Chapter III: Part 3

This question of education is rather a perplexing one, which gives parents a great deal of anxious thought. The present system is undoubtedly a great improvement upon any we have had heretofore, and yet it seems to leave something to be desired. In the board schools, where the bulk of the lower middle-class children are educated, and where tuition is very excellent and thorough, there is yet this drawback,--all are sought to be raised to one dead level, the passing of so many standards being imperative, nor any consideration given to individual capacity or fitness. The inevitable result of this is that the teacher is bound to concentrate his attention on the dull pupils, in order to get them dragged up to the required standard, the bright ones being left pretty much to their own devices. However much he may deplore this, he cannot help himself, since it is upon his percentage of passes that his status as a teacher, to say nothing of his salary, depends. Therefore in some respects the old system of parochial teaching had its advantage over the new.

But it is very specially of the education of the girls we wish to speak, and it is gratifying to observe that many parents are awaking to the absurdity of insisting that their daughters shall acquire a superficial knowledge of certain accomplishments, whatever the bent of their minds. How much money, to say nothing of precious time, has been sacrificed in the vain pursuit of music, that sweetest of the arts; which is so often desecrated and tortured by unwilling and unsympathetic votaries. It very soon becomes evident whether the child has an aptitude for music or not; and if she has not, but finds the study of it an imposition and a trial, what is the use of forcing her to such unwilling drudgery, when very likely she possesses some other aptitude, the cultivation of which will be both profitable and pleasant? How many girls upon whom pounds and pounds have been spent never touch the piano when they are emancipated from schoolroom control; and how much more usefully could both time and money have been employed in the pursuit of something else!

Mothers are beginning to see this, and it is a welcome awakening. So long as our young maiden is occupied with school and lessons, she has not time to learn much else, since it is imperative that she has recreation likewise; it is when she leaves school that the wise mother, having an eye to the future, will at once seek to initiate her into the mysteries of housekeeping. True, she may never have a home of her own; she may be one of those called to labour, perhaps, in the very forefront of the working women outside; but all the same she ought not to be ignorant of what used to be considered the chief, if not the only occupation for women,--she ought to be fit to keep house on the shortest notice. It is a woman's heritage. Whatever she may or may not know, I hold that she ought to acquire a certain amount of domestic knowledge, whether she uses it or not. Most young girls are interested in domestic affairs, and are never happier than when allowed to have their finger in the domestic pie; but in this as in other things a thorough grounding is the most satisfactory.

It is astonishing what undreamed-of qualities a sense of responsibility awakens in a young soul; how the very idea that something depends on her, that she is being trusted, puts our little maid upon her mettle. Therefore it is a good plan to leave to a young daughter some particular duty or duties for which she is entirely responsible.

This may of course be a very slight thing to begin with--the dusting of a room, or the arrangement of flowers or books, or the superintendence of the tea-table; but whatever it is, the mother should insist that it be done regularly and at the appointed time. Thus will she teach her child punctuality and a primary lesson in a method, which is the key to all perfect housekeeping. Of course it is a little trouble to the mother to superintend the performance of such little duties, but she will have her reward in the daily increasing helpfulness of the daughter in the home.

Most young girls, if skilfully dealt with, speedily learn to take a special pride in their own little duties, especially if their efforts be met with appreciation. Never snub a child; the young heart is very sensitive, and takes a long time to forget. Little changes in the domestic routine will be introduced by the wise mother, in order that the work may not become irksome.

Where there are several daughters, it is a good plan for them to exchange their particular duties for a time. Thus, one may assist with the cooking for a week, then change with her sister who has the care and arrangement of the drawing-room or sitting-room, or with the one who helps with the mending. So the daily round would never become monotonous, and by gradual and pleasant degrees a knowledge of the whole system of housekeeping is acquired, which will be simply invaluable to her, whatever her future may be. If the family circumstances demand that she shall go out into the world to earn her living by teaching or typewriting or shopkeeping, the wise mother will not for this reason relax her desire and effort to teach her the art and mystery of housekeeping. True, while she is occupied outside she has little opportunity to learn it, but "where there's a will there's a way"; and though it may not appear at present of much practical value to her, yet she may marry, or have to go to single housekeeping, when the home is no longer open to her. I again insist that it is every woman's duty to know, or to acquire some practical knowledge of housekeeping, so that she may be ready for any emergency. Her fitness for it will be a perpetual source of satisfaction to her, for there is nothing more self-satisfying than to feel that one is capable; it gives confidence, strength, and self-reliance.

One of the very necessary lessons to be taught a young girl is the value of money. The sooner she learns what equivalent in household necessaries money can procure the better. The day may come when the tired mother will be glad to be relieved even of the responsibility of spending, and when, thanks to her own wisdom and foresight, she can place the family purse in younger hands, knowing that the contents will not be recklessly or extravagantly spent. Let our young maiden feel that she is entirely trusted, and that a great deal is expected of her, then will she display qualities undreamed-of. She will be eager to show what she can do; and when the word of encouragement and appreciation is not lacking she will be proud and happy indeed. Of course there are perverse natures, of whom one is tempted at times to despair--irresponsible young persons who would make wild havoc in any establishment left to their care; but I am speaking of the average young girl, who may be expected to be thoughtless and forgetful often, as is the way of youth, but who nevertheless has the makings of a fine, gentle-hearted, noble woman in her.

"What shall we do with our daughters?" is one of the great questions of the day. Formerly marriage was their only destiny; if they missed that, they were supposed to have missed all that was worth the winning here. But that old fallacy is exploded. While still holding that in happy marriage is to be found the fullest and most soul-satisfying life for women, no open-eyed person will deny that a single, independent, and self-respecting life is far preferable to the miserable, starved, inadequate wifehood to which many women are bound. Having dealt in a former chapter with the question of matrimony, I must here avoid repetition, but in connection with this subject of our daughters we must touch upon it once again. The wise mother will rear her daughters to be independent, self-respecting, and, if possible, self-supporting; not hiding from them that she considers a real marriage (not the mockery of it so often seen) the highest destiny for them, but at the same time impressing on them that there are other spheres in which women may be as happy and comfortable, and where they will certainly have less anxiety and care.

The woman who trains her daughters in the belief that marriage is their only end and aim, the very _raison d'etre_ of their being, is a mistaken, despicable creature, and in all probability her daughters will take after her.

If they do not marry, then what is to become of our daughters? Of late years their path of life has opened up more widely and clearly, and though the avocations open to women are very crowded there is still room for the best equipped. That is the secret,--to bring to the market the highest value only, to render oneself as efficient as nature and circumstances permit. I would have our girls fully comprehend that in this age of unprecedented strain and stress there is absolutely no room for mediocrity, and that they cannot afford to be anything but the most efficient workers in whatever department they have made their own. There is still room for the best, and persevering, conscientious labour, worth the highest market value, sooner or later meets its due appreciation and reward.

XIII.

_THE SERVANT IN THE HOME._

Any little book attempting to treat of home-life must necessarily be incomplete without some reference to the place and power of the servant therein. We housekeepers all know that this servant question is just as pressing as any upon which we have yet touched, and it is one that is with us every day. We cannot rid ourselves of it, even if we would, because it involves so much of our domestic comfort and happiness.

We of modern days are filled with a vague envy when we read of such treasures as Caleb Balderstone, Bell of the Manse, and various other types of a class now, we fear, extinct--the faithful servitor, who lived in the service of one house for generations and desired to die in it. Perhaps such types had their drawbacks likewise, and sometimes presumed past endurance, doing what seemed good in their own eyes, and that alone. But all that could be forgiven, because, weighed in the balance with a lifelong devotion and loyalty and love, they were as nothing. A few Calebs and Bells undoubtedly still exist, but the bulk of modern housekeepers know them not, and regard them as pleasant creatures of fiction, impossible to real life.

Are servants really less efficient, less conscientious, less diligent than they were? Or is it that we expect and exact more? Modern life has undergone such a tremendous change, there have been so many upheavals in relative positions, that we are inclined to think domestic service is now regarded from a very different standpoint than it was fifty, or even twenty, years ago. It is no longer regarded as honourable; those who enter it seem to do so under protest, the result being a most unsatisfactory relation within doors. Some blame education for this; and yet it seems hard to believe that education, the pioneer of progress everywhere and in all ages, should be responsible for such a distorted view. Some will tell us that this very dissatisfaction is a sign of the times, indicating the march of progress towards the time when all men shall be equal, and no more lines of demarcation shall be drawn. Never were wages higher; never, I am very sure, were domestic servants treated with more consideration and respect; and yet the fact remains that girls prefer almost any other occupation to it. They will stand for hours behind a counter, suffering untold tortures from exhaustion and insufficient food, content to receive a mere pittance, and subjected to a system of espionage and bullying far harder to bear than anything found in domestic service; and they will give you as their reasons, in general, these: It is more genteel, they have their evenings and their Sundays free, and they are not required to wear the livery of cap and apron. These are the reasons, then; what are we to make of them?

Can we make domestic service more genteel; give evenings and Sundays free; and are we willing to dispense with the badge distinguishing maid from mistress? These are the questions we have before us, waiting an answer; in that answer perhaps may be found the solution of the whole stupendous difficulty.

I write under one disadvantage. I have never been a domestic servant, and I cannot therefore look at the situation from that particular standpoint; but I have had for some years servants under my roof, and I have my own experiences of these years to guide me from the mistress's point of view. During these years I can truthfully say that I have most conscientiously, kindly, and systematically done my best to make them happy; that I have considered them very often at the expense of my own comfort; and though I have had no startling experiences whatsoever, I am bound to admit that the result on the whole is not particularly encouraging. I have seldom found that corresponding consideration, that devotion to my concerns, that warm personal interest, which make one feel that one has friends in the household. I have had my pound of flesh, nothing more; they have done the work for which they have been paid, sometimes well, but often carelessly; and that is all. When it came to a question of personal consideration, of caring for my substance, looking after my interests as I have honestly tried to look after theirs, I have been disappointed, and now I expect no more, thankful if I have average comfort, and do not have my nerves and temper tried a hundred times a day. This I suppose is the experience of two-thirds of the women who may read this book.

Nobody feels more keenly than I do the monotonous drudgery of a servant's life. Day in, day out, the same weary round; and while the same may be said of all workers, in whatsoever estate they may find themselves, yet is the lot of the domestic servant notoriously a dull routine. I often wonder, indeed, that without that element of personal interest which is the only thing to make the multitudinous and weary round of household duties sweet, or in any way tolerable, she should do it half so well; but, on the other hand, when one thinks of her absolute freedom from care, sordid or otherwise, a feeling of impatience is bound to arise. "All found" is a comprehensive phrase, and it is those who have to "find" it who have the care, the thought, the anxious planning.

How, then, can we establish a better understanding between mistress and maid, how lift this question to its highest platform, and render the service one which will be honoured and sought after, instead of despised, and entered on under compulsion, or as a last resource? I confess, for once, I am baffled completely, and beyond redemption. I have thought of it long and earnestly, have done my best with my own opportunities, and I have no glorified results to offer. I am as others, worried and often weary, and grateful for every small mercy that comes in my way. It seems to me that we want to enlarge our own minds and the minds of those we take into our employ; we need a wider vision, which shall lift us clean above mere petty and selfish concerns. That is a baptism we all need. When shall it descend?

I am forced to this conclusion--that it is this question of all others that is absolutely dependent on the grace of God. We must have the true spirit of Christianity in our kitchens and in our drawing-rooms,--that spirit whose gracious teaching is never ambiguous or difficult to understand; in a word, there is nothing but the Sermon on the Mount will do us any good. Of human preaching, teaching, and writing we have enough and to spare--it does not appear to go home, or to bear any practical fruit.

We can only pray that He, whose great heart is open now as it was then to every human need, will help us to realise our responsibility to each other, will give us new lessons in the law of love, and show us that service is the highest form of praise, and that nothing is really small or mean or despicable, except sin and the littleness of human aims.

All work is honourable, nay, it is the highest calling on earth. It can only be dishonoured in the doing. If each one, master and man, mistress and maid, could adopt this attitude towards their daily duty to the world and to each other, there would be found the solution of the problem vexing the souls of so many at the present day.

XIV.

_RELIGION IN THE HOME._

Perhaps this chapter might more appropriately have been placed at the beginning of the book than at the end, seeing we have in it the root of the whole matter, the key to all happiness, fitness, comfort, and peace. Religion is a word much misunderstood, yet it is given to us in the Epistle of St. James in the clearest, most intelligible language,--"Pure religion and undefiled is to visit the widows and the fatherless in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world."

It always seems to me that the former part of the injunction is easier than the latter. There is so much in the world with which we must combat, so much that, though we can avoid in one sense, comes so very near to us, that it is well-nigh impossible to keep ourselves unspotted. But though there is a great deal of evil around us, we must not be such cowards as to shrink from facing it, and shut ourselves up in selfish safety, lest it should come near us at all. This is not what the Apostle means, for it is possible to be in the world and yet not of it, it is written too that "to the pure all things are pure." What we have to do is to see that in our inmost thoughts we are pure, not giving lodgment in our mind to any unholy thing which if revealed would bring the blush of shame to our cheek. But in the high standard of personal purity, which we may rightly set up for ourselves, let us not be too arrogant, or forgetful that such as fall away from purity may have been subjected to such terrible temptations as we know nothing of. Let us cultivate more of that Divine compassion towards them which Christ showed of old towards the Magdalene. It is in matters of such immediate and personal interest that the spirit of the religion we profess is to be exhibited,--in a word, we must consecrate all to the high service God requires of us, honouring us in the requirement. We are placed in this world to be happy and useful; and though we are reminded many times by personal sorrows and bereavements that we have no continuing city here, yet the knowledge need not make us gloomy, or restless, or dissatisfied.

In this lovely world, so full of beauty and variety, we are bidden to rejoice; it is for our enjoyment and our use, there is no stint or condition attached to our citizenship of God's earth. Nature is mother to all, and has a message for the meanest and most tried of her children; and it is a message of divinest love. Through Nature, His handmaid, God speaks to us, giving us in the dawn of each new day, in the return of each season, in the shining of the sun and the blessing of the rain, grand and practical lessons in faith, fulfilment of promises which should mean a great deal to us, and teach us more and more to trust Him in all and through all. While we are in the world we have a duty to it, and those who neglect or think lightly of the practical and commonplace requirements of daily life are in the wrong. What is needed is a deepened sense of responsibility concerning the charge God has given us to keep for Him, in the house, the workshop, or the busy mart of life.

It is with the home we have presently to deal; and it is in the home, I think, we need certainly, in as great a degree as elsewhere, all the aid and stimulus religion can give. It teaches us to make the very best of all our circumstances, adverse or pleasant; and aids us to the performance of all duties, however monotonous or irksome in themselves. It is not ours to inquire whether these duties are just what we would desire or choose for ourselves, had choice remained with us. Religion does not consist in the performance of religious ordinances, in conscientious reading of the Word or the utterance of its formal prayers; these are its attributes, its natural outcome, not by any means the thing itself. Religion is, I take it, to be a principle, a powerful guiding motive to direct us in the ordinary affairs of life, and its mainspring is love. Love for whom? For the Lord Jesus. And if we love Him, and truly desire to serve Him, it will be no difficulty for us, but a natural and exquisite result, that we love one another.

Even the enemies of Christ, who deny His divinity, admit the beauty and perfectness of His character, and the unselfishness and holiness of His earthly life. Since these three-and-thirty years He walked with men many new Christs have risen, many new creeds and dogmas been offered for the world's acceptance; but all have passed away, disappeared into nothingness, and Christ remains, the mainstay and salvation of human souls. His teaching is still the very best we can obtain for our guidance here. Take the Sermon on the Mount, for instance. How perfect it is, how comprehensive, how full of little things, and yet how wide-reaching in its limit! There is nothing forgotten; nearly nineteen hundred years old, and yet it is adapted for every need of the human soul. If we could get the spirit of that blessed teaching more firmly planted in our hearts, we could make the world a happier place for ourselves and others. We are all fond of laying plans for the future; and there are few of us who do not at least once a year review the past, and make new resolves for the future. Some of us are constantly taking retrospects, and sometimes feel hopeless. We seem to be making so little progress in that higher life which we desire, and strive after in some degree. In a twofold sense this looking back may be made profitable to us. It must always, unless we are very hard of heart, make us grateful for past mercies; and when we consider how wonderfully and tenderly we have been led through difficulties and trials, or dangers, or guided through the more perilous waters of prosperity and success, it will give us greater heart to go forward to whatever may lie before us. When we look back on lost opportunities, it must make us more watchful of those present with us, and help us to give to each new day as it comes something upon which we shall afterwards look back without regret. The older I grow the more strongly do I feel that religion is a matter of daily living--of practice, not precept; and that unless the Spirit of Christ animate us in all our relations one to the other we name His name in vain. And what a lovely spirit it was, unsullied by any trace of selfishness, gentle, forbearing, long-suffering, just to the last degree!

It is this spirit alone that can sanctify and bless the home, and raise all common life out of a sordid groove; that can make homely things beautiful, and hard things, of which so many meet us on life's road, easier to bear. Oh that we had a larger baptism of it; that we who so long and strive for it could have it always with us! Human nature is so perverse, and self so strong. Yet, even in its weakest efforts, this earnest desire to live the religion Christ has taught us will not go unblessed, but will make its little lesson felt wherever it is found. Because it makes us more self-denying, more charitable, more forbearing in every relation of life, it will make others inquire concerning the hope that is in us.

"In hidden and unnoticed ways;
In household work, on common days,"

we may do the Master's work, and make our homes altars to His glory.

We want less talk and more action, less precept and more example, which though reticent of speech is yet eloquent in testimony for good or for evil. So, whatever be our lot or circumstances, whatever our joys and sorrows, our losses or crosses, we may with confidence look ahead, and our great compensation will not be lacking--"She hath done what she could"; and again, "Well done, good and faithful servant: enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."

Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.

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