THE SCHOOLROOM.
In the selection of the schoolroom there are several things to be
thought of; but if the nursery be done away with, and there should be no
upstairs sitting-room, I strongly advise the schoolroom being on the
bedroom floor. This is often a most useful institution, for sometimes it
serves as a refuge to invalids who are well enough to leave their
bedrooms, but not well enough to run the risks of draught on the stairs,
while the children are out of the way of visitors, and are not always
running up and down the passages in a distracting and untidy manner.
Let me urge on all mothers of families to cling to either a day nursery
or a schoolroom until the children are really too old to be glad of some
place where they can do actually and positively as they like; that is to
say, of course, unless they like to behave like savages, but this rarely
happens in a household where the little ones have been accustomed to
nice surroundings, and to be treated like human beings from their
cradles.
It is most important that children should be let a great deal alone, and
to insure this it is perfectly necessary that some room should be set
apart for their use entirely, furnished in such a way that one is not
constantly obliged to be saying ‘Don’t do this’ and ‘Don’t do that,’ and
yet in a manner that shall foster every nice taste and encourage every
good habit possible; and great care should be also taken to insure
sufficient sunshine, for sunshine is life and health, and a dark and
sunless room often fosters a dark and sunless nature.
I should strongly advise the floor of the schoolroom to be covered with
Indian matting, if expense be no object, with rugs about at intervals:
this is always clean and fresh, and can be changed often. Next to Indian
matting comes the stained edge to the floor so often recommended, with
the nice square of Kidderminster carpet laid down over carpet felt, and
edged with a woollen fringe; the best carpets of this particular make
are called ‘three-ply,’ and are sold by the yard, and are infinitely
superior in every way to the ‘squares’ sold ready made in different
sizes, and edged by a border, which is generally far too large a pattern
to look nice. The carpets sold by the yard are much better designs and
colours, and wear three times as long as the cheaper makes; but under
_no_ circumstances should the schoolroom be the refuge for half-worn
costly carpets, which want wearing out, and yet are too shabby for the
downstairs apartments. These had far better be got rid of in some sale;
for an old carpet is nothing but a dust-bin on a small scale, and can
never be fresh enough to pat in a room where there are children.
The walls could be covered with one of the washable sanitary papers, if
one can be procured in a sufficiently pretty pattern; but it is
emphatically necessary that the walls should have a real dado, either of
oilcloth painted some good artistic shade--four coats are necessary to
eliminate the pattern--of cretonne, or matting, which would be best of
all. This keeps the lower part of the wall tidy always; and if the
sanitary paper can be obtained in a self-colour, the plainness of this
can be done away with by a good selection of pictures, than which
nothing is more necessary in a schoolroom; and the children had far
better be plainly dressed and fed than have bad pictures provided for
them, or ugly drawings only relating to their work.
In these days of cheap art there is no reason why we should be without
pictures of some kind everywhere, and they should be chosen carefully,
either for their beauty or for the lesson they teach. Having a positive
horror of gambling, horse-racing, or betting in any shape or form
myself, I cannot regard any house satisfactorily furnished without
autotypes of my father’s pictures of ‘The Road to Ruin.’ These admirable
pictures have pointed a moral over and over again in my house, and will,
I hope, point many another; for the children are always ready to look at
them and make out for themselves the dismal o’er-true tale. If, however,
these pictures should be objected to, I should advise autotypes of some
of Sir Joshua’s lovely child-pictures, Leader’s ‘At evening time it
shall be light,’ ‘Chill October,’ any of the etchings after Burton
Barber’s amusing dog-pictures, and those equally entertaining
fox-terrier sketches of Mr. Yates Carrington, Waller’s ‘The Day of
Reckoning,’ and, in fact, any of the beautiful etchings done of late
years, and that average 5_l._ each; these purchases being infinitely
more necessary in a house where there are children than diamonds or
plate or smart furniture and expensive decorations, and should be
bought, as soon as ever they can be afforded, by any householder who
really has the welfare of his family at heart.
The ceiling should be papered in some bright blue and white paper, and
should have a good ventilator somewhere in the centre. No gas should be
allowed, and light should be furnished by two good hanging lamps
conveniently placed; while each child who is old enough to do its work
after tea in the winter should have its own shaded Queen’s reading lamp,
and should be taught to keep it clean and bright for itself; thus the
servants would not be troubled on this subject unduly, though, should
there be a schoolroom maid, she could take the lamps under her charge
with the rest of the schoolroom belongings.
There should be two good cupboards in the room, which could be placed in
the recesses on each side of the fireplace, should there be any; these
could be simply made with shelves in the recesses and with wooden doors
to fasten over them; these could be painted some self-colour to match
the prevailing colour of the room, and the panels could be filled in
either with the ever-useful Japanese leather paper, or be embellished by
Mrs. McClelland’s clever brush with studies of some lovely flowers;
brass handles should be added, and while one cupboard should be set
apart for the governess and the schoolroom books, the other should be so
arranged that, if possible, each child should have its own shelf. The
top of these cupboards could form an excellent receptacle for toys and
games, while some of the hanging bookshelves spoken of before could
supplement the shelves should there not be room for the extra books. The
windows must open top and bottom, and should have short muslin and
cretonne curtains; no blinds, of course, but, should the situation be as
sunny as it ought to be, outside blinds should be provided, and,
furthermore, window-boxes for flowers should never be wanting; the
children learn a great deal looking after them, and lessons are far less
trying on a hot day if the room is kept cool by sun-blinds, while what
air there is blows in over a sweet scent caused perhaps by that best of
all mixtures, mignonette and ten-week stocks.
Great care must be taken in selecting the proper tables and chairs;
these latter must be wide and comfortable, and the table _must_ be solid
and stand on good strong legs while lessons go on. I strongly advise the
tablecloth to be removed for fear of accidents with ink, and if oilcloth
is sewn over the top this is not as tiresome to write on as is a deal
surface, and though it may not look petty it is decidedly clean and
remarkably useful, and can be covered with the cloth when lessons are
over. Footstools should never be wanting, and a good broad window-seat,
that could be made to open and hold books &c., is very useful also, as
it will contain a great many odds and ends; while no schoolroom could be
complete in my eyes without kittens and puppies, the training and care
of which are often of the greatest service to the young masters and
mistresses, who, teaching their pets obedience and good behaviour,
insensibly learn quite as much as they are themselves teaching.
Though I maintain that education of a certain kind is begun the moment a
baby learns to cry for what it wants, and that, no matter how small a
child is, it is never too small to be taught obedience, of course its
real education begins when it learns its letters. I could read at two,
and have read ever since, never being able to be happy without a book or
paper; and I am of opinion that the sooner a child can pick up its
letters the better, for the moment it can read it is independent, and
can amuse itself without always hankering after companionship and
entertainment. The best way to teach a child to read is to give it a
small wooden frame, made in compartments, and a box of red and black
letters; these it picks up one by one, and soon learns to slip them into
the frame, making small words. From this it passes easily to a book, and
becomes master of a store of amusement that will last all its life;
while the governess should be asked to read aloud as much as she can to
the children, taking care, of course, to select good and amusing
stories, the while she does not bore them with a too forcibly impressed
moral tag at the end.
One cannot, of course, lay down any hard-and-fast rules for other
people’s children, and can only, after all, give very general hints as
to schoolroom arrangements and management, for each household is so
different that what suits one family is not of much use to another.
Still there are general hints on education that may be of assistance to
those who may be about to set up a schoolroom, and, though I feel rather
diffident about speaking as much about myself as I must, I think I must
tell just a little more of the way in which I have managed that most
important part of the establishment.
To begin with: great cleanliness, order, regularity, and punctuality
must be insisted on and maintained by the dining-room example. The
children’s breakfast should be at eight, and should consist, if
possible, of oatmeal porridge every other day, followed by either an
egg, bacon, or some fish. I say advisedly ‘if possible,’ for some
children cannot touch porridge; and though I am no advocate for
pampering appetite, and scorn rich and elaborate cooking, which in
England all too often engulfs the money that would buy pictures or allow
of excursions and travel, I do protest most solemnly against the petty
tyranny of making children eat food that is actually and positively
nauseous to them: and, furthermore, without consulting the child, and so
making him unduly of consequence in his own eyes, it is imperative that
a judicious parent should notice likes and dislikes, and so legislate
that something should be provided that all the children can eat; and no
breakfast should pass without fruit of some kind being provided.
Children crave for fruit and sweet things, and a careful parent gives
enough, without allowing the excess that is so harmful, and that only
occurs in families, as a rule, where sweets are ignored, and fruit
handed round as a rarity after the conclusion of a large and expensive
meal.
In winter lessons could be from nine until twelve, when the walk should
be taken, or some games indulged in. Luncheon should be at one, and
should far oftener include fish or chicken than it usually does. Tea,
with jam or cake, should be at five, and each child should be encouraged
to have milk and a biscuit before it goes to bed. A few pure sweets
should be given always after luncheon, and no punishment should ever be
inflicted through the appetite. This makes food too prominent a matter
in the small mind, and I have always found a few stern and forcible
words of more effect than any punishment could be after the first
struggle for authority, which invariably occurs once in the lifetime of
every child. In two or three cases in my own schoolroom one whipping has
been found quite sufficient; while two of the children have never
required anything more serious than an early retirement for reflection
in bed,] and a few serious sentences that were to the purpose, and did
not go beyond it. I am quite aware that in these days it is considered
abominable even to suggest a child shall be ‘smacked,’ but in the case
of deliberate obstinacy or unbridled howling there is nothing else for
it, and, this once done, trouble ceases--the child has found its master,
and then there is peace.
I am so convinced that if one has a happy childhood one’s whole life is
sweetened by it, no matter whatever happens afterwards, that I cannot
impress too much upon my readers the absolute necessity of securing
this, at any rate, for their boys and girls. This, however, is not to be
had by dressing them finely, and dragging them about from drawing-room
to drawing-room, from late party to late party, or by pampering them and
considering them until one cannot call the house one’s own, neither does
it consist in leaving them to themselves altogether. Apparently,
children should be left greatly to themselves, but much in the same
manner that--I speak in all sincerity--a higher Power manages us and our
affairs. Let the free-will be there, but let the guiding hand, unseen
though it should be, never be lacking, and we shall find the children
happy and good, because they are surrounded with clean good air, and are
brought up in an atmosphere absolutely free from taint of any kind.
The instant the schoolroom is started, that instant both mothers and
fathers should become in a measure omniscient and omnipresent; and,
above all, they should remember the clear sight and hearing of the
children, and should, furthermore, recollect that what they say and do
means a great deal more now than it ever did. Let them see their own
lives are full of interest, and are of good aim and intent, and they
will find example is greater than precept, and that they have succeeded
by unconscious example where everything else would have failed.
Of course, it is absolutely necessary that all girls should learn to
sew, to cook, and to play the piano; and all boys should have some way
of employing their fingers, and no household should be complete without
its hospital box; into this the girls can collect all the frocks and
petticoats they can make, while the boys can make scrapbooks, paint
pictures with water-colours over prints from ‘Punch’ or the ‘Illustrated
London News,’ or cut out ships or wooden dolls; and while they are doing
this they could be read to from Scott, Dickens, Thackeray, or Miss
Yonge--a strange mixture, may be, but to those four writers the world
can never be grateful enough, try hard as it may, while the schoolroom
contingent brought up on these splendid people’s brains will be worth a
hundred of the present-day children, fostered on such idle rubbish as
Rider Haggard produces, and others that shall be nameless. And here let
me beg and pray the parents to make a stand for Dickens and Thackeray,
even if they will not for the other two authors of whom I have spoken.
Dickens has become neglected, I know, and Oxford undergraduates, taking
to Thackeray late, fall asleep over ‘Esmond’ and ‘The Virginians’; but
let these books be in the schoolroom, and boys and girls take to them
naturally, like ducks take to water, and are at once made happier by
them than they can be by anything else.
Sewing must be learned by girls, because they never know how they may be
placed; but, once learnt, I trust no girl may be condemned to sew
because it is feminine, for unless she really and truly likes the
occupation--and most women do--there is no greater cruelty possible to
inflict on a young girl than to make her sew when her fingers are
itching to draw, practise, or even write a book. Never prevent her doing
this; the greatest happiness I have ever had is when I can get perfect
peace and quiet and take my pen in hand, and, even if I never succeed in
making a name for myself and startling a world that is over-full of
writers already, I can never feel I have lost the time I have spent in
writing, for then I have been perfectly contented, and then for me the
world has ceased to be--outside Nature--beloved Nature!--and my desk.
And then, harming no one, I trust, and helping just a few, I have passed
away entirely from all worries incidental to the life of any woman who
marries, and has children and a household always on her mind, and have
ceased to think of anything save the work on hand at the moment. Girls
must learn also to cook, because thus they become mistress of all the
details of the household expenditure; and they must learn music, because
they can be useful either to accompany songs and glees, or to play
dance-music to the little ones; but if no distinct taste is shown, hours
should not be wasted on an accomplishment that is most useless, save and
except as a mere background, unless decided talent is displayed, when,
of course, music should be encouraged as much as possible, for nothing
keeps a household more together than does music, and if the boys and
girls can only play and sing together there is small difficulty about
finding them occupation and keeping them happy at home.
I am always sorry that the power to make music and the capacity for
enjoying games were left out of my composition, and in consequence are
conspicuous by their absence from our household; but reading has taken
their place, and not one of us is unhappy as long as books are to be
had; but one tires sometimes of this, and I could wish heartily we all
loved games or went in for music, for these tastes are most excellent
safeguards against _ennui_ and the craving for excitement and going
about that all modern folks seem to possess.
Now one word about Sunday in the schoolroom, and we will pass on to
other matters. Whatever you do, never let Sunday be a day of dulness and
penance, but make it as bright and happy as you can. Let the household
rise as early as on a weekday, be regular at some bright, good service,
and make it altogether a bright and pleasant day; let the children see
the ‘Graphic’ and ‘Illustrated London News,’ and read their ordinary
books. If a book is fit for a weekday it is fit for Sunday. Dine early,
because the servants want a little rest, and as a culminating treat have
a nice supper about eight, and let the children share it. Don’t tease
them with strict rules and sad faces, but let them learn on this day to
appreciate rest and to learn something of a higher life, that need not
be kept for Sunday alone, but that one has more time to think of on
Sunday than on any other day of the week.
I do not myself like to see tennis played or boating or driving for
pleasure indulged in, simply, I think, because of old-time prejudice,
and because of the noise made or the work given to one’s coachman and
horses; but logically there is not half as much harm in these pursuits
as there is in the spiteful gossip so many people indulge in after
church, or the wasted hours spent in sleep after a heavy dinner eaten
under protest and grumbled at everlastingly; and I would much rather my
boys played tennis than that they lounged about smoking and sleeping, or
wasted their time reading the ‘Sporting Times,’ and longing after their
far less harmful rackets. But I at present can manage without this, and
prefer to do so, for at present inspecting the animals and wandering
about the garden with them seems to suffice, while newspapers and books
come in on wet days; while we are all so busy during the week, that the
holiday comes as a blessed oasis for which we are all truly thankful.
And the children love the illustrated papers--a storehouse of knowledge
no parent should be without; and the money spent on them is never
wasted, though an Englishman, as a rule, will grudge a few shillings a
week for papers, while he never hesitates for a moment to spend double
the amount on his dinner, or on that Moloch of English households, the
tobacconist.
Above all encourage your own and your children’s friends to come in to
tea and talk on Sunday afternoons. This gives no work to the servants,
and always makes a nice break. The tea can be set ready before the maids
go out, and if many cups are wanted they can be washed up early; and any
guest should be made welcome, and sometimes asked to remain for the
early supper, which, being cold, and prepared on Saturday, is again of
no trouble to the maids. I am very fond of Sunday visitors, and as few
English houses open their doors, especially in the country and more
distant suburbs, on that day, visitors are often glad to drop in when
they can be sure of a welcome and a cup of tea.
Tea in the schoolroom is often, too, a very good institution, for thus
the governess sees a little more of life, and acts as hostess; and each
child should have its own cup and saucer and plate. This is a great
safeguard against breakages, for if one is smashed it must be spoken of
at once, and extra cups can be kept for the visitors; but all should be
different, so that any breakage may be seen at once, as generally the
schoolroom-maid is but young, and apt to conceal any small depredations
among the crockery. Now the two great difficulties in a schoolroom are
the governess and the schoolroom-maid, and infinite care must be taken
in the selection of both. Of course the governess is the first care,
and, though she should be mistress in the schoolroom, she yet must only
be a viceroy, and must act for the mother entirely, and not at all on
her own responsibility unless she is expressly desired to do so. No
governess should be engaged who cannot be in some measure a companion to
the mother, to whom and with whom she should be in perfect accord; for
there are endless ways in which the governess can save a mother of a
household, does she make herself really pleasant, if only in conveying
the children to the dentist--a necessary business, but one that need not
harrow the mother’s feelings if the governess is as good and useful as
she ought to be; for the governess does not feel, as a mother does, that
all her teeth are being taken out bodily the moment Tommy opens his
mouth for inspection, and endures none of the vicarious pangs that make
any fanciful mother’s life a burden to her, even though nothing happens.
The governess must be healthy, strong-minded, good-tempered, and, above
all, must have some nice hobbies, and be fond of teaching them; then the
schoolroom will indeed be the heart of the house, and will send out a
series of healthy, happy children into the great world. Make the
governess one with the household; let your interests be hers, the
children for the time being a mutual possession. Take any amount of
trouble to procure a really nice girl of a good family, and then you may
breathe freely; while if the schoolroom-maid comes young too, and is
carefully trained, you will then have a perfectly managed schoolroom,
and feel you can rest awhile should you desire it, secure that your
place is well filled by a competent minister, who will rule in your
place until you return both well and wisely.
Never discuss your governess either with or before the children, and
take care that her life is as much as possible a fac-simile of yours.
Let her have books and papers and share in any gaiety that is going; and
above all try and make her think that she becomes part of the family,
should she really stay some time with you, and that your interest in
her will last as long as life itself. I can imagine nothing more wicked
than to cast off old governesses or servants, and to decline to keep
those who have helped us so much, and in a manner no amount of money
will repay.
The schoolroom would not be complete in my eyes without just a few
sentences on the subject of the children’s dress. This would, in the
case of the girls, consist of good warm underclothing; in two sets of
combination garments, one in wool, the other in long-cloth; a
stay-bodice--never stays on any pretext whatever--made of ribbed
material, on which a flannel skirt should be sewn in winter; then
another skirt, also sewn on a bodice; and finally that invaluable
costume, the ‘smock-frock,’ the skirt trimmed with three rows of tucks,
the sleeves full, and the full bodice drawn in with either a loose band
or a soft sash of Liberty silk. From the day a baby is put into short
clothes until the girl of fifteen becomes too lanky for such a plain
dress, there is no other costume as suitable for all times of the year.
In summer very thin cashmere is enough, with perhaps a soft silk
handkerchief underneath for outdoor wear; in winter a long coat of
cashmere and soft cap make admirable outdoor garments, and are put on in
a very few moments, while all Liberty’s soft silks and cashmeres are
warm without an undue amount of weight, and are all of such lovely
colours that no one thinks of the plainness of the material used for a
moment. Until girls are fifteen they should always wear pinafores of
some kind. I use a very large white diaper pinafore tied with Liberty
sashes, and they should furthermore have shoes with straps and low wide
heels; while for boys nothing is so sensible as the much-copied Jack Tar
suit, with its serge trousers and wide loose shirts, though I personally
prefer the Scotch kilt; the sailor suits are soon shabby and generally
untidy, while the kilts always look well, wear for ever almost, and
there are no knees either of stockings or trousers always giving out and
requiring to be mended every moment or so. After the kilts boys can take
to jackets and trousers, which in perfection can only be bought of
Swears and Wells, Regent Street, W., whose charges are, of course,
rather awful to contemplate, but whose clothes undoubtedly outwear three
suits of any one else’s; and I speak from the experience of my three
boys, for whom I have often tried to go elsewhere, but have always had
to return to Swears, for nowhere else can I buy things that to a certain
extent will defy the rough usage given to them. The sailor suits can be
bought best of Redfern, at Cowes, in the Isle of Wight; the kilts of
Swears also.
To conclude: the eye of the mother should really never be taken from the
children, as long as they are growing. Weak backs should be detected at
once, and allowed to rest on a proper sofa and carefully bathed with
salt water; weak ankles should be treated the same; cuts should be
dressed with calendula and soft rags; a supply of both and of
sticking-plaster should be in every schoolroom cupboard. Camphor is also
a good thing to keep ready; it stops many an incipient cold. A good
supply of fruit and jam and fresh air and regular exercise stop many an
illness and save many a doctor’s bill, and, in fact, a doctor should
indeed rarely be required nowadays in a house where mother, governess,
and nurse really know their business and really look after the children;
for, unless in real illness, doctors seldom are of any use in a
schoolroom, and only add up accounts that are really accounts of the
mother’s ignorance or selfishness or neglect.
Naturally, when children inherit disease--and that people who inherit
diseases or are related should marry is nothing more or less than a
crime in my eyes, and should be to the world at large--or are
susceptible by inheritance to colds, fevers, &c., the above does not
apply; then skilled attention is necessary, and in real cases of need a
doctor should be consulted as early as possible; but all girls, and
indeed boys, should be taught always something about themselves and
their formation, and they should learn early those marvellous,
unchangeable laws of health which, once broken, render not only
themselves but future generations miserable and wretched for ever; but,
of course, great care must be taken here, as indeed everywhere else, to
keep the _via media_, else will the children become self-conscious
prigs, always anxious about themselves and their well-being.