Home Pastimes

In Short

This book functions as both a technical manual and a social guide for the mid-19th-century parlor pastime of tableaux vivants, or "living pictures." It provides detailed choreography, costuming advice, and lighting techniques for staging elaborate recreations of famous historical, literary, and biblical moments. By instructing families on how to construct pedestals, manipulate colored fires, and arrange human figures to mimic classical art, the author aims to elevate domestic recreation into a noble, aesthetic pursuit, turning the living room into a site of communal artistic expression and moral reflection.

The Story

The narrative arc of the book begins with the premise that art should not be sequestered in the professional studio, but should instead breathe life into the home. It opens with an invitation to the reader to become an amateur director, setting the stage for a series of dramatic vignettes. These scenes range from the lighthearted—such as the rustic, communal "Return from the Vintage"—to the deeply somber and historically heavy, like the final, doomed stand of Napoleon’s Old Guard at Waterloo.

As the reader moves through the volume, they are guided from the quiet, contemplative study of the "Marble Maiden" to the chaotic, violent energy of the Battle of Bunker Hill. The sequence of scenes reflects a shifting mood: the early pages emphasize grace and elegance, focusing on the "Spirit of Religion" and the lyrical, fairy-tale aesthetics of "Flora and the Fairies." However, the progression eventually darkens and grows in complexity, tackling the moral gravity of "Belshazzar’s Feast" and the tragic, mythic conclusion of "Hiawatha." The book culminates in a series of technical appendices that demystify the artifice behind the illusion. Here, the "story" becomes one of mechanical craft: the reader learns how to use nitrate of copper to create emerald flames, how to paint human skin to represent age or copper-toned ethnicity, and how to use shadows to force the audience’s focus. The ending of the book is inherently open-ended, as it does not conclude a single plot, but rather leaves the reader with a full toolkit to begin their own productions, shifting the focus from the printed word to the physical creation of the living picture.

How It Unfolds

The aesthetic manifesto The work opens by arguing that art is a universal language that should embellish every home, regardless of whether that home is a cottage or a palace. It sets the stage for the reader to cultivate a "quicker sense of the grace and elegance" inherent in familiar, everyday objects.

The instructional core The book moves into a rigorous catalog of specific scenes, each providing a required number of performers and a detailed breakdown of the necessary scenery. It explains how to build platforms out of boxes, how to drape green bocking for backgrounds, and how to achieve specific silhouettes.

The dramatic range The vignettes expand from simple, one-figure portraits, like "Gabrielle," into multi-character historical and biblical epics. Each tableau is paired with poetic excerpts or biblical passages to provide the necessary emotional context for the performers.

The technical revelation The final chapters strip away the theatrical mystery, providing concrete "receipts" for special effects. The reader learns the chemistry of stage lighting, the construction of frames for portrait-style illusions, and the art of applying stage makeup.

The People

The "people" in this book are not characters in a traditional sense, but archetypes and performers. The Director—the reader—is the central figure, tasked with managing the "cast" of friends and family. This individual must possess both the eye of an artist and the discipline of a stage manager, ensuring that every figure is positioned to maintain a perfect, motionless profile.

The Performers are the friends and family members who must submerge their own personalities into the roles of historical or mythical figures. They range from the "cunning player" David, who must appear fresh and youthful, to the Old Guard of Napoleon, who are required to embody stoic, terminal courage in the face of annihilation. The Captive, often appearing in chains, and the Gypsy Fortune Teller serve as conduits for the audience’s emotional engagement, requiring a balance of theatrical artifice and earnest expression. Finally, the Spectators occupy the parlor, and their role is to recognize the references to Shakespeare, Longfellow, or history, thus completing the circuit between the art on the pedestal and the cultural knowledge of the home.

In Its Own Voice

The author establishes the tone of the book by emphasizing the accessibility of art, arguing that high culture is not reserved for the elite.

Art should not be confined entirely to the studio of the artist. Her presence should embellish every home; her spirit should animate every mind.

The book provides rigorous, often surprisingly demanding directions for how to achieve the necessary visual effects, including this note on the "Marble Maiden" scene.

The platform is to be covered with black marble paper.

The author also provides specific, practical guidance for how to manage the audience's perception of the lighting, ensuring the "living pictures" appear as authentic as possible.

If you wish to throw the background of a tableau in shade, intervene screens between the lights at the sides of the stage and that part of the picture you desire to have dark.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an argument for the "domestication of the sublime." It posits that the average family can, through study and careful arrangement, replicate the emotional resonance of the greatest works of literature and history. The book explores the tension between the "real" and the "ideal," suggesting that by physically embodying these scenes, the participants perform a form of moral and aesthetic self-improvement. It asks whether the act of holding a pose—of becoming, for a moment, a statue of Hope or a soldier of the Old Guard—can cultivate virtues in the performer, ultimately suggesting that beauty is not merely something to be viewed, but a craft to be practiced and lived.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in theater history, Victorian social customs, or the DIY spirit will find this a fascinating document. It offers a rare, granular look at how 19th-century families entertained themselves, proving that their standards for home recreation were remarkably high, requiring significant labor, carpentry, and coordination. The prose is earnest and warm, reflecting a sincere belief in the elevating power of art.

However, modern readers must be prepared for the period-specific attitudes embedded in the instructions. The text assumes a world where social hierarchy and specific cultural references were shared, and its advice on "staining the flesh" to represent "Indian characters" is a stark, uncomfortable reminder of the casual racism prevalent in 19th-century amateur performance. Furthermore, the book is highly technical; it reads more like a manual than a narrative, which may be taxing for those looking for a story. Yet, for those who enjoy the "behind-the-scenes" mechanics of performance, the detailed instructions on creating emerald flames and elaborate pedestals provide an immersive, tactile experience. It stays with you as a testament to a time when art was a community project, requiring that families stand still, hold their breath, and attempt to make the ideal real within the confines of the parlor.