CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR 



MAKING THE BEST OF IT 



Ah Love ! could you and I with Fata conspire, 

 To grasp this sorry scheme of things entire, 

 Would we not shatter it to bits and then 

 Remould it nearer to the heart's Desire ! 



N England, at any rate, the average man does not generally 

 build a house for himself, and building is regarded as an 

 expensive luxury to be indulged in only by the rich. My 

 present purpose is not to inquire how far such a state of things 



is justified or what are its causes, but to accept the fact that 



many people who have their clothes, for instance, made to fit them, feel 

 bound to accept the ready-made house. This might not be so serious 

 a matter if the ready-made house were thoughtfully planned and adapted 

 to the comfort of the occupant, but few, I think, who have experienced 

 life in the average villa will claim so much for it as that ! But assuming 

 that such a house must perforce be ours, it may be useful to consider 

 in what way its interior, at least, can be modified to make the best of it. 

 The task is not such a hopeless one as at first sight may appear, and for 

 this reason : In the criticism of all art, an unconscious allowance is made by 

 the intelligent observer for the limitations involved. We do not quarrel with 

 the painter because, with his tube of flake white, he attempts to represent the 

 brightness of sunshine. Unconsciously we make due allowance for the 

 difficulties of his task. To make the best of the situation is all that any man 

 can do, and the very difficulties of the task add to the interest of the final 

 result, and make our triumph more readily applauded or our failure more 

 easily condoned. 



Those who have read of Japanese theatrical performances may remember 

 that they include the presence on the stage of certain gentlemen in black who 

 are not supposed to be seen by the spectator. In England, their duties 

 would be performed out of sight ; but the Japanese, while placing them in 

 view of the audience inconspicuously attired, assume that the intelligent 

 observer will consider it his duty not to see them. It is on some such 

 principle as this that the undesirable features of the suburban house should 

 be treated. One recognises at once, for instance, that its rooms are too high, 

 aud that an ugly plaster cornice divides wall from ceiling. In such a case, 

 the decorator may finish his treatment of the walls, at the height of the doors 

 perhaps, with a wooden rail. All the space above that line he practically 

 ignores. It is not in the caste of his piece, and so it may be treated in the 

 way which will best efface it from our impression of the room, and generally 

 the best method is to whitewash all above the rail and then leave it 

 contemptuously alone. There is nothing to be gained by picking out the 

 cornice with colour, or by papering with elaborate friezes and ceiling-papers 

 this upper portion of the room. All this will but help to draw attention to 

 what we wish to ignore. Or again, the doors and woodwork generally will 



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