“I will learn to do something well; I am determined I will.”
“That is capital,” I said: “it is just that resolution which is wanted; everything else is sure to follow.
“The best servant I ever had was entirely self-taught: she was the eldest of ten children, and spent her life, till she was fifteen, in ‘holding the baby;’ then she went to a house in our neighbourhood, as under-nurse, and to help the other servants when required. She was so obliging, that she became a favourite with every one. The nurse taught her to read and sew; the young ladies taught her to write; the cook found her so handy that, after she had been in the nursery three years, she begged her mistress to allow her to have her in the kitchen. She came to me two years after that, able and willing to put her hand to any kind of work required; she remained with me six years, and then married a respectable carpenter. She is now in America; and in the last letter which I received from her, she told me that her husband was earning four pounds a-week by his trade, and she could earn one pound a-week by her dairy.”
“But, ma’am,” said one of the women, “don’t you see, it wasn’t all good management that made these people you tell us about so prosperous; it was partly good luck,—they got good places.”
“Yes, I see that; but it was their good name that got them the good places, and their good behaviour that enabled them to keep them.”
“Ah! I see,” said another; “’course they wouldn’t have stopped there, if they hadn’t been worth something.”
“It is this ‘being worth something’ that has a great deal to do with it, I assure you. Supposing I were to send for a carpenter, and give him some wood, and tell him to make me a box; and that in the evening, when I looked at his work, I found that he had made such mistakes in cutting it out and putting it together, that it was all spoilt; that there was no possibility of making a box out of it; and all that he had done for me was to make the material good for nothing. I should say to him, ‘I cannot pay you for your work. You have deceived me in professing to be able to do what it seems you cannot do; you have injured me by destroying my property; and I cannot recommend you to any one else.’ Now, who would call me unjust for this? But what would be thought of a master if, when he had sent away one spoilt dish after another from his table, he were to send for the cook, and say to her—‘I engaged to give you a home in my house, and to pay you certain wages, on condition that you cooked my food nicely, and took care of the property committed to your charge. I have fulfilled my part of the engagement; you have not fulfilled yours. If you really cannot cook properly, then you did me an injustice in taking my money, and accepting the shelter of my house. Perhaps it only arises from carelessness;—I will give you another trial, but I must be just to myself at the same time I shall not pay you any wages for this day’s work,—you have not earned any; and your being paid for the future will depend upon whether you do what you engaged to do, or not.’ Now, who could say this was unjust? and yet, I dare say, the self-styled cook would go back to the kitchen and say, ‘She had never heard of such a thing in her life.’
“I do not remember ever employing a carpenter who could not do what I required of him; not so well always, perhaps, as it might have been done, but still he did it. But how many cooks, housemaids, and nurses have I seen entirely fail in their engagements. It arose, not from inferior capacity, but from the great mistake which the girls had made, in supposing that they could perform the very important duties assigned to them in life, without preparation. A boy who intends to be a carpenter, begins, as early as he can, to observe how the work is done; he spends years in patiently learning one branch of his trade after another, before he asks for wages; consequently, he generally gives satisfaction to his employers, and often remains with one master for many years.”
“But, ma’am,” said one, “how are we to prepare our girls for service? Our houses and our ways is so different from gentlefolk’s. I really don’t know what we can do.”
“I do not wonder at your saying this; I have often felt for you in this difficulty. I think your houses are not, perhaps, quite so much like gentlefolk’s as they might be. A person with good taste would prefer a clean cottage, any day, to a dirty palace. A bright, clean grate is just as much an ornament to your room as to a lady’s drawing-room; and when you set your eldest girls to clean, if you were more particular about how they did it, many a good lesson might be given. But your principal hope is, I think, in this kind of apprenticeship of which I have spoken. Neither wages nor comfort, so long as the health is not endangered, should be the chief consideration in choosing a girl’s first place. She should go from you with the impression on her mind that the future of her life depends very much upon herself; that what makes people valued, is their being valuable; that wealth is not to be obtained by wishing for it, but by a long, determined course of patient continuance in well-doing, and a resolution not to be daunted by difficulties.