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COMMON SENSE
FOR
HOUSEMAIDS.
BY
A LADY.
Second Edition.
LONDON:
THOMAS HATCHARD, 187, PICCADILLY.
1853.
LONDON:
G. J. PALMER, SAVOY STREET, STRAND.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
Brass, how to clean 22
Bug poison 9
Carefulness, hints on 86
Carpets, how to clean 26
Clear-starching 77
Dress, observations on 90
Daily work, Housemaids’ 34-75
Economy, observations on 91
Fire, how to light 38
Floor-cloth, how to clean 33
French polish, how to clean 15-20
Grates, how to clean 8, 18, 35
Lamps, how to clean 59
Mahogany, how to clean 16-21
Marble, how to clean 19
Mirrors, how to clean 16-24
Nursing the sick, hints on 94
Paint, mixture for washing 11
Painted walls, how to clean 20
Papered walls, how to clean 14
Picture frames, how to clean 24
Pipeclay, how to prepare 31
Plate, how to clean 81
Scouring floor, different ways of 12
Stairs, how to clean 31
Sweeping, ways of 11
Washing muslins and lace 76
Windows, how to clean 23
EXTRACTS FROM A LADY’S JOURNAL, SHOWING THE ABSOLUTE NECESSITY FOR
WRITING THIS BOOK.
Arrived yesterday in Cavendish Square at half-past five o’clock, for a
visit of a few days. Much fatigued, but wonderfully sustained in spirits
during the journey, by the prospect of seeing a dear friend, the ten
thousand comforts of her well-regulated establishment, and the bright
visions of the appearance of my accustomed bed-room. Again and again, had
it risen before my mind’s eye, in all its glory. The inviting appearance
of the smooth, flat, well-made bed, with the light night quilt of snowy
whiteness (and the heavy creature folded aside); the easy chair, and
footstool (with their bright crimson covers), turned towards the clear
glowing fire; the dear little kettle of silvery brightness, on the hob,
singing its accustomed song to its grateful mistress. A chair before the
toilet, with its pink and pure white drapery. The bright looking-glass
reflecting crystal candlesticks, wax-lights, and essence-bottles, with
all the perfumes of Arabia. The washhand-stand, a perfect picture,
surrounded by a hundred towels. The rose soap giving out sweet odours.
The additional large tumbler for the saline draft, the cup and spoon, for
less pleasant powders. Alas, alas! how are all those glories buried in
the dust, and dust is now indeed the order of the day; my friend is the
same in heart and soul, but she has sprained her ancle, and changed her
_housemaid_.
Hurried to my room to dress, as the dinner was to be at six o’clock; went
straight to the accustomed corner, where my trunk, resting upon a stand,
uncovered and uncorded, used to be placed in readiness to be opened.
The stand was empty, the trunk upon the carpet, the ropes and cover
still on and covered with dust. Rang the bell; no one answered, rang a
second time; the housemaid entered, undid the ropes, removed the dusty
cover, and left the room. Turned to unlock my trunk, found it had been
placed with the lock turned towards the wall; tried to re-turn it—found
it impossible—rang again for the housemaid, and with our united efforts
turned the trunk—stooped to unlock it, and found too late that the dust
of weeks was on the carpet—shook it in disgust from my silk dress, and
advanced in haste to the washhand-stand, to wash the remembrance from
my hands at least,—found no soap, no warm water; fortunately had soap
in my dressing-box, and, unwilling to apply a third time to a bell-rope
of most frail and suspicious appearance, washed with ice-cold water,
and having performed my toilet with inconvenient haste, descended to
the drawing-room, and found that the dinner had been on the table some
minutes. Forgot my discomforts in most agreeable conversation—but much
fatigued, was thankful to retire at night, though with secret misgivings
as to the discomforts I might perceive on re-entering my room. Opened the
door and perceived nothing, the smoke impenetrable, and the fire out;
rushed towards the window, threw it open, a rush also of wind and sleet,
and the candle became extinguished; groped my way to the bell, pulled
it vigorously, heard no sound, felt only a blow upon my cheek, and the
bell-rope in my hand—wished it around the neck of a fellow-creature,
advanced a few steps, got entangled in the ropes and cover of my trunk
(still left upon the ground), stumbled and fell—found the door at last,
and rushing out upon the landing-place, with the bell-rope in one hand,
and all that remained of the crystal candlestick in the other, called
franticly, _Housemaid, housemaid!_ Mr. B—— sprang from his dressing-room
en robe de chambre. “What is the matter, is it fire?” he exclaimed.
“Alas, it is neither fire nor candle,” was my melancholy answer, and
my dark history was given. The housemaid, half undressed and sulky was
brought into the room. The thick crust of small coal, through which no
air could penetrate was removed, sufficient wood to light a dozen fires,
thrust into the grate, pieces of small coal added, and all was soon in
a blaze; the window was shut down, and the water on the washhand-stand,
having once been warm, I resolved to be thankful for small mercies, and,
pretending not to feel the smoke which lurked in every corner of the
room, as well as in my throat, undressed and went to bed—“_To bed_, but
not to _sleep_.” O the variety of _mountain heights_, and the scarcity of
_pleasant plains_! fell asleep at last holding fast by the side of the
bed, dreamt I was a swift rolling _snow-ball_, and awoke upon the floor.
Two more nights have passed—No, I will not detail them. What is
friendship but a name?
I will leave the house——
I WILL WRITE A BOOK!
COMMON SENSE FOR HOUSEMAIDS.
This little book is intended to convey instruction with regard to
a housemaid’s duties to the most ignorant in the simplest possible
language. Many will throw it aside in indignation, and exclaim, “Does
it require a book to be written to tell us that the drawing-room grate
should be the first thing cleaned and polished, and not left till a room
is swept and dusted, or that if the apartment has not been used for
some time, and the carpet carefully covered up, it is better to leave
it covered till the walls have been swept down, and the window-curtains
brushed?” Strange as it may appear, such advice we have more than once
found necessary; we therefore address ourselves to those who for want of
regular training, and from not bringing common sense into practice, have
fallen into similar errors to those here alluded to, and to a still more
numerous race, who are every day leaving their father’s cottage with the
desire to obtain a housemaid’s place, and would therefore willingly learn
something of a housemaid’s duties.
A housemaid’s duties are various, and by no means easy of attainment; for
she has to contend against a host of enemies—dust, soot, smoke, rust,
insects of various kinds, and bad smells innumerable; let her, however,
not be discouraged; all difficulties will give way before early rising,
habits of activity, an acute nose, frequent open windows, and a teachable
spirit; let us therefore proceed without further preface to give our best
advice as to cleaning a house thoroughly after the six winter months of
smoke and dust.
Let all the dusters and brushes which will be required, be carefully
washed the day before you begin the work of cleaning. To sweep with a
dirty brush will do more harm to a carpet than to leave it unswept; and
a chair-cover, rubbed with a soiled duster, is injured in a way which no
after-dusting can remove.
Let the stair-carpet be first taken up and folded to be beaten with
the other carpets. If the family are absent, it is better that all the
carpets which require to be beaten should be taken up at the same time
and sent away, and all the chimneys swept before the cleaning begins.
But if the family are at home, this should not be done, as the cleaning
should then only begin in one room at a time, so as to occasion as little
discomfort and inconvenience as possible.
Let the stairs be first swept down after the carpet has been removed,
taking care that all the bed-room doors be previously shut. If the
chimneys in the attics are to be swept, place a mat on the upper
landing-place, and if the rooms have carpets, let the carpets be taken up
in as many of the rooms as can be cleaned in one day: as the carpets in
the upper rooms are, generally small, they are in most families beaten
in the court below; the window and bed-curtains should also be taken
down and well shaken and brushed below stairs, and the beds carefully
covered up with a covering-sheet, well tucked in all round, that no soot
may penetrate; then remove the tables and chairs into the landing-place,
if there is space sufficient, turning the bottom of one chair down upon
the bottom of another; if the landing-place is too small, remove them
into one of the attics, and let this room be the last swept and scoured.
As soon as the chimney is swept, let the soot be carefully collected,
and the housemaid follow the sweep down stairs, taking care that he
previously has rubbed his feet upon the mat, and also that he does not
allow the bag of soot which he carries to touch the walls as he passes
down,—this should be still more attended to, when some one chimney in
a house may require to be swept at a time when the stair-carpet is not
taken up; to have a handsome brussels carpet stained with soot is no
light misfortune to a feeling heart, to trace the creature at every step
is no pleasant journey.
The grate is next to be cleansed, and if polished with black lead, two
brushes are to be used, one for putting on the lead, and the other for
polishing. The fire-irons and fender to be scoured with emery cloth,
and then rubbed quickly with a woollen cloth. All the articles required
for the grates should be kept in a box for the purpose, and a coarse
sheet should also be kept in the housemaid’s closet to be laid down
whenever a grate is to be scoured: this may seem unnecessary in an attic
room where the carpet may be shabby, or perhaps where there may be no
carpet,—but the habit acquired is everything; where no sheet is laid
down above-stairs, pokers, tongs, even dust-pans, are often put down on
the drawing-room carpet, without a feeling of remorse; a well-trained
housemaid would shudder at such a spectacle. The sweeping down of the
cornices and walls should now be attended to. Let a pair of steps be
brought into the room, and (taking care that they are stretched out to
their full extent, so as to stand quite steady on the floor), let the
housemaid, mounted on them with a long broom, sweep away the cobwebs
and dust from the ceiling and cornices, sweeping also behind each
window-shutter, and round the ceilings and shelves of the different
presses in the room. The long broom should then be covered with a bag of
coarse flannel, and the walls thoroughly swept down. After this has been
done, spread a large sheet on the floor, and let the bedding be removed
upon it and covered up, the frame of the bed thoroughly well brushed,
and also all the edges and corners of the sacking bottom, where dust
can lodge, and let the bed-posts and stock be well rubbed till no soil
remains on the duster. Then with a feather or small hair-brush, anoint
every joint and crevice with the following mixture:—
Put one ounce of corrosive sublimate into a pint of spirits of wine—shake
the phial well, and keep it closely corked except when in use. Poison
should be written in large letters on the phial, and great care taken to
keep it in a safe place out of the reach of children.
Should the housemaid be called away, even for a moment, while she is
using this mixture, let her not leave the room till she has put this
phial out of the reach of every one. If the beds are kept free from dust,
and every spring anointed with this mixture, there will be no risk of
their becoming infested by those creatures which it is impossible to
name, but which are very dreadful. Clothes-baskets from the laundress for
this reason should never be brought into the bed-rooms. The clean linen
should be carefully looked over below, and hung upon a screen before the
fire, to be made thoroughly dry before it is put into the drawers or
wardrobes. The dusting and anointing of the bed-frames being completed,
proceed next to switch and brush the bedding—an old riding whip is an
excellent thing for switching bedding or the cushions of chairs, as
anything heavy and unyielding is apt to cut them; as soon as you have
made the bedding free from dust, replace it on the bed, and cover all up
with a sheet, well tucked in, leaving the bed-curtains to be put up, and
the bed-linen put on after the cleaning of the room has been completed.
We come next to sweeping the floor previous to having it scoured. There
are various modes of sweeping, and of non-sweeping; the non-sweepers
follow the principle of letting _the wee pickle stour lie_ (as they say
in Scotland)—they wash on the top of the dust, and the inky appearance
of the boards brings no feeling of shame to their darkened minds; other
young housemaids, again, sweep with an air, giving a slight toss up with
the broom, at every motion of the hand, so as to make the dust mount up
and settle on all that has been previously cleaned; a tidy young woman,
on the contrary, sprinkles the floor first with tea-leaves, she then
lays the broom close to the boards as she moves along, sweeping gently,
but thoroughly, and leaving no spot unswept. If there are closets in the
room, let them be first swept, and the doors shut, then sweep under the
beds and chests of drawers, &c., before sweeping the other parts of the
room. The scouring should then commence: the first thing to be washed is
the paint of the window shutters, doors, chimney-piece, and wainscots all
round, and this should be done with the following mixture. To every quart
of soft boiling water, add half an ounce of soft soap, and half an ounce
of pearlash. Soda is too strong, and injures the paint. Let this mixture
dissolve before using it. If the room is to be in immediate use, boiled
yellow soap may be used with the pearlash, as the smell of the soft soap
is disagreeable at first. Scour the paint (a small portion at a time)
with a coarse flannel and this mixture; rub straight up and down, then
wash with a clean flannel and plenty of water a little warm (cold water
makes paint look clouded), and dry with a linen cloth, rubbing briskly:
where there is carving above doors or mouldings, use a painter’s brush,
with the soap and pearlash instead of the flannel, as it gets better
into the carved wood, and then wash with a flannel and water. The floor
is next to be scoured, with a little soda mixed in soft warm water—wet
a small portion of the floor with your washing-cloth of coarse flannel,
rub yellow soap upon your scrubbing-brush, and scrub hard up and down the
boards, but never across, then wash well off with clean cold water, and
dry with a coarse cloth. In Yorkshire a wisp of straw, tightly rolled up
and doubled, is used in scrubbing floors instead of a scouring-brush, and
sand instead of soap, and the floors are beautifully clean and white; but
this method is not understood in London; the sand there is generally of a
dull grey colour, and the dust and smoke of a large city require soap and
hard scrubbing. Except in country-houses, the German method of sweeping
and washing at the same time would not answer either; there the sleeping
apartments are generally without carpets, and a broom is seldom used in
sweeping them; a coarse cloth is passed through water, and being wrung
out, is drawn across the floor in every direction, and by this method no
dust is raised upon the furniture.
The windows and doors should be left open that the floor may dry quickly,
and while it is drying, the furniture outside the room should be dusted
and rubbed. The furniture in the attics being generally painted wood,
will require to be washed twice a-year with the same mixture as the other
paint in the room, taking care to do it lightly, and to wash it quickly
off with water. The carpet having been well beaten, should then be put
down, straight and tight, upon the clean floor; a few small nails are
requisite for this; but as the carpets in the attics are generally small,
they require to be but slightly nailed down, and should be frequently
raised: the furniture should now be restored to its proper place, and the
door of the room shut; and after each of the attics has been cleaned in
a similar manner the housemaid will proceed to the bed-room story. There
all will be done as before; the furniture removed, the window-curtains
and bed-curtains taken down to be switched and brushed, the beds covered
up, and the carpet lifted, the chimney having been previously swept and
the soot removed. The grate and fire-irons will next be scoured, the
beds switched and brushed, and the mixture used for the bed-stock; the
cornices will be swept, and the paint of the doors, window-shutters,
&c., &c., taking care that in sweeping the paper on the walls the long
broom be covered with a clean flannel bag, which should be frequently
shaken and turned during the operation; for if the flannel is not clean
the paper will look worse than it did before. Paper on walls can be made
to look almost new by being cleaned with stale bread; this is a more
tedious process; when it is to be done, however, after sweeping the walls
with the broom covered with flannel, take a quartern loaf of stale bread
three days old, cut it into four pieces, and holding the crust in your
hand, rub lightly downwards, taking about half a yard at each stroke;
the next time of going round the room begin a little above where the
last stroke ended, and take care not to rub across the paper or to go up
again. The floor having been sprinkled with tea-leaves, should be swept
before the bread is used for the walls, and it will require to be swept
a second time before washing the paint of the window-shutters, doors,
chimney-piece, and scouring the floor commences. If the carpet does
not entirely cover the room, attention should be observed in scouring
thoroughly those places not covered, as nothing gives a greater look of
cleanliness to a room than nicely cleaned boards: scrub hard straight up
and down with the scrubbing-brush and soap, and then wash well off with
clean cold water; it is a mistake to think that warm water is necessary
for the washing off; cold water does quite as well, and is better, as it
is more easily changed: to change the water often is most necessary in
scouring floors: many housemaids scour the floor constantly, and yet they
have always a black soiled look, from the water not being sufficiently
clean. The bed-room furniture is next to be attended to: where the
mahogany is French-polished, rubbing lightly with a dry soft cloth is
generally all that is necessary; but if the furniture is soiled in any
way, then wash it over with a sponge and water (a little warm), and rub
lightly with the cloth till quite dry and clear. Where there is no French
polish, dust the mahogany well, and with cold drawn linseed oil, mixed
with a little turpentine, wash it over with a sponge, and rub briskly
and well with a soft woollen or linen cloth; the rubbing does more,
in polishing the wood, than any mixture you can use. Many people mix
bees’-wax with the oil, and this makes the furniture look well at the
moment, but it gives a fictitious brightness, which every finger-touch
or drop of water will dim; the polish produced by rubbing is superior
to French polish or any other. The oil should not often be put on, and
never while the slightest dampness remains on the mahogany. Some servants
use a great deal of oil and very little rubbing, the consequence of
which is, that little or no lasting polish is acquired; the dust sticks
to the furniture, and gives it a dull soiled look. Nothing gives one a
greater idea of care and cleanliness than to see all the mahogany looking
bright and clear; the legs and rims of tables, and all that is below as
well as above, should be attended to; amongst other bright things the
looking-glass must not be omitted: after the mahogany frame has been
well rubbed up, the glass should be washed with pure cold water, dried
with a clean soft cloth, and polished with a silk handkerchief: if the
bed-room chairs have loose chintz covers, they should be taken off and
well shaken before the mahogany of the chairs is rubbed up, then put on
again as tightly as possible, and rubbed lightly with a clean cloth; all
this having been done, before the furniture is brought into the room, the
carpet, having been beaten, should be put down perfectly straight, drawn
as tight as possible, and slightly nailed; there is nothing looks worse
in a room than to see a carpet all pulled awry, and the stripes and seams
running across instead of straight up and down. The furniture should now
be replaced, the bed-curtains put on, the bed made up for use,[1] and the
blinds let down, so as to keep the room cool and preserve the carpet.
All the bed-rooms having been thoroughly cleaned in the same manner, the
drawing-room should be next attended to. If there are two drawing-rooms,
the chairs and lighter furniture should be removed into the one while
the other is being cleaned; if there is but one room, and there is not
space on the landing-place, the chairs should be placed, one turned
down upon another, in the most convenient corner of the room that can
be found for them; the carpet and rug should be taken up to be beaten,
and the window-curtains taken down to be well shaken in the court below,
then spread upon a table and thoroughly brushed, and if winter curtains,
folded up and laid aside, or, if summer muslin curtains, washed. In
putting aside winter-curtains, coverlids, &c., when not in use, a sheet
should be spread in the bottom of a drawer, the curtains folded to the
size of the drawer, laid perfectly smooth, and the sheet brought over
them, so that no dust can get in at the sides. Curtains or any other
things, put into a drawer uncovered, get marked at the edges if they lie
any length of time. Next, the pictures, if easily removed, should be
taken down, and china and chimney ornaments, books, &c., &c., put into
some closet or safe place, and dusting sheets thrown over the sofas,
mirrors, &c., &c.: all this, if it can be managed, should be done at
night, that the room may be ready for the sweeps in the morning. The
chimneys of sitting-rooms, where there is constant fire, should be swept
at least twice a year; a third time, in the middle of winter, may be
necessary for some chimneys; in this case it will be necessary to pin up
the curtains, and enclose them in bags similar to pillow-cases, and to
cover the carpet and furniture completely with sheets, as, even with the
most careful sweeps, a great deal of soot finds its way into the room.
As soon as the soot has been removed the scouring of the grate should
commence; if a bright polished steel grate, it should be rubbed with fine
emery cloth, or with a paste of fine emery powder, No. 3, mixed with
boiled soap; after rubbing well with a piece of woollen cloth and this
paste, polish with glass-paper (not sand-paper), and finish off with
soft dry chamois leather, rubbing quickly and lightly till quite bright.
The marble chimney-piece should then be first dusted carefully and
thoroughly with the small dusting-brush, and afterwards washed, rubbing
soap on a soft brush or sponge, so as to get the dust and smoke out of
all the ornaments; if they are deeply carved, so that the brush does not
get into the crevices, use a little bit of wood bluntly pointed, for
nothing gives a marble chimney-piece a worse appearance than dust lodging
in the ornaments; whether flowers or figures, let the roses, if roses
there be, be pure and white, and Cupid’s face particularly clean. All
this having been done, cover the whole up with a covering sheet, putting
one end of the sheet on the marble chimney-piece, with a weight to keep
it down, and letting the rest hang like a curtain before the grate, to
preserve it also free from dust; sweep the room then for the first time,
sprinkling the floor first with tea-leaves, to keep down the dust as much
as possible; after this let the long steps be brought into the room:
place them alongside the wall at such a distance as to give the full
use of the broom; before getting upon the steps, see that the feet are
put out as far as they can stretch, so that they stand quite firm; then
fearlessly mount upon them, and with the long broom covered with a clean
flannel bag sweep the cornice and walls straight down, leaving no spot
untouched; shake the dust frequently from the bag, and turn it during the
operation. The small dusting-brush should next be used, for dusting the
paint of the doors, window-shutters, and wainscoting all round the room,
and the floor should be swept a second time: proceed then to wash the
paint which you have dusted with the mixture of boiled soap and pearlash,
and scour the floor with yellow soap and soda, in the same manner as
directed in the bed-rooms.
While the floor and the paint are drying the furniture should be cleaned;
if either the rose-wood or mahogany furniture is French polished, dusting
and rubbing it, as has already been mentioned, with a soft dry cloth,
is all that is necessary, or, if spotted or stained in any way, let it
be first washed over with a sponge and warm water (but not too hot), as
warm water is better than cold for French polish; then rub briskly but
lightly with a soft cloth till the brightness is restored. A mixture is
now sold for reviving French polish, which has considerable effect for a
short time, but requires to be frequently repeated, and is by no means
sufficient to give lustre to any article which has not been previously
polished; in this case the cold drawn linseed oil, for unpolished
articles, with a little turpentine, is the best mixture to be used, and
will, in time, with a great deal of rubbing, produce a lustre equal to
French polish, and much more durable, as not liable to be worn off or
easily scratched, but on the contrary, increasing with years, and kept
bright with very little labour after the polish has once been obtained.
As directions have been given with regard to cleaning mahogany in the
bed-rooms, it is needless so particularly to repeat them here; the
rubbing is at first the great matter, and cannot be done too often; very
little oil and a great deal of rubbing is the root of the business; it
is not enough to rub the furniture of a room with a view to polish it
on the great cleaning days, a little every day makes, in time, a great
impression; a really good housemaid should never be able to be alone in
a room with a table or a chair without giving it a good rub, or, if the
room is occupied, without _wishing_ to do so. Tables and chairs should
be to her objects of deep interest; after her own family and the family
of her mistress, they should claim the next place in her affections;
she should steadily contemplate them between her and the light, and in
all various points of view, and if they present themselves to her sight
without spot or blemish, shedding a bright lustre over her past labours,
she may rejoice in the work of her hands.
All the brass in the room comes next to be polished; the plates and
handles of the doors and of the bells, the castors, &c., &c., should be
cleaned with rotten-stone and oil, and rubbed with leather till quite
bright; care should be taken not to soil the paint in doing this; there
is nothing so ugly as a black rim round the handle, or to see the mark of
dirty fingers on the door itself, giving evidence that the housemaid’s
mode of shutting the door is not by turning the handle, but by pulling
the door itself. This strange dislike to touching the handle of a door,
this constant habit of putting the hand either above the handle or below
it, anywhere, in short, but on the handle itself, seems a prevailing
disease amongst housemaids; the consequence is, that one often sees the
paint, either above or below the handle, entirely rubbed off, and the
wood shining through from the necessity of frequent scouring, or, if
there are brass plates to prevent this, they have constantly a dull and
smeared appearance: in scouring either the handle or brass plate all
marks of the rotten-stone may be prevented by having a duster in one
hand to cover the paint, while the other hand is employed in scouring the
brass.
Where there is a balcony, and the drawing-room windows can be cleaned
in safety, this should next be done; the footman generally assists in
this work. The window, both outside and in, should be first dusted with
a light dusting-brush, and the footman being outside, and the housemaid
mounted on the steps within, each should clean the same pane at the same
time, that it may be more easily cleaned, and not left in streaks, which
is apt to be the case where only one side is cleaned at a time: a little
Spanish whiting, mixed with very little water, should be rubbed over
each pane and washed off with a woollen cloth or sponge (but sponge,
unless after long use, is liable to have particles of sand in it, which
may scratch the glass, and injure its appearance); each pane should be
finished and rubbed bright with a clean dry linen cloth, and particular
attention paid to cleaning well at the edges and corners, as dim corners
will entirely spoil the look of the most newly-cleaned window; the sun
should not strike on the window when it is being cleaned, nor should this
work ever be attempted during frost, as the glass will then be much more
apt to crack. The frequency with which windows should be thus thoroughly
cleaned on both sides will depend much on the situation of the house; in
the country three or four times during the year may be sufficient, while
in London, in many situations, once a month may not suffice: the inside
of each window should be rubbed at least once a week, when the room is
regularly done out, but a cleanly housemaid will give many a rub between
times; nothing improved the look of everything within the room so much as
transparent windows. The windows being all cleaned, and the bannisters
brushed outside, the balcony should be washed over with soap and water,
and the work within the room again proceeded with.
The frames of the pictures and mirrors must next be attended to. The
frames should be lightly dusted, for the flowers or other projecting
parts, being generally made of plaster, are easily broken, and even when
in carved wood the edges and corners may be chipped off and disfigured;
a feather-brush should therefore be used for this purpose; the glass of
both mirrors and pictures should be washed over with a woollen cloth and
pure cold water, dried with a soft clean linen cloth, and polished with
a silk handkerchief, which should be kept for the purpose; but if the
glass be either dimmed by fly marks or smoke, it may be necessary to
wash it over with spirits, then dust it over with powder-blue in a small
muslin bag, rub it up with a soft linen cloth, and finally polish it
with a silk handkerchief. If there are portraits in the room not glazed,
which appear to require cleaning, they might be gently washed over with
cold water without being injured, but on no account touched with soap;
it is however safer merely to dust them, and even this should be with a
feather-brush, and very lightly done; it is impossible to take too great
care of such precious possessions; an injury given to a valuable portrait
or painting no money can repair.
Should much dust have fallen from the pictures and mirrors, &c., &c., it
may be necessary to sprinkle with tea-leaves and sweep round the sides
of the room very lightly before laying down the carpet, or else remove
the dust by drawing a coarse damp cloth round the room as they do in
Germany; this method of sweeping answers extremely well when there is
not a great deal of dust to be removed, and is much in favour of keeping
the furniture clean.[2] If the carpet is made so that it can be turned
each time that it is laid down, then care should be taken that the same
part does not always lie before the door, so as to be worn out before
the rest, for a shabby piece of carpet, on entering a room, immediately
strikes the eye; but if the carpet is cut to fit into recesses, this
cannot be avoided. As soon as the carpet has been put down quite even
on the floor, and tightly stretched and nailed (which is generally done
by the man who has the charge of beating it), the housemaid, with a
clean coarse cloth, should rub down each breadth, taking care to turn
to different parts of the cloth as they get soiled. Many people approve
of rubbing it over in this way with a damp flannel, but the practice is
not a good one; it has the effect of brightening for the moment, but
gives it afterwards a duller and more soiled look; a greater degree of
dampness than that produced by the use of tea-leaves when brushing the
carpet is injurious. When a carpet is much soiled, by having been used
for years, it may be made to look perfectly clean, and even the colours
greatly restored again, by being washed with a mixture of boiled soap and
ox-gall, but in a very short time it will look worse than before; even if
clean cold water is spilt upon the carpet, though no stain is left at
first, that part will very soon have a soiled appearance.[3]
The room being now ready to receive the furniture, the chairs having been
previously dusted, washed over, and rubbed bright, as directed, and the
cushions taken off, switched, and wiped with a clean cloth, they should
be restored to their proper places in the room; the window-curtains
having been properly switched and brushed below, should be put up, the
fire-irons and coal-scuttle brought back, having been scoured, and
all the china ornaments, after being carefully washed in cold water,
should be arranged as before, together with books, writing-desks, and
work-boxes, and behold the room complete. The housemaid may now look
round with modest triumph, and exclaim, _Sublime_. A drawing-room in
perfect order, _how lovely is it!_
The dining-room, breakfast-parlour, and study, should each be cleaned
in the same perfect manner, but as the mode of proceeding is in no way
different, it is unnecessary here to enter into any further detail;
a few words, however, may be necessary with regard to arranging a
gentleman’s study; those days of thorough cleaning are days of horror
to the literary man; he would rather have a lion let loose upon him than
a cleanly housemaid; and certainly, with regard to dusting either books
or papers, too much attention cannot be shown, as much mischief may be
done by even shifting their places; books upon a table should be taken up
only one at a time, dusted, and replaced in exactly the same spot, or,
if the table requires to be rubbed up, the books should be placed on the
floor in the same position in which they stood on the table, then taken
up one by one, dusted and replaced on the table as at first. A housemaid
should never exercise her own taste in arranging books in a gentleman’s
study; however her contempt of 1st, 2nd, or 3rd volume may be overlooked
in a drawing-room, it is a serious annoyance to the literary man to be
obliged to hunt for the 2nd or 3rd volume of a work of which he has
finished the first, through, perhaps, fifty others; but it is a still
greater grievance to have a written paper misplaced, torn, or destroyed;
the smallest scrap of writing, though found on the floor, or in any odd
corner, should be considered sacred, and placed on the table in such a
position as to be easily discovered; a weight should be put on any parcel
of papers so as to prevent the draught blowing them away when the windows
are opened, and the housemaid had better be content with carefully
dusting round them rather than run the risk of misplacing them in any
way; let it be remembered, however, that this is perhaps the only case in
which it is better to dust round a moveable article than to dust under
it, for this dusting round is a slovenly practice too often indulged in.
A lazy servant will dust round a writing-desk or work-box, for a week
together, without once taking the trouble to remove it, till, when taken
up by some one, her negligence is discovered by the line of dust which
surrounds each article. Where books in a book-case require dusting, one
shelf only should be emptied at a time, and the books placed on the floor
(after the carpet has been lifted) in exactly the same order as they
stood in the book-case; the shelf should then be washed, and the books
taken up, one by one, dusted, and restored to their former places, as
soon as the shelf is thoroughly dry; care should be taken not to replace
them while the slightest dampness remains.
The rooms having been all cleaned, and the doors carefully shut, the
stairs must now be swept down, beginning from the attic story. The long
brush called the Turk’s head, should be used first, to sweep away the
cobwebs from the ceiling and corners, and to dust down the walls; the
bannisters must be brushed between all the rails with a bannister-brush,
and the hand-rail washed over and well rubbed up. The hand-rail should
always be polished with French polish that oil may not be required, as
almost every person who goes up stairs lays a hand upon the rail of
the bannisters, and it is difficult to rub the oil off sufficiently to
prevent its being unpleasant to the touch: wherever oil is used too great
care cannot be taken to rub it completely off.
A lady was heard to complain, that a set of books which had recently been
sent home, beautifully bound, were all found, soon after, to be spotted
with oil; on inquiry being made, it was discovered that the housemaid,
wishing to make everything look particularly bright in the drawing-room,
for expected company, had washed the table over with oil, and, after very
slight rubbing, had exercised her taste by putting all the best bound
books round in a circle upon it, with a bullfinch in its gilt cage in the
middle. This setting out of drawing-room tables with all the best-bound
books had better be avoided; a small stand of books on a table, or a
few scattered up and down, together with writing-desks and work-boxes,
give a look of freedom and comfort to a room which it is very agreeable
to see; but to find a table set out with a couple of books, splendidly
bound, at each corner, the bible and prayer-book, in velvet, with their
gold clasps, very probably opposite to a couple of volumes of Shakspeare
and Lord Byron, and sacred poetry at the alternate corners: to see these
books put out in January, 1850, to remain till January, 1851 (unless
the family should remove for a time into the country), is a melancholy
picture of the general literature of the inmates.
But to leave this literary discussion, and return again to the uncarpeted
staircase. The next thing to be done, after rubbing well the hand-rail,
is to wash down the stairs, and then, with a painter’s brush and
pipeclay, go over the sides of each step where the carpet does not cover
it: the pipeclay used for this purpose is generally mixed with glue,
or what painters call size; but this size is often not quite fresh,
which produces a bad air on the staircase; to boil the pipeclay with
equal parts of water and milk, or with water and beer, is a very good
substitute for size; it will rub off a little, but not nearly so easily
as when water alone is used in mixing it.
If there are any spots of grease on the stairs, before using the
pipeclay, scrape them off; then on each spot put a little of a mixture
of strong soap lees and unslaked lime, let it lie for a few minutes,
then rub hard and wash it off. A bottle of this mixture, well corked,
should be kept always at hand, to take spots of candle grease or oil,
either out of floors or stone passages; when used for floors it should
be washed more quickly off, or it may be necessary also to lower it with
cold water, as this mixture will discolour the boards if left on for any
time. The stairs being finished with the pipeclay, sheets of very coarse
brown paper should be laid down under each carpet, and each sheet turned
in, so as to make it lie double at the edge of each step; this prevents
the carpet wearing so fast as it is apt to do at the edges. Care also
should be taken that the same part of the carpet is not always brought to
the edge of the step, so as to cause that part to be worn shabby while
the rest looks fresh: a little arrangement in shifting, sometimes higher,
sometimes lower, will, in a great measure, prevent this. A stair-carpet
should be cut at least half-a-yard longer than required for covering
the stairs, and turned in at top and bottom, which will allow for this
shifting. Attention also is necessary to stretch the carpet as tight as
possible in laying it down, so that there should be no creases to be worn
by passing feet; and also to see that the rods, after being well scoured
with rotten stone and oil, and rubbed bright, should be so driven through
the rings as not to get loose. By attending to these particulars, a stair
carpet will look well as long again as when it is ill kept and neglected,
and allowed to lie so long without being taken up, as to wear a mark at
the edge of each step, which it is impossible afterwards to efface.
The floorcloth in the lobby should next be swept, then washed over
with soap and water, with a sponge or flannel (but never with a
scouring-brush, which some housemaids use), and rubbed up with a
dry cloth; a little bees’-wax may be rubbed in, which improves the
appearance, and also preserves the surface, but brisk light rubbing will
be particularly required when the wax is used, both to give it a bright
look, and to prevent the dust from sticking to it. Floorcloths should
not be much washed with soap, as it injures the paint. When not very
dirty, washing them first with cold water, and then with milk, will be
sufficient; the milk gives them a very pretty gloss, and they are more
easily rubbed up than when the bees’-wax is used.
As the steps from the outer door, the door itself, and all in the
under-story belongs in general to the cook’s work, the housemaid may now
be considered as having fulfilled her task, with regard to a thorough
cleaning. We proceed, now, to mention the routine of daily work she has
to go through in keeping all clean, and will also combine this with the
parlour work, which, in families where there is no footman, frequently
falls to the housemaid’s portion.
With early rising and active habits much may be done before breakfast,
and much should be done, or confusion will ensue for the rest of the day.
The housemaid’s work should be begun both in winter and summer by six
o’clock, for as in winter a good deal must be done by candle light, it
is less difficult to accustom oneself to awake always by a little after
five o’clock, than to leave off the habit in winter, and have to begin
it again; half an hour, or even a whole hour, of longer sleep will make
very little difference in the feeling of comfort at the moment, and will
greatly add to the difficulties of the day. As the sitting-rooms will
require to be done out thoroughly, each in turn once a week, this will
require three mornings from six o’clock, and even the time this will give
may not be sufficient; some things may have to be left undone, which a
considerate mistress will give the opportunity of being completed after
breakfast. In some houses where the cook has assistance, the dining-room
is under her care, this will give more time to the housemaid for the
drawing-rooms and study; but still as the stair carpet will require to
be brushed down oftener than once a week, and should always be done if
possible before breakfast, the necessity of early rising at all seasons
is very apparent.