We've explored the trials and expense of servants, as well as advice for a mistress determined to keep her servants in line. Fans of the series Downton Abbey will also have their notion of what happened in the servants' hall. But none of those view the master-servant relationship with quite the caustic wit of essayist, novelist, poet, and cleric Jonathan Swift (1667-1745). His satiric "handbook" Directions to Servants, published in 1731, was one of his last completed pieces, and reflects what must have been a life-long trial with servants. Below is an excerpt:
"The general place of rendezvous for all servants, both in winter and summer, is the kitchen; there the grand affairs of the family ought to be consulted, whether they concern the stable, the dairy, the pantry, the laundry, the cellar, the nursery, the dining room or my lady's chamber; there, as in your own proper element, you can laugh and squall and romp in full security. "When any servant comes home drunk, and cannot appear, you must all join in telling your master that he is gone to bed very sick, upon which your lady will be so good-natured as to order some comfortable thing of the poor man or maid. "When your master and lady go abroad together to dinner, or on a visit for the evening, you need leave only one servant in the house, unless you have a blackguard boy to answer at the door and attend the children, if there be any. Who is to stay at home is to be determined by short and long cuts, and the stayer at home may be comforted by a visit from a sweetheart, without danger of being caught together. These opportunities must never be missed, because they come but sometimes, and all is safe enough while there is a servant int he house. "When your master or lady comes home, and wants a servant who happens to be abroad, your answer must be that he is but just that minute stepped out, being sent for by a cousin who is dying. "If your master calls you by name, and you happen to answer at the fourth call, you need not hurry yourself; and if you be chided for staying, you may lawfully say you came no sooner, because you did not know what you were called for. "When you are chided for a fault, as you go out of the room and downstairs, mutter loud enough to be plainly heard; this will make him believe you are innocent...."
The nightmarish print, above, is by Thomas Rowlandson (c. 1807) and illustrates another passage from the Directions, offering this choice advice for footmen: "If you are bringing up a Joint of Meat in a dish, and it falls out of your hand, before you get into the Dining Room, with the meat on the ground, and the sauce spilled, take up the meat gently, wipe it with the lap of your coat, then put it again into the dish, and serve it up; and when your Lady misses the sauce, tell her, it is to be sent up in a plate by itself. When you carry up a dish of meat, dip your fingers in the sauce, or lick it with your tongue, to try whether it be good, and fit for your Master's Table."
There’s a big difference in how we use history. But we’re equally nuts about it. To us, the everyday details of life in the past are things to talk about, ponder, make fun of -- much in the way normal people talk about their favorite reality show.
We talk about who’s wearing what and who’s sleeping with whom. We try to sort out rumor or myth from fact. We thought there must be at least three other people out there who think history’s fascinating and fun, too. This blog is for them.