HOW TO SOLVE THE SERVANT PROBLEM.
“I AM glad to see, Mrs. Wilkins,” I said, “that the Women’s DomesticGuild of America has succeeded in solving the servant girl problem—nonetoo soon, one might almost say.”
“Ah,” said Mrs. Wilkins, as she took the cover off the bacon and gave anextra polish to the mustard-pot with her apron, “they are clever peopleover there; leastways, so I’ve always ’eard.”
“This, their latest, Mrs. Wilkins,” I said, “I am inclined to regard astheir greatest triumph. My hope is that the Women’s Domestic Guild ofAmerica, when it has finished with the United States and Canada, will,perhaps, see its way to establishing a branch in England. There areladies of my acquaintance who would welcome, I feel sure, any reallysatisfactory solution of the problem.”
“Well, good luck to it, is all I say,” responded Mrs. Wilkins, “and if itmakes all the gals contented with their places, and all the mistressessatisfied with what they’ve got and ’appy in their minds, why, God blessit, say I.”
“The mistake hitherto,” I said, “from what I read, appears to have beenthat the right servant was not sent to the right place. What the Women’sDomestic Guild of America proposes to do is to find the right servant forthe right place. You see the difference, don’t you, Mrs. Wilkins?”
“That’s the secret,” agreed Mrs. Wilkins. “They don’t anticipate anydifficulty in getting the right sort of gal, I take it?”
“I gather not, Mrs. Wilkins,” I replied.
Mrs. Wilkins is of a pessimistic turn of mind.
“I am not so sure about it,” she said; “the Almighty don’t seem to ’avemade too many of that sort. Unless these American ladies that you speakof are going to start a factory of their own. I am afraid there isdisappointment in store for them.”
“Don’t throw cold water on the idea before it is fairly started, Mrs.Wilkins,” I pleaded.
“Well, sir,” said Mrs. Wilkins, “I ’ave been a gal myself in service; andin my time I‘ve ’ad a few mistresses of my own, and I’ve ’eard a gooddeal about others. There are ladies and ladies, as you may know, sir,and some of them, if they aren’t exactly angels, are about as near to itas can be looked for in this climate, and they are not the ones that domost of the complaining. But, as for the average mistress—well it ain’ta gal she wants, it’s a plaster image, without any natural innards—a sortof thing as ain’t ’uman, and ain’t to be found in ’uman nature. And thenshe’d grumble at it, if it didn’t ’appen to be able to be in two placesat once.”
“You fear that the standard for that ‘right girl’ is likely to be set atrifle too high Mrs. Wilkins,” I suggested.
“That ‘right gal,’ according to the notions of some of ’em,” retortedMrs. Wilkins, “’er place ain’t down ’ere among us mere mortals; ’er placeis up in ’eaven with a ’arp and a golden crown. There’s my niece, Emma,I don’t say she is a saint, but a better ’earted, ’arder working gal, attwenty pounds a year, you don’t expect to find, unless maybe you’re anatural born fool that can’t ’elp yourself. She wanted a place. She ’adbeen ’ome for nearly six months, nursing ’er old father, as ’ad been downall the winter with rheumatic fever; and ’ard-put to it she was for a fewclothes. You ’ear ’em talk about gals as insists on an hour a day forpractising the piano, and the right to invite their young man to spendthe evening with them in the drawing-room. Perhaps it is meant to befunny; I ain’t come across that type of gal myself, outside the picturesin the comic papers; and I’ll never believe, till I see ’er myself, thatanybody else ’as. They sent ’er from the registry office to a lady atClapton.
“‘I ’ope you are good at getting up early in the morning?’ says the lady,‘I like a gal as rises cheerfully to ’er work.’
“‘Well, ma’am,’ says Emma, ‘I can’t say as I’ve got a passion for it.But it’s one of those things that ’as to be done, and I guess I’ve learntthe trick.’
“‘I’m a great believer in early rising,’ says my lady; ‘in the morning,one is always fresher for one’s work; my ’usband and the younger childrenbreakfast at ’arf past seven; myself and my eldest daughter ’ave ourbreakfest in bed at eight.’
“‘That’ll be all right, ma’am,’ says Emma.
“‘And I ’ope,’ says the lady, ‘you are of an amiable disposition. Somegals when you ring the bell come up looking so disagreeable, one almostwishes one didn’t want them.’
“‘Well, it ain’t a thing,’ explains Emma, ‘as makes you want to burst outlaughing, ’earing the bell go off for the twentieth time, and ’avingsuddenly to put down your work at, perhaps, a critical moment. Someladies don’t seem able to reach down their ’at for themselves.’
“‘I ’ope you are not impertinent,’ says the lady; ‘if there’s one thingthat I object to in a servant it is impertinence.’
“‘We none of us like being answered back,’ says Emma, ‘more particularlywhen we are in the wrong. But I know my place ma’am, and I shan’t giveyou no lip. It always leads to less trouble, I find, keeping your mouthshut, rather than opening it.’
“‘Are you fond of children,’ asks my lady.
“‘It depends upon the children,’ says Emma; ‘there are some I ’ave ’ad todo with as made the day seem pleasanter, and I’ve come across others as Icould ’ave parted from at any moment without tears.’
“‘I like a gal,’ says the lady, ‘who is naturally fond of children, itshows a good character.’
“‘How many of them are there?’ says Emma.
“‘Four of them,’ answers my lady, ‘but you won’t ’ave much to do exceptwith the two youngest. The great thing with young children is tosurround them with good examples. Are you a Christian?’ asks my lady.
“‘That’s what I’m generally called,’ says Emma.
“‘Every other Sunday evening out is my rule,’ says the lady, ‘but ofcourse I shall expect you to go to church.’
“‘Do you mean in my time, ma’am,’ says Emma, ‘or in yours.’
“‘I mean on your evening of course,’ says my lady. ‘’Ow else could yougo?’
“‘Well, ma’am,’ says Emma, ‘I like to see my people now and then.’
“‘There are better things,’ says my lady, ‘than seeing what you call yourpeople, and I should not care to take a girl into my ’ouse as put ’erpleasure before ’er religion. You are not engaged, I ’ope?’
“‘Walking out, ma’am, do you mean?’ says Emma. ‘No, ma’am, there isnobody I’ve got in my mind—not just at present.’
“‘I never will take a gal,’ explains my lady, ‘who is engaged. I find itdistracts ’er attention from ’er work. And I must insist if you come tome,’ continues my lady, ‘that you get yourself another ’at and jacket.If there is one thing I object to in a servant it is a disposition tocheap finery.’
“’Er own daughter was sitting there beside ’er with ’alf a dozen silverbangles on ’er wrist, and a sort of thing ’anging around ’er neck, as,’ad it been real, would ’ave been worth perhaps a thousand pounds. ButEmma wanted a job, so she kept ’er thoughts to ’erself.
“‘I can put these things by and get myself something else,’ she says, ‘ifyou don’t mind, ma’am, advancing me something out of my first threemonths’ wages. I’m afraid my account at the bank is a bit overdrawn.’
“The lady whispered something to ’er daughter. ‘I am afraid, on thinkingit over,’ she says, ‘that you won’t suit, after all. You don’t lookserious enough. I feel sure, from the way you do your ’air,’ says mylady, ‘there’s a frivolous side to your nature.’
“So Emma came away, and was not, on the whole, too sorry.”
“But do they get servants to come to them, this type of mistress, do youthink, Mrs. Wilkins?” I asked.
“They get them all right,” said Mrs. Wilkins, “and if it’s a decent gal,it makes a bad gal of ’er, that ever afterwards looks upon every mistressas ’er enemy, and acts accordingly.
And if she ain’t a naturally goodgal, it makes ’er worse, and then you ’ear what awful things gals are. Idon’t say it’s an easy problem,” continued Mrs. Wilkins, “it’s just likemarriages. The good mistress gets ’old of the bad servant, and the badmistress, as often as not is lucky.”
“But how is it,” I argued, “that in hotels, for instance, the service isexcellent, and the girls, generally speaking, seem contented? The workis hard, and the wages not much better, if as good.”
“Ah,” said Mrs. Wilkins, “you ’ave ’it the right nail on the ’ead, there,sir. They go into the ’otels and work like niggers, knowing that if asingle thing goes wrong they will be bully-ragged and sworn at till theydon’t know whether they are standing on their ’ead or their ’eels. Butthey ’ave their hours; the gal knows when ’er work is done, and when theclock strikes she is a ’uman being once again. She ’as got that momentto look forward to all day, and it keeps ’er going. In private servicethere’s no moment in the day to ’ope for. If the lady is reasonable sheain’t overworked; but no ’ow can she ever feel she is her own mistress,free to come and go, to wear ’er bit of finery, to ’ave ’er bit of fun.She works from six in the morning till eleven or twelve at night, andthen she only goes to bed provided she ain’t wanted. She don’t belong to’erself at all; it’s that that irritates them.”
“I see your point, Mrs. Wilkins,” I said, “and, of course, in a housewhere two or three servants were kept some such plan might easily bearranged. The girl who commenced work at six o’clock in the morningmight consider herself free at six o’clock in the evening. What she didwith herself, how she dressed herself in her own time, would be heraffair. What church the clerk or the workman belongs to, what company hekeeps, is no concern of the firm. In such matters, mistresses, I aminclined to think, saddle themselves with a responsibility for whichthere is no need. If the girl behaves herself while in the house, anddoes her work, there the contract ends. The mistress who thinks it herduty to combine the _rôles_ of employer and of maiden aunt is naturallyresented. The next month the girl might change her hours from twelve totwelve, and her fellow-servant could enjoy the six a.m. to six p.m.shift. But how do you propose to deal, Mrs. Wilkins, with the smaller_menage_, that employs only one servant?”
“Well, sir,” said Mrs. Wilkins, “it seems to me simple enough. Ladiestalk pretty about the dignity of labour, and are never tired of pointingout why gals should prefer domestic service to all other kinds of work.Suppose they practise what they preach. In the ’ouse, where there’s onlythe master and the mistress, and, say a couple of small children, let thelady take her turn. After all, it’s only her duty, same as the office orthe shop is the man’s. Where, on the other ’and, there are biggish boysand gals about the place, well it wouldn’t do them any ’arm to be taughtto play a little less, and to look after themselves a little more. It’sjust arranging things—that’s all that’s wanted.”
“You remind me of a family I once knew, Mrs. Wilkins,” I said; “itconsisted of the usual father and mother, and of five sad, healthy girls.They kept two servants—or, rather, they never kept any servants; theylived always looking for servants, breaking their hearts over servants,packing servants off at a moment’s notice, standing disconsolatelylooking after servants who had packed themselves off at a moment’snotice, wondering generally what the world was coming too. It occurredto me at the time, that without much trouble, they could have lived apeaceful life without servants. The eldest girl was learningpainting—and seemed unable to learn anything else. It was poor sort ofpainting; she noticed it herself. But she seemed to think that, if shetalked a lot about it, and thought of nothing else, that somehow it wouldall come right. The second girl played the violin. She played it fromearly morning till late evening, and friends fell away from them. Therewasn’t a spark of talent in the family, but they all had a notion that avague longing to be admired was just the same as genius.
“Another daughter fancied she would like to be an actress, and screamedall day in the attic. The fourth wrote poetry on a typewriter, andwondered why nobody seemed to want it; while the fifth one suffered froma weird belief that smearing wood with a red-hot sort of poker was athing worth doing for its own sake. All of them seemed willing enough towork, provided only that it was work of no use to any living soul. Witha little sense, and the occasional assistance of a charwoman, they couldhave led a merrier life.”
“If I was giving away secrets,” said Mrs. Wilkins, “I’d say to themistresses: ‘Show yourselves able to be independent.’ It’s because thegals know that the mistresses can’t do without them that they sometimesgives themselves airs.”
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