THE WELL-APPOINTED HOUSE
Every house has an outward appearance to be made as presentable as
possible, an interior continually to be set in order, and incessantly to
be cleaned. And for those that dwell within it there are meals to be
prepared and served; linen to be laundered and mended; personal garments
to be brushed and pressed; and perhaps children to be cared for. There is
also a door-bell to be answered in which manners as well as appearance
come into play.
Beyond these fundamental necessities, luxuries can be added indefinitely,
such as splendor of architecture, of gardening, and of furnishing, with
every refinement of service that executive ability can produce. With all
this genuine splendor possible only to the greatest establishments, a
little house can no more compete than a diamond weighing but half a carat
can compete with a stone weighing fifty times as much. And this is a good
simile, because the perfect little house may be represented by a corner
cut from precisely the same stone and differing therefore merely in size
(and value naturally), whereas the house in bad taste and improperly run
may be represented by a diamond that is off color and full of flaws; or in
some instances, merely a piece of glass that to none but those as ignorant
as its owner, for a moment suggests a gem of value.
A gem of a house may be no size at all, but its lines are honest, and its
painting and window curtains in good taste. As for its upkeep, its path or
sidewalk is beautifully neat, steps scrubbed, brasses polished, and its
bell answered promptly by a trim maid with a low voice and quiet courteous
manner; all of which contributes to the impression of "quality" evens
though it in nothing suggests the luxury of a palace whose opened bronze
door reveals a row of powdered footmen.
But the "mansion" of bastard architecture and crude paint, with its brass
indifferently clean, with coarse lace behind the plate glass of its
golden-oak door, and the bell answered at eleven in the morning by a
butler in an ill fitting dress suit and wearing a mustache, might as well
be placarded: "Here lives a vulgarian who has never had an opportunity to
acquire cultivation." As a matter of fact, the knowledge of how to make a
house distinguished both in appearance and in service, is a much higher
test than presenting a distinguished appearance in oneself and acquiring
presentable manners. There are any number of people who dress well, and in
every way appear well, but a lack of breeding is apparent as soon as you
go into their houses. Their servants have not good manners, they are not
properly turned out, the service is not well done, and the decorations and
furnishings show lack of taste and inviting arrangement.
The personality of a house is indefinable, but there never lived a lady of
great cultivation and charm whose home, whether a palace, a farm-cottage
or a tiny apartment, did not reflect the charm of its owner. Every visitor
feels impelled to linger, and is loath to go. Houses without personality
are a series of rooms with furniture in them. Sometimes their lack of
charm is baffling; every article is "correct" and beautiful, but one has
the feeling that the decorator made chalk-marks indicating the exact spot
on which each piece of furniture is to stand. Other houses are filled with
things of little intrinsic value, often with much that is shabby, or they
are perhaps empty to the point of bareness, and yet they have that
"inviting" atmosphere, and air of unmistakable quality which is an
unfailing indication of high-bred people.
="BECOMING" FURNITURE=
Suitability is the test of good taste always. The manner to the moment,
the dress to the occasion, the article to the place, the furniture to the
background. And yet to combine many periods in one and commit no
anachronism, to put something French, something Spanish, something
Italian, and something English into an American house and have the
result the perfection of American taste--is a feat of legerdemain that has
been accomplished time and again.
[Illustration: "THE PERSONALITY OF A HOUSE IS INDEFINABLE, BUT THERE NEVER
LIVED A LADY OF GREAT CULTIVATION AND CHARM WHOSE HOME, WHETHER A PALACE,
A FARM-COTTAGE OR A TINY APARTMENT, DID NOT REFLECT THE CHARM OF ITS
OWNER." [Page 132.]]
A woman of great taste follows fashion in house furnishing, just as she
follows fashion in dress, in general principles only. She wears what is
becoming to her own type, and she puts in her house only such articles as
are becoming to it.
That a quaint old-fashioned house should be filled with quaint
old-fashioned pieces of furniture, in size proportionate to the size of
the rooms, and that rush-bottomed chairs and rag-carpets have no place in
a marble hall, need not be pointed out. But to an amazing number of
persons, proportion seems to mean nothing at all. They will put a huge
piece of furniture in a tiny room so that the effect is one of painful
indigestion; or they will crowd things all into one corner--so that it
seems about to capsize; or they will spoil a really good room by the
addition of senseless and inappropriately cluttering objects, in the
belief that because they are valuable they must be beautiful, regardless
of suitability. Sometimes a room is marred by "treasures" clung to for
reasons of sentiment.
=THE BLINDNESS OF SENTIMENT=
It is almost impossible for any of us to judge accurately of things which
we have throughout a lifetime been accustomed to. A chair that was
grandmother's, a painting father bought, the silver that has always been
on the dining table--are all so part of ourselves that we are
sentiment-blind to their defects.
For instance, the portrait of a Colonial officer, among others, has always
hung in Mrs. Oldname's dining-room. One day an art critic, whose knowledge
was better than his manners, blurted out, "Will you please tell me why you
have that dreadful thing in this otherwise perfect room?" Mrs. Oldname,
somewhat taken back, answered rather wonderingly: "Is it
dreadful?--Really? I have a feeling of affection for him and his dog!"
The critic was merciless. "If you call a cotton-flannel effigy, a dog! And
as for the figure, it is equally false and lifeless! It is amazing how
any one with your taste can bear looking at it!" In spite of his rudeness,
Mrs. Oldname saw that what he said was quite true, but not until the fact
had been pointed out to her. Gradually she grew to dislike the poor
officer so much that he was finally relegated to the attic. In the same
way most of us have belongings that have "always been there" or perhaps
"treasures" that we love for some association, which are probably as bad
as can be, to which habit has blinded us, though we would not have to be
told of their hideousness were they seen by us in the house of another.
It is not to be expected that all people can throw away every esthetically
unpleasing possession, with which nearly every house twenty-five years ago
was filled, but those whose pocket-book and sentiment will permit, would
add greatly to the beauty of their houses by sweeping the bad into the ash
can! Far better have stone-ware plates that are good in design than
expensive porcelain that is horrible in decoration.
The only way to determine what is good and what is horrible is to study
what is good in books, in museums, or in art classes in the universities,
or even by studying the magazines devoted to decorative art.
Be very careful though. Do not mistake modern eccentricities for "art."
There are frightful things in vogue to-day--flamboyant colors, grotesque,
triangular and oblique designs that can not possibly be other than bad,
because aside from striking novelty, there is nothing good about them. By
no standard can a room be in good taste that looks like a perfume
manufacturer's phantasy or a design reflected in one of the distorting
mirrors that are mirth-provokers at county fairs.
=TO DETERMINE AN OBJECT'S WORTH=
In buying an article for a house one might formulate for oneself a few
test questions:
First, is it useful? Anything that is really useful has a reason for
existence.
Second, has it _really_ beauty of form and line and color?
(Texture is not so important.) Or is it merely striking, or amusing?
Third, is it entirely suitable for the position it occupies?
Fourth, if it were eliminated would it be missed? Would something else
look as well or better, in its place? Or would its place look as well
empty? A truthful answer to these questions would at least help in
determining its value, since an article that failed in any of them could
not be "perfect."
Fashion affects taste--it is bound to. We abominate Louis the Fourteenth
and Empire styles at the moment, because curves and super-ornamentation
are out of fashion; whether they are really bad or not, time alone can
tell. At present we are admiring plain silver and are perhaps exacting
that it be too plain? The only safe measure of what is good, is to choose
that which has best endured. The "King" and the "Fiddle" pattern for flat
silver, have both been in use in houses of highest fashion ever since they
were designed, so that they, among others, must have merit to have so long
endured.
In the same way examples of old potteries and china and glass, at present
being reproduced, are very likely good, because after having been for a
century or more in disuse, they are again being chosen. Perhaps one might
say that the "second choice" is "proof of excellence."
=SERVICE=
The subject of furnishings is however the least part of this
chapter--appointments meaning decoration being of less importance (since
this is not a book on architecture or decoration!), than appointments
meaning _service_.
But before going into the various details of service, it might be a good
moment to speak of the unreasoning indignity cast upon the honorable
vocation of a servant.
There is an inexplicable tendency, in this country only, for working
people in general to look upon domestic service as an unworthy, if not
altogether degrading vocation. The cause may perhaps be found in the fact
that this same scorning public having for the most part little opportunity
to know high-class servants, who are to be found only in high-class
families, take it for granted that ignorant "servant girls" and "hired
men" are representative of their kind. Therefore they put upper class
servants in the same category--regardless of whether they are uncouth and
illiterate, or persons of refined appearance and manner who often have
considerable cultivation, acquired not so much at school as through the
constant contact with ultra refinement of surroundings, and not
infrequently through the opportunity for world-wide travel.
And yet so insistently has this obloquy of the word "servant" spread that
every one sensitive to the feelings of others avoids using it exactly as
one avoids using the word "cripple" when speaking to one who is slightly
lame. Yet are not the best of us "servants" in the Church? And the highest
of us "servants" of the people and the State?
To be a slattern in a vulgar household is scarcely an elevated employment,
but neither is working in a sweat-shop, or belonging to a calling that is
really degraded; which is otherwise about all that equal lack of ability
would procure. On the other hand, consider the vocation of a lady's maid
or "_courier_" valet and compare the advantages these enjoy (to say
nothing of their never having to worry about overhead expenses), with the
opportunities of those who have never been out of the "factory" or the
"store" or further away than the adjoining town in their lives. As for a
nurse, is there any vocation more honorable? No character in E.F. Benson's
"Our Family Affairs" is more beautiful or more tenderly drawn than that of
"Beth," who was not only nurse to the children of the Archbishop of
Canterbury but one of the most dearly beloved of the family's members--her
place was absolutely next to their mother's in the very heart of the
household always.
Two years ago, Anna, who had for a lifetime been Mrs. Gilding's personal
maid, died. Every engagement of that seemingly frivolous family was
cancelled, even the invitations for their ball. Not one of the family but
mourned for what she truly was, their humble but nearest friend. Would it
have been so much better, so much more dignified, for these two women, who
lived long useful years in closest association with every cultivating
influence of life, to have lived on in their native villages and worked in
a factory, or to have had a little store of their own? Does this false
idea of dignity--since it _is_ false--go so far as that?
=HOW MANY SERVANTS FOR CORRECT SERVICE?=
It stands to reason that one may expect more perfect service from a
"specialist" than from one whose functions are multiple. But small houses
that have a double equipment--meaning an alternate who can go in the
kitchen, and two for the dining-room--can be every bit as well run, so far
as essentials go, as the palaces of the Gildings and the Worldlys, though
of course not with the same impressiveness. But good service is badly
handicapped if, when the waitress goes out, there is no one to open the
door, or when the cook goes out, there is no one to prepare a meal.
For what one might call "complete" service, (meaning service that is
adequate for constant entertaining and can stand comparison with the most
luxurious establishments,) three are the minimum--a cook, a butler (or
waitress) and a housemaid. The reason why luncheons and dinners can not be
"perfectly" given with a waitress alone is because two persons are
necessary for the exactions of modern standards of service. Yet one alone
can, on occasion, manage very well, if attention is paid to ordering an
especial menu for single-handed service--described on page 233. Aside from
the convenience of a second person in the dining-room, a house can not be
run very comfortably and smoothly without alternating shifts in staying in
and going out. The waitress being on "duty" to answer bell and telephone
and serve tea one afternoon, and the housemaid taking her place the next.
They also alternate in going out every other evening after dinner.
It should be realized that above the number necessary for essentials, each
additional chambermaid, parlor-maid, footman, scullery maid or useful man,
is made necessary by the size of the house and by the amount of
entertaining usual, rather than (as is often supposed) for the mere reason
of show. The seemingly superfluous number of footmen at Golden Hall and
Great Estates are, aside from standing on parade at formal parties, needed
actually to do the immense amount of work that houses of such size entail;
whereas a small apartment can be fairly well looked after by one alone.
All house employees and details of their several duties, manners, and
appearances, are enumerated below. Beginning with the greatest and most
complicated establishments possible, the employee of highest rank is:
=THE SECRETARY WHO IS ALSO COMPANION=
The position of companion, which is always one of social equality with her
employer, exists only when the lady of the house is an invalid, or very
elderly, or a widow, or a young girl. (In the latter case the "companion"
is a "chaperon.")
Her secretarial duties consist in writing impersonal letters and notes and
probably paying bills; she may have occasional invitations to send out,
and to answer, though a lady needing a companion is not apt to be greatly
interested in social activities. The companion never performs the services
of a maid--but she occasionally does the housekeeping. Otherwise her
duties can not very well be set down, because they vary with individual
requirements. One lady likes continually to travel and merely wants a
companion, (usually a poor relative or friend) to go with her. Another who
is a semi-invalid never leaves her room, and the duties of her companion
are almost those of a trained nurse. The average requirement is in being
personally agreeable, tactful, intelligent, and--companionable!
A companion dresses as any other lady does; according to the occasion, her
personal taste, her age, and her means.
=VARIED SOCIAL STANDING OF THE PRIVATE SECRETARY=
The private secretary to a diplomat, since, he must first pass the
diplomatic examination in order to qualify, is invariably a young man of
education, if not of birth, and his social position is always that of a
member of his "chief's" family.
The position of an ordinary private secretary is sometimes that of an
upper servant, or, on the other hand, his own social position may be much
higher than that of his employer. A secretary who either has position of
his own or is given position by his employer, is in every way treated as a
member of the family; he is present at all general entertainments; and
quite as often as not at lunches and dinners. The duties of a private
secretary are naturally to attend to all correspondence, take shorthand
notes of speeches or conversations, file papers and documents and in every
way serve as extra eyes and hands and supplementary brain for his
employer.
=THE SOCIAL SECRETARY=
The position of social secretary is an entirely clerical one, and never
confers any "social privileges" unless the secretary is also "companion."
Her duties are to write all invitations, acceptances, and regrets; keep a
record of every invitation received and every one sent out, and to enter
in an engagement book every engagement made for her employer, whether to
lunch, dinner, to be fitted, or go to the dentist. She also writes all
impersonal notes, takes longer letters in shorthand, and writes others
herself after being told their purport. She also audits all bills and
draws the checks for them, the checks are filled in and then presented to
her employer to be signed, after which they are put in their envelopes,
sealed and sent. When the receipted bills are returned, the secretary
files them according to her own method, where they can at any time be
found by her if needed for reference. In many cases it is she (though it
is most often the butler) who telephones invitations and other messages.
Occasionally a social secretary is also a social manager; devises
entertainments and arranges all details such as the decorations of the
house for a dance, or a programme of entertainment following a very large
dinner. The social secretary very rarely lives in the house of her
employer; more often than not she goes also to one or two other
houses--since there is seldom work enough in one to require her whole
time.
Miss Brisk, who is Mrs. Gilding's secretary, has little time for any one
else. She goes every day for from two to sometimes eight or nine hours in
town, and at Golden Hall lives in the house. Usually a secretary can
finish all there is to do in an average establishment in about an hour, or
at most two, a day, with the addition of five or six hours on two or three
other days each month for the paying of bills.
Supposing she takes three positions; she goes to Mrs. A. from 8.30 to 10
every day, and for three extra hours on the 10th and 11th of every month.
To Mrs. B. from 10.30 to 1 (her needs being greater) and for six extra
hours on the 12th, 13th and 14th of every month. And to Mrs. C. every day
at 3 o'clock for an indefinite time of several hours or only a few
minutes.
Her dress is that of any business woman. Conspicuous clothes are out of
keeping as they would be out of keeping in an office; which, however, is
no reason why she should not be well dressed. Well-cut tailor-made suits
are the most appropriate with a good-looking but simple hat; as good shoes
as she can possibly afford, and good gloves and immaculately clean shirt
waists, represent about the most dignified and practical clothes. But why
describe clothes! Every woman with good sense enough to qualify as a
secretary has undoubtedly sense enough to dress with dignity.
=THE HOUSEKEEPER=
In a very big house the housekeeper usually lives in the house. Smaller
establishments often have a "visiting housekeeper" who comes for as long
as she is needed each morning. The resident housekeeper has her own
bedroom and bath and sitting-room always. Her meals are brought to her by
an especial kitchen-maid, called in big houses the "hall girl," or
occasionally the butler details an under footman to that duty.
In an occasional house all the servants, the gardener as well as the cook
and butler and nurses, come under the housekeeper's authority; in other
words, she superintends the entire house exactly as a very conscientious
and skilled mistress would do herself, if she gave her whole time and
attention to it. She engages the servants, and if necessary, dismisses
them; she sees the cook, orders meals, goes to the market, or at least
supervises the cook's market orders, and likewise engages and apportions
the work of the men servants.
Ordinarily, however, she is in charge of no one but the housemaids,
parlor-maids, useful man and one of the scullery maids. The cook, butler,
nurses and lady's maid do not come under her supervision. But should
difficulties arise between herself and them it would be within her
province to ask for their dismissal which would probably be granted; since
she would not ask without grave cause that involved much more than her
personal dislike. A good housekeeper is always a woman of experience and
tact, and often a lady; friction is, therefore, extremely rare.
=THE ORGANIZATION OF A GREAT HOUSE=
The management of a house of greatest size, is divided usually into
several distinct departments, each under its separate head. The
housekeeper has charge of the appearance of the house and of its contents;
the manners and looks of the housemaids and parlor-maids, as well as their
work in cleaning walls, floors, furniture, pictures, ornaments, books, and
taking care of linen.
The butler has charge of the pantry and dining-room. He engages all
footmen, apportions their work and is responsible for their appearance,
manners and efficiency.
The cook is in charge of the kitchen, under-cook and kitchen-maids.
The nurse and the personal maid and cook are under the direction of the
lady of the house. The butler and the valet as well as the chauffeur and
gardener are engaged by the gentleman of the house.
=THE BUTLER=
The butler is not only the most important servant in every big
establishment, but it is by no means unheard of for him to be in supreme
command, not only as steward, but as housekeeper as well.
At the Worldly's for instance, Hastings who is actually the butler, orders
all the supplies, keeps the household accounts and engages not only the
men servants but the housemaids, parlor-maids and even the chef.
But normally in a great house, the butler has charge of his own department
only, and his own department is the dining-room and pantry, or possibly
the whole parlor floor. In all smaller establishments the butler is always
the valet--and in many great ones he is valet to his employer, even though
he details a footman to look after other gentlemen of the family or
visitors.
In a small house the butler works a great deal with his hands and not so
much with his head. In a great establishment, the butler works very much
with his head, and with his hands not at all.
At Golden Hall where guests come in dozens at a time (both in the house
and the guest annex), his stewardship--even though there is a
housekeeper--is not a job which a small man can fill. He has perhaps
thirty men under him at big dinners, ten who belong under him in the house
always; he has the keys to the wine cellar and the combination of the
silver safe. (The former being in this day by far the greater
responsibility!) He also chooses the china and glass and linen as well as
the silver to be used each day, oversees the setting of the table, and the
serving of all food. When there is a house party every breakfast tray that
leaves the pantry is first approved by him.
At all meals he stands behind the chair of the lady of the house--in other
words, at the head of the table. In occasional houses, the butler stands
at the opposite end as he is supposed to be better able to see any
directions given him. At Golden Hall the butler stands behind Mr. Gilding
but at Great Estates Hastings invariably stands behind Mrs. Worldly's
chair so that at the slightest turn of her head, he need only take a step
to be within reach of her voice. (The husband by the way is "head of the
house," but the wife is "head of the table.")
At tea time, he oversees the footmen who place the tea-table, put on the
tea cloth and carry in the tea tray, after which Hastings himself places
the individual tables. When there is "no dinner at home" he waits in the
hall and assists Mr. Worldly into his coat, and hands him his hat and
stick, which have previously been handed to the butler by one of the
footmen.
_The Butler in a Smaller House_
In a smaller house, the butler also takes charge of the wines and silver,
does very much the same as the butler in the bigger house, except that he
has less overseeing of others and more work to do himself. Where he is
alone, he does all the work--naturally. Where he has either one footman or
a parlor-maid, he passes the main courses at the table and his assistant
passes the secondary dishes.
He is also valet not only for the gentleman of the house but for any
gentleman guests as well.
_What the Butler Wears_
The butler never wears the livery of a footman and on no account knee
breeches or powder. In the early morning he wears an ordinary sack
suit--black or very dark blue--with a dark, inconspicuous tie. For
luncheon or earlier, if he is on duty at the door, he wears black
trousers, with gray stripes, a double-breasted, high-cut, black waistcoat,
and black swallowtail coat without satin on the revers, a white
stiff-bosomed shirt with standing collar, and a black four-in-hand tie.
In fashionable houses, the butler does not put on his dress suit until
six o'clock. The butler's evening dress differs from that of a gentleman
in a few details only: he has no braid on his trousers, and the satin on
his lapels (if any) is narrower, but the most distinctive difference is
that a butler wears a black waistcoat and a white lawn tie, and a
gentleman always wears a white waistcoat with a white tie, or a white
waistcoat and a black tie with a dinner coat, but never the reverse.
Unless he is an old-time colored servant in the South a butler who wears a
"dress suit" in the daytime is either a hired waiter who has come in to
serve a meal, or he has never been employed by persons of position; and it
is unnecessary to add that none but vulgarians would employ a butler (or
any other house servant) who wears a mustache! To have him open the door
collarless and in shirt-sleeves is scarcely worse!
A butler never wears gloves, nor a flower in his buttonhole. He sometimes
wears a very thin watch chain in the daytime but none at night. He never
wears a scarf-pin, or any jewelry that is for ornament alone. His
cuff-links should be as plain as possible, and his shirt studs white
enamel ones that look like linen.
=THE HOUSE FOOTMEN=
All house servants who assist in waiting on the table come under the
direction of the butler, and are known as footmen. One who never comes
into the dining-room is known as a useful man. The duties of the footmen
(and useful man) include cleaning the dining-room, pantry, lower hall,
entrance vestibule, sidewalk, attending to the furnace, carrying coal to
the kitchen, wood to all the open fireplaces in the house, cleaning the
windows, cleaning brasses, cleaning all boots, carrying everything that is
heavy, moving furniture for the parlor-maids to clean behind it, valeting
all gentlemen, setting and waiting on table, attending the front door,
telephoning and writing down messages, and--incessantly and ceaselessly,
cleaning and polishing silver.
In a small house, the butler polishes silver, but in a very big house one
of the footmen is silver specialist, and does nothing else. Nothing! If
there is to be a party of any sort he puts on his livery and joins the
others who line the hall and bring dishes to the table. But he does not
assist in setting the table or washing dishes or in cleaning anything
whatsoever--except silver.
The butler also usually answers the telephone--if not, it is answered by
the first footman. The first footman is deputy butler.
The footmen also take turns in answering the door. In houses of great
ceremony like those of the Worldlys' and the Gildings', there are always
two footmen at the door if anyone is to be admitted. One to open the door
and the other to conduct a guest into the drawing-room. But if formal
company is expected, the butler himself is in the front hall with one or
two footmen at the door.
_The Footmen's Livery_
People who have big houses usually choose a color for their livery and
never change it. Maroon and buff, for instance, are the colors of the
Gildings; all their motor cars are maroon with buff lines and
cream-colored or maroon linings. The chauffeurs and outside footmen wear
maroon liveries. The house footmen, for everyday, wear ordinary footmen's
liveries, maroon trousers and long-tailed coats with brass buttons and
maroon-and-buff striped waistcoats.
For gala occasions, Mrs. Gilding adds as many caterer's men as necessary,
but they all are dressed in her full-dress livery, consisting of a "court"
coat which comes together at the neck in front, and then cuts away to long
tails at the back. The coat is of maroon broadcloth with frogs and
epaulets of black braiding. There is a small standing collar of buff
cloth, and a falling cravat of pleated cream-colored lace worn in front.
The waistcoat is of buff satin, the breeches of black satin, cream-colored
stockings, pumps, and the hair is powdered. It is first pomaded and then
thickly powdered. Wigs are never worn.
Mrs. Worldly however compromises between the "court" footman and the
ordinary one, and puts her footmen in green cloth coats cut like the
everyday liveries, with silver buttons on which the crest is raised in
relief, but adds black velvet collars, and black satin waistcoats in place
of the everyday striped ones. Black satin knee breeches, black silk
stockings, and pumps with silver buckles, and their ordinary hair, cut
short.
The powdered footman's "court" livery is, as a matter of fact, very rarely
seen. Three or four houses in New York, and one or two otherwhere, would
very likely include them all. Knee breeches are more usual, but even those
are seen in none but very lavish houses.
To choose servants who are naturally well-groomed is more important than
putting them in smart liveries. Men must be close shaven and have their
hair well cut. Their linen must be immaculate, their shoes polished, their
clothes brushed and in press, and their finger nails clean and well cared
for. If a man's fingers are indelibly stained he would better wear white
cotton gloves.
=THE COOK=
The kitchen is always in charge of the cook. In a small house, or in an
apartment, she is alone and has all the cooking, cleaning of kitchen and
larder, to do, the basement or kitchen bell to answer, and the servants'
table to set and their dishes to wash as well as her kitchen utensils. In
a bigger house, the kitchen-maid lights the kitchen fire, and does all
cleaning of kitchen and pots and pans, answers the basement bell, sets the
servants' table and washes the servants' table dishes. In a still bigger
house, the second cook cooks for the servants always, and for the children
sometimes, and assists the cook by preparing certain plainer portions of
the meals, the cook preparing all dinner dishes, sauces and the more
elaborate items on the menu. Sometimes there are two or more kitchen-maids
who merely divide the greater amount of work between them.
In most houses of any size, the cook does all the marketing. She sees the
lady of the house every morning, and submits menus for the day. In smaller
houses, the lady does the ordering of both supplies and menus.
_How a Cook Submits the Menu_
In a house of largest size--at the Gildings for instance, the chef writes
in his "book" every evening, the menus for the next day, whether there is
to be company or not. (None, of course, if the family are to be out for
all meals.) This "book" is sent up to Mrs. Gilding with her breakfast
tray. It is a loose-leaf blank book of rather large size. The day's menu
sheet is on top, but the others are left in their proper sequence
underneath, so that by looking at her engagement book to see who dined
with her on such a date, and then looking at the menu for that same date,
she knows--if she cares to--exactly what the dinner was.
If she does not like the chef's choice, she draws a pencil through and
writes in something else. If she has any orders or criticisms to make, she
writes them on an envelope pad, folds the page, and seals it and puts the
"note" in the book. If the menu is to be changed, the chef re-writes it,
if not the page is left as it is, and the book put in a certain place in
the kitchen.
The butler always goes into the kitchen shortly after the book has come
down, and copies the day's menus on a pad of his own. From this he knows
what table utensils will be needed.
This system is not necessary in medium sized or small houses, but where
there is a great deal of entertaining it is much simpler for the butler to
be able to go and "see for himself" than to ask the cook and--forget. And
ask again, and the cook forget, and then--disturbance!--because the butler
did not send down the proper silver dishes or have the proper plates
ready, or had others heated unnecessarily.
=THE KITCHEN-MAID=
The kitchen-maids are under the direction of the cook, except one known
colloquially as the "hall girl" who is supervised by the housekeeper. She
is evidently a survival of the "between maid" of the English house. Her
sobriquet comes from the fact that she has charge of the servants' hall,
or dining-room, and is in fact the waitress for them. She also takes care
of the housekeeper's rooms, and carries all her meals up to her. If there
is no housekeeper, the hall girl is under the direction of the cook.
=THE PARLOR-MAID=
The parlor-maid keeps the drawing-room and library in order. The useful
man brings up the wood for the fireplaces, but the parlor-maid lays the
fire. In some houses the parlor-maid takes up the breakfast trays; in
other houses, the butler does this himself and then hands them to the
lady's maid, who takes them into the bedrooms. The windows and the brasses
are cleaned by the useful man and heavy furniture moved by him so she can
clean behind them.
The parlor-maid assists the butler in waiting at table, and washing
dishes, and takes turns with him in answering the door and the telephone.
In huge houses like the Worldlys' and the Gildings', the footmen assist
the butler in the dining-room and at the door--and there is always a
"pantry maid" who washes dishes and cleans the pantry.
=THE HOUSEMAID=
The housemaid does all the chamber work, cleans all silver on
dressing-tables, polishes fixtures in the bathroom--in other words takes
care of the bedroom floors.
In a bigger house, the head housemaid has charge of the linen and does the
bedrooms of the lady and gentleman of the house and a few of the spare
rooms. The second housemaid does the nurseries, extra spare rooms, and the
servants' floor. The bigger the establishment, the more housemaids, and
the work is further divided. The housemaid is by many people called the
chambermaid.
=UNIFORMS=
In all houses of importance and fashion, the parlor-maid and the
housemaids, and the waitress (where there is no butler), are all dressed
alike. Their "work" dresses are of plain cambric and in whatever the
"house color" may be, with large white aprons with high bibs, and Eton
collars, but no cuffs (as they must be able to unbutton their sleeves and
turn them up.) Those who serve in the dining-room must always dress before
lunch, and the afternoon dresses vary according to the taste--and
purse--of the lady of the house. Where no uniforms are supplied, each maid
is supposed to furnish herself with a plain black dress for afternoon, on
which she wears collars and cuffs of embroidered muslin usually (always
supplied her), and a small afternoon apron, with or without shoulder
straps, and with or without a cap.
In very "beautifully done" houses (all the dresses of the maids are
furnished them), the color of the uniforms is chosen to harmonize with the
dining-room. At the Gildings', Jr., for instance, where there are no men
servants because Mr. Gilding does not like them, but where the house is as
perfect as a picture on the stage, the waitress and parlor-maid wear in
the blue and yellow dining-room, dresses of Nattier blue taffeta with
aprons and collars and cuffs of plain hemstitched cream-colored organdie,
that is as transparent as possible; blue stockings and patent leather
slippers with silver buckles, their hair always beautifully smooth.
Sometimes they wear caps and sometimes not, depending upon the waitress'
appearance. Twenty years ago, every maid in a lady's house wore a cap
except the personal maid, who wore (and still does) a velvet bow, or
nothing. But when every little slattern in every sloppy household had a
small mat of whitish Swiss pinned somewhere on an untidy head, and was
decked out in as many yards of embroidery ruffling on her apron and
shoulders as her person could carry, fashionable ladies began taking caps
and trimmings off, and exacting instead that clothes be good in cut and
hair be neatly arranged.
A few ladies of great taste dress their maids according to individual
becomingness; some faces look well under a cap, others look the contrary.
A maid whose hair is rather fluffy--especially if it is dark--looks pretty
in a cap, particularly of the coronet variety. No one looks well in a
doily laid flat, but fluffy fair hair with a small mat tilted up against
a knot of hair dressed high can look very smart. A young woman whose hair
is straight and rebellious to order, can be made to look tidy and even
attractive in a headdress that encircles the whole head. A good one for
this purpose has a very narrow ruche from 9 to 18 inches long on either
side of a long black velvet ribbon. The ruche goes part way, or all the
way, around the head, and the velvet ribbon ties, with streamers hanging
down the back. On the other hand, many extremely pretty young women with
hair worn flat do not look well in caps of any description--except "Dutch"
ones which are, in most houses, too suggestive of fancy dress. If no caps
are worn the hair must be faultlessly smooth and neat; and of course where
two or more maids are seen together, they must be alike. It would not do
to have one wear a cap and the other not.
=THE LADY'S MAID=
A first class lady's maid is required to be a hairdresser, a good packer
and an expert needlewoman. Her first duty is to keep her lady's clothes in
order and to help her dress, and undress. She draws the bath, lays out
underclothes, always brushes her lady's hair and usually dresses it, and
gets out the dress to be worn, as well as the stockings, shoes, hat, veil,
gloves, wrist bag, parasol, or whatever accessories go with the dress in
question.
As soon as the lady is dressed, everything that has been worn is taken to
the sewing room and each article is gone over, carefully brushed if of
woolen material, cleaned if silk. Everything that is mussed is pressed,
everything that can be suspected of not being immaculate is washed or
cleaned with cleaning fluid, and when in perfect order is replaced where
it belongs in the closet. Underclothes as mended are put in the clothes
hamper. Stockings are looked over for rips or small holes, and the maid
usually washes very fine stockings herself, also lace collars or small
pieces of lace trimming.
Some maids have to wait up at night, no matter how late, until their
ladies return; but as many, if not more, are never asked to wait longer
than a certain hour.
But the maid for a débutante in the height of the season, between the
inevitable "go fetching" at this place and that, and mending of party
dresses danced to ribbons and soiled by partner's hands on the back, and
slippers "walked on" until there is quite as much black part as satin or
metal, has no sinecure.
_Why Two Maids?_
In very important houses where mother and daughters go out a great deal
there are usually two maids, one for the mother and one for the daughters.
But even in moderate households it is seldom practical for a débutante and
her mother to share a maid--at least during the height of the season. That
a maid who has to go out night after night for weeks and even months on
end, and sit in the dressing-rooms at balls until four and five and even
six in the morning, is then allowed to go to bed and to sleep until
luncheon is merely humane. And it can easily be seen that it is more
likely that she will need the help of a seamstress to refurbish
dance-frocks, than that she will have any time to devote to her young
lady's mother--who in "mid-season," therefore, is forced to have a maid of
her own, ridiculous as it sounds, that two maids for two ladies should be
necessary! Sometimes this is overcome by engaging an especial maid "by the
evening" to go to parties and wait, and bring the débutante home again.
And the maid at home can then be "maid for two."
_Dress of a Lady's Maid_
A lady's maid wears a black skirt, a laundered white waist, and a small
white apron, the band of which buttons in the back.
In traveling, a lady's maid always wears a small black silk apron and some
maids wear black taffeta ones always. In the afternoon, she puts on a
black waist with white collar and cuffs. Mrs. Gilding, Jr., puts her maid
in black taffeta with embroidered collar and cuffs. For "company
occasions," when she waits in the dressing-room, she wears light gray
taffeta with a very small embroidered mull apron with a narrow black
velvet waist-ribbon, and collar and cuffs of mull to match--which is
extremely pretty, but also extremely extravagant.
=THE VALET=
The valet (pronounced val-et not vallay) is what Beau Brummel called a
gentleman's gentleman. His duties are exactly the same as those of the
lady's maid--except that he does not sew! He keeps his employer's clothes
in perfect order, brushes, cleans and presses everything as soon as it has
been worn--even if only for a few moments. He lays out the clothes to be
put on, puts away everything that is a personal belonging. Some gentlemen
like their valet to help them dress; run the bath, shave them and hold
each article in readiness as it is to be put on. But most gentlemen merely
like their clothes "laid out" for them, which means that trousers have
belts or braces attached, shirts have cuff links and studs; and waistcoat
buttons are put in.
The valet also unpacks the bags of any gentleman guests when they come,
valets them while there, and packs them when they go. He always packs for
his own gentleman, buys tickets, looks after the luggage, and makes
himself generally useful as a personal attendant, whether at home or when
traveling.
At big dinners, he is required (much against his will) to serve as a
footman--in a footman's, not a butler's, livery.
The valet wears no livery except on such occasions. His "uniform" is an
ordinary business suit, dark and inconspicuous in color, with a black tie.
In a bachelor's quarters a valet is often general factotum; not only
valeting but performing the services of cook, butler, and even housemaid.
=THE NURSE=
Everybody knows the nurse is either the comfort or the torment of the
house. Everyone also knows innumerable young mothers who put up with
inexcusable crankiness from a crotchety middle-aged woman because she was
"so wonderful" to the baby. And here let it be emphasized that such an one
usually turns out to have been not wonderful to the baby at all. That she
does not actually abuse a helpless infant is merely granting that she is
not a "monster."
Devotion must always be unselfish; the nurse who is _really_ "wonderful"
to the baby is pretty sure to be a person who is kind generally. In
ninety-nine cases out of a hundred the sooner a domineering nurse--old or
young--is got rid of, the better. It has been the experience of many a
mother whose life had been made perfectly miserable through her belief
that if she dismissed the tyrant the baby would suffer, that in the
end--there _is_ always an end!--the baby was quite as relieved as the rest
of the family when the "right sort" of a kindly and humane person took the
tyrant's place.
It is unnecessary to add that one can not be too particular in asking for
a nurse's reference and in never failing to get a personal one from the
lady she is leaving. Not only is it necessary to have a sweet-tempered,
competent and clean person, but her moral character is of utmost
importance, since she is to be the constant and inseparable companion of
the children whose whole lives are influenced by her example, especially
where busy parents give only a small portion of time to their children.
=COURTESY TO ONE'S HOUSEHOLD=
In a dignified house, a servant is never spoken to as Jim, Maisie, or
Katie, but always as James or Margaret or Katherine, and a butler is
called by his last name, nearly always. The Worldly's butler, for
instance, is called Hastings, not John. In England, a lady's maid is also
called by her last name, and the cook, if married, is addressed as Mrs.
and the nurse is always called "Nurse." A chef is usually called "Chef" or
else by his last name.
Always abroad, and every really well-bred lady or gentleman here, says
"please" in asking that something be brought her or him. "Please get me
the book I left on the table in my room!" Or "Please give me some bread!"
Or "Some bread, please." Or one can say equally politely and omit the
please, "I'd like some toast," but it is usual and instinctive to every
lady or gentleman to add "please."
In refusing a dish at the table, one must say "No, thank you," or "No,
thanks," or else one shakes one's head. A head can be shaken politely or
rudely. To be courteously polite, and yet keep one's walls up is a thing
every thoroughbred person knows how to do--and a thing that everyone who
is trying to become such must learn to do.
A rule can't be given because there isn't any. As said in another chapter,
a well-bred person always lives within the walls of his personal reserve,
a vulgarian has no walls--or at least none that do not collapse at the
slightest touch. But those who think they appear superior by being rude to
others whom fortune has placed below them, might as well, did they but
know it, shout their own unexalted origin to the world at large, since by
no other method could it be more widely published.
=THE HOUSE WITH LIMITED SERVICE=
The fact that you live in a house with two servants, or in an apartment
with only one, need not imply that your house lacks charm or even
distinction, or that it is not completely the home of a lady or gentleman.
But, as explained in the chapter on Dinners, if you have limited service
you must devise systematic economy of time and labor or you will have
disastrous consequences.
Every person, after all, has only one pair of hands, and a day has only so
many hours, and one thing is inevitable, which young housekeepers are apt
to forget, a few can not do the work of many, and do it in the same way.
It is all very well if the housemaid can not get into young Mrs. Gilding's
room until lunch time, nor does it matter if its confusion looks like the
aftermath of a cyclone. The housemaid has nothing to do the rest of the
day but put that one room and bath in order. But in young Mrs. Gaily's
small house where the housemaid is also the waitress, who is supposed to
be "dressed" for lunch, it does not have to be pointed out that she can
not sweep, dust, tidy up rooms, wash out bathtubs, polish fixtures, and at
the same time be dressed in afternoon clothes. If Mrs. Gaily is out for
lunch, it is true the chambermaid-waitress need not be dressed to wait on
table, but her thoughtless young mistress would not be amiable if a
visitor were to ring the door-bell in the early afternoon and have it
opened by a maid in a rumpled "working" dress.
Supposing the time to put the bedroom in order is from ten to eleven each
morning: it is absolutely necessary that Mrs. Gaily take her bath before
ten so that even if she is not otherwise "dressed" she can be out of her
bedroom and bath at ten o'clock promptly. She can go elsewhere while her
room is done up and then come back and finish dressing later. In this case
she must herself "tidy" any disorder that she makes in dressing; put away
her négligé and slippers and put back anything out of place. On the days
when Mr. Gaily does not go to the office he too must get up and out so
that the house can be put in order.
=THE ONE MAID ALONE=
But where one maid alone cooks, cleans, waits on table, and furthermore
serves as lady's maid and valet, she must necessarily be limited in the
performance of each of these duties in direct proportion to their number.
Even though she be eagerly willing, quality must give way before quantity
produced with the same equipment, or if quality is necessary then quantity
must give way. In the house of a fashionable gay couple like the Lovejoys'
for instance, the time spent in "maiding" or "valeting" has to be taken
from cleaning or cooking. Besides cleaning and cooking, the one maid in
their small apartment can press out Mrs. Lovejoy's dresses and do a little
mending, but she can not sit down and spend one or two hours going over a
dress in the way a specialist maid can. Either Mrs. Lovejoy herself must
do the sewing or the housework, or one or the other must be left undone.
=THE MANAGEMENT OF SERVANTS=
It is certainly a greater pleasure and incentive to work for those who are
appreciative than for those who continually find fault. Everyone who did
war work can not fail to remember how easy it was to work for, or with,
some people, and how impossible to get anything done for others. And just
as the "heads" of work-rooms or "wards" or "canteens" were either
stimulating or dispiriting, so must they and their types also be to those
who serve in their households.
This, perhaps, explains why some people are always having a "servant
problem"; finding servants difficult to get, more difficult to keep, and
most difficult to get efficient work from. It is a question whether the
"servant problem" is not more often a mistress problem. It must be!
Because, if you notice, those who have woes and complaints are invariably
the same, just as others who never have any trouble are also the same. It
does not depend on the size of the house; the Lovejoys never have any
trouble, and yet their one maid of all work has a far from "easy" place,
and a vacancy at Brookmeadows is always sought after, even though the
Oldnames spend ten months of the year in the country. Neither is there any
friction at the Golden Hall or Great Estates, even though the latter house
is run by the butler--an almost inevitable cause of trouble. These houses
represent a difference in range of from one alone, to nearly forty on the
household payroll.
=THOSE WHO HAVE PERSISTENT "TROUBLE"=
It might be well for those who have trouble to remember a few rules which
are often overlooked: Justice must be the foundation upon which every
tranquil house is constructed. Work must be as evenly divided as possible;
one servant should not be allowed liberties not accorded to all.
It is not just to be too lenient, any more than it is just to be
unreasonably strict. To allow impertinence or sloppy work is inexcusable,
but it is equally inexcusable to show causeless irritability or to be
overbearing or rude. And there is no greater example of injustice than to
reprimand those about you because you happen to be in a bad humor, and at
another time overlook offenses that are greater because you are in an
amiable mood.
There is also no excuse for "correcting" either a servant or a child
before people.
[Illustration: "THE PERFECT MISTRESS SHOWS ALL THOSE IN HER EMPLOY THE
CONSIDERATION AND TRUST DUE THEM AS HONORABLE SELF-RESPECTING AND
CONSCIENTIOUS HUMAN BEINGS." [Page 157.]]
And when you do correct, do not forget to make allowances, if there be
any reason why allowance should be made.
If you live in a palace like Golden Hall, or any completely equipped house
of important size, you overlook _nothing!_ There is no more excuse for
delinquency than there is in the Army. If anything happens, such as
illness of one servant, there is another to take his (or her) place. A
huge household is a machine and it is the business of the engineers--in
other words, the secretary, housekeeper, chef or butler, to keep it going
perfectly.
But in a little house, it may not be fair to say "Selma, the silver is
dirty!" when there is a hot-air furnace and you have had company to every
meal, and you have perhaps sent her on errands between times, and she has
literally not had a moment. If you don't know whether she has had time or
not, you could give her the benefit of the doubt and say (trustfully, not
haughtily) "You have not had time to clean the silver, have you?" This--in
case she has really been unable to clean it--points out just as well the
fact that it is not shining, but is not a criticism. Carelessness, on the
other hand, when you know she has had plenty of time, should never be
overlooked.
Another type that has "difficulties" is the distrustful--sometimes
actually suspicious--person who locks everything tight and treats all
those with whom she comes in contact as though they were meddlesomely
curious at least, or at worst, dishonest. It is impossible to overstate
the misfortune of this temperament. The servant who is "watched" for fear
she "won't work," listened to for fear she may be gossiping, suspected of
wanting to take a liberty of some sort, or of doing something else she
shouldn't do, is psychologically encouraged, almost driven, to do these
very things.
The perfect mistress expects perfect service, but it never occurs to her
that perfect service will not be voluntarily and gladly given. She, on her
part, shows all of those in her employ the consideration and trust due
them as honorable, self-respecting and conscientious human beings. If she
has reason to think they are not all this, a lady does not keep them in
her house.
=ETIQUETTE OF SERVICE=
The well-trained high-class servant is faultlessly neat in appearance,
reticent in manner, speaks in a low voice, walks and moves quickly but
silently, and is unfailingly courteous and respectful. She (or he) always
knocks on a door, even of the library or sitting-room, but opens it
without waiting to hear "Come in," as knocking on a downstairs door is
merely politeness. At a bedroom door she would wait for permission to
enter. In answering a bell, she asks "Did you ring, sir?" or if especially
well-mannered she asks "Did Madam ring?"
A servant always answers "Yes, Madam," or "Very good, sir," never "Yes,"
"No," "All right," or "Sure."
Young people in the house are called "Miss Alice" or "Mr. Ollie," possibly
"Mr. Oliver," but they are generally called by their familiar names with
the prefix of Miss or Mister. Younger children are called Miss Kittie and
Master Fred, but never by the nurse, who calls them by their first names
until they are grown--sometimes always.
All cards and small packages are presented on a tray.
=TIME "OUT" AND "IN"=
No doubt in the far-off districts there are occasional young women who
work long and hard and for little compensation, but at least in all
cities, servants have their definite time out. Furthermore, they are
allowed in humanely run houses to have "times in" when they can be at home
to friends who come to see them. In every well-appointed house of size
there is a sitting-room which is furnished with comfortable chairs and
sofa if possible, a good droplight to read by, often books, and always
magazines (sent out as soon as read by the family). In other words, they
have an inviting room to use as their own exactly as though they were
living at home. If no room is available, the kitchen has a cover put on
the table, a droplight, and a few restful chairs are provided.
=THE MAIDS' MEN FRIENDS=
Are maids allowed to receive men friends? Certainly they are! Whoever in
remote ages thought it was better to forbid "followers" the house, and
have Mary and Selma slip out of doors to meet them in the dark, had very
distorted notions to say the least. And any lady who knows so little of
human nature as to make the same rule for her maids to-day is acting in
ignorant blindness of her own duties to those who are not only in her
employ but also under her protection.
A pretty young woman whose men friends come in occasionally and play cards
with the others, or dance to a small and not loud phonograph in the
kitchen, is merely being treated humanly. Because she wears a uniform
makes her no less a young girl, with a young girl's love of amusement,
which if not properly provided for her "at home" will be sought for in
sinister places.
This responsibility is one that many ladies who are occupied with
charitable and good works elsewhere often overlook under their own roof.
It does not mean that the kitchen should be a scene of perpetual revelry
and mirth that can by any chance disturb the quiet of the neighborhood or
even the family. Unseemly noise is checked at once, much as it would be if
young people in the drawing-room became disturbing. Continuous company is
not suitable either, and those who abuse privileges naturally must have
them curtailed, but the really high-class servant who does not appreciate
kindness and requite it with considerate and proper behavior is rare.
=SERVICE IN FORMAL ENTERTAINING=
=ON THE SIDEWALK AND IN THE HALL=
For a wedding, or a ball, and sometimes for teas and big dinners, there is
an awning from curb to front door. But usually, especially in good
weather, a dinner or other moderate sized evening entertainment is
prepared for by stretching a carpet (a red one invariably!) down the front
steps and across the pavement to the curb's edge. At all important
functions there is a chauffeur (or a caterer's man) on the sidewalk to
open the door of motors, and a footman or waitress stationed inside the
door of the house to open it on one's approach. This same servant, or more
often another stationed in the hall beyond, directs arriving guests to the
dressing-rooms.
=DRESSING-ROOMS=
Houses especially built for entertaining, have two small rooms on the
ground floor, each with its lavatory, and off of it, a rack for the
hanging of coats and wraps. In most houses, however, guests have to go
up-stairs where two bedrooms are set aside, one as a ladies', and the
other as a gentlemen's coat room.
At an afternoon tea in houses where dressing-rooms have not been installed
by the architect, the end of the hall, if it is wide, is sometimes
supplied with a coat rack (which may be rented from a caterer) for the
gentlemen. Ladies are in this case supposed to go into the drawing-room as
they are, or go up-stairs to the bedroom put at their disposal and in
charge of a lady's maid or housemaid.
If the entertainment is very large, checks are always given to avoid
confusion in the dressing-rooms exactly as in public "check rooms." In the
ladies' dressing-room--whether downstairs or up--there must be an array of
toilet necessities such as brushes and combs; well-placed mirrors,
hairpins, powder with stacks of individual cotton balls, or a roll of
cotton in a receptacle from which it may be pulled. In the lavatory there
must be fresh soap and plenty of small hand towels. The lady's personal
maid and one or two assistants if necessary, depending upon the size of
the party, but one and all of them as neatly dressed as possible, assist
ladies off and on with their wraps, and give them coat checks.
A lady's maid should always look the arriving guests over--not boldly nor
too apparently, but with a quick glance for anything that may be amiss. If
the drapery of a dress is caught up on its trimming, or a fastening
undone, it is her duty to say: "Excuse me, madam (or miss), but there is a
hook undone"--or "the drapery of your gown is caught--shall I fix it?"
Which she does as quietly and quickly as possible. If there is a rip of
any sort, she says: "I think there is a thread loose, I'll just tack it.
It will only be a moment."
The well-bred maid instinctively makes little of a guest's accident, and
is as considerate as the hostess herself. Employees instinctively adopt
the attitude of their employer.
In the gentlemen's coat room of a perfectly appointed house the valet's
attitude is much the same. If a gentleman's coat should have met with any
accident, the valet says: "Let me have it fixed for you, sir, it'll only
take a moment!" And he divests the gentleman of his coat and takes it to a
maid and asks her please to take a stitch in it. Meanwhile he goes back to
his duties in the dressing-room until he is sure the coat is finished,
when he gets it and politely helps the owner into it.
In a small country house where dressing-room space is limited, the quaint
tables copied from old ones are very useful, screened off at the back of
the downstairs hall, or in a very small lavatory. They look, when shut,
like an ordinary table, but when the top is lifted a mirror, the height of
the table's width, swings forward and a series of small compartments and
trays both deep and shallow are laid out on either side. The trays of
course are kept filled with hairpins, pins and powder, and the
compartments have sunburn lotion and liquid powder, brush, comb and
whiskbroom, and whatever else the hostess thinks will be useful.
=THE ANNOUNCEMENT OF GUESTS=
The butler's duty is to stand near the entrance to the reception or
drawing-room, and as each guest arrives (unless they are known to him) he
asks: "What name, please?" He then leads the way into the room where the
hostess is receiving, and says distinctly: "Mr. and Mrs. Jones." If Mrs.
Jones is considerably in advance of her husband, he says: "Mrs. Jones!"
then waits for Mr. Jones to approach before announcing: "Mr. Jones!"
At a very large party such as a ball, or a very big tea or musical, he
does not leave his place, but stands just outside the drawing-room, and
the hostess stands just within, and as the guests pass through the door,
he announces each one's name.
It is said to be customary in certain places to have waitresses announce
people. But in New York guests are never announced if there are no men
servants. At a very large function such as a ball or tea, a hostess who
has no butler at home, always employs one for the occasion. If, for
instance, she is giving a ball for her daughter, and all the sons and
daughters of her own acquaintance are invited, the chances are that not
half or even a quarter of her guests are known to her by sight, so that
their announcement is not a mere matter of form but of necessity.
=THE ANNOUNCEMENT OF DINNER=
When the butler on entering the room to announce dinner, happens to catch
the attention of the hostess, he merely bows. Otherwise he approaches
within speaking distance and says, "Dinner is served." He never says,
"Dinner is ready."
At a large dinner where it is quite a promenade to circle the table in
search of one's name, the butler stands just within the dining-room and
either reads from a list or says from memory "right" or "left" as the case
may be, to each gentleman and lady on approaching. In a few of the
smartest houses a leaf has been taken from the practise of royalty and a
table plan arranged in the front hall, which is shown to each gentleman at
the moment when he takes the envelope enclosing the name of his partner at
dinner. This table plan is merely a diagram made in leather with white
name cards that slip into spaces corresponding to the seats at the table.
On this a gentleman can see exactly where he sits and between whom; so
that if he does not know the lady who is to be on his left as well as the
one he is to "take in," he has plenty of time before going to the table to
ask his host to present him.
At the end of the evening, the butler is always at the front door--and by
that time, unless the party is very large, he should have remembered
their names, if he is a perfect butler, and as Mr. and Mrs. Jones appear
he opens the door and calls down to the chauffeur "Mr. Jones' car!" And in
the same way "Mr. Smith's car!" "Miss Gilding's car!" When a car is at the
door, the chauffeur runs up the steps and says to the butler: "Miss
Gilding's car" or "Mrs. Jones' car." The butler then announces to either
Mr. or Mrs. Jones, "Your car, sir," or "Your car, madam," and holds the
door open for her to go out, or he may say, "Your car, Miss," if the
Gilding car comes first.
=DINING-ROOM SERVICE AT PRIVATE ENTERTAINMENTS=
Supper at a ball in a great house (big enough for a ball) is usually in
charge of the butler, who by "supper time" is free from his duties of
"announcing" and is able to look after the dining-room service. The
sit-down supper at a ball is served exactly like a dinner--or a wedding
breakfast; and the buffet supper of a dance is like the buffet of a
wedding reception.
At a large tea where the butler is on duty "announcing" at the same time
that other guests are going into the dining-room for refreshments, the
dining-room service has to be handed over to the first footman and his
assistants or a capable waitress is equally able to meet the situation.
She should have at least two maids with her, as they have to pour all cups
of tea and bouillon and chocolate as well as to take away used cups and
plates and see that the food on the table is replenished.
At a small tea where ladies perform the office of pouring, one man or maid
in the dining-room is plenty, to bring in more hot water or fresh cups, or
whatever the table hostesses have need of.
=FORMAL SERVICE WITHOUT MEN SERVANTS=
Many, and very fastidious, people, who live in big houses and entertain
constantly, have neither men servants nor employ a caterer, ever.
Efficient women take men's places equally well, though two services are
omitted. Women never (in New York at least) announce guests or open the
doors of motors. But there is no difference whatsoever in the details of
the pantry, dining-room, hall or dressing-room, whether the services are
performed by men or women. (No women, of course, are ever on duty in the
gentlemen's dressing-rooms.)
At an evening party, the door is opened by the waitress, assisted by the
parlor-maid who directs the way to the dressing-rooms. The guests, when
they are ready to go in the drawing-room, approach the hostess
unannounced. A guest who may not be known by sight does not wait for her
hostess to recognize her but says at once, "How do you do, Mrs. Eminent,
I'm Mrs. Joseph Blank"; or a young girl says, "I am Constance Style" (not
"Miss Style," unless she is beyond the "twenties"); or a married woman
merely announces herself as "Mrs. Town." She does not add her husband's
name as it is taken for granted that the gentleman following her is Mr.
Town.