340 



Painting Houses. 



Vol. XI. 



most refreshing and most grateful to the 

 eye. These habitations that we have re- 

 ferred to, appear to be coloured on the very 

 opposite principle, and one needs, in broad 

 sunshine, to turn his eyes away to relieve 

 them by a glimpse of the soft and refreshing 

 shades that everywhere pervade the trees, 

 the grass, and the surface of the earth. 



Our second objection to white is, that it 

 does not harmonize with the country, and 

 thereby mars the effect of rural landscapes. 

 Much of the beauty of landscape depends on 

 what painters call breadth of tone — which 

 is caused by broad masses of colours that 

 harmonize and blend agreeably together. 

 Nothing tends to destroy breadth of tone so 

 much as any object of considerable size, and 

 of a brilliant white. It stands harshly apart 

 from all the soft shades of the scene. Hence 

 landscape painters always studiously avoid 

 the introduction of white in their buildings, 

 and give them instead, some neutral tint — a 

 tint which unites or contrasts agreeably with 

 the colour of trees and grass, and which 

 seems to blend into other parts of natural 

 landscape, instead of being a discordant note 

 in the general harmony. 



There is always, perhaps, something not 

 quite agreeable in objects of a dazzling 

 whiteness, when brought into contrast with 

 other colours, Mr. Price, in his Essays on 

 the Beautiful and Picturesque, conceived 

 that very white teeth gave a silly expres- 

 sion to the countenance — and brings for 

 ward, in illustration of it, the well known 

 soubriquet which Horace Walpole bestowed 

 on one of his acquaintances — " the gentle- 

 man with the foolish teeth." 



No one is successful in rural improve- 

 ments who does not study nature, and take 

 her for the basis of his practice. Now, in 

 natural landscape, anything like strong and 

 bright colours is seldom seen, except in very 

 minute portions, and least of all pure white — 

 chiefly appearing in small objects like flow 

 ers. The practical rule which should be 

 deduced from this, is, to avoid all these co 

 lours which nature avoids. In buildings, we 

 should copy those that she offers chiefly to 

 the eye — such as those of the soil, rocks, 

 wood, and the bark of trees, — the materials 

 of which houses are built. These materials 

 offer us the best and most natural study from 

 which harmonious colours for the houses 

 themselves should be taken. 



Wordsworth, in a little volume on the 

 Scenery of the Lakes, remarks that the ob- 

 jections to white as a colour, in large spots 

 or masses, in landscapes, are insurmountable. 

 He says it destroys the gradations of dis- 

 tances, haunts the eye, and disturbs the re- 

 pose of nature. To leave some little con- 



solation to the lovers of white lead, we will 

 add that there is one position in which their 

 favourite colour may not only be tolerated, 

 but often has a happy effect. We mean in 

 the case of a country house or cottage, 

 deeply imbowered in trees. Surrounded by 

 such a mass of foliage as Spencer describes, 



In whose enclosed shadmo there was set 

 A fair pavilion scarcely to be seen, 



a white building often has a magical effect. 

 But a landscape painter would quickly an- 

 swer, if he were asked the reason of this 

 exception to the rule, " it is because the 

 building does not appear white." In other 

 words, in the shadow of the foliage by which 

 it is half concealed, it loses all the harshness 

 and offensiveness of a white house in an open 

 site. We have, indeed, often felt, in looking 

 at examples of the latter, set upon a bald 

 hill, that the building itself would, if possi- 

 ble, cry out, 



" Hide me from day's garish eye." 



Having entered our protest against the 

 general use of white in coimtry edifices, we 

 are bound to point out what we consider 

 suitable shades of colour. 



We have said that one should look to na- 

 ture for hints in colour. This gives us, ap- 

 parently, a wide choice of shades, but as we 

 ought properly to employ modified shades, 

 taken from the colours of the materials of 

 which houses are constructed, the number 

 of objects is brought within a moderate com- 

 pass. Houses are not built of grass, or 

 leaves, and there is, therefore, not much 

 propriety in painting a dwelling green. 

 Earth, stone, bricks, and wood, are the sub- 

 stances that enter mostly into the structure 

 of our houses, and from these we would ac- 

 cordingly take suggestions for painting them. 



Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was full of an 

 artistical feeling for the union of a house 

 with its surrounding scenery, once said, "If 

 you would fix upon the best colour for your 

 house, turn up a stone, or pluck up a hand- 

 ful of grass by the roots, and see what is the 

 colour of the soil where the house is to 

 stand, and let that be your choice." This 

 rule was not probably intended to be exactly 

 carried into general practice, but the feeling 

 that prompted it was the same that we are 

 endeavouring to illustrate — the necessity of 

 a unity of colour in the house and country 

 about it. 



We think, in the beginning, that the co- 

 lour of all buildings in ihe country, should 

 be of those soft and quiet shades, called 

 neutral tints, such as fawn, drab, gray, 

 brown, &c., and that all positive colours, 

 such as white, yellow, red, blue, black, &,c., 

 should always be avoided; neutral tints being 



