How few, indeed, build their houses at all, or have much choice in the
matter--except perhaps that of Hobson, who must also have been a jerry
builder.
There is an old saying that fools build houses and wise men live in
them. However that may be, certainly town-dwellers are often like
hermit-crabs, glad to creep into more or less inconvenient empty shells
erected by former generations, happy if they succeed in adapting them
to their own requirements more or less. In a book on architecture of
about the date 1836, elevations and plans are given of “a First-rate
House,” “a Second-rate House,” “a Third-rate House,” and even “a
Fourth-rate”--quite on the principle of railway carriages, but going
one better, or one worse. They all present modest street frontages
of about twenty feet, duly cemented and painted. They differ chiefly
in the number of their stories, and consequently windows, but the
plans and elevations are all of the same type, slightly varied in
the details. The “first-rate” house, though a little more ornate and
classic in some ways is by no means a palace, and the fourth-rate house
is not exactly a cottage; the second-rate is only a cheaper edition of
the first-rate, and the third-rate tries to look like the second-rate,
but is conscious of having only one window to the dining-room. All
sport balconies to the first-floor front windows and iron railings,
guarding the ground-floor and basement, only the fourth-rate has no
basement. It is as if the architect started with one elevation and
literally cut it down to meet the exigencies of second, third, and
fourth-rate tenants--I had almost said passengers--and in strict
accordance with the then building acts.
Those building acts, perhaps, are responsible for the monotony of our
modern streets. Although they have in some respects been modified of
late, houses in a street or road are obliged to dress up to a straight
building line, toeing the mark like a file of soldiers. Or, perhaps,
more suggestive of a train of railway carriages, which only needs a
locomotive attached to the end of the row to pull them along, and one
might hope, out of sight, also. There are miles of houses of this
type still existing in our towns, notably London, for which in fact
the designs I speak of were intended, but I have seen their like in
Liverpool, Dublin, and elsewhere.
Though carefully graded in classes and adjusted to certain rentals,
the aim of the builder has been to make each present, on the outside,
an equally neat and respectable appearance. This is thoroughly
characteristic of mid-nineteenth century ideas, and the love of
neatness has always been characteristic of the English. The compromise,
also, between modest requirements, or shall we say, between 5 per cent.
and a respect for the Five Orders, which the street frontages of this
period exhibit, is equally characteristic. We see the last results
of the wave of Greco-Roman taste which ruled from the end of the
eighteenth century to the early Victorian time. Of course we have got
beyond all that now, though the type remains, and in some cases even,
with its remnants of style, affords a slight relief and sense of repose
after certain flamboyant erections in terra-cotta and plate glass which
have appeared in our streets, with the up-to-date builders.
The type, as I have said, of these middle-class dwellings remains,
their chief charm as well as decorative point being in the design of
the street doorway, with classical columns or pilasters and a fanlight
often with a graceful design in leaded glazing, too often ruthlessly
scooped out to make way for blank plate glass. We know those iron
railings (protecting the area and kitchen quarters from the attacks of
the soldier and policeman), the windows of the basement timidly peeping
above the ground as with half-closed eyes; the steps to the front door
whitened by successive generations of devoted housemaids; the more or
less Doric front door; the entrance hall, or long squeezy passage with
the umbrella stand as a principal decoration; the staircase at the
end leading to the upper rooms; the dining-room opening out of the
aforesaid passage, with perhaps a dismal window in the rear, commanding
a fine prospect of back yards, unless considerately veiled by ferns, or
stopped out by some would-be stained glass. The bedrooms over, back and
front, follow naturally from such an obvious plan.
Such types of houses, however out of date, ought not to be without
interest to the house-painter and decorator, since they depend for
keeping up appearances almost entirely upon fresh paint--and nothing
is, as we know, “as fresh as paint.” Indeed, I have often noticed
in London--from that commanding eminence the top of a ’bus--how the
white-painted old-fashioned fronts with green doors of some of the
houses in Piccadilly, facing the Green Park, donning new “coats” for
the season, quite put to shame some of their neighbours--the gorgeous
stone-built and marble-columned club façades with all the grime of a
London winter thick upon them.
There is nothing like leather--I mean paint--after all! In fact,
whether inside or outside, the town house requires constantly cheering
up by the painter and decorator, but it must be the decoration that
cheers but not inebriates--and there is a good deal of what I should
call inebriated decoration about. Much of what is generally known as
“l’Art nouveau,” for instance, belongs to this category--the wild and
whirling squirms which form the chief ornamental unit, whether in
surface decoration, furniture construction, wood carving, inlays, or
textiles--which was so much in evidence at the late Paris Exhibition,
and in the pages of “The Studio,” which is, moreover, generally on
the continent considered to be English in its origin. In some of its
forms it certainly does suggest a free translation into French or
German of a kind of decorative art associated with the designers of
the Glasgow school, but, no doubt, like all modern and mixed styles
(like the melancholy of Jacques in “As you like it”), it is extracted
from many simples and compounded of many elements. It is said that the
Emperor Augustus found Rome of brick and he left it a city of marble.
I should, contrariwise, suggest that our decorator, supposing he found
the woodwork of “a desirable residence” _grained_, should leave it
_plain-painting_--beginning at the front door. Iron railings, it may
be noted, in passing, are generally painted (perhaps from economic
reasons) too dark a colour, which darkens still more in the smoke of
towns. A favourite hue is a kind of beefy red, sometimes picked out
with gilding, though this artistic touch is generally reserved for
public buildings--or the public house. Graceful wrought ironwork of a
light kind often looks well painted white or a light cool green, but
ordinary Brunswick-green (of a middle tint) has a good appearance with
the white window frames, reveals and door jambs of a red-brick house,
the green being repeated for the front door and any outside shutters.
Apropos of the heavy red paint so frequently used for ironwork, I
think that the cylinders of gas-works (which form such important
items in the scenery of our suburbs) would be far less trying objects
if they were painted a discreet and retiring cool tint of green, and
the light ironwork supporting standards or columns painted white. I
do not think such a treatment ought to raise the price of gas, but it
would certainly elevate (or shall we say mitigate) the gasometer, and
it would certainly dispel the irresistible impression on the mind of
the unprejudiced that these rotundas were really huge rounds of pressed
beef waiting for some giant Cormoran’s luncheon.
But we stopped at a green door, with white jambs. Dear to some
decorator-painters’ hearts (and hands) is “graining.” Wonderful,
and sometimes fearful are its results. I quite recognize the skill
sometimes spent upon graining--the extraordinary imitation of costly
natural woods which a skilled grainer can produce over ordinary painted
deal. There are also motives of economy, I believe, to account for the
persistence of graining--in an age of such transparent honesty and
simple habits as ours (?). The practice, I have heard, commends itself
in some quarters for the same reason that influenced Dame Primrose in
the choice of her wedding gown, namely, “for qualities that wear well.”
Nothing can be a more delightful, or a more durable lining for the
walls of hall or living-room than oak panelling, but nothing, to my
mind, can be more sordid and unpleasant than the woodwork of a room
grained to imitate oak.
[Illustration: Interior, 1a, Holland Park.
Designed by Philip Webb
From a Photograph by W. E. Gray]
The one field where skill in graining and marbling would be appropriate
is that of stage scenery and decoration, where the object is to
imitate, and where the scene has to be quickly changed in obedience to
the demands of the drama.
Few interiors are more pleasant than the white-painted panelled rooms
in eighteenth-century houses, a mode which some modern architects have
revived with much success. There is nothing like white paint for the
wood-work of modern rooms. It is the best set-off to wall-papers, and
though many attempts have been made by house painters and decorators
to get variety of effect by repeating in the styles and panels of the
doors some leading tint of the wall-paper, the eye soon tires of the
rather restless result, and welcomes plain white flatted paint, leaving
it to the mouldings to give the necessary relief.
Door panels are often considered suitable fields for painted or other
decoration; if, however, door panels are emphasized in this way, the
walls would have to be quiet in pattern and colour, so as to let the
doors tell as the chief decorative points; in such a scheme they would
naturally be balanced by a painted treatment of a wood mantelpiece
and connected by a chair rail and panelled dado, or wainscot; on the
other hand, with a richly patterned and coloured wall the wood-work, if
painted, should be kept plain colour.
[Illustration: Painted Decoration, Ranworth Rood Screen, Norfolk
Drawn by W. T. Cleobury]
[Illustration: Painted Decoration, Ranworth Rood Screen, Norfolk
Drawn by W. T. Cleobury]
[Illustration: Painted Decoration, Ranworth Rood Screen, Norfolk
Drawn by W. T. Cleobury]
If our technical schools where house-painting is taught, instead of
devoting time and skill to teaching methods of imitative graining, were
to endeavour to train the pupils to use the brush as decorators and
encourage them to design and paint simple ornamental borders, fillings,
and friezes, such as might be useful in interior decoration, and train
them to be able to space out walls with simple but tasteful sprays of
leaves and flowers, decoratively treated, and painted by direct clean
brush touches, we should surely see better results. Following the
spirit of such types as these from the Ranworth screen in Norfolk, for
instance (a beautiful piece of mediaeval English work of the fifteenth
century, drawn for me by Mr. Cleobury, who has also furnished the South
Kensington Museum with a complete set of drawings from the screen),
they would be doing much more excellent as well as interesting work,
work which in its practical results ought to prove much more pleasant
and useful, both to house-painters and to house-holders. This might be
supported by prizes being offered for such work in public exhibitions.
The attention now being given in primary schools to brush-work, if
wisely directed in its effects, by giving facility to young hands in
the use of the brush, with its power of expressing form by direct
strokes, ought to be an excellent aid and preparation for such an after
training in practical painting and decorating as is here suggested.
[Illustration: Painted Decoration, Ranworth Rood Screen, Norfolk
Drawn by W. T. Cleobury]
[Illustration: Painted Decoration, Ranworth Rood Screen, Norfolk
Drawn by W. T. Cleobury]
[Illustration: Painted Decoration, Ranworth Rood Screen, Norfolk
Drawn by W. T. Cleobury]
Stencilling and the design of stencils (which affords excellent
practice in pattern construction of all kinds to the designer and
decorator), has been developed of late years to rather a remarkable
degree by our art schools, as the National competitions bear
witness. There has been a tendency to over-elaborate this kind of
decoration, however, by complex patterns and the use of blended tints,
which its conditions hardly bear. Though a useful and cheap and
effective method of decorating large wall spaces, friezes, and even
temporary hangings, and for temporary decoration generally, it seems
to have its natural limits, and is hardly fitted for positions near
the eye. But I have seen it effectively used in the large rooms and
rough plastered walls of an Italian villa, associated with bold hanging
brocade patterns of a Gothic type.
In deciding on a scheme for the decoration of one’s house, one must
consider what are to be the chief decorative points, and endeavour
to lead up to them. The choice of wall-papers, for instance, would
naturally be influenced by various considerations. There is first the
purpose and use of the room--dining, drawing-room, library, living-room
or bed-room, or what not--there is its aspect and amount of lighting.
If the question be the colouring of a whole house, a reasonable scheme
would be to be comparatively simple and sparing of colour and ornament
in the passages, staircase, and less important rooms, but with some
connecting link of colour lead on to the important rooms, which might
be much richer, and vary much from each other. At the same time it is
not pleasant to jump suddenly from warm to cool tones, and a house or
suite of rooms might be reasonably planned in either a warm or a cool
key according to its character, situation, and lighting. Much, too,
would depend upon the type of furniture, since house construction,
decoration, and furniture, are properly all closely related.
[Illustration: Painted Decoration, Ranworth Rood Screen, Norfolk
Drawn by W. T. Cleobury]
There is the question of pictures. It should never be a struggle for
ascendancy between the wall-paper and the pictures. Pictures may be
considered as central points in the decorative scheme of a room and the
colour and pattern of the main field of the wall arranged and carefully
harmonized to suit them. The choice of tint must depend upon the tone
and colour of the pictures to some extent, though usually a gray-green
or subdued red forms a suitable background, or plain brown paper, which
is a very safe one. A white wall, however, has more distinction, and
pictures in gold or black frames look remarkably well upon white. One
often sees old pictures hanging on white walls in old country houses,
and they always have a fine and dignified effect. The little Dutch
interior by Van der Meer in the National Gallery, besides being a
little gem of painting, shows how beautiful a thing is a white wall,
and how suitable for pictures and becoming to persons. One gets a more
luminous effect in a white interior, and in our towns, where there is
none too much light, it is a good thing to get rid of gloomy corners.
Two other charming interiors, each distinct and characteristic of
different races, country, and climate, may be studied in the background
of Van Dyck’s wonderful portrait picture of Jan Arnolfini and his
wife, a Flemish interior of the fifteenth century, and again in the
delightful house of the Virgin in Carlo Crivelli’s “Annunciation,”
with all its wealth of decorative detail, which gives one an excellent
idea of a well-appointed Venetian citizen’s house of the fifteenth
century. Both of these are well-known gems of our National Gallery.
[Illustration: Painted Decoration, Ranworth Rood Screen, Norfolk
Drawn by W. T. Cleobury]
Illustrations of these pictures are given in my book on “Line and
Form,” so that instead of repeating them here I give one from Lucas van
Leyden’s “Annunciation” at Munich (Pinacothek) which shows a charming
Gothic interior with a wagon-vaulted roof, wheel window, and a rich
brocade hanging to the bed, with other interesting details.
Another delightful example is the early renascence Venetian interior
which forms the background of Carpaccio’s “Dream of St. Ursula”
(L’Accademia, Venice).
For photographs or prints a pale yellow wall looks well--a pale lemon
or primrose tint--it lights up softly and agreeably at night. Pale
yellow may also be recommended for a rather dark room. Even one fleck
of sunlight on a pale yellow wall has a marvellous reflecting power and
will illuminate the whole room. One can agreeably complete the harmony
with brown, or black and white, with a touch of orange in the furniture
and texture.
As a rule, in modern drawing-rooms and living-rooms, there are too
many colours, as well as too much furniture. The proportions of the
architect and the scheme of the decorator hardly have a chance.
“Elizabeth in her German Garden” speaks of the charm of rooms newly
distempered and papered, with no furniture in them; but though it
might make a paper-hanger happy, I fear this would be too severe for
ordinary English taste.
[Illustration: Flemish Fifteenth-Century Interior
Lucas van Leyden, “The Annunciation,” Munich, Pinacothek]
I remember a gentleman at Los Angeles, California, showing me with
pride a room in his villa he had papered with a gorgeous wall-paper
with lots of gold in it. He considered it sufficient in itself, an
end and not a means, and apparently had no intention of disturbing or
obscuring the design by pictures or furniture, except perhaps a chair
or a couch from which to contemplate the splendours of the pattern.
I think there is a good deal to be said for the adoption of the Eastern
idea of a divan for western salons--seats all round the room and in the
windows, with small moveable coffee-tables. Ladies who entertain would
find this a very convenient arrangement for “at home” days, and with
a parquet floor the young people would only have to roll up the rugs
to find dancing room at short notice. The hall, or house place of old
English houses, no doubt easily lent itself to hospitable and social
gatherings, the long tables and benches ranged along the walls leaving
plenty of floor space for games or dancing, while the ingle-nook
invited the gossips and story-tellers.
[Illustration: Carpaccio’s “The Dream of St. Ursula,” Accademia, Venice
From a Photograph by Anderson]
The revival of the hall or living-room with the ingle-nook is a
noteworthy feature in recent country houses. In fact, in the design
and construction of the small country houses or country cottages built
of late years, mostly as retreats for workers in towns, artists and
others, we find the most successful, attractive, and characteristic
buildings of our time, probably. The cottages designed by Mr. C. F. A.
Voysey, for instance, with rough-cast battened and buttressed walls,
green or Whitland Abbey slates, green outside shutters, and white
casements, have the charm of neatness, quaintness, and simplicity,
an utter absence of pretentiousness and show, and a regard for the
character of their site. There are some charming cottages of this
type at Bournville, already referred to, designed by Mr. Harvey,
the young architect of the estate. I give one here of my son’s (Mr.
Lionel Francis Crane) design--a timber cottage in the recent “Cottages
Exhibition” at Garden City. In designing a country house, an architect
is of course much less fettered than with a town or street site, and
he can frame it in a garden, which is an important decorative adjunct
or setting to a country house or cottage. It is possible also to make
it fit into or even become a part of the scenery, especially if local
materials are employed. Indeed, it seems to me, that the secret of
harmonious effect in building lies in the use of local materials as
regards country houses. The beauty of our old castles, abbeys, country
houses and cottages is greatly owing to this. We feel they are in
harmony with the character and colour of the scenery, and have become
parts of these, independently of the effects of time.
In the present awakening of the public mind to the importance of the
housing question, and the want of substantial, comfortable, as well as
comely dwellings for the people, especially in the country districts,
much attention has been directed to cottage building, and a practical
effort is being made by the Garden City Association to solve the
question in the competitive exhibition in cottage design and building
they recently organized. The question is, as usual, complicated by the
commercial question of profit and percentages on invested capital.
[Illustration: Cottage in the Garden City, Letchworth, Herts
Architect, Lionel F. Crane. Builder, Frank Newton, Hitchin]
[Illustration: Interior of Cottage at Letchworth
Architect, Lionel F. Crane. The Furniture by A. Heal (Messrs. Heal and
Son)]
Were the object solely the national welfare, as it should be,
cottages could be designed and built good to live in and seemly to look
at. Objections have been made to the local bye-laws, but so far as I am
aware these bye-laws are only intended to secure the minimum conditions
necessary to health and comfort, and would in no way interfere with the
erection of well-built and sightly cottages. Thatch, it is true, is
I believe, in some counties forbidden on account of danger from fire
(probably really increased by the use of low-flash oil in cheap lamps),
but for detached cottages with the use of iron laths and reed thatch
(as Mr. Robert Williams has pointed out) such danger is reduced to a
minimum, and certainly there are thatched cottages and barns, and even
churches, in England which have lasted hundreds of years, and thatch,
after all, makes an excellent roof, cool in summer and warm in winter,
and pleasant to look upon.
[Illustration: Interior of Cottage at Letchworth
Architect, Lionel F. Crane. The Furniture by A. Heal (Messrs. Heal and
Son)]
[Illustration: Stoneywell Cottage, Exterior
Ernest W. Gimson, Architect]
How charming a cottage can be made, how picturesque and pleasing though
quite new, how perfectly in keeping with its surroundings and fitted to
its site, I lately had an opportunity of seeing in the neighbourhood of
Leicester. I allude to a certain cottage designed by Mr. Ernest Gimson.
The interior also was an illustration of how decorative rooms could
look with hardly any decoration. This is a hard saying for decorators,
but my impression was that whitewashed walls, plain oaken furniture,
only relieved by William Morris’s printed cotton in the shape of window
curtains or loose cushions here and there, were sufficiently decorative
considering the designs and conditions of the structure of the
house. With glimpses of the wild hill-side and the beautiful woodland
landscape beyond them seen through the deep-set windows, there seemed
no need for landscapes on the walls--bad news for poor frozen-out
picture-painters again!
The reign of the big plate-glass window, I believe, is over, and
certainly in such a climate as ours one needs as a rule to be assured
one is really indoors. Certainly, nothing makes so much difference to
the aspect and comfort of a room or house as the position and size of
the windows. I have a preference for casements with plain-leading, and
if the window is high, stained glass may find an appropriate place
above the transoms, or in windows where veiled light is needed, or
plain roundels where a view from within or without is not desired.