CHAPTER II.
A VERY DANGEROUS INVENTION--THE PATENT COMBINATION STEP-LADDER--DOMESTIC SERVANTS--ADVERTISING FOR A GIRL--THE PEASANT-GIRL OF FACT AND FICTION--A CONTRAST.
A step-ladder is an almost indispensable article to persons who aremoving into a new house. Not only do the domestics find it extremelyconvenient when they undertake to wash the windows, to remove the dustfrom the door and window-frames, and to perform sundry other householdduties, but the lord of the castle will require it when he hangs hispictures, when he fixes the curtains and when he yields to his wife'sentreaty for a hanging shelf or two in the cellar. I would, however,warn my fellow-countrymen against the contrivance which is offered tothem under the name of the "Patent Combination Step-ladder." I purchasedone in the city just before we moved, because the dealer showed me how,by the simple operation of a set of springs, the ladder could betransformed into an ironing-table, and from that into a comfortablesettee for the kitchen, and finally back again into a step-ladder, justas the owner desired. It seemed like getting the full worth of themoney expended to obtain a trio of such useful articles for a singleprice, and the temptation to purchase was simply irresistible. But theknowledge gained by a practical experience of the operation of themachine enables me to affirm that there is no genuine economicaladvantage in the use of this ingenious article.
Upon the day of its arrival, the servant-girl mounted the ladder for thepurpose of removing the globes from the chandelier in the parlor, andwhile she was engaged in the work the weight of her body unexpectedlyput the springs in motion, and the machine was suddenly converted intoan ironing-table, while the maid-servant was prostrated upon the floorwith a sprained ankle and amid the fragments of two shattered globes.
Then we decided that the apparatus should be used exclusively as anironing-table, and to this purpose it would probably have been devotedpermanently if it had suited. On the following Tuesday, however, whilehalf a dozen shirts were lying upon it ready to be ironed, someone knocked against it accidentally. It gave two or three ominouspreliminary jerks, ground two shirts into rags, hurled the flat-ironout into the yard, and after a few convulsive movements of the springs,settled into repose in the shape of a step-ladder.
It became evident then that it could be used with greatest safety as asettee, and it was placed in the kitchen in that shape. For a few daysit gave much satisfaction. But one night when the servant had companythe bench was perhaps overloaded, for it had another and most alarmingparoxysm; there was a trembling of the legs, a violent agitation of theback, then a tremendous jump, and one of the visitors was hurled againstthe range, while the machine turned several somersaults, jammed itselfhalfway through the window-sash, and appeared once more in thesimilitude of an ironing-table.
It has now attained to such a degree of sensitiveness that it goesthrough the entire drill promptly and with celerity if any one comesnear it or coughs or sneezes close at hand. We have it stored away inthe garret, and sometimes in the middle of the night a rat will jar it,or a current of air will pass through the room, and we can hear itdancing over the floor and getting into service as a ladder, a bench anda table fifteen or twenty times in quick succession.
The machine will be disposed of for a small fraction of the originalcost. It might be a valuable addition to the collection of some goodmuseum. I am convinced that it will shine with greater lustre as acuriosity than as a household utensil.
Perhaps we may attribute to the fantastic capers of this step-ladder thedissatisfaction expressed by the servant who came with us from the city;at any rate, she gave us notice at the end of the first week that shewould not remain. She is the ninth that we have had within four months.Mrs. Adeler said she was not sorry the woman intended to go, for shewas absolutely good for nothing; but I think a poor servant is betterthan none at all. Life is gloomy enough without the misery which comesfrom rising before daylight to fumble among the fires, and withoutliving upon short rations because one's wife has no time to attend tothe cooking.
I am not sure, at any rate, that it would be a very great advantage tohave thoroughly good servants, for then women would be deprived of thevery evident pleasure they now take in discussing the shortcomings oftheir domestics. The practice is so common that there must be supremeconsolation in the sympathy and in the relief to the overchargedfeelings that are permitted by such communion.
Place two women together under any circumstances, and it makes nodifference where the conversation starts from, for it will be perfectlycertain to work around to the hired-girl question before many minuteshave elapsed. I have seen an elderly housekeeper, with experience inconducting the talk in the desired direction, break in upon a discussionof Pythagoras and the doctrine of the transmigration of souls, andswitch off the entire debate with such expedition that a carelesslistener would for some moments have an indistinct impression that theconversation referred to the inefficiency of Pythagoras as a washer andironer, and to the tendency of that heathen philosopher to take twoThursdays out every week.
And when a woman has an unusually villainous servant, is it notinteresting to observe how she glories in the superior intensity of hersufferings as compared with those of her neighbors, and to perceive howshe rejoices in her misery? A housewife who possesses a really good girlis always in a condition of wretchedness upon such occasions, and is aptto listen in envious silence while her companions unburden their soulsto each other.
Mrs. Adeler intimated that these accusations were slanderous, but sheventured to observe that the practical question which required immediateconsideration was, How shall we get another girl?
"There is but one method, Mrs. A.: it is to advertise. Do not patronizethe establishments which, in bitter irony, are styled 'intelligenceoffices.' An intelligence office is always remarkable for the densestupidity of everybody connected with it. But a single manifestation ofintelligence gleams through the intellectual darkness that enshrines thesouls of the beings who maintain such places. I refer to the singularability displayed in extracting two-dollar bills from persons who knowthat they will get nothing for their money."
Mrs. Adeler admitted that it would perhaps be better to advertise.
"How would it answer to insert in the daily paper an advertisementin which sarcasm is mingled with exaggeration in such a way that itshall secure an unlimited number of applications, while we shall giveexpression to the feeling of bitterness that is supposed to exist in thebosom of every housekeeper?"
She said she thought she hardly caught the idea precisely.
"Suppose, for instance, we should publish something like this: 'Wanted:a competent girl for general housework.' The most strenuous effort willbe made to give such a person complete satisfaction. If she is notpleased with the furniture already in the kitchen, we are willing tohave the range silver plated, the floor laid in mosaic and the dressercovered with pink plush. No objection will be made to breakage. Thedomestic will be permitted at any time to disport in the china closetwith the axe. We consider hair in the breakfast-rolls an improvement;and the more silver forks that are dropped into the drain, the moreserene is the happiness which reigns in the household. Our girl cannothave Sunday out. She can go out every day but Sunday, and remain outuntil midnight if she wishes to. If her relations suffer for want ofsugar, she can supply them with ours. We rather prefer a girl whohabitually blows out the gas, and who is impudent when complaint is madebecause she soaks the mackerel in the tea-kettle. If she can sprinklehot coals over the floor now and then, and set the house afire, we willrejoice the more, because it will give the fire-department healthful andnecessary exercise. Nobody will interfere if she woos the milkman, andshe will confer a favor if she will discuss family matters across thefence with the girl who lives next door. Such a servant as this can havea good home, the second-story front room and the whole of our incomewith the exception of three dollars a week, which we must insist,reluctantly, upon reserving for our own use.'
"How does that strike you, Mrs. Adeler?"
&nbs
p; She said that it struck her as being particularly nonsensical. She hopedI wouldn't put such stuff as that in the paper.
"Certainly not, Mrs. A. If I did, we should cause a general immigrationof the domestics of the country to New Castle. We will not precipitatesuch a disaster."
The insertion of a less extended advertisement, couched in the usualterms, secured a reply from a young woman named Catherine. And whenCatherine's objections to the size of the family, to the style of thecooking-range, to the dimensions of the weekly wash and to sundry otherthings had been overcome, she consented to accept the position.
"I hope she will suit," exclaimed Mrs. Adeler, with a sigh and anintonation which implied doubt. "I do hope she will answer, but I amafraid she won't, for according to her own confession she doesn't knowhow to make bread or to iron shirts or to do anything."
"That is the reason why she demanded such exorbitant wages. Thoseservants who are entirely ignorant always want the largest pay. If weever obtain a girl who understands her business in all its departments,I cherish the conviction that she will work for us for nothing. Thewages of domestics are usually in inverse ratio to the merit of therecipients. Did you ever reflect upon the difference between the realand the ideal Irish maiden?"
Mrs. A. admitted that she had not considered the subject with any degreeof attention.
"The ideal peasant-girl lives only in fiction and upon the stage. We arelargely indebted to Mr. Boucicault for her existence, just as we areunder obligations to Mr. Fennimore Cooper for a purely sentimentalconception of the North American Indian. Have you ever seen the _ColleenBawn_?"
"What is that?" inquired Mrs. Adeler, as she bit off a piece of threadfrom a spool.
"It is a play, a drama, my dear, by Mr. Dion Boucicault."
"You know I never go to theatres."
"Well, in that and in many other of his dramas Mr. Boucicault hasdrawn a particularly affecting portrait of the imaginary peasant-girlof Ireland. She is, as depicted by him, a lovely young creature,filled with tenderest sensibility, animated by loftiest impulses andinspired perpetually by poetic enthusiasm. The conversation of thisfascinating being sparkles with wit; she overflows with generosity;she has unutterable longings for a higher and nobler life; she loveswith intense and overpowering passion; she is capable of supremeself-sacrifice; and she always wears clean clothing. If such charminggirls really existed in Ireland in large numbers, it would be the mostattractive spot in the world. It would be a particularly profitableplace for young bachelors to emigrate to. I think I should even go theremyself."
Mrs. Adeler said she would certainly accompany me if I did.
"But these persons have no actual existence. We know, from a painfulexperience, what the peasant-girl of real life is, do we not? We knowthat her appearance is not prepossessing; we are aware that her loftyimpulses do not lift her high enough to enable her to avoid impertinenceand to conquer her unnatural fondness for cooking wine. She willwithhold starch from the shirt collars and put it in the underclothing;she will hold the baby by the leg, so that it is in perpetual peril ofapoplexy, and she will drink the milk. All of her visitors are hercousins; and when they have spent a festive evening with her in thekitchen, is it not curious to remark with what certainty we find lowtide in the sugar-box and an absence of symmetry about the cold beef?The only evidence that I can discover of the existence in her soul of ayearning for a higher life is that she nearly always wants Brusselscarpet in the kitchen, and this longing is peculiarly intense if, whenat the home of her childhood, she was accustomed to live in a mud-cabinand to sleep with a pig."
But I do not regret that Mr. Boucicault has not placed this person uponthe stage. It is, indeed, a matter for rejoicing that she is notthere. She plays such a part in the drama of domestic life that incontemplation of the virtues of the fabulous being we find intenserelief.
THE VIEW DOWN THE RIVER.]