Le Nid

In modern times the house of the average citizen is necessarily a somewhat prosaic affair. It has been my endeavour to show how far some quality of romance may be introduced into its scheme, so that the man who is justly not content with bread alone may find in his home some solace for the imagination—some stuff of which dreams may be made.

In the dwelling, which it is now my purpose to describe, less rigorous restrictions have made possible a fuller expression of decorative ideals. To describe it I must transport the reader to a dim pine-wood in Roumania, a wood such as that of which Swinburne sings:

Far Eastward and Westward the sun-coloured lands, / Shine bright as the light on them smiles, / While fairer than temple uplifted by hands, / Tall column by column the Sanctuary stands, / Of the pine-forest’s infinite aisles.

There is surely nothing in Nature quite so architectural in character as a pine-wood. Under foot is the brown carpet of the pine-needles, and around in endless perspective the tall columns of the trees, while above one catches glimpses of dusky orange branches set in sombre green. The air is heavy with the incense of the trees, and no tangled undergrowth obstructs the floor save where the pale green of bracken shimmers in a misty light amidst the purple trunks.

If in such a wood one were to seek a dwelling, surely one would expect to find, as Psyche did, the “hostelry of a god,” or at least the woodland retreat of some goddess of the groves.

It would not seem unfitting that these columns should support such a structure perched like a nest under the vaulting of the spreading branches. It is in such a wood that “Le Nid” is built. The floors of its chambers are formed by horizontal pine-trunks secured to the trees enclosing a somewhat irregular space. Its walls are of a like rustic character, and its roof of dark-toned thatch, so that the whole structure seems in harmony with the trees which support and surround it.

But while this general roughness and rustic character seems essentially appropriate in such a situation, it will be necessary to explain that it differs materially from those arrangements of squirming and tortured branches which have so corrupted modern rustic work with evil associations. The columns which support the roof and the balcony, which partly surrounds “Le Nid,” present the subtle vital curves of healthy unobstructed growth, and not the contorted and bizarre convulsions of trees stunted and blighted by unfavourable surroundings.

On reaching this balcony, poised so high above the earth, it seems inevitable that the mystic influences of the dim incense-breathing wood should suggest Rossetti’s lines:

The blessed damosel leaned out From the gold bar of Heaven.

Under the deep shade of the roof one perceives the entrance door to “Le Nid” bowered in an interlacing framework of carved branches and leafage, in the midst of which birds flutter and cling, and over which gleams a gilded nest.

On entering, one perceives that the brown and rough outer husk of this aerial dwelling is richly lined with jewelled and brilliant colour.

Some indication of the effect from the entrance may be gained from the illustration which forms the frontispiece to this book. The apartment represents the room of the sun and sunflower, and in all its various decorations represent different treatments of this sunflower motif, while the ceiling represents an attempt to convey in conventional terms something of the effect of glimpses of sky and sun seen through the upper branches of trees. In contrast to this golden room is the cool recessed ercker, of which the lily is the symbol flower. Its floor is set with a mosaic of water lilies disposed in lines which converge to the shrine on which a dim light burns. Towards this shrine, too, the lilies of the frieze bend their heads, and the pictured Madonna is framed by branches intricately interwoven. On the opposite side of this little oratory is the organ enclosed by doors, the inner sides of which are bright with flights of angels painted on a gilded ground.

The lines from Rossetti / We two will stand before that shrine, / Occult, withheld, untrod, lines which seem to have been struck out with masterly precision as by a sculptor’s chisel—seem especially appropriate for inscription over this shrine so remotely enskied.

Adjoining this principal apartment—the salon of the sun and the sunflower—is a bedroom where the drowsy poppy prevails. Over the door the inscription is from the Ancient Mariner:

To Mary, Queen, the praise be given, / She sent the gentle sleep from Heav’n / Which slid into my soul.

Here the hangings of the bed are embroidered with poppies. Poppies are painted on the walls, and are inlaid in the panels of the furniture. Beyond the bedroom is the kitchen, daintily appointed, and completing the whole plan of a dwelling probably unique in its situation, structure and adornments.