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Chick Austin once commented that the house he built in Hartford, Connecticut, in 1930 was “like me—all facade.” It was a typically self-deprecating remark from the man who in 1927, at just twenty-six years old, had become the head of the venerable Wadsworth Atheneum.

People might be forgiven for taking Austin's comment at face value. First there was the man himself. The only child of a mild-mannered doctor and a socially ambitious mother who fabricated a royal genealogy for herself and her son, Austin was as charming as he was handsome, and liked nothing more than a good party.

Then there was the house he and his wife, Helen, built shortly after their 1929 marriage. Inspired by a sixteenth-century villa they'd seen in Venice on their wedding trip, the Austins designed their house in the Palladian style, with a few twists. They used wood instead of brick and stucco, and though the house had the expected tall pilasters and Ionic capitals, these were only a few inches deep. What's more, the house was eighty-six feet long but only eighteen feet from front to back. Its exterior of gray with white trim gave the house a two-dimensional appearance, making it look almost like a movie set.

Austin was a man of great style, but he also possessed a deep knowledge of art and a passion for design. Combining the museum's large endowment with his own eye for a good buy—whether old masters or daring modernists—Austin brought new life to the Atheneum. His frequent exhibitions, always dramatically staged and kicked off with glittering parties, helped turn the respected but conventional museum into Hartford's cultural center as well as a model nationwide for what museums could offer their communities. In the process, Austin became one of the most celebrated museum directors in the country.

Chick and Helen's house was an extension of his work in the museum, and Austin designed each room as if it were a gallery. The entry hall rises two stories, ending in a lighted dome. The space feels grand, but in fact the curving staircase that winds up to the second floor is only a few steps away from the front door.

The first floor has all the grandeur of an eighteenth-century European palace. From the entry, a short passageway with a rose-colored carpet, rose-and-white toile wallpaper and an eighteenth-century Venetian glass door used as a wall panel leads to the music room. Here, canvas walls painted a golden color are hung with eighteenth-century Venetian silk wall panels picturing Chinese figures. Beyond the music room lies the large living room. Austin, with his characteristic sense of the theatrical, set the room down two steps from the music room, the better for surveying partygoers before making one's own grand entrance. The entryway is framed by a set of ornate carved doors taken from an old eighteenth-century European armoire. Austin blended his own paints throughout the house, and in the living room, he concocted a blue-green that matches the dramatic mood of the panels. In the living room and dining room, Austin avoided using chandeliers, which he felt cast too harsh a light, relying instead on sconces, candles and lunettes.

The dining room stands on the other side of the foyer, and, like the living room, is set two steps down. Friends who dined here called it the “blue lagoon,” an apt name considering its walls covered in a shimmering antique blue-green silk fabric woven in a baroque pattern. A wooden rococo alcove with elaborate carvings of flowers, foliage and cherubs spans one wall of the room. In contrast, the table is a simple mahogany Louis XVI piece surrounded by Louis XV caned chairs.

On the second floor, the mood begins to change. The bedspread and curtains of the master bedroom are a reproduction eighteenth-century Alsatian floral fabric, but no fancy moldings or hand-painted wall hangings adorn the space. Aside from the fabrics, the room has a twentieth-century feel with its beige woodwork, pale pink walls, light blue ceiling and cobalt blue carpet, all colors picked up from the fabric. The bedroom forms a sort of bridge between centuries, lessening the shock of the thoroughly modern dressing rooms.

Back in 1930, not everyone loved the Austin house. Some museum board members called it the “pasteboard palace” and a neighbor was known to call it “an excrescence.”

With his usual self-assurance, Austin laughed off the barbs. He knew that his house, far from being all facade, would one day be regarded as a work of art in itself.

EDITOR'S NOTE  The Austin House is open for guided tours by appointment for groups of twelve or fewer. 130 Scarborough St., Hartford, Conn., (860) 278-2670, ext. 3049.