THE DINING-ROOM.
In my first chapter I laid just a little stress on the word ‘suitable’;
but in looking back at it, I find I did not say half what I intended to
on the subject of making that most suggestive tri-syllable our guiding
star, as it were, in our whole scheme of life, and it may not be out of
place just to dwell upon it a little, before proceeding to lay out any
money, because if we calmly and dispassionately regulate our desires by
their appropriateness to our purse, and our standing in the social
scale, we shall find our requirements diminish sensibly, and our
purchasing powers increased in the most pleasing and comfortable way.
Therefore, in starting to buy the furniture for our modest dining-room,
let us consider not what is handsome or effective or taking to the eye,
but what is suitable to Edwin’s position, and what will be pleasant for
Angelina to possess, without having unduly to agitate herself and worry
herself to death in nervously protecting her goods and chattels from
wear and tear, which often enough is reflected on her, and wears and
tears her nerves, and takes up her time in a manner that would be
pathetic, if it were not so ridiculous and so extremely unsuitable to
her position as a British matron. Therefore, with a small income it is
the reverse of suitable to make purchases that can never be replaced
without months of anxious striving and saving; for though, of course,
incomes may increase, they seldom increase in proportion to the wants of
the household; and it is better to buy strong plain furniture, to
purchase cheap and pretty carpets and draperies that can be replaced
without a serious drain on our income, than to revel in expensive chairs
and tables which, should they be scratched and broken, can never be
matched without much more sacrifice than they are worth; and if we march
along manfully, determined to act suitably, not fashionably, we shall
enjoy life a thousand times better, and have at the same time the
pleasing consciousness that we are doing good to our fellow-creatures,
without knowing it perhaps, but most satisfactorily; for example is
worth a thousand precepts, and practising is more than a million
sermons, all the world over.
How often a well-managed house, an income carefully (not meanly, not
lavishly, but _carefully_) administered, or a pretty idea pleasantly
carried out, has shone like a bright light in this naughty world--other
people have seen our strivings, may be have noted our cheerful bright
house, and seen our small but comfortable _ménage_, and have gone on
their way cheered and refreshed by our example, and in copying it have
influenced some one else in quite another part of London or the suburbs;
and, alas! how many may we not have helped on the downward path of
extravagance and foolish lavishness by our foolishness or our needless
display, which we have repented of, most likely, long before all the
bills were paid.
Taking into consideration the fact that no one can live to themselves,
even in the purchase of chairs and tables, we may, perhaps, be forgiven
our sermon; but lest Angelina tires of our prating, and shrinks appalled
from the serious manner in which we cannot help regarding the starting
of any new home, we will leave off preaching on unsuitability, and
proceed on our journey in search of nice and suitable furniture for our
small dining-room.
[Illustration: FIG. 5.]
Great care must be taken in selecting our dining-room chairs, and we
earnestly advise all intending purchasers of these necessary articles of
furniture to look not so much at the appearance as to their capabilities
for affording a resting-place to a weary back; for I have often endured
a silent martyrdom at many a dinner-party, in the houses of those
amiable but mistaken people who go in for Chippendale chairs,
embellished by carvings just where one leans back, or for those other
still more agonising seats which have a round gap or space, and through
which one almost falls should one try to lean against them and so obtain
rest; and I am naturally anxious to save others from the sufferings I
have endured, either on the chairs just spoken of, or seated on one the
seat of which was so high from the ground that my legs have refused to
reach it, and I have hung suspended in mid-air, until I have hardly
known how to sit out the long and elaborate meal I was enduring,
certainly not enjoying.
[Illustration: FIG. 6.]
Now here are five chairs illustrated, any one of which would be quite
safe to have. No. 5 is the most expensive of all, and would cost about
3_l._ 10_s._ each. These are ebonised New Zealand pine, and are
upholstered in a dull brown morocco, which has worn splendidly. Nos. 6,
7, and 8 are Mr. Smee’s designs, and are made with a peculiar curve in
the backs, which just takes one’s shoulders, and gives one a comfortable
resting-place without appearing to be in the least a lounge. These
chairs can be had for about 32_s._ and 42_s._ respectively, No. 6 being
upholstered in a species of woollen tapestry, which wears well, and
would be singularly suitable for a small _ménage_, and is, therefore,
not out of the reach of most of us; while for folks who require
something much less expensive than even the cheapest chairs just spoken
of, there are the 3_s._ 6_d._ rush-seated black-framed chairs, sold by
Messrs. Harding Bros., Beaconsfield, Bucks, which are strong, artistic
in appearance, and infinitely to be preferred to the chairs in the
terrible ‘suites,’ that are such a temptation to the unwary, and to
those who make that most fatal of all mistakes, and do their shopping in
a hurry--than which there cannot be a greater error.
[Illustration: FIG. 7.]
In a small room I am much inclined to a round table; these are much more
cosy, and much more easily arranged to look nice; but, in any case, the
table need only be stained deal, with fairly good legs, for in these
days the table is always kept covered by a tablecloth, and is never
shown as it used to be in the old times, when half the occupation of the
servants, and often enough of the unfortunate mistress too, was to
polish the mahogany incubus, and bring it up to a state of perfection.
We have other and better occupations now than this constant ‘furniture
tending,’ I am glad to say; and, oh! how much prettier our houses are,
to be sure, than they used to be.
[Illustration: FIG. 8.]
There are two of these species of tablecloths especially to be
recommended, both for their artistic and their inexpensive merits, and
are far to be preferred to the tapestry cloths kept ready made in most
shops. Self-coloured felt or serge makes an admirable cover, especially
if a border is added of some contrasting colour. Peacock-blue serge
looks well with an old-gold border, about six inches wide; each side of
the border has a gimp combining the two colours, and the cloth itself is
edged with a tufted fringe. Two shades of red look well too; but, of
course, the cloth must be chosen to harmonise with the room in which it
is to be used, and not bought, as Englishmen all too often make their
purchases, because the thing is pretty in itself, forgetting that it
ceases to have even a claim on the score of beauty when placed among
incongruous surroundings. I may mention, now I am on the subject of
tablecloths, that I much dislike the custom of leaving the white
tablecloth on all day long; this invariably makes the room look like an
eating-house, and causes the cloth to appear messed, for dust from the
fire settles upon it; and I always insist on the white cloth being
brushed, _folded in its folds on the table by the two maids_, and then
placed at once in the press, a cloth managed like that lasting twice as
long and looking much better than the one that is left on for two or
three days at a time; for few if any of us can now afford a clean
tablecloth every day, not only on the score of the washing, but because
the washing process too often applied ruins our cloths, and results in
nothing save a series of holes, worn by chemicals and careless mangling;
therefore the white cloth must be removed, and replaced by a good art
serge or felt, made up, as suggested above, with a band of some
contrasting hue. This cloth careful people remove during meals, for no
one can be sure whether gravy or wine will not be upset; and teacups and
saucers have been known to be turned over bodily even in the
best-regulated families. These accidents do no positive damage if the
good cloth is removed; and, after all, this is a small thing to
recollect, and may save expenditure both of money and temper too.
These tiny hints are of course meant for people who are not well off,
but may not be out of place even to those richer people who are lucky
enough not to be obliged to worry after every trifle. A penny saved is a
penny gained; and even the richest among us has need to be careful. What
he saves can after all be given to some poor brother.
But however rich you are do not be persuaded to buy that ugly,
expensive, and tremendous thing a sideboard; neither waste your
substance on dinner-wagons, they spoil the appearance of everything; but
get some obliging and clever upholsterer to make you a cabinet or two,
one for each side of the fireplace, if you have recesses there, and take
care they are pretty, for much of the look of your home depends upon
what you have in the shape of armoires. I have two made in ebonised wood
from a design given me by a Royal Academician, which are illustrated
here. They have three shelves, then a broad space where are deep
cupboards, and then again an empty space, where books can be kept, or
great jars put to decorate it. On the three shelves I arrange china,
which is also arranged on the top of the part that has three cupboards.
These have brass hinges and good locks, and hold wine, dessert, dinner
napkins, and trifles, such as string, nails, and other necessary
articles, and answer every purpose of a sideboard, and, instead of being
ordinary, ugly things, are so
[Illustration: FIG. 9.]
decorative that no one ever enters my room without noticing them and
asking me where they are to be procured. I have had mine some years now,
but extremely nice ones are made by Mr. Smee, the prices beginning at
6_l._ 6_s._ in plain deal ready for painting any special hue to suit any
room, to 10_l._ 10_s._ each in oak or walnut; and I very strongly
recommend them to people who really wish their home to be artistic, and
not a mere warehouse for necessary furniture, for while they answer the
same purpose as a sideboard, they are pretty to look at, and would not
be out of place in an ordinary sitting-room.
Up to this present moment I have said nothing about the colour or
arrangement of the walls of the dining-room, and so, before proceeding
to dilate on the rest of the furniture, I will here give my readers a
few hints on this subject. In the first place, then, let all people
about to furnish determine that their dining-room shall be cheerful
somehow, and let them eschew anything like dark colours or dingy papers,
refusing to listen to the voice of the charmer, who has his
‘appropriate’ designs to sell, and does not care in the least for your
ideas on the subject; and, having mentally selected the colour that
appeals to their taste, let them refuse manfully to be talked out of
their purpose by a man who has no ideas beyond the conventional ones of
dark colours for a dining and light ones for a drawing-room.
For those people who can afford it, I advise invariably a plain gold
Japanese leather paper, with a bold red and gold leather paper as a
dado. The plain paper is 4_s._ 6_d._ a piece of nine yards, _French_ or
narrow width; the dado paper is 1_s._ 6_d._ a yard. All the paint in the
room should be the exact shade of the _red_ of the ground of the paper,
and the painter should be instructed to keep entirely to one shade of
paint, to do no ‘picking out’ or embellishments at all, but to paint
wainscot, shutters, dado rail, and doors alike in one uniform shade of a
good red, mixing the last coat with varnish, or else giving one coat of
Mr. Aspinall’s invaluable enamel paint, which gives a smooth and
polished appearance, particularly suitable for this special tint of red.
The dado rail is sold by Maple ready to put up at 2¼_d._ a foot; thus
it would be easy for any one to calculate exactly how much such a scheme
of decoration would cost. Then the ceiling should be papered in pale
yellow and white. The cornice should in no case be outlined or ‘picked
out’ with colours, but should be a uniform shade of cream, thus just
shading into the paper without calling attention to itself.
Here let me pause for one moment to impress emphatically on my readers
the great necessity of recollecting that paint and paper are after all
only a background to oneself and one’s belongings, and therefore are not
to be brought unduly forward. The paint must always be kept one shade of
one colour; the cornice must always be coloured a deep cream, and the
necessary
[Illustration: FIG. 10.--Dining-room at Gable-end, Shortlands.]
relief in doors and shutters is obtained by filling the panels thereof
with a good Japanese leather paper, which at once causes the proper
decorative effect with the expenditure of a very little money, the
effect being heightened by the addition of brass locks and handles,
which cost very little, and yet just add the finishing touches to the
room.
Should the Japanese paper be too expensive, the red effect could be
obtained by one of Pither’s papers with a bold frieze in a good floral
design. This is united to the paper by a frieze or picture rail, sold by
Maple at 2¼_d._ a foot unpainted, and from this frieze the pictures
hang on brass hooks made on purpose; these are about 2_s._ 6_d._ a
dozen; and the pictures are suspended from them on copper wires; this,
however, only answers where there is no gas, as gas corrodes the wire
rather quickly, and then cords must be used; but where there is no gas
the copper answers perfectly, and looks far better than anything else
can possibly do.
Should red be objected to altogether--and I hope it may not be--here is
another scheme of decoration; a dark sage-green paper, with a very
little gold in it; a gold and green Japanese leather dado; all the paint
one shade of sage-green, and a terra-cotta and white ceiling paper;
terra-cotta serge or damask curtains edged with ball fringe, and a
sage-green tablecloth with pale terra-cotta border. With the red
decoration the curtains &c. can be a rather faint pinky terra-cotta;
this produces an excellent effect, while in some rooms a dull blue would
harmonise most excellently with the red. Let me mention one other
trifle: always insist on that ghastly round in the centre of the
ceiling, above the gaselier, being removed. Workmen always say this is
impossible, just as they generally declare they cannot paint over
graining; but it is quite an easy business, and makes an immense
difference in the appearance of any room, and is another ‘little-thing’
the forgetting of which always annoys one, and spoils what might
otherwise be a perfect whole.
I generally advise a dado in the dining-room, because of the rubbing the
paper always receives from the backs of the chairs; but this said
rubbing can be obviated by putting all round the room on the floor
against the wainscot a two-inch border of wood. This does not show if
painted to match the wainscot, and always keeps off a great deal of the
wear and tear the wall receives. Yet sometimes, when the paper is a
really handsome one, a dado can be dispensed with for some time; the
placing of one when the paper itself has been up a few years having the
effect often of making a new room of it, and doing away with the
re-papering process; which is always such a terror by reason of the
dilatoriness and utter worthlessness of many of the British workmen we
are forced to employ, painters, as a rule, being the most unsatisfactory
of all; and I am quite sure many young men who now starve genteelly as
clerks, either in or out of place, could earn much more money, and be
constantly employed too, if they would take to honest papering and
painting, and carry out our ideas in our houses for us, giving us
honest, _sober_ work in return for honest pay. However, we must not
sermonise more than we can help; and having suggested a few ideas for
covering the walls and buying the most necessary articles of furniture,
I now proceed to dwell upon those small extras which will make the room
comfortable, should Edwin have to sit in it when he is at home and has
letters to write; or should the bride-elect be obliged sometimes to make
it her morning room, to save the fire, or the extra work caused by a
third room to a servant. A simple window-seat, as in sketch 11, can
often be placed in a suburban bow-windowed villa, and at once makes a
cosy seat. This frame costs 7_s._, and can be made by a local carpenter.
[Illustration: FIG. 11.]
The top is made of sacking, and takes four yards at about 1_s._ a yard;
the front is made from a deep frill of cretonne lined with unbleached
calico, and is sewn on rings (fig. 12). These are suspended on nails,
and the whole of the top is cushioned with cretonne, cretonne cushions
being sewn on rings and hung on the wall to make a back for these seats.
The description of arrangement of curtains suitable for this will be
found in the chapter on curtains; and I maintain that no girl or woman
either need consider it a hardship if she have to spend her morning
sewing or reading here, while she could write her necessary letters at
the desk prepared for her husband, and which is a necessity in any house
for a man who has accounts to keep and letters to write. Still, if Edwin
is not a very much better specimen of a husband than the ordinary smoker
of the period makes, Angelina will have to sit in her third room
sometimes, for there is nothing more trying than an atmosphere of stale
smoke, and I look forward to a time when men of the rising generation
will be a little less selfish than they are at present in their
indulgence in a habit that, so far as I can perceive, has not one merit
to recommend it.
[Illustration: FIG. 12.]
How often am I asked by girls how they can get rid of the disagreeable
effects of smoke after dinner! They say--and very rightly too--that they
really dread breakfast-time, and that their morning is poisoned for them
by the indescribable odour that greets them when they come down
refreshed from their night’s rest to take up their day’s work
cheerfully; that it would be worse if Edwin smoked in the drawing-room,
and they have no small room where they could allow him and his friends
to work their wicked will, and that therefore they feel hopeless. And I
cannot keep from wondering why men should smoke as they do; and
thinking over this, and remembering how terrible it has been to me to
come down to stale smoke, I should like to beg Edwin seriously to
consider whether he need indulge in this habit in his own domicile, and
whether the save of his after-dinner cigar would not conduce to his
happiness as well as to Angelina’s comfort; and really I have small
heart to describe how Edwin can have a comfortable corner in his
dining-room when I feel convinced the more comfortable he is made the
worse effect it will have on everything in any pretty room.
I often wonder if men ever reflect on what their smoke costs them--how
many delightful books, pleasant journeys, pretty engravings and
photographs, and, in fact, all sorts of pleasant and permanent
belongings, fly off into thin air by means of those pipes and cigars
that really seem part of a man at present, and, in fact, are far too
often their first thoughts.
I am not speaking for myself, gentle reader. The atmosphere of smoke is
absent from my own especial domicile, and is reserved for my atom of a
conservatory, should an occasional spoiled friend come down and look
miserable without his pipe or cigarette--for cigars I cannot have even
there; but I am writing for all the young people who are beginning life,
and who think they make their husbands happy by giving them _carte
blanche_ to do just ‘as they like in their own house.’
My dear girls, you cannot make a greater mistake with your husbands, and
later on with your sons, than to wait upon them and give in to all their
little lazinesses and selfishnesses at home. It may sound ridiculous,
but it is a fact that old coats and slippers in the home circle mean
manners to correspond; that bad manners often show a bad heart; and that
a man is far more likely to care for the wife who exacts the small
attentions that would have been lavished on the bride, than for her who
opens the door for herself, rings the bell when he is in the room, and
fetches things for him to save him steps that ought to be taken for her
and not by her; and that boys who are allowed to bully and ‘fag’ their
sisters and their mother are sure to make the selfish, inconsiderate
husbands of which we hear so much nowadays.
And this great smoke question means a great deal too. It is a selfish,
disagreeable habit, verily; and I can but hope that Edwin will think of
this when in his pretty dining-room, and confine himself to the garden
or conservatory with the door shut, even if he does not seriously
consider how many pleasures for both vanish into smoke with the fumes of
his post-prandial cigar; while the odours in which he condemns Angelina
to begin her day would be done away with, and cheerfulness reign instead
of dulness and a sense of nausea that are most trying to any one who
does not like cigars.
Hoping that these words may have due effect, we will contemplate
allowing our bridegroom to have a comfortable armchair in one corner of
the room, and a big desk in another. The armchair, of course, is rather
a serious item, and should really be made for the person who intends to
sit in it. This naturally means an expenditure of from 8_l._ to 10_l._,
according to the covering; so this may be done without until Edwin is
older, if he cannot afford it. Now, in that case, I should recommend his
buying one of those delightful low wicker-work chairs, which can be
bought anywhere for 5_s._ or 6_s._ This can be painted to match the
room, or ebonised with Aspinall’s lovely and invaluable enamel
paints--paints that have a glaze upon them and wear beautifully, and can
be applied at home, and it can be cushioned by any local upholsterer, or
even by Angelina herself, if she be clever with her fingers. The best
material for covering these chairs is undoubtedly a strong tapestry at
about 5_s._ 6_d._ a yard. Maple has the best-designed tapestries for the
money in London, and one should be carefully chosen to harmonise with
the room; the cushion should be tied in its place, or sewn in its place,
with very strong tapes or thread, and should be buttoned down. It takes
two and a quarter yards double width material and four and a half single
width to make a cushion for the sides and seat, and the seat cushion
should be finished off with a frill two inches wide. The comfort of
these chairs is much enhanced by the addition of a small square soft
cushion to fill up the hollow in the centre and stuff into one’s back.
These can be easily made either out of paper torn up and rolled into
strips and then put into a piece of twilled cotton for a case, and a
second case made from the material saved out of the chair covering
itself, or small down cushions can be bought at Whiteley’s in
Turkey-pattern materials which can be hidden in a covering like the
chair, as suggested above, or--whisper this, please--the hair-cushions
placed in the back of ladies’ skirts now can be utilised for stuffing
these cushions to far more advantage than if they were retained in the
position suggested by the dressmaker; and then the appearance of the
chair is complete, with the addition of a Turkish embroidered
antimacassar at 2_s._, which always makes any chair look nice, and even
expensive (see Illustration 13). These chairs can be bought, enamelled
any colour and cushioned complete, for 31_s._ 9_d._ at Colbourne’s, 82
Regent Street, W., made to my pattern.
If you have a more expensive chair, do not buy one with a straight back;
comfortable as they look, they are no use in practice, and every chair
should be rounded for comfort, even if our grandmothers would shake
their heads over the decadence of a generation that requires round backs
to their chairs. Then there should be solid square arms on which books
can be placed, if we like to put one down for a few moments, or even a
cup of tea allowed to stand there, should it be necessary. Mr. Smee
made me such a chair--it was 8_l._ 18_s._ 6_d._, I think--and I would
not part with it on any consideration. It is covered with a very
beautifully designed tapestry, and is trimmed with a deep woollen
fringe, knotted and headed with broad gimp, and is simply perfect; but
he took an immense amount of trouble about it, and made it to suit me,
going on the same plan as that on which the wicker chairs are formed,
only making mine higher from the ground, the lowness of the wicker
chairs being their only failing; and even this, of course, is no failing
in the eyes of a great many of our younger brothers and sisters.
[Illustration: FIG. 13.]
Edwin’s desk should be wide and strong, and should have good deep
drawers. This can be bought ready made for about 12_l._, but I can
provide a similarly convenient article for 2_l._ 15_s._; that is to say,
I can provide Edwin with ideas on the subject that any small carpenter
can carry out. I have had for years a writing-table made by our own
carpenter which cost me 2_l._ 5_s._, and is now doing honourable service
as a dressing-table in a boy’s room. It was made simply in deal, had
three very deep drawers on each side, and one flat long drawer at the
top; and the top was covered neatly with a piece of Japanese leather
paper, which was quite as serviceable as good leather. I then had it
nicely painted to match the room, added brass handles and locks, and had
an extremely pretty desk or dressing-table for very little money. It is
now painted a very beautiful blue, Aspinall’s hedge-sparrow’s-egg blue,
and is most useful; deep drawers in a desk or dressing-table meaning
comfort, for there is nothing more uncomfortable than having nowhere to
put one’s things. Good inkstands--indeed, the best I know is the deep
blue-and-white china one to be bought at the Baker Street Bazaar for
sixpence--should never be forgotten. Two should be bought, one for red
and one for black (there is no ink, by the way, like Stephens’
blue-black fluid; I cannot write without it, and always take it with me
wherever I go); a box for string, filled, a post-card case, a
letter-weigher, and a date-card and candlestick, and also a tray for
sealing-wax, pens, ink-eraser, &c., all should find places on the desk,
and above it, or on one side, should hang something to hold letters--a
basket at 4½_d._ does beautifully; beneath it should be a wastepaper
basket, and if Angelina be wise she will have a sack in a cupboard from
some paper works, into which all pieces of wastepaper should be put. The
sack soon fills, and from disposing of the contents there are seven
shillings, which come in handily for plants, or flowers, or any of the
many trifles that seem nothing to buy, but that run away somehow with so
very much money--trifles making up life after all. If possible, keep a
bunch of flowers on the desk. I am never without one winter or summer,
and there is ample room on the desk I describe for this and also for
dictionaries, two plants, and three brass pigs taking a walk, which I
always use as a letter-weight.
The dining-room desk should always be looked after by the mistress
herself, who should also take care that fresh ink, pens that will write,
a blotting-book, and wastepaper basket are in every room in the house
that is used, including the spare bedroom. Seeing to this often saves a
good deal of time and temper too; for I know of nothing more irritating
than to have to write a note in a hurry and have nothing handy to do it
with.
The dining-room, or, indeed, any room, would not be complete without a
few words on the subject of the mantelpiece, which is always rather a
difficult matter to arrange; for one must have a clock there, and that
means expense, unless we are content with a very charming specimen
Oetzmann, of the Hampstead Road, used to sell for 25_s._ I have had one
three, nay, four, years in my drawing-room, and it still goes
excellently. It is blue, and in a tall slender black case. It is called
the Chippendale clock. I dare say he keeps them still. Then there should
be candles in blue and white china candlesticks, and any pretty
ornaments Angelina may have, and, if none are given her, why, 1_l._
judiciously laid out at Liberty’s or the Baker Street Bazaar will
furnish more than one mantelshelf delightfully. I could make my readers
smile over my hunt sixteen years ago for some nice candlesticks if I had
the time, and could contrast my difficulties then with the _embarras de
richesse_ now. But space does not allow of these digressions. Still,
whatever else is done without, let us be sure to have a couple of
well-filled spillcases, and a matchbox with matches in it fixed to the
wall; though, if we have the ordinary marble incubus of the orthodox
suburban residence to deal with, we shall have to think over the
mantelpiece question most seriously, for this is indeed a burning
question, and one that would daunt the stoutest heart to answer
satisfactorily, and I look forward hopefully to a time when builders
will eschew the expensive and ugly marble in favour of wooden
mantelpieces, which are, to my mind, all they ought to be.
In the first place, a wooden mantelpiece continues, as it were, the
scheme of decoration of the room, and, without being unduly prominent,
makes the necessary unobtrusive frame for the fireplace that a staring
white marble erection can never be. And, in the second, any stain from
smoke can be washed off the painted mantelpiece, while a few days’
carelessness, a smoky chimney, or a housemaid’s unclean paws can ruin a
marble mantelpiece beyond the hope of redemption; therefore on all
accounts I think a wooden one is to be preferred.
Of course, some people, even in a small house, regard the possession of
the marble in the light of a patent of nobility--it is so handsome
(odious word), so genteel; but these belong to the hopeless class, for
whom little or nothing can be done. As an illustration of what I mean, I
may tell you I once was asked by one of these individuals to come down
to her country house and give my opinion on the subject of some
wall-papers she was hesitating between; and when I entered her
drawing-room, where my lady was not, but was heard scouring about
upstairs, hastily changing her dress to be fit to be seen at four
o’clock in the afternoon, I saw just such a gorgeous marble erection,
and, in a species of compromise between the taste of the day and the
sense of proud possession given by the marble, there was a valance hung
round the edge of the shelf, supported, or rather tied on, with tapes,
so that the fact of the material of which the shelf was made was visible
to the eye of the visitor. I could not take my eyes off it, and on
learning that my opinion was asked in reference to the room in which I
was, I asked about the valance, suggesting how ridiculous it looked
suspended, poor thing, in mid-air, and hinting that a board would give
it a reason for its existence; but this was received with so much
surprise that I could not recognise how beautiful the marble was, that I
got out of the room as soon as I could, knowing that here any advice I
could give would be utterly thrown away. In a great house where
gorgeousness, not prettiness, reigns, marble is, of course, more in
place than it is with us, but I do not like it at all in our cold native
land, where our grey skies and dark atmosphere cry out for colour, and I
would relegate it to Italy, where it contrasts charmingly with the
ardent skies and glowing air inseparable from that land of sun and
flowers. I do hope some builder, who is intent on building houses for
the Edwins and Angelinas of the day, may read my humble words, and,
turning his back on the marble, may put up in the pretty residences that
are now the rule and not the exception the simple wooden mantelpiece
that lends itself so kindly to decoration, and does not assert itself
like the ‘handsomer’ one does in a small house--in a manner that
resembles a rich relation come to call, and reduce the poor connection
to a sense of his position and utter lowliness.
The mantelpiece of wood can have one or two little shelves in the comers
under the shelf itself; here can be placed cups or vases for flowers.
Then comes the shelf itself, and finally the over-mantel. In one of my
rooms where the slate mantelpiece is hopeless, I have covered the top
with a plain board, painted turquoise blue, the colour of the room. This
is edged by a goffered frill of cretonne, like the curtains, about a
foot deep. It is nailed on the front of the board, and the nails hidden
by a moulding, also painted blue. Over this I have a glass about two
feet wide with a bevelled edge, and framed in plain deal, painted blue,
and surmounted by a shelf about four inches wide, supported by two small
blue brackets. Of course the frame of the fireplace ought to be blue
too, and it is a sore subject, I can tell you, that it is not; but being
of black slate it is not so trying as it might be--not so trying, for
example, as another room would have been had I not boldly painted its
odious yellow and white marble mantelpiece black, to match my paint, and
so removed an eyesore that looked like nothing so much as poached eggs
very badly cooked and sent to table. I did go through the farce of
asking my good and indulgent landlord, who, fortunately for me, was
artistic, and gave his consent freely; but I am afraid, even if he had
not, I should have painted it quite as boldly, and trusted to ‘luck’ to
have escaped any fearful penalty when my lease was up, and I left my
decorations behind me for some one else--decorations that include
another painted mantelpiece, this time a dull grey stone thing, that is
quite lovely in a terra-cotta coat of paint, and its top covered, as I
have just described the blue covering, with a terra-cotta painted board,
and a frill of blue and white Mysore chintz.
I am always being reminded of how much a fireplace is in a room by going
into quite charming chambers where nothing is wanting save and excepting
a nice arrangement there. The whole room is spoiled, and the ugliness
there contrasts so forcibly with the rest of the room that I can never
avoid mentioning it, and begging the owner to call at Shuffery’s, in
Welbeck Street, whose cheap wooden mantelpieces and tiled hearths cannot
possibly be too widely known, and are cheaper than those of any other
firm: though, of course, a clever draughtsman can make his own designs,
and a wooden mantelpiece could be made by an ordinary carpenter, but the
‘stuff’ must be well seasoned and carefully put up, so us to have no
risk of fire.
Always, if possible, have a tiled hearth and a very simple fender. A
gorgeous fender is a mistake; if a tiled hearth is provided all one
requires is a black frame to enclose the hearth, with two brass knobs
just to brighten it up; then get some brass fire-irons and two standards
at Maple’s or else at Hampton’s, where brass things are very good and
cheap, and, if in any way obtainable, see your grates are Barnard’s.
They save their cost in coal in a very short time, and are very pretty
and simple. I have one that cost a little over 4_l._; it has a simple
black frame, enclosing some pretty blue and white tiles, and has
firebrick sides and bottom, and is as low as the hearthstone. The fire
in this grate keeps alight from about 11 A.M. until 2 P.M. in the
coldest winter weather, and I have never once during that time to ring
for coals. Another ordinary stove during the same hours has to be
continually watched and replenished, and while the blue and white room
is always hot, the other room, possessed of the all-devouring grate, is
never even warm, and sometimes one end thereof is hardly above freezing
point. I have an equally good grate in the drawing-room, and here a fire
made up at eight burns steadily until eleven at night, and often is
quite a gorgeous fire at bedtime. I believe these grates are made at
Norwich, but Shuffery sends them or similar grates equally satisfactory
with his wooden mantelpieces; which, by the way, are supplied with
Doulton ware fenders like the tiled hearths. These save needless trouble
to the servants, as they only require dusting and an occasional
wash-over to be always clean.
While we are on the subject of fires, I can tell my readers of a
comfortable manner to keep in a fire in a bedroom or drawing-room, when
a fire is wanted, but not a ‘regular blazer.’ To insure there being a
fire, line the bottom and front of the grate with a newspaper, then fill
it up, nearly to the top of the fireplace, with quite small coal, on the
top of this lay an ordinary fire, with nice lumps of bright coal, wood,
&c., and set light to it; this fire will burn downwards steadily, and
can be left to take care of itself; and then, when the room is required
for use, all that is wanted is a judicious poke, and a pretty cheerful
blaze rewards you, while you have the satisfaction of knowing your fire
is in, and no waste of fuel to any appreciable extent is going on,
should the room not be in occupation.
Before I end this chapter I may just give some few hints as to what to
do with our fireplaces when a fire is not necessary though, in my own
case, an open Japanese umbrella suffices, because the temperature in
England changes so quickly and so often that I scarcely can feel fires
are an impossibility; but quite a pretty change in the room can be made
by placing the sofa or the grand piano straight across the fireplace, of
course removing fender, &c., and so making it appear as if it had
vanished; while another nice effect is made with putting a fender made
of virgin cork instead of the ordinary one, and filling up the grate
with great ferns and flowering plants or cut flowers, frequently
changed, for nothing save the ubiquitous aspidistra lives comfortably in
this lowly and draughty situation. The cork fender should be filled with
moss, and then jam pots sunk in it full of water; in these arrange your
flowers: put a hand-basin in the grate itself, and bend large leaves of
the _Filix mas._ fern over the edges; these completely cover the bars of
the grate; then large peonies can be arranged in the basin, and the
whole looks like a bank of flowers. This can only be managed in a
country room, where flowers are plentiful; but not a bad fire-screen is
made from a wire frame with a deep flower trough in front; ivy should be
trained all over the frame, and then flowers and ferns can be arranged
in the trough at it small cost. Let this, however, be done only in one
room in the house. Never put it out of your power to have a fire
whenever you feel cold. No one knows how much illness is saved by this
small precaution.
One or two things must also be remembered before we leave the
dining-room altogether. Footstools must be provided, and by the side of
the grate should hang a bass brush to keep the hearth tidy, a pair of
bellows to coax a lazy fire, and a fan to screen any one who should
dislike the blaze in their eyes; and the wall-paper will last all the
longer if a Japanese paper fan is nailed in such a manner that the
bristles of the brush rest on it and not on the wall; just as the carpet
will last longer if the coalscuttle stands on its own small linoleum
mat, which can be painted any colour with Aspinall’s paint, and will
always wash clean, cheerfully every day.