Part 4 (1/2)
From the sideboard-drawer will be taken a neatly folded tea-cloth, ornamented most probably with open work at each end, or adorned with colour in the style of the Russian household linen in the collection of the d.u.c.h.ess of Edinburgh, and the lady will proceed to rinse and wipe the breakfast cups and saucers, together with the teaspoons, milk-jug, and the cleaner plates, and will then lay the plates that have grease upon them to soak in the hot water, to which some additional hot water has been added.
Before taking out the plates, the china which has been used at breakfast should be neatly arranged on, or in, the sideboard. This saves the trouble of carrying about trays of crockery, and the consequent breakage. I will describe the china cabinet as I go more particularly into the details of the dining-room.
The remaining plates may now be wiped, and the _etceteras_ replaced, the cloth brushed, neatly folded, and laid in a drawer with the table napkins, and the fryingpan cleansed by relighting the spirit-lamp for a minute while some hot water bubbles in it to clean it; the towel itself taken away to dry, and the tea-leaves, and a small basin of eggsh.e.l.ls and sc.r.a.ps carried into the kitchen; the raw eggsh.e.l.ls to be used to wash decanters and gla.s.s, and the tea-leaves reserved for dusting purposes.
The windows are opened and the gas fire turned out, and this important ceremonial of the day is at an end.
By this time the drawing-room will have been dusted by the second lady, the week's duster being kept in a convenient drawer. The feather-brush is wielded as a wand by the graceful mistress of the instrument, whom I should recommend to wear a muslin cap to keep the dust from falling on her hair.
These caps, when made of Swiss muslin and trimmed with a frill border edged with Valenciennes lace, are most becoming. They are best and prettiest when made in the shape of a large hair-net. A pretty bride used to come down to breakfast at Interlaken wearing this kind of cap, and other ladies at once adopted the style for wearing at their morning work or sketching. This was some years ago, but a good shape is always good.
To any one unused to the mysteries of dusting, it is surprising to find how easily the ornaments of a drawing-room may be kept in order, and how well the gilt frames of pictures preserved, by a light play of the feather-brush every morning. The French use the _plumeau_ in nearly all cases where we rub with a hard duster, and with great advantage, especially in the case of gilding.
A man or woman hired once a month will keep the windows bright; they are all the brighter if cleaned with newspaper dipped in cold water--some mordant in the printer's ink has the property of rendering them so--and they are the more easily wiped, having less fluff about them than if cloths are used.
A light rub with a leather makes bright stove bars more brilliant, and in summer the fire-place will give very little trouble; though for ladies managing their own work, andirons and a wood fire will be found easier to keep in order, as well as being more picturesque.
A gas fire, built with pumice and asbestos, lasts without needing a touch for three years, and though less delightful than wood or coal, is infinitely cleaner, and gives no trouble at all. A gas apparatus with four jets can be laid in any ordinary fire-place, and fitted with pumice and asbestos complete for seven and twenty s.h.i.+llings, perhaps for less; but that is what I have paid. And when one considers the saving of labour in carrying upstairs heavy scuttles of coal, besides the original cost of the scuttles, with the ludicrous inappropriateness of the ornamental varieties, the total abolition of fire-irons, including that absurdity seen in many houses, the supplementary or deputy poker, besides requiring no chimneysweep in the drawing-room at all, it may be thought well worth while to have a gas fire laid at first. The superior cleanliness and security against smoke are great arguments for its general use, besides the ease with which it can be lighted, or turned out when not wanted for use. Being in the fire-place, the gas finds vent in the chimney, so there is no feeling of closeness in the room. The disadvantage of a gas fire, in some people's opinion, is that it may not be poked or touched; but this is soon forgotten. Its appearance is like a clear fire of cinders, except when the sun is s.h.i.+ning, and then it burns with a greenish tint not at all pretty.
Breakfast cleared away, and the drawing-room neatly arranged, the beds have next to be made. This is done with little exertion, as modern beds have spring mattresses, and French wool mattresses above these which require no shaking; so that bed-making gives only a little exercise with a minimum of fatigue. Two people can make a bed with great ease, but as a rule I should advocate every person making his or her own bed.
I must not here go into the detail of setting the bed-rooms in order, as this will come more properly into the description of the upper part of the house. So I will only suggest that if one room be cleaned each day, and the staircase on one day, the housework is not so heavy a task as it appears.
THE KITCHEN.
Parisian markets--No refuse food brought into a house--Catering in London--Cooking-stoves--Pretty kitchen--Underground kitchens objectionable--Kitchen level with the street door--Larder and store-room--The dresser--Kitchen in the Swiss style--Herbs in the window--Hygienic value of aromatic plants--Polished sink--Earthenware sc.r.a.p-dish--Nothing but ashes in dust-bin--Soap-dish--Plate-rack-- Kitchen cloths--Few cleaning materials necessary--Hand work better than machine work--Was.h.i.+ng at home--Knife-cleaning--Fuel-box--No work in the kitchen unfit for a lady to do.
Time works many changes; but will it ever bring into our English markets the various and neatly arranged vegetables, the bouquets of salad, pleasant to the eye as to the taste, the neat little joints and divisions of meat, the temptingly prepared poultry and game, and the many kinds of appetizing comestibles, which are to be found in the markets of Paris? There a housekeeper may amuse herself by varying her dinners for every day, having an embarra.s.sment of choice between countless delicacies. There the fillet of beef (the undercut of the sirloin) is already larded for the roast; the pigeons are boned and prepared for the _compote_; the veal is cut in shape and beaten for the cutlets; the pigs'-feet are boned, stuffed, and truffled; slices of galantine are ready to be laid on a dish for luncheon; crayfish woo the _mayonnaise_; parsley and b.u.t.ter are waiting to be poured over potatoes _a la maitre-d'hotel_. There the spinach may be bought ready boiled and finely chopped, only needing to be warmed with its poached eggs; the sorrel is already picked over and cooked; the carrots are cleanly grown, and evenly selected, and sold with just the quant.i.ty of feathered green tops useful for a garnish. In fact, all is so contrived that the least possible refuse matter shall be brought into any house, so saving the labour that this entails.
Nor does this tr.i.m.m.i.n.g and spoke-shaving add to the price of the articles, as the surplus vegetable remains go into the ground at once, but little of what is uneatable being taken to the market at all; thus saving the cost of carriage, and paying for the little time expended in its removal; while in the case of meat, the purchaser finds it more profitable to cook only such parts as are entirely eatable, without letting time and fire be consumed in preparing what is always wasted.
This is not a cookery-book, though when I think of how much we have to learn before we can make good use of our fine provisions, I feel tempted to branch off on this line; but the lady amateur will learn more by giving careful attention at the cooking-school than by reading many books.
In London we can buy peas ready sh.e.l.led, fowls ready trussed, fish prepared for the pot or pan, and sometimes our beans ready slit; but carrots must be sc.r.a.ped, greens washed, and turnips peeled, and apples also, though potatoes need not; tongues and hams may be bought boiled, and cakes ready baked. Still, with us much more food has to be prepared at home than in France, though we have this convenience--that the provisions are brought by the tradesmen to our doors, which is seldom the practice there.
For general cooking, the gas tripod like that used at breakfast will not serve our turn, except on cold-collation days in the heat of summer, when cold lamb or salmon, salads and fruit, are more grateful than anything else.
Many people dislike to have their cooking done by gas, and it is objectionable for roasting or broiling; still, there are such numerous inventions in cooking-stoves, each simpler, cleaner, and more perfect than the rest, that only the embarra.s.sment of selection can cause hesitation in making a choice.
Near a nice bright stove, placed in a recess glittering with Dutch tiles or Minton's artistic _plaques_, surrounded by burnished pans and pots of well-lined copper or bra.s.s and neat enamelled saucepans, the genius of the hearth presides over the mysteries of Hestia.
The window, made with diamond panes mingled with a few lozenges of bright colour, is mostly open in summer, and wreathed with climbing plants--as vines, and ornamental gourds, with their curious black or scarlet fruit, the rich foliage intercepting the suns.h.i.+ne--or closed if it be winter, and draped in pleasant muslin. I would take great pains to make my kitchen the most picturesque and cheerful room in the house, as it is one of the most important.
On no account would I use the great black beetle-trap cellar downstairs and underground, which strikes with dismay the greater number of young girls who have rushed from school into marriage, and who instantly become the prey of the tyrant imprisoned in that dungeon, which is too often also a den of iniquity.
No; if obliged to have a house with one of these dismal caverns, I would invent some useful purpose for it; but I would not willingly select such a dwelling. These underground kitchens must eventually die out, and our children will wonder why we used such airless, lightless places.
In a house arranged on my plan we aim upwards, not downwards. We might, perhaps, on wet days, let the children go to these bas.e.m.e.nt rooms to skip or romp, as there they could not shake down the ceiling beneath them, as sometimes happens in upstairs play-rooms; only the rooms must be kept carefully whitewashed, and, as far as possible, well aired.