CHAPTER XIV.

THE SERVANTS’ ROOMS.

Before I proceed to touch on the most important question of all, that of the nurseries, I will say a few words on the subject of the servants’ bedrooms, for these are far too seldom seen by the mistress, who ought to have a regular time for visiting them, and for seeing that all the bedding and furniture generally is in a proper hygienic condition; for, notwithstanding the School Board and the amount of education given nowadays to the poorer classes, I am continually astonished at the careless disregard of the simplest rules of health and cleanliness shown by girls who ought to know a great deal better, and who will keep their kitchens &c. beautifully, yet will heedlessly allow their bedrooms to remain in a state that _ought_ to disgrace a resident, nowadays, in Seven Dials.

In the first place, the ceilings of all servants’ rooms should be whitewashed once a year, and the walls colour-washed, unless these are papered with the washable sanitary wall-papers that are really hygienic, and which would look well, and are rather nicer than the colour-wash, which is apt to come off on one’s clothes; and the floor should be bare of all covering, and should simply have dhurries laid down by each bed, and by the washing-stands &c. Those wash splendidly, and always keep clean and nice, while the curtains at the window should be some cheap cretonne that would wash nicely, and draw and undraw easily, or else they will soon be rendered too shabby for use.

Each servant should have a separate bed, if possible, and that bed should be as comfortable as can be, without being unduly luxurious. The perfection of a bed for a servant, as for any one else, is the chain or wooden-lath mattress arrangement, with a good mattress on it, a pillow or two, and a bolster. No valances or curtains of any kind should be allowed, neither should their own boxes be kept in their rooms. One can give them locks and keys to their chests of drawers and wardrobes; but if their boxes are retained in the room, they cannot refrain somehow from hoarding all sorts of rubbish in them.

I should like myself to give each maid a really pretty room, but at present they are a little hopeless on this subject--as witness the smashed china and battered furniture that greets our alarmed sight at the inspection that should take place at least twice a year--but, alas! it is impossible. No sooner is the room put nice than something happens to destroy its beauty; and I really believe servants only feel happy if their rooms are allowed in some measure to resemble the homes of their youth, and to be merely places where they lie down to sleep as heavily as they can.

The simpler, therefore, a servant’s room is furnished the better, and, if possible, a cupboard of some kind should be provided for them where they can hang up their dresses; this will enable them to keep them nice longer than they otherwise would were chairs or a hook on the door the only resting-place provided for the gowns. But, if this be impossible, a few hooks must supplement the chest of drawers, washing-stand, bedchair, and toilet-table with glass, which is all that is required in the room of a maid-servant, whose sheets, pillows, blankets, and other ‘portable property’ should all be marked with her name, and should be in her individual care as long as she is in your service--that is to say, that the property should be marked ‘Cook,’ ‘Housemaid,’ ‘Parlourmaid,’ &c.; this individualises each single thing, and makes the temporary owner responsible for it, and her alone. The sheets should be changed once in three weeks, also the pillow-cases, while three towels to each maid a week are none too much to allow them to use, do we desire them to be clean. If two or more servants share one room, the washstands and chests of drawers must be as many in number as the inmates of the room; this will save endless discussions and disagreeables, for after all maids are but mortal, and squabbles will arise out of small matters like these, which, ridiculous as they sound, are very often at the bottom of the troubles of those who are constantly changing their servants.

And, while we are on the subject of servants’ rooms, I will just make a few remarks on this most intricate subject of domestic management, and will whisper what I really think is at the bottom of a good many of the troubles anent servants that undoubtedly exist. In the first place, mistresses are all too often like the parents of grown-up sons and daughters, who cannot remember that the curled and frilled darlings of the nurseries have become young men and women, and are exchanging the control of the schoolroom for the kindly advice that should never be out of place between parent and children, who, grow as tall as they will, can _never_ be as old as those to whom they owe their existence. And inasmuch as parents all too often exercise this control when advice would be so much more in place, so do mistresses control and fret the maids, who would not fret at all were the silk chain, ‘Don’t you think?’ used instead of the arbitrary command, ‘I insist on the work being done as I order it.’ Then, too, we are all apt to forget how dull the ordinary routine of a servant’s life is. True, she has the joy of her morning gossip with the tradesman, and her few hours on Sunday; but that is not much for a young healthy girl, who appreciates pleasure as well as do our tennis-playing, ball-going daughters, and it is much better to try and give her some amusement oneself, instead of winking at the ‘evenings out’ and furtively stolen absences which most mistresses allow, because, otherwise, their maids would not stay. This can easily be done in these days by any one who lives in or near town; while even in the country there are always excursions to be made, or the county town to be visited, even if there are no picture-galleries or exhibitions as there are in London.

Besides which, servants like to know what is going on, even if they cannot go to things themselves. They fully appreciate being told of what one has seen oneself, and a cheerful account of a visit to London or to the theatre, &c., is as much appreciated by a maid as by the friends we regale with our experiences, who no doubt do not care for the account at all, and only wonder at our foolishness in wasting our time and money.

We have to face a great fact, also: in olden days our mothers as well as their maids were content with very much less than we are. They may have been, and no doubt were, much happier, but that is beside the question, more especially as we cannot return to the ‘good old days’ even if we would; but the fact remains the same. We have advanced, so have our servants; and when they can beat us at sums and geography, stand too much on our level to be thought of merely as the servants, who are to be content with anything we may choose to give them, and therefore must be treated in an entirely different manner to the old style.

Realise this, and domestic management is much simplified, because if we treat our maids just as we treat ourselves we shall find our trouble almost disappear. I invariably leave my maids a good deal to themselves about their work; and once they know what has to be done, I find it _is_ done without my constantly being after them to see whether they have finished what I have told them to do or not; and it is well also to carefully consider what one’s housekeeping bills ought to be once and for all, and if the books are less than that, praise the cook; if more, _at once_ and firmly demonstrate that this is not right; but be prepared with your facts, and let her see that you really do understand your business, which is to carefully administer your income, and to see that no waste is allowed. It is impossible for one person to tell another what sum she ought to spend per week on her household, as one can only make a guess; individual tastes must be consulted, and people do not eat alike--for example, two or three people in my household never touch butter, one or two never use sugar or tea, and therefore what does for us does not do for the world at large; but for a household of ten persons, including washing, and allowing for a constant flow of visitors, the bills should never exceed 6_l._, and can very often be very much less. It is not well to ‘allowance’ servants, it is not a nice way of managing, and is no real save; honest servants do not require allowancing, and dishonest ones will not refrain from taking your property because they are only supposed to use just so much, on themselves.

To insure good servants, it is imperative that we should make real friends of those who live under our roof. We may be deceived once now and then; we may even be tricked and cheated, and be tempted to say in our haste that ‘the poor in a loomp is bad’; but we must take courage and go on again, being quite sure that sooner or later we shall be rewarded by the love and care of one, if not more, of those who, while dwelling in our midst, too often are quite strangers to us, and are no more to us than the chairs on which we sit, and the tables at which we write.

How often, for example, do we understand the feelings with which a servant enters a new place? Do we recollect that she comes a stranger to strangers; that we have no idea of the hopes and fears, the thoughts and dreads, with which she enters our portals; that she is wondering whether we shall be distrustful or unkind or fairly sympathetic; and that she may spend her first night in tears by the side of a girl who was a complete stranger to her a few hours before, but with whom she will be obliged to spend most of her days and nights, whether she be nice or nasty, clean or the reverse?

We may not be able to save our new maid from this, but we can help her over a very ‘tight place’ if, when she arrives, we are at home to welcome her, to point out her place in the domestic routine, and to give her a few hints about those with whom she will have to live for the future.

If we had a guest coming among us on equal terms, free of all our pleasures and amusements, would not this be done? Much more, then, should we hold out a welcoming hand to those on whom so very much of our pleasure and comfort depend.

To know how much this is, we must, once now and then, be left without one of our staff--which is, of course, not a very extensive one, or those remarks would not apply. In an extensive staff the relations between mistress and maid are only represented by a housekeeper, who has all on her shoulders, and who must replace the missing maid in the household or do the necessary work herself.

Let, for example, our housemaid be laid aside by illness, or go home for one of her well-earned holidays, and straightway we are miserable. A thousand and one small omissions show us how much she remembered for us. And as we gaze at our dusty writing-table, our chair put in exactly the angle that most offends our eye, our breakfast-table laid in an unaccustomed manner, our letters put just where they never are in ordinary, we feel inclined to count the days that stretch unendingly, it seems to us, between now and her return to work, and we wonder what is before us when that ‘young man’ claims his bride, who, we are certain, cannot be half as much wanted by him as by us.

Or our cook may suddenly fall out of the ranks, and we get in temporary help. Oh dear! chaos then has most certainly come again. Butter flees, and is conspicuous for its vanishing powers; things have to be told in detail, and we have not succeeded in getting the ‘help’ into our ways before our own domestic comes back, to show us on what trifles depends the easy-going roll of the chariot wheels of life, that never seem to go so easily as after the jar occasioned by a temporary change of charioteer.

Looking back over a long stretch of life covered by many years of domestic duties, and calmly and dispassionately thinking over the mistakes--how many!--and the successes that have characterised it, I freely confess that when I have failed with our servants (and thankful am I to chronicle only two failures and one of these has since been redeemed by an early marriage), it has been entirely my own fault. A keener insight into character than I possess would have prevented our engaging a girl spoiled for us by a too careless mistress and a wicked master; and more judicious watchfulness would have saved a false step that, as it happened, was discovered in time, but not before the consequences were too apparent to be passed over, and which said false step was entirely due to the evil influence of a fellow-servant, from which we of course should have shielded her. We may accept it as an axiom that we cannot have nice, good servants unless we take the trouble of either training them ourselves, or get them from a mistress who has had an eye over the well-being of her maidens. It is impossible to obtain nice service from those who have never been taught how to serve, who come to us from careless or bad mistresses, and of whom we know no more than they do of us, and our likes and dislikes. If we, when requiring a servant, take the first, or even the second, that applies to us, not heeding where she was born, what her parents are, and knowing still less of her disposition, how can we expect success? We may be lucky enough to hit upon a good servant like this, but we very much doubt that it is likely we should. If mistresses have a large acquaintance it is possible to have a continual supply of good servants without applying to the registry offices; but they themselves must have as good a character as the required domestic, or else they will not be easily suited.

‘As good a character, indeed! What is the world coming to?’ says one indignant reader.

It is coming, we reply, to a better state of things--ay, even returning to the time when servants were of the household, and in consequence remained years in one place, when nowadays as many months are irksome to them.

Why? Because they like change. And so do we. Do we not go about from place to place, entertaining and being entertained, when the presence of a friend in the kitchen results in a reprimand and a pointing out of some duty, neglected, say we, that the friend may be entertained?

Are we never dull--we who have our music and our books? And are they never to be dull, whose work is always going on, and who have no relaxation unless we provide it for them?

We are no advocates for spoiling servants, any more than we should be for spoiling children, yet we are anxious that they should be happy; and that they may be happy it is necessary that we have a set of rules that must be kept, and that they should gradually learn that we wish to stand in the same relation to them, while they are in our house, as their parents would were they still in their care.

Rule the first is, that no young servant should be out alone after dark, giving reasons for this rule that are easily understood. Rule the second, that no one comes to the back door after a certain hour, because their friends are quite welcome to come to the front door, and once it is dark bad characters are about, and young girls are easily frightened; and rule the third, in which all the rest are comprehended, is that they must learn that we are always ready to hear all their hopes and fears, to help them choose their hats and dresses, to assist them in every way they wish, and to give them sympathy and kindness, which we will take from them in our turn should we be ill or in trouble.

How much more cheerfully will the cook help you to retrench if, instead of scolding about the waste, you ask her to help you to save what would otherwise be given or thrown away. And much more pleasantly will your housemaids help you when ‘company comes,’ if you tell them to look out for this or that celebrity, to listen if Miss Smith sings or if Mr. Brown plays; and how much they will do should you leave one or two of the pleasanter parts of preparing in their hands, preferring rather an ill-arranged flower vase than the idea that all the rough and none of the smooth falls to their share of the work. It will not hurt us to do a little dusting for once, or even to wash the china, and indeed it will do us good, for it will teach us how monotonous and wearisome is the work by which our ‘maidens,’ the dear old Dorset expression for our servants, earn their daily bread, but that ceases to have half its monotony and irksomeness should we help occasionally, when work is pressing, and there is more than usual to do. To have good and loving servants, then, it is necessary to have them tolerably young, to be firm, kind, and, above all, sympathetic, to know as much about their home life as is possible; and without telling them much, yet, when it is advisable, to take them into our confidence, secure in our turn of receiving sympathy, which is always precious, no matter from whom it is received.

Of course, this is not such an amusing life as the one lived by a mistress who is always enjoying herself, and thinking of little save her own garments, and the arrangement of the _menu_ and that of the dinner-table, but it is a far more satisfactory one. We all have duties; it rests with ourselves whether or not we shall neglect them or do them. Still, if they are not done, if our servants turn out ‘thieves, liars, and wretches,’ as they were characterised by one female writer the other day, it were well to pause, and ask who should be blamed for such a dreadful state of things. Surely not those who come to us for training and care, but rather those who do nothing to earn the right to live, and who, taking but a low view of life, look upon it as a playground instead of regarding it as a field for work--a place where we can do as much good as in us lies.

Sympathy is the bond that binds men together--sympathy is the bond that should unite mistress and maid; on the lowest ground it is politic, on the highest it is ordained in a code of life given to all; and we shall none of us regret treating our servants well, for, speaking from experience, I can boldly state that, in trouble, sickness, and sorrow, one can rely implicitly for help on the maids whom we have trained ourselves, and whom we have treated exactly as we should wish them to treat us, and that I have found in a time when Fortune appeared to have turned her back on us, owing to matters on which we need not touch, that the servants stuck manfully to the ship, and did their best to help us weather a storm that, though sharp, was short, yet that might have stranded us hopelessly on a lee shore.

The only fault I cannot overcome at present is this bedroom question, and the breaking of the china &c. provided for their use, hence my advice about the simple furniture given to them; but I find daily improvement here, and I hope that the next generation will be able to give their servants pretty rooms as safely as they can at present give them healthy ones.

There is just one other point to touch upon, that of the meals of the kitchen. It is quite enough to allow an ordinary middle-class household good bread and butter, oatmeal porridge, and tea, coffee, or cocoa for breakfast; the kitchen dinner should be the same as the dining-room luncheon; tea might be supplemented by jam or an occasional home-made cake; and supper should be presumably bread and cheese, but any soup made from the receipts in the chapter on ‘entertaining,’ or odds and ends left at the late dinner, can be consumed if you can trust your cook; if you cannot, you must lay down a hard-and-fast rule of bread and cheese, and insist on its being kept, otherwise you will find yourselves in the case of a friend of mine, who went into her larder after an enormous dinner-party, expecting to find herself free from the necessity of ordering more food for at least a week, and discovered it empty, swept, and garnished, because, the cook informed her, they always had for their suppers any little thing ‘as was’ left over.

Never be afraid to praise your servants, as one lady is I know of, for fear they may think she cannot do without them: we _can’t_ do without them--why should we pretend we can? They are far more likely to remain where they are appreciated and cared for than where they know they are only looked upon as so much necessary furniture; and do not be afraid to blame them, emulating another friend of mine, who saw her servant reading her letters at her desk, and stepped out of the room unobserved because she shrank from the disagreeable but emphatically necessary task of telling the maid of her odious and dishonourable fault; but say straight out to the delinquent servant herself what you have in your mind against her, never sending the message by another servant, nor nagging, but remarking firmly what you have to say yourself in such a way that she cannot avoid perceiving you mean emphatically what you say.

Let your maids have good books to read, and let them see newspapers, but do not keep a kitchen bookshelf. This they distrust at once, and look out for their own literature, which is generally pernicious; but if you yourself have read a good story, recommend it to them, and talk to them about it. You can always get a servant to read proper books by taking care to read them yourself, and by letting them see you are sharing your literature with them; even if they spoil or soil the book, books are cheap, and they had better do this than soil their minds by the rubbish they might buy, revolting naturally against ‘Lizzy, or a Parlourmaid’s Duties, described in a story,’ or ‘Grace, or How to Clean Silver,’ or the similar charming works which one generally finds in the houses of those who keep ‘kitchen bookshelves,’ regardless of the fact that Ouida and other exquisite feminine novelists are the favourite food of the drawing-room, and that they could not read one page of the ‘books’ themselves provided for the maid’s entertainment.

If you have a garden, encourage the servants to walk and sit and work in it; and, above all, take interest in their clothes, lend them patterns, and, in fact, do all in your power to raise them to your station. The lower classes, thanks to education, are rapidly climbing; they will rise whether we like it or not, and we had better, on the lowest grounds, assist them to share the place they will take and push us from, should they find we are antagonistic and jealous instead of helpful and sympathising.

I have had twenty years’ experience of household management. I have had three cooks in the time, and have never had a maid give me ‘warning’; and though, no doubt, some day I shall find servants a ‘bother,’ because they will get married, and I cannot expect to keep mine all their lives, I think my twenty years of success entitle me to lay down the law on the subject of the management of one’s maids just a little. But, lest my readers should tire of the subject, I will pass on to the nurseries, which, after all, are much more interesting to the young housekeeper.