THE SERVANT-GIRL OF THE PERIOD THE GREATEST PLAGUE OF LIFE WHAT MR. AND MRS. HONEYDEW LEARNED OF HOUSEKEEPING
BYCHARLES CHAMBERLAIN, JR.
NEW YORK
J. S. REDFIELD, PUBLISHER
140 FULTON STREET
1873.Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1872, by J. S. REDFIELD, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. EDWARD O. JENKINS, PRINTER AND STEREOTYPER, NO. 20 N. WILLIAM ST., N. Y.
PREFACE.
A PROMINENT journalist once, in giving directions to a non-plussed reporter, briefly said, "Find one fact—or two—draw on your imagination for the rest, and make a good story."
The reporter did so—and the account was a success, in a journalistic point of view.
It is not pretended that the imagination has not been called upon for a part of the present volume; but that Mr. and Mrs. Honeydew, and dear Mamma, and the "ladies of the employment bureau," as a friend once heard the "help" of America styled by one of the "fraternity," are, to a certain extent page: 4-5[View Page 4-5] tent, real characters, is a word of truthful information.
To some, there may be a similarity of circumstance with personal experiences; to others, there may be exhibited a picture of what some one has suffered.
Such as it is, the work is sent forth, clothed in such garments as seemed most becoming to its unpretending personality.
C. C. Jr.
NEW YORK, November, 1872.INTRODUCTORY.
- "If I had servants true about me, that bear eyes
- To see alike mine honor as their profits—
- Their own particular thrifts—they would do that
- Which should undo more doing."
Winters Tale, i. 2.
GOOD old Sam Johnson, who is more worthily correct in some of his definitions than either of the more pretending lexicographers, who comes closer to Shakespeare in his plain, undressed and fitting similes, gives, in the first edition of his dictionary, a few definitions—such as in 1755, printed in the craziest of crazy antique lettering, he gave to the thinking, writing, speaking world, from which to frame their plainest Anglo-Saxon.
Dr. Johnson was not "up" in the modern improvements in accessories to the servants. No such word as laundress appears in any of the earlier editions of his work—it is so nearly page: 6-7[View Page 6-7] ly a modern invention that we must go to Webster for it; who defines the "institution" thus:
"LAUNDRESS.—A washerwoman; a woman whose employment is to wash clothes.
But good Dr. Johnson does find other words, and he defines them, in that same old book, as follows:
COOK.—One whose profession is to dress and prepare victuals for the table.
WAITING MAID,
WAITING WOMAN,
WAITING GENTLEWOMAN,
An upper servant, who attends on a lady in her chamber.
NURSE.—;A woman that has the care of another's child; a woman that has care of a sick person; one who breeds, educates or protects; an old woman in contempt.
If the definition of good old Dr. Johnson were exemplified in the character of the Servant-Girl of the Period, there would be grand reasons for congratulations; but the distinct classes into which servants are divided are so peculiar in their individuality that it is impossible to draw a comparison.
They do not fraternize with each other. The Irish does not like the German, and the Ethiopian element does not stand in any direct relationship with either of the others. The latter class may be left out of the calculation in the consideration of the help upon which the housekeepers of America are dependent.
The Cook of the Period is the most important of all the servants. When the wants of the inner man and the inner woman are to be ministered to, and when the plain duty is to "prepare victuals for the table," and nothing more, it becomes a necessity that the persons employed should be cooks by knowledge, and not by accident or prospective instruction, which they expect from the "misthress"—and which, unfortunately, the mistress is too often unable to give them.
The tide of immigration brings to this country a class of people who hope to find in America a solace for the woes of their own land, and they bear with them the seeds of a presumptive arrogance which ripens as soon as exposed to the atmospheric influences of the new social climate into which they come.
page: 8-9[View Page 8-9]The Irish girl who, when asked why she came here, answered very quietly, and with the genuine national wit, which does not seem to be conscious of its own existence, "It wasn't for want, that I came here, sur—shure I had enough of that at home!" told the truth. They do not come here "for want"—mdash;they come to rule or ruin, in the households of the American ladies; and they generally manage to ruin.
Plenty of food, however coarse, is what they desire; clothing is an outside matter, in more ways than in the wearing of it; and that the bed upon which they lie may be feathers instead of straw, is what they desire, in the way of comfort. They are used to few of the luxuries of life when at home, and they should not, therefore, be expected to know how to prepare them for others. Their pretension to the knowledge of cooking is a fault for which they are not responsible, and it is a serious reason for deprecation that, in the education of American women, the household duties are too often neglected.
The "Intelligence Office"—an institution which has grown out of the necessity for servants, is like a double-edged knife—it cuts both ways—takes a fee from the servant who wants a place, and takes another from the mistress who desires the servant; and the same girl, after having hired out for a week, often obtains a week's wages after working a couple of days, and, being found inefficient, goes back again, seeking another situation from the same office, till her countenance becomes as familiar to the habitués of the establishment, not as a "household word," but as a household nuisance. She becomes more arrogant in her manner from the little knowledge of cooking which she may have obtained from her semi-occasional service, is not thankful for the beds in which she has been permitted to sleep, and contrives to pick up sufficient information to know how to broil a steak, or put together the simple ingredients for a rice pudding, and then starts out as a "cook."
And so it is with all the rest; the "help" of the present day are living libels upon good old Dr. Johnson, and belie his just definitions in every act of their daily existence, not to page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] say their daily service, for which they are paid the most exorbitant wages.
A good friend of the author, who pulls with him in the harness during the hours of Editorial life, and who is himself a "housekeeper," tells his experience in his pleasant home. "Paul Peebles" is a good fellow—years of hard work in journalism have taught him to tell the truth—he does so, trippingly, and the liberty is taken of giving his pleasant letter, just as he sends it:
page: 12-13[View Page 12-13]MY DEAR C——: Over "the walnuts and the wine," the other night, you were good enough to confide to me your purpose of portraying the woes of American housekeepers.
Do you know that you have undertaken a stupendous task?
To tell the story of all the woes that go to the making-up of our domestic life, would be to rip off roofs with all the zeal and four times the rapidity with which Asmodeus ever performed that "daring act." I have n't the slightest doubt that you are equal to the emergency—for, upon my life, I can't remember that you were ever fairly bowled over in any effort you saw fit to make—but (mark my words!) you will find this subject grow upon your hands until it reaches gigantic proportions. There is positively no end to it. I do not clearly see how there ever can be an end—unless, indeed, the ingenious device set afloat by Punch many years ago should be reduced to an actual fact by some inspired Yankee, skillful in the manipulation of automatic machinery.
Ah! my dear old fellow!—if we could only wind ourselves up in the morning and run down at nightfall—wind up the house, the furnace, the cooking-range, the bed, the parlor, the nursery, children and all—set them to clicking for a certain number of hours per diem, and stop the pendulum when we pleased—would there be any need then of a more complete Millennium? I trow not.
But you can't wind up a serving-maid. She would not "stay" wound, even if it were possible to wind her around your finger. No! it cannot be done! We housekeepers are all
page: 14-15[View Page 14-15]slaves—as much so as Wamba or Gurth were when they wore the collar of Saxon Cedric.
What then?
Nothing!
But you have asked me to tell you the story of my experience, or a part of it. Suppose I retort, like the Needy Knife-grinder—Story! God bless you, I have none to tell! "Yet, in my case, such retort would not be apt nor true; for was there ever yet forlorn and vexed householder who had not a story which he could tell concerning that wherever and whenever The Servant is in question?
Comfortably ensconced in my easy-chair, therefore, this inclement November night, with slippered feet before a rousing fire, and a choice selection from that box of Partagas, which you gave me, between my lips, I keep my promise, and try to meet your requirement.
Let me see; it was, I think, some five years ago that Mrs. Peebles and I took our first lessons in housekeeping and the science of domestic economy. Our first servants were Irish; our next, Ethiopians; the third set, Low (very low) Dutch; the fourth, High (uncommonly high) German; our fifth, Swedes; our sixth, John Chinaman—and then we ran the gamut backwards.
"A comprehensive scale, this!" you will say. So it is. But I shall spare you all details, except those of the most harrowing and heart-rending description. My eyes begin to fill, already, at the remembrance of past woes. Will your lachrymal ducts distill tears in sympathy with mine?
To begin at the beginning:
Number one was an Irish person. She came to us highly recommended. As with dog Tray, so with her; she was gentle, she was kind, and her like you'd never, never find; at least, that was the meaning of the commendatory epistle with the perusal of which she favored Mrs. P. We tried her, and she tried us; and presently there was an end of all experiments with the feminine
page: 16-17[View Page 16-17]nine portion of that excitable race. If you will permit me, I'll drop the veil over all the Bridgets, and go on to recall the memories of worse experiences than the Irish maidens ever gave us.
Our second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth ventures having all resulted in one single discovery—namely, that the biggest Intelligence offices had been absurdly misnamed (their air ducts not possessing the slightest atom of intelligence,)—I advertised for a German woman and immediately received visits from fifty vigorous, strong-armed females, the greater number of whom spoke broken English. I picked out one who appeared to promise a good deal—that is to say, as nearly as I could understand that she promised anything. Her speech ran somewhat in this way during the three days of her tarry with us:
"Haf you got no oder bots dan dese? Ich kann nicht my dinner cook mit such bots! Der last place I vos in, die laty paught me all der bots I vanted."
Mrs. Peebles did not clearly understand what it was that Gretchen desired, but when, with the aid of Adler's "Lexikon," I succeeded in enlightening her, she instantly cried out against what she was pleased to term "the abominable impudence" of our maid servant.
"Why," said Mrs. P., "what does she mean?"
"I really don't know, my dear!" I replied.
"Why, Paul, our iron pots were all bought new last spring, and it can't be possible they are all worn out!"
"Can't say, Mrs. P. Perhaps the young ladies whom you have been in the habit of entertaining below stairs have worn them out. Better go and see."
Mrs. Peebles took the hint, explored the kitchen closets, dived into the cellar, and found her nice new iron pots stowed away in the potato-bin—each with a big hole in the bottom.
I immediately went out and bought a new supply.
But this concession did not satisfy our German maiden. She had boundless aspirations
page: 18-19[View Page 18-19]tions. She was a person with "views." She was troubled by literary tendencies. The pictorial publications selected by me at the news-stands for the edification of my "partner," began to disappear, and were subsequently recovered from among the pots and pans and skillets. Fragments of German newspapers began to lie about the house; letters in German hieroglyphics were handed in by the postman at brief intervals, and they were answered only after my library desk had been despoiled of paper, pens, ink and envelopes. Greasy smutches began to be unpleasantly manifest at the edges of my book-shelves. And it was not long before a lovely little edition of Zschokke, which I had brought home from Munich (to look at, for I could n't read it), vanished so utterly, that to this day I have not set eyes upon it.
I sent that girl away.
She was succeeded by a fellow-country woman, who spoke no word of English under any circumstances whatever. She also departed, after a brief and eminently unsatisfactory trial.
This sort of thing was not pleasant, of course. But what could we do?
I forgot to mention that when we gave up experimenting with the Irish maidens, and fell back, so to speak, upon the steadier Germans, I found that their places miscalled Intelligence Offices always involved me in the payment of a fee exactly double that charged at the head-quarters of the Irish. So, when our second German venture came to naught, I disbursed another two-dollar bill, carried the amount to profit and loss, besought the man in charge of the "Bureau" (that's what an Intelligence Office is called in German) to send us a capable woman; and then waited.
We waited for three days before one came. During this interval I got up very early in the morning, went down on my knees before the kitchen range to make a fire, succeeded in raising a vast volume of smoke, found I could n't make the fire burn, got myself laughed at by my wife, who said she could beat me making fires, and became rapidly transformed into a drawer of water and a carrier of coals. Snubbed, but calm, I delegated all the hard
page: 20-21[View Page 20-21]work of the household during those three days to Mrs. Peebles, who proved herself equal to the emergency, as she always does; and I think, on reviewing the situation after the lapse of a year, that my respect for that lady's qualities then and there became fixed.
But relief came at last. That is to say, we thought it was a relief. But it wasn't.
The new-comer looked like a lady. She was tidy, neatly dressed, composed in manner, civil in speech, and her English was not bad.
The third day, she refused to go down-cellar to break up some kindling-wood for my wife. My wife went to break it up for herself. I came home just in the nick of time to call up my wife out of the damp cellar, which was a place not at all suited to her bronchitis, and to hear her story of the servant's refusal to do her bidding.
I was mad—I confess it. It was but the righteous wrath of an injured man, whose wife had been compelled to do the menial office for which her servant was paid at the rate of fourteen dollars monthly. Being mad, I became peremptory, not to say, sharp. I went into the kitchen, taxed our servant with her misconduct, and directed her to go at once to the cellar and carry wood and coals up to my wife's room.
She refused, point-blank.
I continued mad.
"Do you refuse to obey my order?" I inquired.
"Yes, I do. I won't break up kindlings, and I won't carry coal up-stairs."
"Very well—then leave the house."
"I won't."
This was a nice condition of things. But discipline above all else. I gave the girl ten minutes to get out of the door.
Instead of getting out, she went off into a violent fit of hysterics, tumbling down on the floor all in a heap, and shrieking dismally—greatly to the discomfiture of Mrs. Peebles.
"My dear," said I, addressing that estimable lady, "will you be so good as to bring me a wash-bowl full of water? This girl seems to require an application to her head."
My wife brought the bowl of water.
I poised it.
page: 22-23[View Page 22-23]Maiden on the floor glanced venomously at me out of the corner of her eye—rose with extreme rapidity—opened upon me with a torrent of abuse—and left the premises within five minutes. Ever since that time I've kept a large bowl of water handy. It was a grand discovery. There are some creatures that don't like water.
But, bless me! my dear fellow, if I were to to go on unfolding to you the long catalogue of similar accidents that the serving-maids bring upon "virtuous Americans," I should have to ask for the whole space in your book—and you want the most of that for yourself. Let me pass on to my Swedish experience.
It was a queer occurrence, but it was true, that the first Swede we tried was the counterpart of Christine Nilsson. My wife was just the least bit in the world dubious about engaging her, having heard of cases of susceptible husbands. But I convinced her that I was adamant—and so I am. Don't laugh, you cynic!
The Swede proved to be a simple, quiet creature, whose "given" name was utterly unpronounceable by any but Scandinavian tongues, but who gave us an English name by which to call her, and I think my dear wife got on better with her than with any of her predecessors. At least, I heard fewer complaints, and when Mrs. P. came into my library evening after evening looking cheerful, I concluded that some of the domestic storms had finally been calmed. I still rest under that delusion. I hope that it will not be dispelled by subsequent developments. I ask no questions, and I am not troubled.
—Who was the man who uttered this aphorism? "After all, it is the best wisdom to treat with absolute indifference or contempt a great deal that happens in this world of misunderstandings." He could not have been a housekeeper—or he must have been profoundly wise; patient, charitable, even magnanimous. I know a dozen families whose existence is a daily torture because they cannot regard either with indifference or contempt the little nuisances that hive themselves within the four walls of the dwelling-house. "Misunderstandings"—"quotha! Is it a
misunderstanding when your paid servant gives you daily insult? Is it misunderstanding when she uses your choicest china, instead of the stone-ware, to entertain her "company" in the kitchen? Certainly not. But there is a decided misunderstanding when you require her to pay for the costly French-china platter which she has carelessly shivered into fragments; and a great row instead of a misunderstanding, when you forbid the visits of her lovers, who are invariably her "cousins."
In point of fact, with very few exceptions, the housekeeper's lot in this country is a hard one. It is a continual struggle—literally "one down, and t' other come on!" No sooner are you rid of one nuisance than another appears, and, so, I suppose, it will continue until our American idea of equality is amended by the English method. Abroad, you can get civil service; here, you pay three times the price demanded by English, French or German cooks or waiters in their own countries, and get——what? Impertinence, dishonesty, and the privilege of doing your own work yourself in the interregnum between successive dynasties. That is what you get by being a "man of family" in this Great Republic—and quite as large a share of it as he desires has already been visited upon
Your crony,PAUL PEEBLES.
My friend Peebles tells his experience truthfully; and he sends just a few lines more—perhaps intended as a postscript to his letter—in which he gives the benefit of his researches into the character and characteristics of the Scandinavian element of servant-girlism, as follows:
page: 24-25[View Page 24-25]MY DEAR C——: Thinking over the letter I sent you last week, it has occurred to me that there is one phase of the Servant question to which I have made no reference.
Do you know that the Scandinavian element—just now increasing largely in this country—is remarkable for one mental peculiarity?
The Swede, the Norwegian, and the Dane speedily become homesick.
My wife has just told me of a curious revelation once made to her by a serious young Swede, to the effect that when she couldn't get her money from her employer, she went out and threw herself under a tree, and nearly cried her eyes out. It was a foolish act, perhaps, but natural. When a person is four thousand miles away from home, and can't get his or her money for service faithfully performed, it is enough to make anybody cry—or swear. I never swear myself, considering profanity an immoral practice. But I think I should cry.
The weeping Swede who reposed this confidence in Mrs. P. went on to tell the story of her life in and out of Sweden. The upshot of it was, that all the Swedes hate to leave their stony and sterile homes, and only come here because they can make money more rapidly among us. But they never settle down into a comfortable life until they get all their family and friends around them. Then they cheer up, and are pleasant, sunny folk. The greater number of them, being Lutherans, find their highest enjoyment in going to the churches in which the services are conducted in their own tongue—not particularly for love of Gospel truth, but chiefly because it is the Scandinavian habit to gossip "after meeting." Give the Swede his family, his church, and his dish of gossip, and he will be happy as a bee among the flowers. Deprive him of one of these and he goes about your house with the air of a dismal Jemmy.
Conceding, therefore, that the Swedes are multiplying among us—the Census says so, and therefore it must be true—let the fact be known that if we desire to encourage the immigration of a thrifty and excellent people, we must either help them to bring over all their friends, or be prepared to witness endless cataracts of tears.
The subject becomes mournful; let us drop it.
Your PEEBLES.
So much for my friend Paul. He leaves the subject of the Servant-Girl of the Period at once to the author, and gives a send-off in his letters which points a moral and adorns this particular story, at its very beginning, page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] with the lessons to be drawn from his experience.
The question of just what we should expect our servants to do, is one which not even the best of housekeepers could be supposed to solve; what we should have a right to expect of them is quite a different matter. Whether it be in the City, where changes of servants may be kaleidoscopic, and the opportunities are offered by the hundred, or whether it be at the seaside, in a pretty cottage such as Mr. and Mrs. Harry Honeydew found at Long Branch, the annoyances to which the housekeepers are subjected are too great in number either to be classified or enumerated. The men and women of America are the victims of the caprice or the ignorance of those whom they employ to do their household work, and the experiences of the Honeydews may not be an exaggeration, when a parallel is fairly drawn with the records of other households.
That there are faults in household management is far too easy of discernment to admit of a contradiction; the errors are the errors of the present time, and the contrast between the honest life-love weddings of years past, and the tinsel-weddings of the present day shows the partial reason for the trouble which exists.
Time was, when people settled down in life, to fight its battles and to enjoy its pleasures, with a just estimate of its responsibilities, and with a quiet determination to be to each other what the solemnization of the marriage contract intended, and to erect for themselves at least one angel of the household, in the person of the wife, who should be all that God means the woman to be, when she places her love and her destiny in a husband's hands. There were generous-hearted, noble women in those days, as our good mothers show us, and as the lines of family portraits, with their unique costumes, tell us from the picture-cords. And there are just as good and generous-hearted women now, and there are many good wives of the present days of extravagance in life, who keep the white ribbons of their wedding cards untainted by falsehood, and the flowers of their wedding bouquets fresh in their matrimonial responsibilities and life.
page: 28-29[View Page 28-29]There is opportunity for the new-made wives to study the example of their good old grandmothers, and while the possession of the world's goods in abundance gives them every scope for enjoyment, and no fear of privation, they may weave a protecting web of honest livery about their new lives, by allowing the tinsel of their wedding days to wear off, refusing to carry its flimsy characteristics into their home life and habits, where they may be better fitted for the duties and responsibilities of their positions, and avoid one of the greatest plagues of life, in the inefficiency of servants, by learning the lesson of what they would be compelled—and should know how—to do, were there no servants to send distress into their households.
