VICTORIAN NURSERY

Greymouth Evening Star, 12 April 1933, Page 10

VICTORIAN NURSERY

INTERESTING RECOLLECTIONS. “We hear so much about Victorian nurseries and the horrors undergone by children who were suppressed within them, described mostly by people who were born after Victoria died, that I am tempted to describe a real nursery and what happened in it,” states a writer in the “Manchester Guardian.” “This nursery was started in 1863. It was a large, low room at the top Of a tall, narrow, London house. It had two large windows which faced south and' got all the sun there was. There was a wide outside window sill on which in summer there always flourished a pot of musk which scented the room. Musk had not then lost its perfume. And there, on wet flannel in a soup plate, we grew mustard and cress. In winter the great sport was to fill a saucer with orange juice and sugar and sink it in the snow and cover it with a piece of paper to keep off the smuts. The showers of huge smuts in those days can scarcely he believed by the dwellers in the cleaner air of to-day. The saucer was left out overnight and next day was found’ to bo - full of the most delicious orange ice. Bought ices were an expensive luxury we had not tasted. “There was no gas upstairs in this house; so the nursery at night was lighted only by candles,', and lafer by an oil lamp. The ceiling was low and got smokc-blackened, so bad to be often, whitewashed. Just before the rewhitening it was great sport to stand on the table and on a box and draw white patterns with the tip of your finger or a stick on the smoked part. In a friend’s nursery, just over where the lamp stood, a large circle of dark blue paper was pasted to hide the smoke, and on it were stuck gold paper planets, a crescent around the centre lamp, which represented the sun. This was greatly admired, and indeed it gave a good early lesson in astronomy. •

“Our nursery had a. carpeted iloor. Linoleum was not invented. The walls : were gay. From somewhere or other - my father obtained' some Chinese i paper. Each wall was of a different i pattern. On either side of the lire- - place was a. big cupboard, in one of - which were kept the brooms used for ; cleaning the top floor of the house, i and in the other our toys. The firej place was large and guarded by a i high wire guard firmly hooked to the > wall on eit her side. There was’no hot ■ water laid on upstairs anywhere in those days, so there was a large boiler at the back of, and on either side of, . the grate. ; • “Water had to be poured in when- . ever water was drawn out. The water was brought from a big cistern on the . landing outside. The handle of the tap was removable and was kept hung . high up on a nail out. of our reach. • Every drop of bath waler had Io be heated in the boiler, poured into the bath, and then emptied away in a lavatory on the floor below. There was not even a. sink upstairs. It was impossible for each of a large family to have a bath every morning, but it is quite possible to be washed clean with a. basin and a flannel and sponge. An all-over bath was a luxury. NOT MUCH JAM. “We breakfasted in the nursery at s on bread and butter and weak’tea.

I On Sundays we had a little bacon or an egg. Dinner was at 1. Those old enough had meat, potatoes, and vegetables, and a pudding. And we drank weak beer and water, which I, for one, relished greatly. Tea. was at 5, with a bread and butter and either jam or s cake. Never both. And it you had j jam you did not have butter. Cake „ was always made with sultanas as 3 currants were considered indigestible, j We had no snacks between meals and 3 never wanted them. I remember stayt. ing on a visit at a friend’s house where cake and fruit syrup were of- ; fered at 11 and refusing it with scorn 3 ‘ as it was not dinner-time. When old j. enough to sit up till 8 we went down J to the dining room, when my father and mother had finished dinner and -i had great fun. He made us stand on * the table and recite any verses we had j learned, and we did arithmetical pro--3 blems with the aid of bread pills as j counters. And he ended by pelting I us with a knotted table napkin as we 3 bobbed behind the curtains and played I at “Owl in the ivy bush.” j “In the nursery we were free to > make any amount of mess. But as a } yearly baby arrived the room was ' overcrowded, and we ciders came down ' daily to the drawing room and to I meals downstairs. I was not five J when I learned to cut up meat with a , sharp knife. Children in a large fam- ' ily had to help’’themselves early. Nurs-e and nursemaid were busy with the last | , baby and the one before that. It was no ’ use to whine ‘I can’t button my boots.’ ’ You had to find out how -to do it and I how to put your own clothes on and ? to button up those of the next younger to yourself. Soon it was “A big girl I like you must brush your own hair.” , “How many hours have I spent , recking a cradle and being quiet lest a loud squeal should show I had mis- ’ managed my task! Babies were endlossly rocked in those days. ‘ “And what, about, the suppression j we hear so much of? I cannot say , that as a child 1 was conscious of any. ’ Certain things we were not allowed to I do, such as striking matches, sliding! down the banisters, putting pins in the mouth, turning on the cistern tap. But we were always told why. We , were with our mother for a large part ' of the day, and her ceaseless kindness led us to trust her completely. And we obeyed cheerfully. My father was a surgeon, and I think his tales of how various little patients had suffered from doing these various dangerous things made us realise the real dan ger. I shall never forget bis grave face when he returned from an urgent call and told bow be had’ found a pomlittle girl dead on the hall floor. She had slidden down the bannister of a. spiral staircase and shot with great force on to the marble pavement. Thus we came into contact with realities.” j

“HAD THE BEST OF IT.’’ “We knew that as papa saw patients downstairs every morning, and these I were sick people, we must make no noise, on the stairs, when we came home from a, walk, but go up Quietly and play no game before 1 o’clock that could annoy the patients. It gave! us an . understanding of the serious j side of life and the way my father' worked. At lunch-time the house l usually reeked of chloroform, and we ! knew that minor operations had taken j place. Nowadays fathers all have officos and consulting' rooms away from’ homo, and children have no chance i ov j'oalmmg wiml (hp wor) . of j.^. means. They live in an artifieial atinosphero in which they have only to

consider their own pleasures. There is much to be said for a business carried on in the house as part of a child’s training. “The burden of such a household was heavy on the mother. She it was who kept the balance between business and family; who took ns our daily walk; taught us till we went to school; helped us wit h our home lessons; took us to museums, and picture galleries; taught us to collect and dry flowers in the holidays, to collect fossils and’ shells. The Victorian mother in but too many cases was the pelican who gave her life for her children. Tt was she and not her children who was suppressed; she who was exhausted and overstrained by the demands of a growing flock whose energy and vitality sapped hers. “To-day it is mother who is free to go out all day, paint pictures, sit on committees, run a business, go away for week-ends. And her one little boy stays at home alone in the flat with cook. Several such children have I seen. And I think that in many ways the Victorian child often had the best of it.”