THE colour of the walls is so important an item in the general good or bad impression of a room, that no beauty of minor objects can atone for a bad background; but a good wall-colour may redeem the minor objects.

The walls are a background not only to furniture but to faces, not only to faces but to dresses, and they ought to harmonise with the main pieces of furniture, which themselves become part of the wall as they modify the background. Walls should be bright without vying with colours brought against them, i.e. the colours used must be toned down by the admixture of umber or white with the pigments; or they should be dark, with an indistinct pattern which breaks up the flatness of plain colours, and throws them back like distance. The colouring of the walls, whether on the whole pale or dark, must never be cold, as no after-decorations check the gloom; thus white or grey should never be used unless flanked by a dado of warm hue, such as polished oak panels, whose rich brown is easily relieved by pictures, brasses or mirrors, or a stencilled dado enclosing medallions or stripes, whose colours counteract the chill above. Panelling of marquetry (always warm in tone), or a simpler kind of inlaid wood, was sometimes surmounted by a piece of white wall arched into a white ceiling in old Dutch houses, but cream or some dull red tint are better.

Marble panels, polished like those which lined the passage where the threatened Domitian paced, hoping to catch the reflections of danger ere it reached him, might be oftener used in wealthy houses. The colours of marble mounted in white or black are too lovely to be overlooked, and veneer is so easy that the expense would hardly exceed many uglier wall-coverings. The ancients veneered panels with lapis lazuli, malachite and ivory. The Neapolitan Giovanni da Nola inserted plaques of marbles among his lovely wood-reliefs in furniture. What cannot money do joined to a little taste and imagination ! but England possesses more money than wits.

The possessors of fine embroideries and shawls like Mr. Alfred Morrison may emulate him in framing them, like pictures, on the walls. In this case a plain wall beneath, of a colour which sets them off, is preferable to an elaborate pattern which gets confused with them.

The same is true of pictures. But the frames of pictures often form a destructive element in wall colour; they are too angular, they present too striking a mass of glossy gold, and thus as often kill the picture as not. Pictures ought to be used as panels more than they are; a little lath or other simple moulding would easily cut the wall into panels which fitted the frames, over which the main colour in the wall itself should be carried. It is a pity that the old silver frames have gone out, they were in some places far more beautiful than gold. And silver and gold together might be used with oak or mahogany in a manner infinitely preferable to the oblong and ill-fitting projections which pictures (till you are close enough for scrutiny) in modern gold frames usually are on a wall. An ugly gold frame, we must remember, is as objectionable as any other ugly mass of gilding; and its being fastened to a picture, which we will suppose is a work of thought and skill, is no excuse, but a further condemnation.

For pictures, or other articles of vertu, a plain warm colour, or one where the pattern is sufficiently indistinct, is necessary. Blue, grey, and slate walls are always unpleasant, because these colours are cold. I knew a room painted slate-grey, which no gaiety of Algerine curtains could dissever in the mind from the asphalte walls of Newgate, which cheerful dwelling I once went over. White walls I have so long denounced that I need not here add venom to their death-blow - society is rapidly giving them up. They greatly diminish the size of the room, as a white ceiling diminishes its height. They cast an unpleasant glare on all polished surfaces, ruin pictures, and against such a background curves must be exaggerated in order to 'tell.' A dark wall adds size, because the eye cannot exactly measure the distance at which the wall stands; whereas, in the case of a white wall, the eye calculates it to an inch. Velvet is one of the most beautiful coverings for a room; it is so fine a background in any soft colour, and with care it may be kept very clean. It must not be brushed, but wiped with a soft damp cloth, which brings off the dust in little ribs.

Dark amber, blue, or crimson is extremely rich, and, when carefully adapted, hardly dearer than the costly papers which rich people buy.

Moreover, it can be taken down, and cleaned or re-dyed, or replaced, as a costly paper cannot. This is one of the advantages of tapestry which I have remarked under the head of Curtains; it is not only a beautiful ornament, but so warm through its being loose, and the layer of air between it and the wall becoming warmed, that a tapestried room may be inhabited without a fire sometimes more comfortably than a thin-walled, paper-hung room with one. Of course I do not mean a long-neglected old chamber, which has grown damp and musty from want of use. All hangings will collect damp if they are allowed to; but tapestry well cared for, cleaned occasionally with bread or benzole, and kept aired, is not as musty as dirty paper; no damper or dustier, or fustier, or mustier than the carpet; and is free from the risks of arsenic, which analysts know occurs in all paper-hangings, of whatever colour, which give off dust when rubbed or crumpled.

The colouring of old Flemish tapestry is very fine, and throws up everything placed against it. I think pictures should not be hung against it, on the principle that one picture should not be hung on another, not because it would not set them off; though in the seventeenth century people were not so particular, but hung their pictures over their tapestry as it pleased them.