“Very pretty talk,” I answered; “then, I dare say, you would like them to come and sit down at the same table with us?”
“They did so then, in many families, and certainly in all families of the same rank as our own. And what was the consequence? Why they felt, as they ate at the same board, that they participated in the comforts and property of their master, and consequently had the same desire as he had to increase the one and protect the other.”
“Well, then,” I answered, “why not have yours up, and let them dine with you every day, if you prefer their company to mine, for I’m not going to sit at the same table with them, I can tell you!”
“No, Caroline, society has so altered since the time I am speaking of, that he who would endeavour to return to the old custom must be more case-hardened against the world’s ridicule than I am. To be candid, I am too much of a moral coward to be a moral Quixote. Society, as at present constituted, is so based upon pride, vanity, and show, that the principal struggle of life, in what is called the “genteel world,” is how to trick your neighbour into the belief that you are twice as rich as you really are—a species of moral swindling, or obtaining the world’s estimation under false pretences. And what comes of all this? Why, they who have but their three or four hundred a year must make it appear to the world that they have a thousand, and all this by good management, as it is termed—or in plainer words, by pinching the belly to adorn their back.”
“Well, sir,” I stammered out, for I was getting in a passion—“proceed—pray proceed—I’m quite interested with the rubbish.”
“As I was saying, then, Madam, we put ourselves to all kinds of unnecessary expense to gain the good opinion of mere acquaintances and comparative strangers, who don’t care a snap of the fingers for us; and in order to do this, and “make both ends meet,” as we call it, we stint ourselves, and those about us, of a thousand little luxuries which would make home dear and happy, wholly regardless of either the feelings or the esteem of those who live under the same roof with ourselves, and whose affection can add so much to our comfort.”
“Oh, yes, certainly,” I added; “I’m perfectly of your opinion,—let the servants do just as they please,—and a deal of comfort at home we should have then.”
“Your fault, and the fault of many other ladies I could name, is, that you have your servants—like your furniture—for show—though—unlike your furniture—you don’t think you can spoil them, however much you use them. And then you wonder that they don’t treat you with respect, but take every advantage they can of you. You carry out your contract to the mere dry letter with them, and yet are continually grumbling because they don’t carry out theirs to the spirit with you. Only let mistresses be kind—yet firm with their servants, and at the same time speak the whole truth, and nothing but the truth of them, to one another, and depend upon it, the laws of mere human nature are such, that servants—with few exceptions—will be willing, obedient, and devoted to them.”
Then my fine philosopher, having concluded his moral lecture, went on telling me, first, that my love of display had ruined him; and next, that he had made up his mind to turn over a new leaf, and to cut down a few of the showy-extravagances at home, instead of beggaring himself for the sake of my mere acquaintances; and lastly, that the first step he intended to take was to reduce the eight servants he had in his house to two at the most.
“Then all I can say is, sir,” I replied, “that you must get rid of me also; for I’m not going to stop in it, sir, I can tell you, to be pointed at by the whole world as a lady who had once kept her eight servants, and now can only afford to keep her two.”