That bright and fierce and fickle is the South,
And dark and true and tender is the North!
Oh, tell her, Swallow, that thy brood is flown;
Say that I do but wanton in the South,
But in the North, long since, my nest is made!
“My nest is made,” is the ultimatum of the lover,—the “nest” or the home being the natural centre of the circle of man’s ambition. A happy home is the best and surest safeguard against all evil; and where home is not happy, there the devil may freely enter and find his hands full. With women, and women only, this happiness in the home must find its foundation. They only are responsible; for no matter how wild and erring a man may be, if he can always rely on finding somewhere in the world a peaceful, well-ordered, and undishonoured home, he will feel the saving grace of it sooner or later, and turn to it as the one bright beacon in a darkening wilderness. But if he knows that it is a mere hostelry,—that his wife has no pride in it,—that other men than himself have found the right to enter there,—that his servants mock him behind his back as a poor, weak, credulous fool, who has lost all claim to mastership or control, he grows to hate the very walls of the dwelling, and does his best to lose himself and his miseries in a whirlpool of dissipation and folly, which too often ends in premature breakdown and death.
One often wonders if the “smart” ladies who cast aside the quiet joys of home life, in exchange for a jostling “feed” at the Carlton or other similar resorts, have any idea of the opinion entertained of their conduct by that Great Majority, the People? The People,—without whom their favoured political candidates would stand no chance of election,—the People, without whose willing work, performed under the heavy strain of cruel and increasing competition, they would be unable to enjoy the costly luxuries they deem indispensable to their lives,—the People, who, standing in their millions outside “society” and its endless intrigues,—outside a complaisant or subsidized Press,—outside all, save God and the Right,—pass judgment on the events of the day, and entertain their own strong views thereon, which, though such views may not find any printed outlet, do nevertheless make themselves felt in various unmistakable ways. Latterly, there has been a great clamour about servants and the lack of them. It is quite true that many ladies find it difficult to secure servants, and that even when they do secure them, they often turn out badly, being of an untrained and incompetent class. But why is this? No doubt many causes work together to make up the sum of deficiency or inefficiency, but one reason can be given which is possibly entirely unsuspected. It is a reason which will no doubt astonish some, and awaken the tittering ridicule of many, but the fact remains unalterable, despite incredulity and denial. There is really no lack of competent domestic servants. On the contrary, there are plenty of respectable, willing, smart, well-instructed girls in the country, who would make what are called “treasures” in the way of housemaids, parlourmaids and lady’s-maids, but whose parents stubbornly refuse to let them enter any situation until they know something of the character of the mistress with whom they are expected to reside, and the general reputation of the house or “home” they are to enter. I could name dozens of cases where girls, on enquiry, have actually declined lucrative situations, and contented themselves with work at lower wages, rather than be known as “in service” with certain distinguished ladies. “My girl,” says a farmer’s wife, “is a clean, wholesome, steady lass; I’d rather keep her by me for a bit than see her mixing herself up with the fashionable folk, who are always getting into the divorce court.” This may be a bitter pill of information for the “smart set” to swallow; but there is no exaggeration in the statement that the working classes have very little respect left nowadays for the ladies of the “Upper Ten,” and many of the wives of honest farmers, mechanics and tradesmen would consider that they were voluntarily handing over their daughters to temptation and disgrace by allowing them to enter domestic service with certain society leaders, who, though bearing well-known names, are branded by equally well-known “easy virtue.”
Does any one at this time of day recall a certain chapter in the immortal story of Bleak House, by Charles Dickens, when Mr. Rouncewell, the iron-master, a mere tradesman in the opinion of that haughty old aristocrat, Sir Leicester Dedlock, desires to remove the pretty girl, Rosa, lady’s-maid to Lady Dedlock, at once from her situation, if she is to marry his son? An extract from this scene may not here be altogether out of place.
Lady Dedlock has enquired of the iron-master if the love-affair between her lady’s-maid and his son is still going on, and receives an answer in the affirmative.
“‘If you remember anything so unimportant,’ he says—‘which is not to be expected—you would recollect that my first thought in the affair was directly opposed to her remaining here.’
“Dismiss the Dedlock patronage from consideration? Oh! Sir Leicester is bound to believe a pair of ears that have been handed down to him through such a family, or he really might have mistrusted their report of the iron-gentleman’s observation!
“‘It is not necessary,’ observes my Lady, in her coldest manner, before he can do anything but breathe amazedly, ‘to enter into these matters on either side. The girl is a very good girl; I have nothing whatever to say against her; but she is so far insensible to her many advantages and her good fortune, that she is in love—or supposes she is, poor little fool—and unable to appreciate them.’
“Sir Leicester begs to observe that wholly alters the case. He might have been sure that my Lady had the best grounds and reasons in support of her view. He entirely agrees with my Lady. The young woman had better go.
“‘As Sir Leicester observed, Mr. Rouncewell, on the last occasion when we were fatigued by this business,’ Lady Dedlock languidly proceeds, ‘we cannot make conditions with you. Without conditions, and under present circumstances, the girl is quite misplaced here and had better go. I have told her so. Would you wish to have her sent back to the village, or would you like to take her with you, or what would you prefer?’
“‘Lady Dedlock, if I may speak plainly——’
“‘By all means.’
“‘I should prefer the course which will the sooner relieve you of the encumbrance, and remove her from her present position.’
“‘And to speak as plainly,’ she returns, with the same studied carelessness, ‘so should I. Do I understand that you will take her with you?’
“The iron-gentleman makes an iron bow.
* * * * *
“‘Sir Leicester and Lady Dedlock,’ says Mr. Rouncewell, after a pause of a few moments; ‘I beg to take my leave with an apology for having again troubled you. I can very well understand, I assure you, how very tiresome so small a matter must have become to Lady Dedlock. If I am doubtful on my dealing with it, it is only because I did not at first quietly exert my influence to take my young friend here away without troubling you at all. I hope you will excuse my want of acquaintance with the polite world.”