DOI Artikel:
Thorpe, Hall: On colour in the cottage
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.41874#0077
ONCOLOURINTHE COTTAGE. BY HALL
THORPE, R.B.A.
THERE is a country walk I love to take that leads by narrow foot-
paths across fields of corn and clover and on through beech woods,
where my eyes are rested in soft colour and subdued light, until
out again I come to find a lovely view of open country, and just
at hand a most ideal English village tucked among old trees and gardens,
and hedged about with farm lands. So satisfying and complete it all is,
that each time I see it I am filled afresh with joy and wonder, to think
how it all came to be so exactly right—the old ivied church, the manor-
house, the village green, the horse-pond, and box hedges, and the dearest
little inn are all there, just in their right places. When I first saw it I
thought it must be the only one, that it was too good to happen again; but
since then I have seen many others, and now know it to be a typical English
village.
But of all its attractions I was most in love with the labourers’ cottages,
with their little gardens of old-world flowers. The quaint, haphazard
shapes of these cottages always awakened in me a longing to know what
the rooms inside were like—they promised so many possibilities—and I
could well imagine how wonderful the landscape would look framed in
their low, narrow windows. Set in such lovely country and looking so
beautiful without, I felt that they must be equally beautiful and interest-
ing within; and I still remember the shock and disappointment I received
when I first entered them and found the walls covered with ugly patterned
papers of unpleasant colour, and thickly hung with old Christmas supple-
ments and enlarged photographs of the family. Although the rooms were
a good shape, they were spoilt by being crowded up by many useless odd-
ments, and the lovely view I had hoped to see through the windows was
only visible through the mesh of Nottingham lace curtains. Even the sweet
country air was absent, and the place smelt of frowziness and stale tobacco.
I entered several of the others, but they were all much alike. All suffered
from the same disadvantages, which were never a lack of materials, for
even in the poorest cottage there were enough good things in furniture,
china, or brass to make the rooms attractive, if only the rubbish could
have been cleared away to give them a chance. It was strange to notice,
in spite of the smallness of the rooms and the inadequacy of the space
available for the needs of the family, how large a proportion was taken up
by useless and ugly articles of furniture and so-called ornaments.
After my disappointment with the cottage I was very curious to see in
what surroundings the lord of the manor lived. The house was a wonder-
ful old place, an ideal manor-house, that looked as if it had grown up with
the beautiful trees and garden around it. However, inside I found it as
65
THORPE, R.B.A.
THERE is a country walk I love to take that leads by narrow foot-
paths across fields of corn and clover and on through beech woods,
where my eyes are rested in soft colour and subdued light, until
out again I come to find a lovely view of open country, and just
at hand a most ideal English village tucked among old trees and gardens,
and hedged about with farm lands. So satisfying and complete it all is,
that each time I see it I am filled afresh with joy and wonder, to think
how it all came to be so exactly right—the old ivied church, the manor-
house, the village green, the horse-pond, and box hedges, and the dearest
little inn are all there, just in their right places. When I first saw it I
thought it must be the only one, that it was too good to happen again; but
since then I have seen many others, and now know it to be a typical English
village.
But of all its attractions I was most in love with the labourers’ cottages,
with their little gardens of old-world flowers. The quaint, haphazard
shapes of these cottages always awakened in me a longing to know what
the rooms inside were like—they promised so many possibilities—and I
could well imagine how wonderful the landscape would look framed in
their low, narrow windows. Set in such lovely country and looking so
beautiful without, I felt that they must be equally beautiful and interest-
ing within; and I still remember the shock and disappointment I received
when I first entered them and found the walls covered with ugly patterned
papers of unpleasant colour, and thickly hung with old Christmas supple-
ments and enlarged photographs of the family. Although the rooms were
a good shape, they were spoilt by being crowded up by many useless odd-
ments, and the lovely view I had hoped to see through the windows was
only visible through the mesh of Nottingham lace curtains. Even the sweet
country air was absent, and the place smelt of frowziness and stale tobacco.
I entered several of the others, but they were all much alike. All suffered
from the same disadvantages, which were never a lack of materials, for
even in the poorest cottage there were enough good things in furniture,
china, or brass to make the rooms attractive, if only the rubbish could
have been cleared away to give them a chance. It was strange to notice,
in spite of the smallness of the rooms and the inadequacy of the space
available for the needs of the family, how large a proportion was taken up
by useless and ugly articles of furniture and so-called ornaments.
After my disappointment with the cottage I was very curious to see in
what surroundings the lord of the manor lived. The house was a wonder-
ful old place, an ideal manor-house, that looked as if it had grown up with
the beautiful trees and garden around it. However, inside I found it as
65