FIRE AND WATER.
Perhaps the part of any room which is most often taken out of, or put
beyond the decorative hands of its owner, is the fireplace. And yet,
though it is one of the most salient features in any English dwelling,
it is, nine cases out of ten, the most repulsively ugly. When one thinks
either of the imitation marble mantelpiece, or its cotton velvet and of
false-lace-bedizened shelves, the artistic soul cannot refrain from a
shudder. The best which can be hoped from an ordinary modern builder is
that he will put in harmless grates and mantelpieces, and abstain from
showy designs. The fireplace in either bed-room or boudoir should not be
too large, nor yet small enough to give an air of stinginess, out of
proportion to everything else. Here are two (Figs. 11 and 14). The
design of each is as simple as possible, of plainest lines, but with no
pretence of elaborate sham splendour. Fig. 11 is of course only suitable
for a small unassuming room, but if the tiles were old Dutch ones and
the rest of the bed-room ware quaint blue and white Delft, an effect of
individuality and suitability would be at once attained. Such a
fireplace would look best in a room with wall-paper of warm neutral
tints of rather an old-fashioned design, and I should like a nice
straight brass fender in front of it almost as flat as a kitchen fender
with delightful possibilities of sociable toe-toasting about it. Such a
one I came across lately that had been "picked up" in the far east of
London. It was about eighteen inches high, of a most beautiful simple,
flat, form with a handsome twist or scroll dividing the design into two
parts. Although blackened to disguise by age and neglect at the time of
its purchase, it shone when I saw it, with that peculiar brilliant and
yet softened sheen which you never get except in real old brass; a hue
seldom if ever attained in modern brazen work however beautiful the
design may be. This fender stood firmly--a great and especial merit in
fenders--on two large, somewhat projecting, feet, and its cheerful
reflections gave an air of brightness to the room at once.
[Illustration: FIG. 11.]
There must always be plenty of room for the fire, and the actual grate
should of course be so set as to throw all the warmth into the room.
Then, though it is rather a digression,--only I want to finish off the
picture which rises up before me,--I would have a couple of chairs
something like this (Fig. 12), and just such a table for a book or one's
hair-brushes a little in front of these two chairs. And then what a
gossip must needs ensue! Of course I would have a trivet on the fire, or
before it. No bed-room can look really comfortable without a trivet and
a kettle; a brass kettle for preference, as squat and fat and shining as
it is possible to procure. There are charming kettles to be found,
copied from Dutch designs.
[Illustration: FIG. 12.]
Instead of the ordinary wide low mantelpiece one sees in bed-rooms, I am
very fond of two narrower shelves over such a fireplace as this. They
are perhaps best plain oak, divided and supported by little turned
pillars, and if the top shelf has a ledge half-way a few nice plates
look especially well. But there are such pretty designs for mantelpieces
now to be procured, that it would be a waste of time to describe any
particular style, and most fireplaces are made on scientific principles
of ventilation. Nor is it, I hope, necessary to reiterate the injunction
about every part of the decoration and detail of a room, whether fixture
or moveable, matching or suiting all the rest. In some instances
contrast is the most harmonious arrangement one can arrive at, but this
should not be a matter lightly taken in hand. A strong feeling is
growing up in favour of the old-fashioned open fireplaces lined with
tiles, and adapted to modern habits by a sort of iron basket on low feet
in the centre, for coals. Excellent fires are made in this way, and I
know many instances where the prettiest possible effect has been
attained. In a country where wood is cheap and plentiful, the basket
for coals may be done away with and the fuel kept in its place by sturdy
"dogs," for which many charming hints have been handed down to us by our
grandfathers. Over the modern fireplace, even in a bed-room, a mirror is
generally placed, but I would not advise it unless the room chanced to
be so dingy that every speck of light must be procured by any means.
Still less would I have recourse to the usual stereotyped gilt-framed
bit of looking glass. In such a private den as we are talking about, all
sorts of little eccentricities might be permitted to the decorator. I
have seen a looking-glass with a flat, narrow frame, beyond which
projected a sort of outer frame also flat, wherein were mounted a series
of pretty little water-colour sketches, and another done in the same way
with photographs--only these were much more difficult to manage
artistically, and needed to be mounted with a background of greyish
paper. For a thoroughly modern room, small oval mirrors are pretty,
mounted on a wide margin of velvet with sundry diminutive brackets and
knobs and hooks for the safe bestowal of pet little odds and ends of
china and glass, with here and there a quaint old miniature or brooch
among them. In old, _real_ old rooms anything of this sort would,
however, be an impossibility, for the mantelshelf would probably be
carried up far over the owner's head who might think herself lucky if
she could ever reach, by standing on tip-toe, a candlestick off its
narrow ledge. Our grandmothers seemed to make it their practice to hang
their less choice portraits in the space above the mantelpiece, and to
this spot seem generally to have been relegated the likenesses of
disagreeable or disreputable, or, to say the least, uninteresting
members of the family; the successful belles and heroes occupying a
more prominent place downstairs. Fig. 14 shows a pretty arrangement of
picture, mirror and shelves for china.
[Illustration: FIG. 13.]
Before the subject of fire is laid aside, we must just touch upon
candles and lamps. Fig. 13 is a simple and ordinary form of candlestick,
which would be safe enough from risk of fire if these sheltering shades
were made, as they often are, of tin, painted green, and then there
would be no danger if it stood on a steady table, by the side of even
the sleepiest student. But perhaps this design (Fig. 15) is the most
uncommon, though it would not be safe to put so unprotected a light
except in a perfectly safe draughtless place. However, there is also in
this branch of decorative art a great variety of beautiful models to
choose from. Antique lamps, copied from those exquisite shapes which
seem to have been preserved for us in lava and ashes during all these
centuries, with their scissors and pin and extinguisher, dangling from
slender chains, lamps where modern invention for oil and wick meet and
blend with chaste forms and lines borrowed from the old designers, and
where the good of the eyesight is as much considered as the pleasure to
the eye itself.
[Illustration: FIG. 14.]
Of washing arrangements, it is not possible to speak in any arbitrary
fashion. Here is a modern French washing-stand (Fig. 16) made, however,
to close up, which is always an objectionable thing, in my opinion,
though it may often be a convenient one. Let your basin invariably be as
large as possible and your jug of a convenient form, to hold and pour
from. Every basin-stand should be provided with a smaller basin and jug,
and allow at the same time, plenty of space and accommodation for
sponges and soap. If, from dearth of attendance, it is necessary to have
a receptacle in the room, into which the basin may be emptied
occasionally during the day, I would entreat that it should be also of
china, for the tin ones soon acquire an unpleasant smell even from
soapsuds. But I detest such contrivances, and they are absolutely
inadmissible on any other score except economy of service. All bathing
arrangements would be better in a separate room, but if this should be
impossible, then they should be behind a screen. But indeed I prefer,
wherever it is feasible, to contrive a small closet for all the washing
apparatus, and to keep basin-stand, towel-horse, and bath in it.
[Illustration: FIG. 15.]
It is sometimes difficult to hit exactly upon a plan for a washing-stand
for a very small room or corner, and a copy of this Chinese stand (Fig.
17) for a basin and washing appliances, would look very quaint and
appropriate in such a situation. Only real, coarse, old Indian, or
Japanese china, would go well with it, however, or it might be fitted
with one of those wooden lacquered bowls from Siam, and a water-jar
from South America of fine red clay, and of a most artistic and
delightful form. There are hundreds of such jars to be bought at Madeira
for a shilling or two, and they keep water deliciously cool and fresh.
If a demand arose for them they would probably be imported in large
quantities. All washing-stands are the better for a piece of Indian
matting hung at the back, for much necessary flirting and flipping of
water goes on at such places, which stains and discolours the wall; but
then this matting must constantly be renewed, for nothing can be more
forlorn to the eye or unpleasing to the sense of smell, than damp straw
is capable of becoming in course of time.
[Illustration: FIG. 16.]
For the corner of a boy's bed-room, or for the washing apparatus of that
very convenient little cupboard or closet or corner which I always
struggle to institute _down_-stairs, close to where the gentlemen of the
family hang their hats and coats, this (Fig. 18) is a very good design.
It is simple in form and steady in build, and a long towel over a roller
just behind it will be found useful. The towel need not be so coarse as
the kitchen "round" one, from which it is copied; and above all things
do not have it _hard_. It is a needless addition to the unavoidable
miseries of life to be obliged to dry your hands in a hurry on a new
huckaback towel.
[Illustration: FIG. 17.]
Many charming basin-stands have I seen extemporised out of even a shelf
in a corner; but such contrivances are perhaps too much of make-shifts
to entitle them to mention here, only one hint would I give. Take care
that your washing-stand is sufficiently low to enable you to use it with
comfort. I once knew a very splendid and elaborate basin-stand,
extending over the whole side of a dressing-room, which could only be
approached by mounting three long low steps. I always felt thankful when
my ablutions had ended and left my neck still unbroken.
[Illustration: FIG. 18.]