~The Ideal Home~

To the Victorians, domesticity seemed as instinctive as breathing, because their first allegiance was the home--creating it, perfecting it, revering it, and, above all, instilling its spirit in the next generations. Since women largely dispatched this duty, home was called "the empire of the mother." Motherhood lost its deepest meaning and its most exalted domain when we lost the Victorian sense of home.

---1850

The Art of Composing
~A Well Written Letter~

I love to write to you—it gives my heart a holiday and sets the bells to ringing.
—Emily Dickinson to Minnie Holland

In earlier years, ladies held very particular ideas about the propriety of their letter writing and correspondence,and often observed the standards prescribed by favored etiquette manuals and lady’s periodicals of their day. Still considered the height of good manners, the following suggestions are as timely today as they were a century ago.

Letter writing… is a very different affair. Its beauty consists in its simplicity, ease, and freedom from formality. The best rule that can be given for letter writing is, to imagine the person present who you are addressing, and write just what you would say in conversation. All attempts at effort, in letter writing, are out of place. The detail of particulars, such as your correspondent would be interested to know, and the expression of your own feelings, are the great excellences of this kind of writing.

—How To Be A Lady, 1850

When composing a handwritten letter, ladies often slipped away to a quiet location, either seated at their writing desk or an amiable cushioned chair pulled close to a cozy fire, allowing them peace and solitude with which to gather their thoughts and to translate them onto the pages of their writing papers. A balanced and comfortable writing utensil was always chosen, allowing them to inscribe in their loveliest penmanship, and a cup of hot tea was kept close at hand to refresh them between “pretty thoughts and friendly salutations.”

Thank you for my dear letter, for the love it bore me, and for its golden thoughts, and feelings so like gems.

—Emily Dickinson to Susan Gilbert Dickinson, February 1852

--The Riches and Treasures of Home

Sweet Dreams In The Making
~A Dream Pillow~

It is a delicious moment, certainly, that of being nestled in bed and feeling that you shall drop gently to sleep.
—Leigh Hunt

Valued for their soothing and tranquil properties, fragrant herbs such as lavender, chamomile and hops have long been regarded for their ability to nurture the senses and to induce a peaceful nights sleep. To add to their fragrant charms, a measure of cinnamon and cloves are used to enhance the herbal aromas, with a touch of lemon verbena added for a fine and refreshing scent.

½ Cup fragrant rose petals
½ Cup dried chamomile
½ Cup sweet hops
1/3 Cup lavender buds
1/3 Cup catnip, lightly crushed
¼ Cup dried peppermint leaves
¼ Cup lemon verbena
3 cinnamon sticks, crushed
2 Tablespoons whole cloves, crushed
2 Tablespoons orris root or sea salt

In a small mixing bowl, combine the ingredients and allow them to “steep” overnight or for several hours. Prepare a small muslin bag, fill with the ingredients and slip inside a decorative pillow. Hang the pillow upon the bedpost to impart its delicate aroma’s and to ensure a restful nights slumber!

~The Seasonal Hearth~

In earlier days, the hearth was a symbol of home and the comforts and joys found within it and stood as an emblem of enduring graciousness, hospitality and repose. With the changing of the seasons, the lovely mantle, serving as the crown jewel upon the magnificent stonework, showcased a treasure trove of seasonal riches, following the advise of an 1889 homemaking manual to “make a beauty of economy,” and to bring a touch of nature to the indoor décor.

During the months of spring, a lovely collection of flowering bulbs were often placed upon the mantle, along with sprigs of lilac, blossoms of peony, lily of the valley and flowering forsythia. Topiaries of variegated ivy, signifying “fidelity, loyalty and undying affection,” stood among the treasures, along with little clay pots filled with velvety green grass and abandoned birds nests made from tiny twigs and downy soft feathers.

In the summer, the mantle was arrayed with pink roses growing in sweet and elegant perfection, symbolizing by their presence, a home of “perfect happiness and contentment,” mingled with lavish displays of purple hydrangea, foxglove, scented geraniums and favored old begonias.

During the fall, wreathes made of gleaming red bittersweet hung above the noble hearth, mingled with sprigs of red and golden maple leaves, dried ears of corn, tiny pumpkins and pretty colored squash. Dried flowers and fragrant herbs were often used to garnish table tops and to nestle in little nooks and crannies around the home, while “tall sheaves of tasseled corn, and bundles of nodding oats and swaying wheat” stood along side the stately hearth to celebrate the harvest.

In the winter, the mantle was draped with luxurious velvets and rich brocades and laid with garlands of sumptuous pine boughs, sprigs of holly, boxwood, and laurel. To add to the elegance and beauty, pots of chrysanthemums and Christmas roses mingled with eucalyptus berries, bay leaves and sprigs of baby’s breath, filling the home with a glorious wintertime fragrance, while beeswax tapers in silver candlesticks glowed with a charming and luminous brilliance.

--The Riches and Treasures of Home

~Quiet Occupations And Home Amusements~

In regard to home amusements…one of the most useful and important, is the cultivation of flowers and fruits. This, especially for the daughters of a family, is greatly promotive of health and amusement…It would be a most desirable improvement, if all schools for young women could be furnished with suitable grounds and instruments for the cultivation of fruits and flowers, and every inducement offered to engage the pupils in this pursuit. No father, who wishes to have his daughters grow up to be healthful women, can take a surer method to secure this end. Let him set apart a portion of his ground for fruits and flowers, and see that the soil is well prepared and dug over, and all the rest may be committed to the care of the children. These would need to be provided with a light hoe and rake, a dibble or garden trowel, a watering pot, and means and opportunities for securing seeds, roots, bulbs, buds, and grafts, all which might be done at a trifling expense. Then, with proper encouragement and by the aid of a few intelligible and practical directions, every man who has even half an acre could secure a small Eden around his premises. In perusing this amusement children can also be led to acquire many useful habits. Early rising would, in many cases, be thus secured; and if they were required to keep their walks and borders free from weeds and rubbish, habits of order and neatness would be induced. Benevolent and social feelings could also be cultivated, by influencing children to share their fruits and flowers with friends and neighbors, as well as to distribute roots and seeds to those who have not the means of procuring them. A woman or a child, by giving seeds or slips or roots to a washerwoman, or a farmer’s boy, thus inciting them to love and cultivate fruits and flowers, awakens a new and refining source of enjoyment in minds, which have few resources more elevated than mere physical enjoyments.
—The American Woman’s Home

--The Riches and Treasures of Home

~The Wife~

The treasures of the deep are not so precious
As are the conceal'd comforts of a man
Locked up in woman's love. I scent the air
Of blessings, when I come but near the house.
What a delicious breath marriage sends forth . .
The violet bed's not sweeter.
MIDDLETON.-

I HAVE often had occasion to remark the fortitude with which women sustain the most overwhelming reverses of fortune. Those disasters which break down the spirit of a man, and prostrate him in the dust, seem to call forth all the energies of the softer sex, and give such intrepidity and elevation to their character, that at times it approaches to sublimity.

Nothing can be more touching than to behold a soft and tender female, who had been all weakness and dependence, and alive to every trivial roughness, while treading the prosperous paths of life, suddenly rising in mental force to be the comforter and support of her husband under misfortune, and abiding, with unshrinking firmness, the bitterest blasts of adversity.

As the vine, which has long twined its graceful foliage about the oak, and been lifted by it into sunshine, will, when the hardy plant is rifted by the thunderbolt, cling round it with its caressing tendrils, and bind up its shattered boughs; so is it beautifully ordered by Providence, that woman, who is the mere dependent and ornament of man in his happier hours, should be his stay and solace when smitten with sudden calamity; winding herself into the rugged recesses of his nature, tenderly supporting the drooping head, and binding up the broken heart.

I was once congratulating a friend, who had around him a blooming family, knit together in the strongest affection. "I can wish you no better lot," said he, with enthusiasm, "than to have a wife and children. If you are prosperous, there they are to share your prosperity; if otherwise, there they are to comfort you."

And, indeed,I have observed that a married man falling into misfortune is more apt to retrieve his situation in the world than a single one; partly because he is more stimulated to exertion by the necessities of the helpless and beloved beings who depend upon him for subsistence; but chiefly because his spirits are soothed and relieved by domestic endearments, and his self-respect kept alive by finding, that though all abroad is darkness and humiliation, yet there is still a little world of love at home, of which he is the monarch. Whereas a single man is apt to run to waste and self-neglect; to fancy himself lonely and abandoned, and his heart to fall to ruin like some deserted mansion, for want of an inhabitant.

These observations call to mind a little domestic story, of whichI was once a witness. My intimate friend, Leslie, had married a beautiful and accomplished girl, who had been brought up in the midst of fashionable life. She had, it is true, no fortune, but that of my friend was ample; and he delighted in the anticipation of indulging her in every elegant pursuit, and administering to those delicate tastes and fancies that spread a kind of witchery about the sex.- "Her life," said he, "shall be like a fairy tale."

The very difference in their characters produced an harmonious combination: he was of a romantic and somewhat serious cast; she was all life and gladness. I have often noticed the mute rapture with which he would gaze upon her in company, of which her sprightly powers made her the delight; and how, in the midst of applause, her eye would still turn to him, as if there alone she sought favor and acceptance. When leaning on his arm, her slender form contrasted finely with his tall manly person. The fond confiding air with which she looked up to him seemed to call forth a flush of triumphant pride and cherishing tenderness, as if he doted on his lovely burden for its very helplessness.

Never did a couple set forward on the flowery path of early and well-suited marriage with a fairer prospect of felicity. It was the misfortune of my friend, however, to have embarked his property in large speculations; and he had not been married many months, when, by a succession of sudden disasters, it was swept from him, and he found himself reduced almost to penury. For a time he kept this situation to himself, and went about with a haggard countenance, and a breaking heart.

His life was but a protracted agony; and what rendered it more insupportable was the necessity of keeping up a smile in the presence of his wife; for he could not bring himself to overwhelm her with the news. She saw, however, with the quick eyes of affection, that all was not well with him. She marked his altered looks and stifled sighs, and was not to be deceived by his sickly and vapid attempts at cheerfulness.

She tasked all her sprightly powers and tender blandishments to win him back to happiness; but she only drove the arrow deeper into his soul. The more he saw cause to love her, the more torturing was the thought that he was soon to make her wretched. A little while, thought he, and the smile will vanish from that cheek- the song will die away from those lips- the lustre of those eyes will be quenched with sorrow; and the happy heart, which now beats lightly in that bosom, will be weighed down like mine, by the cares and miseries of the world.

At length he came to me one day, and related his whole situationin a tone of the deepest despair. When I heard him through I inquired,"Does your wife know all this?"- At the question he burst into an agony of tears. "For God's sake!" cried he, "if you have any pity on me, don't mention my wife; it is the thought of her that drives me almost to madness!"

"And why not?" said I. "She must know it sooner or later: you cannot keep it long from her, and the intelligence may break upon her in a more startling manner, than if imparted by yourself; for the accents of those we love soften the harshest tidings. Besides, you are depriving yourself of the comforts of her sympathy; and not merely that, but also endangering the only bond that can keep hearts together- an unreserved community of thought and feeling. She will soon perceive that something is secretly preying upon your mind; and true love will not brook reserve; it feels undervalued and outraged,when even the sorrows of those it loves are concealed from it."

"Oh, but, my friend! to think what a blow I am to give to all her future prospects- how I am to strike her very soul to the earth, by telling her that her husband is a beggar! that she is to forego all the elegancies of life- all the pleasures of society- to shrink with me into indigence and obscurity! To tell her that I have dragged her down from the sphere in which she might have continued to move in constant brightness- the light of every eye- the admiration of every heart!- How can she bear poverty? she has been brought up in all the refinements of opulence. How can she bear neglect? she has been the idol of society. Oh! it will break her heart- it will break her heart!-"

I saw his grief was eloquent, and I let it have its flow; for sorrow relieves itself by words. When his paroxysm had subsided, and he had relapsed into moody silence, I resumed the subject gently, and urged him to break his situation at once to his wife. He shook his head mournfully, but positively. "But how are you to keep it from her? It is necessary she should know it, that you may take the steps proper to the alteration of your circumstances. You must change your style of living- nay,"observing a pang to pass across his countenance, "don't let that afflict you. I am sure you have never placed your happiness in outward show- you have yet friends, warm friends, who will not think the worse of you for being less splendidly lodged: and surely it does not require a palace to be happy with Mary-"

"I could be happy with her," cried he, convulsively, "in a hovel!- I could go down with her into poverty and the dust!- I could- I could-God bless her!- God bless her!" cried he, bursting into a transport of grief and tenderness. "And believe me, my friend," said I, stepping up, and grasping him warmly by the hand, "believe me she can be the same with you. Ay, more: it will be a source of pride and triumph to her- it will call forth all the latent energies and fervent sympathies of her nature; for she will rejoice to prove that she loves you for yourself.

There is in every true woman's heart a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity; but which kindles up, and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity. No man knows what the wife of his bosom is- no man knows what a ministering angel she is- until he has gone with her through the fiery trials of this world."

There was something in the earnestness of my manner, and the figurative style of my language, that caught the excited imagination of Leslie. I knew the auditor I had to deal with; and following up the impression I had made, I finished by persuading him to go home and unburden his sad heart to his wife.

I must confess, notwithstanding all I had said, I felt some little solicitude for the result. Who can calculate on the fortitude of one whose life has been a round of pleasures? Her gay spirits might revolt at the dark downward path of low humility suddenly pointed out before her, and might cling to the sunny regions in which they had hither to revelled.

Besides, ruin in fashionable life is accompanied by so many galling mortifications, to which in other ranks it is a stranger.- In short, I could not meet Leslie the next morning without trepidation. He had made the disclosure.

"And how did she bear it?" "

"Like an angel! It seemed rather to be a relief to her mind, for she threw her arms round my neck, and asked if this was all that had lately made me unhappy.- But, poor girl," added he, "she canno trealize the change we must undergo. She has no idea of poverty but in the abstract; she has only read of it in poetry, where it is allied to love. She feels as yet no privation; she suffers no loss of accustomed conveniences nor elegancies. "

When we come practically to experience its sordid cares, its paltry wants, its petty humiliations-then will be the real trial." "But," said I, "now that you have got over the severest task, that of breaking it to her, the sooner you let the world into the secret the better. The disclosure may be mortifying; but then it is a single misery, and soon over: whereas you otherwise suffer it, in anticipation, every hour in the day.

It is not poverty so much as pretence, that harasses a ruined man- the struggle between a proud mind and an empty purse- the keeping up a hollow show that must soon come to an end. Have the courage to appear poor and you disarm poverty of its sharpest sting." On this point I found Leslie perfectly prepared. He had no false pride himself, and as to his wife, she was only anxious to conform to their altered fortunes.

Some days afterwards he called upon me in the evening. He had disposed of his dwelling house, and taken a small cottage in the country, a few miles from town.

He had been busied all day in sending out furniture. The new establishment required few articles, and those of the simplest kind. All the splendid furniture of his late residence had been sold, excepting his wife's harp. That, he said, was too closely associated with the idea of herself; it belonged to the little story of their loves; for some of the sweetest moments of their courtship were those when he had leaned over that instrument, and listened to the melting tones of her voice. I could not but smile at this instance of romantic gallantry in a doting husband.

He was now going out to the cottage, where his wife had been all day superintending its arrangement. My feelings had become strongly interested in the progress of this family story, and, as it was a fine evening, I offered to accompany him. He was wearied with the fatigues of the day, and, as he walked out, fell into a fit of gloomy musing. "Poor Mary!" at length broke, with a heavy sigh, from his lips. "And what of her?" asked I: "has anything happened to her?"

"What," said he, darting an impatient glance, "is it nothing to be reduced to this paltry situation- to be caged in a miserable cottage- to be obliged to toil almost in the menial concerns of her wretched habitation?"

"Has she then repined at the change?"

"Repined! she has been nothing but sweetness and good humor. Indeed, she seems in better spirits than I have ever known her; she has been to me all love, and tenderness, and comfort!"

"Admirable girl!" exclaimed I. "You call yourself poor, my friend; you never were so rich- you never knew the boundless treasures of excellence you possess in that woman."

"Oh! but, my friend, if this first meeting at the cottage were over,I think I could then be comfortable. But this is her first day of real experience; she has been introduced into a humble dwelling- she has been employed all day in arranging its miserable equipments- she has, for the first time, known the fatigues of domestic employment-she has, for the first time, looked round her on a home destitute of every thing elegant,- almost of every thing convenient; and may now be sitting down, exhausted and spiritless, brooding over a prospect of future poverty."

There was a degree of probability in this picture that I could not gainsay, so we walked on in silence. After turning from the main road up a narrow lane, so thickly shaded with forest trees as to give it a complete air of seclusion, we came in sight of the cottage. It was humble enough in its appearance for the most pastoral poet; and yet it had a pleasing rural look.

A wild vine had overrun one end with a profusion of foliage; a few trees threw their branches gracefully over it; and I observed several pots of flowers tastefully disposed about the door, and on the grass-plot in front. A small wicket gate opened upon a footpath that wound through some shrubbery to the door. Just as we approached, we heard the sound of music- Leslie grasped my arm; we paused and listened.It was Mary's voice singing, in a style of the most touching simplicity, a little air of which her husband was peculiarly fond.

I felt Leslie's hand tremble on my arm. He stepped forward to hear more distinctly. His step made a noise on the gravel walk. A bright beautiful face glanced out at the window and vanished- a light footstep was heard and Mary came tripping forth to meet us: she was in a pretty rural dress of white; a few wild flowers were twisted in her fine hair; a fresh bloom was on her cheek; her whole countenance beamed with smiles- I had never seen her look so lovely.

"My dear George," cried she, "I am so glad you are come! I have been watching and watching for you; and running down the lane, and looking out for you. I've set out a table under a beautiful tree behind the cottage; and I've been gathering some of the most delicious strawberries, for I know you are fond of them- and we have such excellent cream- and every thing is so sweet and still here- Oh!" said she, putting her arm within his, and looking up brightly in his face, "Oh, we shall be so happy!"

Poor Leslie was overcome. He caught her to his bosom- he folded his arms round her- he kissed her again and again- he could not speak, but the tears gushed into his eyes; and he has often assured me, that though the world has since gone prosperously with him, and his life has, indeed, been a happy one, yet never has he experienced a moment of more exquisite felicity.

-- THE END

by Washington Irving