DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.61635#0134
[ !3° ]
extending almost the entire height of the house,
was scarcely a mark of distinction in studio-
crowded Barbizon; just as, probably, during Mil-
let’s lifetime, his poverty and troubles, and failure
to make both ends meet, were matters of course
among the hard-working villagers.—And yet this
humble cottage is already better known and
honoured as a place of pilgrimage in the artistic
world, than the palaces that crown Campden Hill
and cluster around Palace Gate, Kensington ; even
as the works that came from it will be remembered
when the pictures painted within the palace-studios
have long since been forgotten.—We did not ask
to go into the house. I believe visitors are ad-
mitted ; but it seems almost cruel to treat it as
a mere museum for curious tourists, while the
Millet family is still in charge. So we rested in
the pleasant shade, looking over to the unassuming
grey cottage where one or two plaster-casts showed
through the window, the branches of a tall tree
waved over the chimney, and an elder-bush, be-
neath the weight of its berries, bent far over the
garden wall, on the other side of which Millet so
often walked and stood to watch the west and the
setting sun.—No one was to be seen but two or
three children, who examined the tricycle as they
talked in whispers. But we could hear near voices
and
extending almost the entire height of the house,
was scarcely a mark of distinction in studio-
crowded Barbizon; just as, probably, during Mil-
let’s lifetime, his poverty and troubles, and failure
to make both ends meet, were matters of course
among the hard-working villagers.—And yet this
humble cottage is already better known and
honoured as a place of pilgrimage in the artistic
world, than the palaces that crown Campden Hill
and cluster around Palace Gate, Kensington ; even
as the works that came from it will be remembered
when the pictures painted within the palace-studios
have long since been forgotten.—We did not ask
to go into the house. I believe visitors are ad-
mitted ; but it seems almost cruel to treat it as
a mere museum for curious tourists, while the
Millet family is still in charge. So we rested in
the pleasant shade, looking over to the unassuming
grey cottage where one or two plaster-casts showed
through the window, the branches of a tall tree
waved over the chimney, and an elder-bush, be-
neath the weight of its berries, bent far over the
garden wall, on the other side of which Millet so
often walked and stood to watch the west and the
setting sun.—No one was to be seen but two or
three children, who examined the tricycle as they
talked in whispers. But we could hear near voices
and