Servants and Housekeepers.
A LADY correspondent of the Home Journal in giving some hints on the subject of servants and housekeepers, says:— Domestic service has fallen into disrepute—I do not mean among servants alone, but our people. Women have a vague idea of a perpetual motion in housekeeping—that they can furnish a house, put in a wheel here and there, in the shape of a servant, set it in motion, and leave it to go of itself. I have seen it tried; so have you. But this secret of perpetual motion is not yet discovered, and till that happy time we must be contented to follow the good old rule of the apostle Paul, who was a gentleman and a scholar, as well as an apostle, and "guide the house." Yet good women—sensible women—will say to me, "The detail of housekeeping is, to me, utter drudgery; I dislike it, I hate it." And when experienced, practical women hold these ideas, what wonder that their daughters hold the same. But what are we to do, if not this? What is our business in life? Our husbands do their daily work, and if a man venture to say, "I hate the detail of my business—it is drudgery," does he, therefore, neglect it? He dare not, for he suffers the consequences, and—so do we. Housekeeping is good for women. It keeps them out of mischief; to plan and carry out the details is good exercise for the mind, and I do not find that those who despise it are occupied with anything higher or nobler. I do not mean that, unless obliged, one should go into the drudgery of the work; but there are ten thousand little things in the department of order that a woman can do, with advantage to herself and her house. I could almost mourn for the good days when this lighter service fell upon the mother and daughters as a matter of course. Exercise for the arms and chest is the kind we most need, not this everlasting walking. Pity that feather-beds have gone out of fashion, the shaking and making them was a famous exercise in calisthenics! Young ladies are growing up ignorant of these details; they despise them, and, unfortunately, if the fit seizes them to learn something, the chief point is to know how to make a nice cake or pastry. For this they will make a desperate effort, and having achieved a brilliant success or two, they stop and ask, "What more can I learn?" I would answer, "Everything, from the foundation to the top-most stone." But to go back once more to our servants. They are ruined by three causes—our indulgence, severity, and neglect. Incompetent mistresses often think they can secure faithful service by indulgence and by presents, and they turn away in despair when they find their well-meant weakness abused. We say they are extravagant—what do they but follow the current? Our women are extravagant; it is a "crying evil," to use a cant phrase. Our houses and our furniture, which are seldom too large to live in and to use, are after the model of state apartments in European palaces. Women sweep the streets in dresses fit only for the drawing room, and when, by some accident or carelessness, they come home bedraggled, the dresses are often, in a fit of disgust, handed over to the maid for her own use. Having one bit of cast-off finery, others follow; and she buys cheap and showy things conforming, for she has her ideas of fitness. Her fellows, who do not receive as much, follow her example, and buy all that their means will allow. Hence, many consume all their wages in dress, and are even strongly tempted to steal what they cannot but covet. So much for the evils of injudicious giving, which also leads them to expect more, and to presume more and more on these indulgences. As a general rule, it is unwise to give presents, extept on some special occasion, and seldom, or never, cast-off finery. It is unsuitable, and does more harm than good. Another inconsiderate class of mistresses err through undue severity. They may be either those who know nothing of work, and are not aware how much they require; or those who, once having worked hard, seem to revenge themselves on others, when their turn comes, as it is said that those who have been serfs make the hardest taskmasters and overseers. My heart has often ached to see those who would have labored cheerfully, borne to the earth with the amount of service required, and often the most unreasonable and unnecessary. The "law of consideration" is sadly needed in these cases. A third class of lady employers know nothing of work, and decline all trouble, and, leading an indolent and butterfly life, their servants are left to themselves. It requires superhuman strength of principle in a servant to be faithful in such circumstances. Does Mr. Million, down town, set his clerks afloat in his warehouses, and tell them to do their work, while he reads the last essay on political economy, or smokes his cigar at Delmonico’s? I trow not; or, if he did, his business would go to the dogs, as many of our fine houses do. Well, here we are. Every article I read goes thus far, points out the evils, and stops there, with general directions, that we must reform and do better, with the assurance that there is a good time coming. I have read them eagerly, but they have never told me what to do. Perhaps these things help public sentiment—whatever that may be—and if there is a better public sentiment, that is a good starting-point. The common idea of a good housekeeper is incorrect. A good housekeeper is one who keeps her house in painfully-neat order; keeps a good table—that is, has loads of dainties, made in the best possible manner, so that you are sure to be tempted to eat more than you really want. She is wrapped up in her housekeeping—is, in fact, a housekeeper, and nothing else. All of us have met these painful people; not always at their own houses—for, to them, hospitality is a painful and self-denying duty—even their best friends do so disturb the order of things. They live in slavery, and to a hard taskmaster, for this is not a clean world. If we were sure they were fit for it, what a temptation to transfer them to that world where there is "nothing that defileth!" I have others in mind, in whom there is a total want of method—in some cases, utter carelessness and negligence. The mistress is "easy." Of course, there is a certain degree of comfort in doing as you please, but also great discomfort, through disregard of the declaration that order is heaven's first law. From dirt and disorder also deliver us; but sometimes there is this want of method, without carelessness, and then the machinery creaks, and rubs, and grates. I remember hearing it said of one of these families, where there was no want of means or of elegancies, and no want of servants, that "it seemed to be just as much as they could do to get through with each meal." They never have good servants, for they never plan for them nor trust them. I have seen such a mistress tell a servant what to do, twice over, and then, for every five minutes, to see that she was doing it, and then go afterward, to see that it was done. Why not do the work, at once, herself? Going from this place to another I could name, was like suddenly rounding a point, from a rough and rolling sea, into a smooth and quiet harbor. The mistress was not perfect, the servants a large family, much work to be done, and great irregularity, but the machinery never seemed to have any friction. The servants needed much direction, and made mistakes, but no storm was raised; the mistress corrected them, and hoped they would do better next time. She was a busy woman, with without bustle, and what she did only declared itself by results. One of its visitors said she was sure things did themselves. Her movements reminded me of the man whom I have seen going quietly about in the bustle of a great railway station; people were rushing here and there, trains arriving and leaving, trunks tumbling about, self-moved; but one man went from car to car, oiling the wheels. He took, apparently, no note of what was going on, never seemed conscious of the confusion; he had his business, and it was done. Neglecting it, we should have had smoking axles, delays, stoppages, collisions; who knows? Of course, the parallel does not hold throughout, for my housekeeper was also engineer and conducter; but I honored her all the more for conducting and regulating the train, and keeping the wheels in order, too. "Like priest, like people," is the proverb. "Like mistress, like maid." We all know those who have very little trouble with servants, who are seldom or never at a loss; and when I find one who is ever complaining, troubled, changing, I often ask myself, "Would I be willing to live with her as a servant?" and I generally find myself answering, "No, decidedly, no; not if I could find any other place."