Woodward's Country Homes

In Short

This book is a collection of architectural designs and practical advice for building homes, cottages, and outbuildings in mid-nineteenth-century America. It argues that the rising costs and congestion of New York City necessitate a move toward suburban life, where families can find health, comfort, and independence. By emphasizing the importance of "adaptation"—fitting a structure to its specific site, climate, and purpose—the authors provide a template for creating dwellings that are both aesthetic and functional, grounding their professional guidance in the cultural values of the era.

The Story

The narrative begins with a pressing sociological observation: New York City is becoming too crowded, too expensive, and too stifling for a respectable family to flourish. The authors calculate that the island’s capacity for growth is nearing its limit, and they propose a remedy: the countryside. This shift to the suburbs is not merely a geographic move but a moral and physical one, promising fresh air, independence, and the simple luxuries of garden-grown produce.

Once the argument for rural living is established, the book transitions into a technical and aesthetic catalog. The authors present a wide array of designs, beginning with the modest laborer’s cottage and progressing through various frame, stone, and brick residences, as well as necessary outbuildings like ice houses, stables, and schools. Each design is presented not as a rigid blueprint, but as a starting point for the reader to adapt to their specific needs. The arc of the book moves from these small, functional structures toward more ambitious, larger residences, illustrating how a modest home can be expanded over time into a villa without losing its structural integrity or charm.

As the book continues, the authors address the practical realities of construction. They demystify the professional role of the architect, emphasizing that a house is not merely a collection of walls but a manifestation of its owner’s character and habits. They urge readers to avoid the "vulgar" displays of wealth—like oversized, ornate mansions meant to impress passersby—and instead focus on "simple elegance." They argue that a home should be an extension of the land it occupies, suggesting that the beauty of a stone house, for instance, is best found in its raw, unhewn state rather than in forced, expensive ornamentation.

The final act of the book shifts toward technical innovation, specifically the "balloon frame." This construction method, which allowed for rapid building using lighter timber, is positioned as a revolutionary force that enabled the swift development of cities across the West and the Pacific coast. By framing this innovation as a triumph of common-sense engineering over the "old fogy" traditions of heavy timber framing, the authors conclude their argument. They finish by offering practical advice on everything from designing gates to memorializing lost loved ones with chaste, dignified headstones. The entire work serves as a comprehensive guide for the nineteenth-century citizen to transition from the chaos of the city to a deliberate, well-planned life in a private, nature-bound sanctuary.

How It Unfolds

The urban crisis The authors analyze the rapid population growth of New York City and conclude that its inevitable density makes city life unsustainable for the middle-class family. They argue that railroads and steamboats have made the migration to rural or suburban areas both feasible and essential.

The philosophy of building The text establishes the concept of "adaptation," insisting that a house must harmonize with its site and the specific lifestyle of its inhabitants. It warns against amateurish design and the prideful display of wealth, favoring instead the quiet, natural dignity of a well-proportioned cottage.

The catalog of designs A diverse series of plans is presented, ranging from small cottages and churches to stables and carriage houses. Each entry highlights the importance of ventilation, room layout, and the selection of durable materials, such as quarried stone or wood.

The architect’s role The authors discuss the complexities of budgeting and construction, cautioning readers that building a home is a slow process that requires professional oversight. They explain why two houses built from the same plan might vary wildly in cost depending on local terrain and resource availability.

The balloon frame revolution The technical focus shifts to the efficiency of the balloon frame, which the authors champion as a superior, modern method of construction. They detail the specifics of this framing, proving its stability and utility for both small outbuildings and larger dwellings.

The People

The book centers on two primary "figures": the Head of the Family and the Professional Architect. The Head of the Family is a character struggling with the "unceasing noise and hurry" of New York, a person who desires the comfort of a home that is "roomy, warm, substantial, and in every way agreeable." This individual is often tempted by the desire to show off wealth but is gently corrected by the authors, who steer them toward "simple elegance" and the cultivation of a garden. They are someone who values both the efficiency of modern transport and the traditional peace of a rural setting.

The Professional Architect serves as the voice of authority, acting as a guide and moderator. This voice is pragmatic, deeply experienced, and skeptical of "old fogy" builders who insist on archaic methods. They want to protect the client from the "expensive manner" of learning through failure. Standing in the way of both figures are the "absurdities to which poor, frail humanity is liable"—namely, vanity, poor planning, and the impatience that causes a builder to rush a project. By the end, the Head of the Family becomes more refined, prioritizing the quiet joy of a "cot beside the hill" over the performative status of a city mansion, while the Architect remains a steady, guiding force ensuring the structural integrity of this new, suburban identity.

In Its Own Voice

"There is nothing, perhaps, that interferes so essentially with the citizen's enjoyment of the country, as the want of facilities for out door exercise."

(The authors argue that a country home must include practical features like spacious verandas and dry walks to ensure the occupant can enjoy the outdoors in all types of weather.)

"A country seat should combine and express the real uses which are required by the intellectual and social condition of its occupants, and not attract attention as blazoning the wealth and money importance of the owner."

(The authors offer this critique of the common tendency to build for public display rather than for the genuine needs and character of the family living inside.)

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an argument for the transformative power of the built environment. It posits that our surroundings dictate our morality and our health. By promoting the cottage as a design ideal, the authors suggest that simplicity and harmony with nature are the true markers of a successful life. The work questions the necessity of urban life, positing that true progress is found not in the accumulation of wealth in a city, but in the deliberate, thoughtful cultivation of a private, rural domain. It is an argument for the "country home" as the ultimate mechanism for achieving a balanced, intellectual, and social existence, far removed from the "wretched deficiencies" of city living.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of architecture, the evolution of the American suburb, or the mid-nineteenth-century mindset will find this book deeply rewarding. It provides a rare, grounded look at how people of that era conceptualized their relationship to the landscape and the role of the home in public and private life.

However, the reader should be prepared for the realities of its age. The technical specifications regarding balloon framing or stone masonry may feel dry to some, and the authors’ occasional moralizing about "vulgar" displays of wealth or the "old fogy" incompetence of other builders reflects a distinct, sometimes condescending, period attitude. Additionally, the book assumes a level of financial stability and leisure time that makes its advice less applicable to modern economic realities. Despite these challenges, there is a profound warmth in the writing—a genuine desire to help the reader create a space that is "snug" and "charming." What stays with the reader is the authors' fundamental belief that anyone can build a beautiful home if they only learn to "make haste slowly." It is a gentle, precise, and nostalgic reminder that, in an era of rapid expansion, some people were already looking for a way to slow down and find peace in their own backyard.