From Kitchen to Garret: Hints for young householders

by J. E. Panton

If the room have a bow-window, a cosy summer corner can be made by putting the sofa there, with a table in front or at the side, capable of holding books and plants; and these tables are, again, things that we must undoubtedly choose with a great deal of care, for there is nothing more annoying than a rickety table, or one that is knocked over easily, should the room be fuller than usual, or should we number an awkward friend among the members of our acquaintances.

I remember some years ago having to entertain such an individual in the days when I did not know as much as I do now about the fitness of things, and I really believe that unhappy man’s sufferings gave me a lesson about tables I have never forgotten. I was always very fond of pretty things, and then had the mistaken idea that one could not have too many of them; so I fear that when we used to go in to dinner from the drawing-room, our walk resembled nothing so much as Mr. Dickens’s celebrated description of the family whose rooms were so full that they had to ‘take a walk among furniture’ before they could get out of the room.

We were taking our walk among the furniture when the contretemps happened. My unfortunate acquaintance had fidgeted unhappily for some time, and he finally made a dart towards the lady he had to take in to dinner, knocking over the chair next him, and arriving at his destination with a fringed antimacassar neatly fastened to one of his coat-buttons. He then backed into a small table, on which stood some books and photographs, and only saved this, to send another spinning; this time smashing the whole concern, and depriving me of one of my pet flower-holders, the demolition of which I have never ceased to regret. But worse was to come: in one heroic effort to get away from the scene of the disaster he backed once more into a ‘whatnot’ full of china, and I draw a veil over my feelings and his, as the most merciful thing I can do.

Still, when next morning I stood among the ruins, like Marius among the ruins of Rome, I was honest enough to say, ‘This is certainly my own fault,’ and ‘turning to,’ as the maids say, I so rearranged that long and ugly room that when next I had a dinner party I was repaid a thousandfold for my exertions and sacrifices by the expression of relief on the countenances of the guests, who now saw themselves saved from the usual dangerous promenade among my belongings that had used to be their portion. Now fortunately we can purchase tables that are small and safe, and I think those which are made with double trays, or rather with one tray under the top, are perfectly safe. They are to be bought covered with stamped velveteen, or with the pretty stuffs that imitate Turkish saddle-bags, or with plush, but I prefer them made of plain dark wood, and either polished or else painted ivory, and the top covered with an ordinary cloth made from tapestry, or one of Burnett’s charming serges edged with ball fringe; as, if plants in pots are placed upon them, drops of water are apt soon to spoil the covering, whereas serge will stand a good deal of water; although I am of opinion that plants should always be watered outside the room, on a balcony or in a garden if possible, as a little carelessness soon spoils one’s things, and I have, alas! spoilt much by not enforcing this rule both on myself and others.

Another very good and useful table is the square ivory Queen Anne table, that has four square rails as an extra support to the legs. These are about 3l., and can be procured in different sizes, when, of course, the price alters too, and are extremely handy to hold the lamp for reading books, work, &c., and are large enough to write a note upon comfortably.

I am a great advocate for corners—that is to say, for giving the corners of the room an artistic look, and I also like to have my favourite winter corner close to the fireplace. Naturally, it would be intensely foolish if we all hankered after a corner. Still even then we could be accommodated, if we do not mind screening ourselves off from our fellows in a manner I must say I consider extremely ugly and silly.

It will hardly be believed that in a house I have heard of the mistress has erected a series of screens in her drawing-room, which resembles now nothing so much as a restaurant fitted up with boxes. Rather than suggest such a fearful idea I would abolish screens altogether; yet one round the back of the sofa is often a great comfort, and, judiciously arranged, makes the background for a very pretty corner.

But the mistress’s corner can be arranged like this: put straight across the corner of the wall a small black table, made safe with the under-tray, and covered at the top with a Turkish antimacassar; this holds a plant in the daytime and the lamp at night, and is large enough to hold all the month’s magazines, half on each side of the centrepiece; above this a black corner bracket for china, crowned by a big pot to hold grasses or bulrushes, can be hung on the wall; and in front of the table should stand a square stool, holding a large plant and pot, heavy enough to hold its own should any one come near enough to knock it over, were it too light. Then to the left of this, next the fireplace, put your own particular chair, leaving room for a stool of some kind, that is broad and low, and can hold your work-basket if you work, your favourite book, or your newspaper-stand with the paper-knife attached; and on the desk above and at the side of your chair hang a sabot for flowers, your favourite photographs, and any pet piece of china or ornaments you may fancy. One of mine consists of a mandarin’s fan and case; the case is embroidered in silk, and gives a very pretty bit of colour, and the fan serves as a fire-screen should any one object to the cheerful blaze. Needless to add, I never use this screen myself.

On the other side of the fireplace I have a pair of brass bellows and a brass-handled brush, for I think an untidy hearth disturbs me more than anything else; and another Japanese fan, tied to a nail by a riband, which some of my friends find most useful when the fire is hot. Here, too, I have a really charming chair I bought at Liberty’s. I think it was 14s. 6d., not more. It has rather a high back, and a rush seat, and as the front legs are taller than the other two, it just tilts back, and is most comfortable. I added a padded back cushion, tied on with tapes, which adds much to the effect, but none is required on the seat, as rushes make a very comfortable and easy support, and this chair is preferred by what is rudely called ‘the master of the house,’ my pet cat, to any other, and he is a gentleman who really knows what comfort is. He has made it his study, during a long and honourable life, so I think I am not wrong in quoting him as an authority.

While not emulating a good friend of mine, in whose house the putting on of coals partakes of the character of a protracted and arduous ceremony, I must say I dislike to see coals standing in a room, but the receptacles made for them in brass are so pretty now that they may almost be forgiven, though I would rather not see them in a drawing-room. However, if one is required, the brass baskets, without covers, are the best, and hold quite enough coals for the evening, indeed more than enough if the grate is as I described before, and moreover judiciously laid and managed. Brass fire-irons and dogs are a necessity, but then a little black poker, price 1s. 6d., called a ‘pokerette’ in the shops, and ‘the curate’ in the drawing-room, must supplement the brass one, or that will very soon be black and spoiled.