and like the clown
in the circus, make his tattooed tenement the derision of men of correct
taste, as the other does his burlesque visage the ridicule of his
auditors.
A _wooden_ country house, together with its out-buildings, should always
be of a cheerful and softly-toned color--a color giving a feeling of
warmth and comfort; nothing glaring or flashy about it. And yet, such
buildings should not, in their color, any more than in their
architecture, appear as if _imitating_ either stone or brick. Wood, of
itself, is light. One cannot build a _heavy_ house of wood, as compared
with brick or stone. Therefore all imitation or device which may lead to
a belief that it may be other than what it really is, is nothing less
than a fraud--not criminal, we admit, but none the less a fraud upon
good taste and architectural truth.
It is true that in this country we cannot afford to place in stone and
brick buildings those ornate trimmings and appendages which, perhaps, if
economy were not to be consulted, might be more durably constructed of
stone, but at an expense too great to be borne by those of moderate
means. Yet it is not essential that such appendages should be of so
expensive material. The very purposes to which they are applied, as a
parapet, a railing, a balustrade, a portico, piazza, or porch; all these
may be of wood, even when the material of the house _proper_ is of the
most durable kind; and by being painted in keeping with the building
itself, produce a fine effect, and do no violence to good taste or the
most fastidious propriety. They may be even sanded to a color, and
grained, stained, or otherwise brought to an identity, almost, with the
material of the house, and be quite proper, because they simply are
_appendages_ of convenience, necessity, or luxury, to the building
itself, and may be taken away without injuring or without defacing the
main structure. They are not a _material_ part of the building itself,
but reared for purposes which may be dispensed with. It is a matter of
taste or preference, that they were either built there, or that they
remain permanently afterward, and of consequence, proper that they be of
wood. Yet they should not _imitate_ stone or brick. They should still
show that they _are_ of wood, but in color and outside preservation
denote that they are appendages to a _stone_ or _brick_ house, by
complying with the proper shades in color which predominate in the
building itself, and become their own subordinate character.
Not being a professional painter, or compounder of colors, we shall
offer no receipts or specifics for painting or washing buildings.
Climate affects the composition of both paints and washes, and those who
are competent in this line, are the proper persons to dictate their
various compositions; and we do but common justice to the skill and
intelligence of our numerous mechanics, when we recommend to those who
contemplate building, to apply forthwith to such as are masters of their
trade for all the information they require on the various subjects
connected with it. One who sets out to be his own architect, builder,
and painter, is akin to the lawyer in the proverb, who has a fool for
his client, when pleading his own case, and quite as apt to have quack
in them all. Hints, general outlines, and oftentimes matters of detail
in interior convenience, and many other minor affairs may be given by
the proprietor, when he is neither a professional architect, mechanic,
or even an amateur; but in all things affecting the _substantial_ and
important parts of his buildings, he should consult those who are
proficient and experienced in the department on which he consults them.
And it may perhaps be added that none _professing_ to be such, are
competent, unless well instructed, and whose labors have met the
approbation of those competent to judge.
There is one kind of color, prevailing to a great extent in many parts
of our country, particularly the northern and eastern, which, in its
effect upon any one having an eye to a fitness of things in country
buildings, is a monstrous perversion of good taste. That is the glaring
red, made up of Venetian red, ochre, or Spanish brown, with doors and
windows touched off with white. The only apology we have ever heard
given for such a barbarism was, that it is a good, strong, and lasting
color. We shall not go into an examination as to that fact, but simply
answer, that if it be so, there are other colors, not more expensive,
which are equally strong and durable, and infinitely more tasteful and
fitting. There can be nothing less comporting with the simplicity of
rural scenery, than a glaring red color on a building. It _connects_
with nothing natural about it; it neither _fades_ into any surrounding
shade of soil or vegetation, and must of necessity, stand out in its own
bold and unshrouded impudence, a perfect Ishmaelite in color, and a
perversion of every thing harmonious in the design. We eschew _red_,
therefore, from every thing in rural architecture.