Part 48

Since Mr. and Mrs. Wolmar have fixed their residence here, they have converted to use every thing which served only for ornament: it is no longer a house for shew, but for convenience. They have shut up a long sweep of rooms, to alter the inconvenient situation of the doors; they have cut off some over-sized rooms, that the apartments might be better distributed. Instead of rich and antique furniture, they have substituted what is neat and convenient. Every thing here is pleasant and agreeable; every thing breathes an air of plenty and propriety, without any appearance of pomp and luxury. There is not a single room, in which you do not immediately recollect that you are in the country, but in which, nevertheless, you will find all the conveniences you meet with in town. The same alterations are observable without doors. The yard has been enlarged at the expense of the coach-houses. Instead of an old tattered billiard-table, they have made a fine press, and the spot which used to be filled with screaming peacocks, which they have parted with, is converted into a dairy. The kitchen-garden was too small for the kitchen; they have made another out of a flower garden, but so convenient and so well laid out, that the spot, thus transformed, looks more agreeable to the eye than before. Instead of the mournful yews which covered the wall, they have planted good fruit-trees. In the room of the useless Indian _black-berry_, fine young mulberry-trees now begin to shade the yard, and they have planted two rows of walnut-trees quite to the road, in the place of some old linden trees which bordered the avenue. They have throughout substituted the useful in the room of the agreeable, and yet the agreeable has gained by the alteration. For my own part, at least, I think that the noise of the yard, the crowing of the cocks, the lowing of the cattle, the harness of the carts, the rural repasts, the return of the husband-men, and all the train of rustic economy, give the house a more rural, more lively, animated and gay appearance, than it had in its former state of mournful dignity.

Their estate is not out upon lease, but they are their own farmers, and the cultivation of it employs a great deal of their time, and makes a great part both of their pleasure and profit. The manor of Etange is nothing but meadow, pasture and wood: but the produce of Clarens consists of vineyards, which are considerable objects, and in which, the difference of culture produces more sensible effects than in corn; which is a farther reason why, in point of economy, they should prefer the latter as a place of residence. Nevertheless, they generally go to Etange every year at harvest time, and Mr. Wolmar visits it frequently. It is a maxim with them, to cultivate their lands to the utmost they will produce, not for the sake of extraordinary profit, but as a means of employing more hands. Mr. Wolmar maintains that the produce of the earth is in proportion to the number of hands employed; the better it is tilled, the more it yields; and the surplus of its produce furnishes the means of cultivating it still farther; the more it is stocked with men and cattle, the greater abundance it yields for their support. No one can tell, says he, where this continual and reciprocal increase of produce and of labour may end. On the contrary, land neglected loses its fertility; the less men a country produces, the less provisions it furnishes. The scarcity of inhabitants is the reason why it is insufficient to maintain the few it has, and in every country which tends to depopulation, the people will sooner or later die of famine.

Therefore having a great deal of land, which they cultivate with the utmost industry, they require, besides the servants in the yard, a great number of day labourers, which procures them the pleasure of maintaining a great number of people without any inconvenience to themselves. In the choice of their labourers, they always prefer neighbours and those of the same place, to strangers and foreigners. Though by this means they may sometimes be losers in not choosing the most robust, yet this loss is soon made up by the affection which this preference inspires in those whom they chuse, by the advantage likewise of having them always about them, and of being able to depend on them at all times, though they keep them in pay but part of the year.

They always make two prices with these labourers. One is a strict payment of right, the current price of the country, which they engage to pay them when they hire them. The other, which is more liberal, is a payment of generosity; it is bestowed only as they are found to deserve it, and it seldom happens that they do not earn the surplus: for Mr. Wolmar is just and strict, and never suffers institutions of grace and favour to degenerate into custom and abuse. Over these labourers there are overseers, who watch and encourage them. These overseers work along with the rest; and are interested in their labour, by a little augmentation which is made to their wages, for every advantage that is reaped from their industry. Besides, Mr. Wolmar visits them almost every day himself, sometimes often in a day, and his wife loves to take these walks with him. In times of extraordinary business, Eloisa every week bestows some little gratifications to such of the labourers, or other servants, as, in the judgment of their master, shall have been most industrious for eight days past. All these means of promoting emulation, though seemingly expensive, when used with justice and discretion, insensibly make people laborious and diligent, and in the end bring in more than is disbursed; but as they turn to no profit, but by time and perseverance, few people know any thing of them, or are willing to make use of them.

But the most effectual method of all, which is peculiar to Mrs. Wolmar, and which they who are bent on economy seldom think of, is that of gaining the hearts of those good people, by making them the objects of her affection. She does not think it sufficient to reward their industry, by giving them money, but she thinks herself bound to do farther services to those who have contributed to hers. Labourers, domestics, all who serve her, if it be but for a day, become her children; she takes part in their pleasures, their cares, and their fortune; she inquires into their affairs, and makes their interests her own; she engages in a thousand concerns for them, she gives them her advice, she composes their differences, and does not shew the affability of her disposition in smooth and fruitless speeches, but in real services, and continual acts of benevolence. They, on their parts, leave everything to serve her, on the least motion. They fly when she speaks to them; her look alone animates their zeal; in her presence they are contented; in her absence they talk of her, and are eager to be employed. Her charms, and her manner of conversing do a great deal, but her gentleness and her virtues do more. Ah! my Lord, what a powerful and adorable empire is that of benevolent beauty!

With respect to their personal attendants, they have within doors eight servants, three women and five men, without reckoning the baron’s valet de chambre, or the servants in the out-houses. It seldom happens that people, who have but few domestics, are ill served; but, from the uncommon zeal of these servants, one would conclude that each thought himself charged with the business of the other seven, and from the harmony among them, one would imagine that the whole business was done by one man. You never see them in the out-houses idle and unemployed, or playing in the court-yard, but always about some useful employment; they help in the yard, in the cellar, and in the kitchen; The gardener has nobody under him but them, and what is most agreeable, you see them do all this chearfully and with pleasure.

They take them young, in order to form them to their minds. They do not follow the maxim here, which prevails at Paris and London, of choosing domestics ready formed, that is to say, compleat rascals, runners of quality, who in every family they go through, catch the failings both of master and man, and make a trade of serving every body, without being attached to any one. There can be neither honesty, fidelity, or zeal among such fellows, and this collection of rabble serves to ruin the masters and corrupt the children in all wealthy families. Here, the choice of domestics is considered as an article of importance. They do not regard them merely as mercenaries, from whom they only require a stipulated service, but as members of a family, which, should they be ill chosen, might be ruined by that means. The first thing they require of them is to be honest, the next is to love their master, and the third to serve him to his liking; but where a master is reasonable, and servant intelligent, the third is the consequence of the two first. Therefore they do not take them from town, but from the country. This is the first place they live in, and it will assuredly be the last if they are good for any thing. They take them out of some numerous family overstocked with children, whose parents come to offer them of their own accord. They chuse them young, well made, healthy, and of a pleasant countenance. Mr. Wolmar interrogates and examines them, and then presents them to his wife. If they prove agreeable to both, they are received at first upon trial, afterwards they are admitted among the number of servants, or more properly the children of the family, and they employ some days in teaching their duty with a great deal of care and patience. The service is so simple, so equal and uniform, the master and mistress are so little subject to whims and caprice, and the servants so soon conceive an affection for them, that their business is soon learned. Their condition is agreeable; they find conveniences which they had not at home; but they are not suffered to be enervated by idleness, the parent of all vice. They do not allow them to become gentlemen, and to grow proud in their service. They continue to work as they did with their own family; in fact, they do but change their father and mother, and get more wealthy parents. They do not therefore hold their old rustic employments in contempt. Whenever they leave this place, there is not one of them who had not rather turn peasant, than take any other employment. In short, I never saw a family, where every one acquits himself so well in his service, and thinks so little of the trouble of servitude.

Thus by training up their servants themselves, in this discreet manner, they guard against the objection which is so very trifling, and so frequently made, viz. “I shall only bring them up for the service of others.” Train them properly, one might answer, and they will never serve any one else. If in bringing them up, you solely regard your own benefit, they have a right to consult their own interest in quitting you; but if you seem to consider their advantage, they will remain constantly attached to you. It is the intention alone which constitutes the obligation, and he who is indirectly benefited by an act of kindness, wherein I meant to serve my self only, owes me no obligation whatever.

As a double preventive against this inconvenience, Mr. and Mrs. Wolmar take another method, which appears to me extremely prudent. At the first establishment of their houshold, they calculated what number of servants their fortune would allow them to keep, and they found it to amount to fifteen or sixteen; in order to be better served they made a reduction of half that number; so that with less retinue, their service is more exactly attended. To be more effectually served still, they have made it the interest of their servants to continue with them a long time. When a domestic first enters into their service, he receives the common wages; but those wages are augmented every year by a twentieth part: so that at the end of twenty years, they will be more than doubled, and the charge of keeping these servants will be nearly the same, in proportion to the master’s circumstances. But there is no need of being a deep algebraist to discover that the expense of this augmentation is more in appearance than reality, that there will be but few to whom double wages will be paid, and that if they were paid to all the servants, yet the benefit of having been well served for twenty years past, would more than compensate the extraordinary expense. You perceive, my Lord, that this is a certain expedient of making servants grow continually more and more careful, and of attaching them to you, by attaching yourself to them. There is not only prudence, but justice in such a provision. Is it reasonable that a new-comer, who has no affection for you, and who is perhaps an unworthy object, should receive the same salary, at his first entrance into the family, as an old servant, whose zeal and fidelity have been tried in a long course of services, and who besides, being grown in years, draws near the time when he will be incapable of providing for himself? The latter reason, however, must not be brought into the account, and you may easily imagine that such a benevolent master and mistress do not fail to discharge that duty, which many, who are devoid of charity, fulfill out of ostentation; and you may suppose that they do not abandon those whose infirmities or old age render them incapable of service.

I can give you a very striking instance of their attention to this duty. The Baron D’Etange being desirous to recompense the long services of his valet de chambre, by procuring him an honourable retreat, had the interest to obtain for him the L.S.E.E. an easy and lucrative post. Eloisa has just now received a most affecting letter from this old servant, in which he intreats her to get him excused from accepting this employment. “I am in years, says he, I have lost all my family; I have no relations but my master and his family; all my hope is to end my days quietly in the house where I have passed the greatest part, of them. Often, dear madam, as I have held you in my arms when but an infant, I prayed to heaven that I might one day hold your little ones in the same manner. My prayers have been heard; do not deny me the happiness of seeing them grow and prosper like you. I who have been accustomed to a quiet family, where shall I find such another place of rest in my old age? Be so kind to write to the Baron in my behalf. If he is dissatisfied with me, let him turn me off, and give me no employment; but if I have served him faithfully for these forty years past, let him allow me to end my days in his service and yours; he cannot reward me better.” It is needless to enquire whether Eloisa wrote to the Baron or not. I perceive that she would be as unwilling to part with this good man, as he would be to leave her. Am I wrong, my Lord, when I compare a master and mistress, thus beloved, to good parents, and their servants to obedient children? You find that they consider themselves in this light.

There is not a single instance in this family of a servant’s giving warning. It is even very seldom that they are threatened with a dismission. A menace of this kind alarms them in proportion as their service is pleasant and agreeable. The best subjects are always the soonest alarmed, and there is never any occasion to come to extremities but with such as are not worth regretting. They have likewise a rule in this respect. When Mr. Wolmar says, I discharge you, they may then implore Mrs. Wolmar to intercede for them, and through her intercession may be restored; but if she gives them warning, it is irrevocable, and they have no favour to expect. This agreement between them is very well calculated both to moderate the extreme confidence which her gentleness might beget in them, and the violent apprehensions they might conceive from his inflexibility. Such a warning nevertheless is excessively dreaded from a just and dispassionate master; for besides that they are not certain of obtaining favour, and that the same person is never pardoned twice, they forfeit the right which they acquire from their long service, by having had warning given, and when they are restored, they begin a new service as it were. This prevents the old servants from growing insolent, and makes them more circumspect, in proportion as they have more to lose.

The three maid-servants are, the chamber-maid, the governess, and the cook. The latter is a country girl, very proper and well qualified for the place, whom Mrs. Wolmar has instructed in cookery: for in this country, which is as yet in some measure in a state of simplicity, young ladies learn to do that business themselves, that when they keep house, they may be able to direct their servants; and consequently are less liable to be imposed upon by them. B---- is no longer the chambermaid; they have sent her back to Etange, where she was born; they have again entrusted her with the care of the castle, and the superintendence of the receipts, which makes her in some degree comptroller of the houshold. Mr. Wolmar intreated his wife to make this regulation; but it was a long time before she could resolve to part with an old servant of her mother’s, though she had more than one reason to be displeased with her. But after their last conference, she gave her consent, and B---- is gone. This girl is handy and honest, but babbling and indiscreet. I suspect that she has, more than once, betrayed the secrets of her mistress, that Mr. Wolmar is sensible of it, and to prevent her being guilty of the same indiscretion with respect to a stranger, he has prudently taken this method to avail himself of her good qualities, without running any hazard from her imperfections. She who is taken in her room, is that same Fanny, of whom you have often heard me speak with so much pleasure. Notwithstanding Eloisa’s prediction, her favours, her father’s kindness and yours, this deserving and discreet woman has not been happy in her connection. Claud Anet, who endured adversity so bravely, could not support a more prosperous state. When he found himself at ease, he neglected his business, and his affairs being quite embarrassed, he fled the country, leaving his wife with an infant whom she has since lost. Eloisa having taken her home, instructed her in the business of a chamber-maid, and I was never more agreeably surprized than to find her settled in her employment, the first day of my arrival. Mr. Wolmar pays great regard to her, and they have both entrusted her with the charge of superintending their children, and of having an eye likewise over their governess, who is a simple credulous country lass, but attentive, patient, and tractable; so that in short, they have omitted no precaution to prevent the vices of the town from creeping into a family, where the master and mistress are strangers to them, and will not suffer them under their roof.

Though there is but one table among all the servants, yet there is but little communication between the men and women, and this they consider as a point of great importance. Mr. Wolmar is not of the same opinion with those masters, who are indifferent to every thing which does not immediately concern their interests, and who only desire to be well served, without troubling themselves about what their servants do beside. He thinks, on the contrary, that they who regard nothing but their own service, cannot be well served. Too close a connection between the two sexes, frequently occasions mischief. The disorders of most families arise from the rendezvous which are held in the chamber- maid’s apartment. If there is one whom the steward happens to be fond of, he does not fail to seduce her at the expense of his master. A good understanding among the men, or among the women, is not alone sufficiently firm to produce any material consequences. But it is always between the men and the women that those secret monopolies are established, which in the end ruin the most wealthy families. They pay a particular attention therefore to the discretion and modesty of the women, not only from principles of honesty and morality, but from well-judged motives of interest. For whatever some may pretend, no one who does not love his duty, can discharge it as he ought; and none ever loved their duty, who were devoid of honour.

They do not, to prevent any dangerous intimacy between the two sexes, restrain them by positive rules which they might be tempted to violate in secret, but without any seeming intention, they establish good customs, which are more powerful than authority itself. They do not forbid any intercourse between them, but ’tis contrived in such a manner that they have no occasion or inclination to see each other. This is effectuated by making their business, their habits, their tastes, and their pleasures entirely different. To maintain the admirable order which they have established, they are sensible that in a well-regulated family there should be as little correspondence as possible between the two sexes. They, who would accuse their master of caprice, was he to enforce such a rule by way of injunction, submit, without regret, to a manner of life which is not positively prescribed to them, but which they themselves conceive to be the best and most natural. Eloisa insists that it must be so in fact; she maintains that neither love nor conjugal union is the result of a continual commerce between the sexes. In her opinion, husband and wife were designed to live together, but not to live in the same manner. They ought to act in concert, but not to do the same things. The kind of life, says she, which would delight the one, would be insupportable to the other; the inclinations which nature has given them, are as different as the occupations she has assigned them: they differ in their amusements as much as in their duties. In a word, each contributes to the common good by different ways, and the proper distribution of their several cares and employments, is the strongest tie that cements their union.