From Kitchen to Garret: Hints for young householders

by J. E. Panton

I have often enough seen all sorts and descriptions of ideas for writing tables and other conveniences in a spare room, but of this I will have none; if I ask people to come and see me I want them to be with me, and not in their own rooms half the time; and letters can surely be written either in my company, or in the dining-room, should I be occupied in my own sanctum: while work of all sorts can be brought down after breakfast, when the members of the male sex have gone off to business, and there need be no reason for secluding oneself in one’s bedroom to do one’s mending.

I maintain that guests staying in one’s house should be treated to what servants call company manners, and that we should make a difference for them, and try and make their visits pleasant to them, considering that they have come to us for a holiday; that leaving them to themselves, and going our own way while they go theirs, is distinctly averse to all the laws of old-fashioned and true hospitality; and that by making the spare room into a species of boudoir we appear to hint to them that we do not want them with us, except after dinner or for the afternoon drive, or really on any occasion when we can possibly do without them.

I should take as nice a room as I could for my guests after my children’s convenience has been thought of—I like mine as near me as possible, and if possible on the same floor, with a schoolroom upstairs, a most invaluable possession in childish ailments, when change of room is wanted without any risks of draughts run by going downstairs—and though, of course, our proverbial bride and bridegroom will not have to think of all this for some years to come, I find I have had so many readers beside the bride for whom I meant to write this book that I cannot help being a little discursive for their sakes, the while I beg Angelina not to take the best room in the house for her guests, because she will hesitate so very much more, if she does, over dismantling the pretty room when the ‘king comes’ to his kingdom, and Miss or Master Baby arrives to rule the household with an iron rod.

Some of the charming painted suites of furniture are as nice as anything for the spare room, and take a great deal of raiment, and I strongly advise Angelina always to ask her guests if the boxes may be removed from the room. As soon as they are unpacked they can be put in the box-room until required, even if the visit is only for a few days, for a dirty travelling trunk can do a great deal of mischief, and, if put against the wall, has often enough ruined the paper, and dug holes in the plaster by being continually opened and shut as things were taken in and out. The paper and paint of the spare room should be a matter for great and careful consideration, too, and here I very strongly advise a dado of some kind or other. I always advise a dado in a bedroom of cretonne or matting, however the bed is placed, as nothing saves the walls so long from the tender mercies of the housemaid, and so keeps the room looking nice.

I heard of a bedroom in the country the other day that seemed to me the very ideal bedroom for a guest. The paint was white, and the paper was the very faintest possible shade of eau-de-Nil. There was a dado of eau-de-Nil and white chintz, with, I believe, a pattern of lilies-of-the-valley on, and the curtains were of the same. The bed had an eider-down quilt in green silk—rather extravagant this—and the furniture was all in white wood, with green and white mats &c. about. The effect in summer was simply perfect. I am, however, afraid in winter the effect would be too cold; but to be equally pleasant then, however, the cold effect could be obviated by putting pink cretonne curtains instead of the green chintz, and putting pink mats and a pink cover to the eider-down; but the pink must be very carefully chosen, and be either very faint or else almost terra-cotta, or it would look tawdry, I am sure.

The eider-down should always have a cover made of cretonne, like that used for the curtains, or else of a contrasting hue. The usual cover for an eider-down in turkey red would spoil any room, and as a motive of economy, if not of beauty, an extra cover is a very good thing; it makes the eider-down wear twice as long, and is able to be washed, a great advantage to anything that has to do with a bed.

There should always be four pillows and four or five good blankets to the spare-room bed, three pairs of sheets, the top one edged with Cash’s patent frilling two inches wide, and a large red monogram on the centre of the top sheet, and at least twelve pillow-cases, with four extra ones frilled, and with monograms in the centre, which should be removed at bedtime and folded up. The counterpane should be a honeycomb one, with a deep fringe all round, and these are the only counterpanes that should be bought for real use. They always look very much better than any others, and look as well after they are washed as they do before. A Madras muslin quilt thrown over the bed in summer looks very nice; in winter the eider-down is all that is required, though I dare say I shall shock my readers by telling them that I never put away my eider-downs anywhere through the house in summer. I rarely find it warm enough at night, sleeping as I do with my windows open, to do without them.

If we can only afford one spare room, that room should have a double bed in, as often married folk would like to come to us for a night or two, and I have found it very awkward myself, never being able to take in any one, save a girl or a young man, because I personally have in my present house no such accommodation, and a small room does not matter for one night, if the bed be comfortable and large enough.

Maple’s brass or black and brass bedsteads and ‘Excelsior’ mattresses are the most inexpensive bedsteads I know; a brass one should be chosen if one can afford this possibly, but a very nice black and brass one can be bought for 2l. 5s.; mattress (‘Excelsior’) at 2l. 9s.; hair mattress at 3l. 10s.; bolster at 17s. 6d., and good pillows at 5s. each. A room can be nicely and entirely furnished for 34l. 9s. 8d. in good furniture that will wear, though, of course, cheaper and less reliable furniture may be purchased. I actually hear that at Cardiff excellent suites of furniture in walnut can be bought for 12l., but I must believe these are simply veneered, and will fall to pieces at the least move or the smallest amount possible of wear and tear. There is no doubt that a great deal of thought has to be expended on a spare room, but there is not the smallest doubt that it ought to look as nice without (please forgive me for being insistent on this) suggesting a sitting-room, that our guests should feel at home in it at once. A flowery paper, like the old-fashioned chintzes, is bright and pleasant, but must not be too scrawly, or it will not be nice should sickness overtake our guest; but it should be lively and charming, and suggestive of pleasant thoughts, and then I am sure we shall be repaid by hearing our friends exclaim, ‘Oh, what a sweet room! Why, I feel rested already.’

And now let me whisper one or two little sentences in Angelina’s ear, suggested by what I have let slip above about possible sickness overtaking a guest, for very few people ever contemplate this side of the guest-chamber question.