LIFE OF A LICENSED VICTUALLER’S DAUGHTER.
WRITTEN BY HERSELF.
LONDON: SAUNDERS AND OTLEY, CONDUIT STREET. 1844.
CITY STEAM PRESS, LONG LANE: D. A. DOUDNEY.
PREFACE.
In the month of July, 1842, as I was passing the site of the Royal
Exchange, then in course of re-erection after being burnt down, my
attention was caught by one of the very numerous bills with which the
boards, at that time surrounding it, were covered: it ran thus—“Susan
Hopley, or the Life of a Maid Servant.” This book, I thought to myself,
must be a novelty; for although female servants form a large class of
Her Majesty’s subjects, I have seen but little of them or their affairs
in print: sometimes, indeed, a few stray delinquents, from their vast
numbers, find their way into the police reports of the newspapers; and
in penny tracts, now and then, a “Mary Smith,” or “Susan Jones,” is
introduced, in the last stage of consumption, or some other lingering
disease, of which they die, in a heavenly frame of mind, and are duly
interred.
In a short time after, I procured the “Life of Susan Hopley,” and felt
disappointed at finding it to be a work of fiction. It occurred to me
that the various events of my own life—not merely “founded on facts,”
as is sometimes expressed, but the real truth—might afford amusement to
matter-of-fact persons. Seventeen years of my life have been spent in
service; but as that is not the third part of fifty-seven, I considered
that the best title I could give it, would be what it really is—the
Life of a Licensed Victualler’s Daughter,
WRITTEN BY HERSELF.
LIFE OF A LICENSED VICTUALLER’S DAUGHTER.
My father, Joseph Ashford, was the son of a barber and wig-maker, of
the same name, in a small market town in Shropshire, who, having a
large family, employed his boys, as soon as they were able, in his own
business. My father, as I have heard him say, by a tragi-comic sort of
affair, became a different trade.
A short distance from Wem, there lived an old gentleman and his
housekeeper, who, between them, had tired out all the lads who went to
service for miles round. Being a customer of my grandfather, he asked
him to let him have one of his boys. He told him that he could not let
him have either of the two eldest, as they were so useful to himself;
but that Joseph, then near twelve years old, was at his service. The
gentleman thought him too young, but would try him. The boy, upon
finding where he was to go to, raised many objections, but they were of
no avail; for a new wig had been ordered, and great promises of future
patronage held out, and, above all, Joe was to spend the evenings
in reading, writing, and cyphering, under the eye of his master. He
accordingly went to his place, where he remained several months, when
an unlucky affair took place.
His master was very deaf; and when Joseph took his clean shoes, with
large silver buckles on them, into the room, as was his daily custom,
he told him, instead of taking away the breakfast things, to stay and
drop some liquid into his ears. Now for that to be done, he had to take
off his wig and lay his head on one side; and, moreover, as it was to
be very gently done, he kept saying, “Drop, boy, drop,” which made my
father laugh; and he, perceiving it, went to strike him, and in raising
his hand for that purpose, struck the phial out of his hand and broke
it. The boy ran towards the door, but before he reached it, one of his
master’s shoes, thrown with great vengeance, came in contact with his
head, inflicting not only a heavy blow, but a wound from the buckle. As
soon as he recovered a little he ran home, streaming with blood, and
his father took him to a surgeon, who said, that if the prong of the
buckle had gone a very little way deeper, it would have cost him his
life. Grandfather then shaved his head, and insisted on his wearing an
old farmer’s wig, to prevent his taking cold, till his hair should grow
again. This vexed him so much, that he resolved to get away from home,
if possible; and on a market-day he went, in a neighbour’s cart, to
Shrewsbury, to an aunt of his, who kept a hatter’s shop there, and told
her what had happened to him; at the same time showing the wig, which
caused much laughter, there being several persons in the shop at the
time. Amongst them was a master skinner and tanner, who said, “Well,
my little lad, come along with me, and my dame and I will find you
something to do.” So the man who had brought him in his cart took back
word that he had left the boy, who had got a place.
His mistress, a kind old lady, liked him much; and when he was fourteen
years old he was apprenticed to his master, and lived happily for
nearly four years, when his good mistress died, and his master did
not long survive his loss. A stranger took the business from the next
relative, who united the trade with that of leather-breeches and
glove-making. Thus my father acquired both, as he was turned over to
him; but, in other respects, he found a sad change, as they were harsh
people; and when his term of apprenticeship ended he came to London,
where, by that time, his eldest brother was settled in business in
Sherbourne Lane. In a short time he got employment at Mr. Aubrey’s, in
Exchange Alley, where he remained till his marriage with my mother,
whom I will now give some account of.
Her parents were both from Scotland, and they kept the City Arms,
then No. 1, Lombard Street, which is now covered by part of Smith and
Payne’s banking-house; at that time, and for many years afterwards,
next door to us. When my mother, Jane Gadderrer, was about seven
years old, her father became surety for a man, who soon after went to
America, and he had to pay a sum which left him almost penniless; which
took such an effect on him, as he was strictly honourable, that he
died in a few months after, leaving my grandmother involved in serious
difficulties. A meeting of creditors took place, and they were very
good and kind, particularly the firm of Hale and Co., ale brewers, of
Redcross Street; who, knowing Mrs. Gaddener to be an honest as well as
an industrious woman, prevailed on the rest to let her remain in the
house for a year, to pay ready-money for what she wanted in, and see
if, by instalments, she could pay off any of her late husband’s debts.
She succeeded, and soon cleared herself. Having placed her only girl
to board with some respectable persons at Camberwell, and sent her
to one of the best schools there, as day scholar, she was kept there
till near sixteen, when her mother, finding her own health decline,
took her home; and in a short time after, she became acquainted with
my father. As soon as my grandmother found it out, she was very angry,
and lectured my mother severely. Shortly after, she had the offer of
a far better match for her; but her daughter steadily refused. When
she was little more than seventeen years old, her parent died, having
first extorted a promise from her, that she would not marry J. Ashford:
why she did so was not known, as he bore an excellent character. She
meant to have kept her word, and told him so, and the acquaintance was
broken off; but he soon after fell ill of a fever, which reduced him
to the lowest ebb of existence; and the person where he lodged went to
my mother, and begged her to come and see him, as, in his delirium, he
called on her continually. As he was not expected to live, she went to
see him; and after lying for a long time, between life and death, he
at length recovered; and they were soon after married. My grandmother
left a will, and bequeathed all she had to her only surviving daughter:
the executor was a Mr. Tyce, a tobacconist, of Exchange Alley: and it
was my grandmother’s desire that the business should be given up, and
everything sold, and the money placed to what she had in the bank; and
her daughter to be put to some genteel business. But as the house was
in full trade, and selling the goodwill had not then become a practise,
Mr. Tyce did not trouble himself about it, nor interrupt their
courtship; and when he knew they were married, he wished them much joy,
and said they might as well have been united at St. Mary Woolnoth,
as have gone to the little church in the Minories; for had they have
asked his consent, they should have had it freely. My father was then
twenty-seven, and my mother a few months over eighteen years old: and
I, their second child, was born on the 30th of October, 1787.
I must now mention some things which weighed heavy on my future lot,
even in infancy. When my mother was confined of her first child, she
had a monthly nurse, who acquired a complete ascendancy over her: she
prevailed on her to let her take the infant to Brentford, to nurse,
when a few months old; she and her husband living there at that time;
and the little girl died at eleven months old, which I do not mean
to say she could help, but she took care to remove, it seemed, close
to London, before I was born; and as I happened to exercise the baby
prerogatives of squalling and kicking in a very vigorous manner, I
was weaned, and taken off by Mrs. Long. Thus, at four months old, I
was sent from the paternal roof. My first recollections are, that
when I was about four years old, I resided with Mrs. Long, in East
Street, Walworth; and I was put to a day-school with a lady who, by
the death of her parents, found reasons to commence keeping school,
and I and another little girl, still younger than myself, were her
first scholars. It was above a month before any more came. In the
interval she became much attached to us, and so did we to each other.
My governess soon discovered that, in many respects, I was much
neglected: I was very well supplied with good apparel, but my nurse’s
only aim was, to have me clean and tidy when she expected my father or
mother to come, which was mostly in the evening: I was therefore sent
to school in an unwashed and slovenly manner, and this happened very
often. My governess’s old servant, who had lived with her parents,
used, on letting me in, to take me into the kitchen, and spruce me up
as well as she could: whether she did it to please her mistress, or
out of regard to me, I never knew or thought about; but she seemed to
take great delight in it, and always dismissed me to the schoolroom
with a hearty kiss. Mrs. Long soon found out how matters stood; and
as she had the whole of the washing from the City Arms, she requested
my governess to let me bring my dinner, and stop with her on her busy
days. This she agreed to; and after that, three or four days a-week, I
used to take an egg and a small bit of bread, which was to last me the
day. This plan met with my decided approval, as I always had a good
dinner with my governess. Here I remained till I was near eight years
old, when the lady married to a clerk in the Bank, and went to reside
a few miles off, and keep a boarding school. She made my mother a very
liberal offer, to take me with her, but she would not accept it, as it
would have gone a great way towards breaking up Mrs. Long’s concern;
she and her husband having, by this time, no other means of subsistence
but what they earned from my parents, in one way or other: their
daughter living with them as servant, she always contrived to get the
lads employed as waiters, dismissed to make way for some of their own
family; and no doubt there was a great deal of mismanagement.
I was then placed, as a day-scholar, at Mrs. George’s boarding school,
and very unhappy it made me, for a little girl. In the first place, I
lost my early companion and schoolfellow, as well as my dear governess
and her servant Betty; then my nurse insisted that I should say she
was my grandmother, if asked any questions by any new schoolfellows,
or, indeed, by anybody; and as she was much better known than liked,
and her husband was known for a profane old sot, when he could get
anything to drink, I soon became an object of contempt to many of my
young schoolfellows. One of the teachers was a very affable, pleasant
person, and was very kind to me, and so were a few of the eldest girls;
but taking it altogether, instead of looking upon school as a place
of refuge, I hated to go near it. At home, Mr. and Mrs. Long used to
quarrel dreadfully, and many other things very disagreeable; amongst
which was being sent out on small errands, on credit; and I used to
dread meeting any of my schoolfellows in the different shops. I think
my first prayer to Heaven, that came from my heart in sincerity and
truth, took place as I stood shivering at a grocer’s shop window, while
a girl I knew was served and came out—a prayer, that I might always
be able to pay for what I wanted, without asking persons to trust me.
It never occurred to me that I should tell my parents any of these
things, for I was strongly attached to them both; and when I went home
at holiday times, nothing offended me so much as for any one to say the
least thing against either of them.
Things went on this way till I was near twelve years old, when a great
change took place; my poor father’s health, which had been impaired
by successive attacks of asthma, every winter, for some years, and
kept him out of his business for months together, now began to assume
an alarming appearance; and the doctor who attended him, who lived in
Gracechurch Street, was a great advocate for the Sangrado system of
copious bleeding, in most cases that came into his hands; and one day
it was a long time before he could stop the blood, owing to a violent
fit of coughing his patient fell into. In a very short time after,
symptoms of dropsy appeared, and he got worse every day. My mother
attended to him herself: business had fallen off; for it was often left
to the servants altogether; and it was in vain that the neighbours
and relations, both of my father’s and mother’s side, warned them how
badly their affairs were managed; everything went to wreck; and I was
taken home into a world of trouble—my father was in bed, and there
were persons in possession, on account of the creditors; and I had
been there but a short time, when my mother fell ill of a most severe
brain fever, brought on, no doubt, by the prospect of leaving the house
where she was born, in poverty and debt. Could she have found relief in
tears, the medical gentleman who attended her was of opinion the fever
would not have settled so heavy on her; but tears never came to ease
her over-charged heart, and she never got over the effects of it, but
died where she was born, in June, 1800. My father, at that time, seemed
a little better, and he sent me and my little brother, of about four
years old, to Wickham, in Kent, in July; and in the November following
he sent for me, and I returned to London, but not to the City Arms, and
I found him in an attic, in a neighbour’s house, in Lombard Street,
with a little furniture he had been allowed to take away with him. His
former master, Mr. Aubney, would have given him employment, but he was
too ill to do it; and early in December, he went into St. Bartholomew’s
Hospital. My little brother remained in the country, and Mr. Batt, the
clerk of St. Mary Woolnoth and St. Mary Woolchurch Haw, who happened to
be acting churchwarden for a gentleman parishioner at the time, took me
home to his house, and I fared the same as their own children. I used
to go every day to see my father, who used sometimes to appear a little
better: he was well attended to, and allowed everything he wanted, that
was consistent with his complaint, however expensive. On the morning
of the 31st of December, 1800, it was settled at Mr. Batt’s, that I
should go and see my father, and then proceed to an aunt of his, who
at that time was with another female, minding a house in South Street,
Park Lane, for a family she had lived in many years, and inform her how
he was. Upon reaching the hospital, I was surprised to see the state
he was in; his face was very red, and the perspiration was pouring off
him: he grasped my hands—raised his eyes upwards—his lips moved—and
he seemed to be making a violent effort to speak. A nurse stood by
the bedside, and the sister of the ward, a most venerable woman, came
forward: “My dear child,” said she, “your father is very ill indeed,
from the effects of some medicine he has been taking, and he will be
better by and bye.” I said I was going to my aunt’s, but that I thought
I had better stop with him. She said, “Go to your aunt, my dear, and
tell her he will soon be better, and call in the evening, when he will
be more composed.” I then went on to South Street, and stopped later
than usual, on account of what the sister said. At about seven o’clock,
I entered the ward door; the curtains were drawn close round the bed; a
sudden chill came over me, for I had never seen the like before: I went
slowly forward—the nurse and sister both came to meet me: “Is my father
asleep?” I said. “Alas! poor child!” said one of them, “he is dead.”
They drew aside the curtain, and I kissed his cold face; but neither
word nor tear escaped me; they told me to tell my friends he was no
more, and I went away.
As soon as I left the door, my whole soul seemed absorbed in
prayer—silent mental prayer; so ardent was it, that, from that hour
to this, I never recollected which way I went, nor where I was, till
I reached Bow Church, in Cheapside, and then came to myself, and
proceeded as fast as I could to Mr. Batt’s and told them what had
happened. A person who happened to be there, asked me how he was when
I called at the hospital, in the morning. I described to her as well
as I could, and she flew at me in a great rage, and said all sorts of
unkind things to me, because I went to my aunt’s: she said, “I ought
to have staid with him, and not have minded what the sister said to me
about going away.” This scolding threw me into a violent fit of crying,
which, no doubt, did me a great deal of good. In the midst of my grief,
Mr. and Mrs. Batt came home, and they were very angry indeed that I had
been served so, and said all they could to comfort me. When I went to
bed, I again prayed earnestly to the Lord of heaven and of earth, that
he would guide and protect me.
While so engaged, the church bells rung the old year out, and the
new year of 1801 in: thus did I begin a new year, and the nineteenth
century, an entire orphan; and surely Almighty God, through his divine
providence, has been to me “as a pillar of a cloud by day, and a pillar
of fire by night;” which no adverse circumstances, let them be ever so
trying, has ever been able to turn entirely aside. I have frequently
been very poor, yet I never felt any of the real evils of poverty;
and health, the best of all Heaven’s blessings, I have enjoyed almost
continually.
On the next day, Mr. Batt went to the hospital, and on his return,
explained to me that the room of goods, when sold, would defray the
expense of my father’s funeral; but that he could be buried at the
hospital for a guinea, and then the money might be more useful to me.
This proposal, though made with the best intentions, threw me into an
agony of grief; and I said, that sooner than he should be buried away
from the rest of my family, I would submit to any privation. Mr. Batt
finding me so positive, and being an undertaker, had him brought to his
house, and on the 7th January, 1801, he was laid in the vault under
the church of St. Mary Woolnoth, Lombard Street; where, also, lay the
remains of my grandfather and grandmother, my mother, one sister and
three brothers, five of my aunts and uncles, and several others of the
family.
In a few days after, it was considered by my relations,—of which, at
that time, there were a good many, both on my father’s and mother’s
side,—what was to be done with me: it appeared that they proposed to
contribute amongst them, as much money as would place me as an in-door
apprentice to a dressmaker or milliner, for at least five years. When
I was informed of their kind intentions, I went to one Mrs. Bond,
in St. Swithin’s Lane, who was an old friend and countrywoman of my
father’s, to tell her what was proposed for me. She said, “I’ll tell
thee what, Polly, that is all very well for those who have got a home
and parents to shelter them, when work is slack; but depend upon it,
many clever women find it, at times, a half-starved kind of life in
those employments. Now, thee art a hearty, well-grown girl, and I think
would be better off in service; but you had better go and consult your
father’s aunt Margaret, and hear what she says about it.” This I very
soon did, and told her they wished to place me out genteelly. She said
that was all very fine, but there was an old and very true proverb,
that “gentility without ability, was like a pudding without fat;” and
she was of Mrs. Bond’s opinion.
I could at that time work at my needle very well, but, at the same
time, I did not much like it; so, my own inclination agreeing with
their advice, I resolved to take it. I was shortly after spoken to
about it, and then I, to the utter astonishment of all parties,
declared my intention of going to service. I was sent to a cousin of
my mother’s, whose husband was a clerk of long standing in the Bank,
that she might talk to me: this she certainly did; and pointed out to
me, in strong terms, the folly of opposing the good intentions of my
friends: she said a great deal about injuring my future prospects, as
I could not be introduced into society by her or any of my respectable
friends if I was a servant. Now, I was too young and too simple to
understand much about it, for it was almost like Greek and Latin to me:
however, I gleaned from her majestic oration, that, in the event of my
being out of place, they would have nothing to do with me. I told Mrs.
Bond, and she said I should come to her at any time. Just at this time,
a man called at Mr. Batt’s, in mistake, to enquire for a servant; and
no one being at home just then but Miss Batt, a girl about my own age,
I went with him to a house in Exchange Alley, that had just opened as
a banking-house; he took me to the head clerk, who said his wife and
family were coming in a few days, and he supposed I could do the work;
but he never asked my age, which was not more than thirteen years and
three months: however, he hired me at six pounds ten shillings a-year;
and I suppose he thought he had got a much better bargain than I turned
out to be; and I was to go in a few days. Mrs. Batt came home first:
she was much surprised: and when Mr. Batt came home, she said, “You
will not let Mary go, surely?” “O yes!” he replied, “let her go, by all
means; it will soon sicken her, I dare say.”
The next evening I went, and in a few days my mistress and four lovely
children arrived; and, as I was very tall for my age, she had no idea I
was little more than a child myself, but she soon found it out; but as
the children all took to me, particularly the baby, she said we might
get on well enough together. I did the best I could, notwithstanding
I had cut my hand very badly, in splitting firewood. When I had been
there about two months, it was reported in the neighbourhood, that
the banking-house had merely been opened to swindle a young man of
fortune out of his money. When Mr. Batt heard of it, he desired me to
tell my mistress that I must leave her; which I did, as soon as she
got a servant. When I left she did not pay me, and I called many times
without getting it: as it was above a pound, Mr. Batt said I should not
lose my first earnings, if he could help it; and he summoned my master
to the Court of Requests, and got it.
I was again pressed to give up my intentions of going to service, but
I remained in the same mind, and my relations gave up the contest and
saved their money. I got a place soon after, at Hoxton, with the wife
of the then head waiter of Garraway’s Coffee House; the master of which
house had been for some years, in his early life, my grandmother’s
pot-boy. A little turn of Fortune’s wheel brought this about. I
remained in this place till I was near sixteen, my wages commencing
at two pounds ten shillings, rising a pound a-year. My mistress here
made me nurse the child, and do everything that was laborious; but all
that required any art or knowledge, she not only would not let me do,
but would send me out of the way, with the little boy, while she did
it herself. This was done that I should not leave her, or think myself
qualified for a better place. In the winter, water used to come into
the cellars; and I have been bolted in them for hours together, till I
have been nearly exhausted with pumping, and almost poisoned with the
smell: however, I was well fed—living just the same as they did, and
partaking of whatever they had; and I gained strength in proportion to
my growth.
One August, I gave warning, as I would not run the risk of another
winter’s pumping. I should have said before, that I entered service
when all sorts of provisions were exorbitantly dear; bread was
above two shillings the quartern loaf, and everything else dear in
proportion; potatoes were from three-halfpence to two-pence a-pound;
and I was fortunate to get where I had plenty of all things needful.
I left Hoxton in September, 1803, and went to see my brother, who
remained at Wickham, and there heard of a nursemaid’s place at Bromley,
at a partner’s of the late celebrated Dr. Scott: I saw the lady, and
agreed to go for a month upon trial; and being shy and diffident, I,
simpleton like, never said a word about wages; and when the month was
up, she said I suited her very well indeed, and she should give me five
pounds a-year, out of which I was to find my own tea and sugar. I made
no objection then, but I soon considered that it would never find me
in apparel; and it was too far for those friends who used sometimes to
make me presents, to assist me while I had low wages. I therefore gave
my mistress warning. She seemed sadly vexed; and I left her at the end
of ten weeks. During that time they had no less than five foot-boys:
it was one of those places that have got a bad name; and that is worse
in the country than in London; and servants are often very silly in
that respect, and, instead of looking to the treatment they receive
themselves, listen to what other people say. But it was not the case
with me, as I left on account of the low wages. When my warning was up
I expected to leave on a Monday evening, and I had agreed with a person
at West Wickham to send her boys, who went to school at Beckenham, and
help me carry my clothes to Wickham, where my boxes had been left; but
on Monday morning, Mrs. Taynton told me a new servant was expected by
the London coach, and I must leave directly, as she made it a rule
that the one coming in should not see the one going away. I explained
to her why I wished to stop till the evening, but she said I must go
then, although a very wet day. The cook taking pity on me, whispered
to me to go to a person who kept a little shop hard by, and request
her to let me stop till the boys came. This she agreed to, and I took
my bundles there; but at twelve o’clock, her husband came home, and
asked her who I was; and when she said I had just left Mrs. Taynton’s,
he scolded his wife severely for allowing me to come in; and I found
in the contest, that they used to get some left-off children’s clothes
from Mrs. Taynton, which he thought might be withheld, if his wife had
anything to do with her servants. I begged him to allow me to leave
part of my parcels: to this he gave a sullen consent, and I set out in
a heavy rain, which was very stupid of me, for I might have gone to a
public house, and paid for my accommodation; but I never thought of it.
I took a large parcel, containing books that had belonged to my mother,
and was heavy, and carried them to the school at Beckenham, and left
them there till the boys went home. I then returned to fetch more, and
the wind blew high and cold between the showers; so I got wet through
and dry again, two or three times; and to mend the matter, the biggest
boy had to go to Bromley for medicine, and I was obliged to wait in the
road, on a keen November evening, till his return. The reason my boxes
were at Wickham, it was Mrs. Taynton’s rule, not to allow her servants’
boxes to be brought into her house, for fear of her being overrun with
importations of London bugs; and to be sure, for anybody that is always
changing servants, it may be a very necessary precaution.
I reached Wickham cold and exhausted, but I was welcomed kindly, and
I thought little of the day I had gone through, although it was near
proving fatal to me afterwards. In a day or two I went to London to my
old friend, and I did not feel quite ill, but I had some sensations
about me quite unusual, though I did not complain to any one, and was
very diligent in seeking for a place. And I got one to go to on the
third of December, with an old lady who lived in the City Terrace, in
the City Road.
In the night of the second of December I was awoke with an excruciating
pain in the left side of my head and ear, which almost distracted me,
and in the forenoon Mrs. Bond, seeing I was really ill, made me lie
down, and put something she had for the tooth-ache on some cotton into
my ear. In a short time something that seemed to me like the report of
a gun burst in my head, the pain in some degree abated, and wearied
out with agony I fell asleep and did not wake till it was nearly dark,
when I jumped up and went to the glass to put on my cap which lay on
the table, and to my infinite horror and surprise saw the nightcap and
handkerchief Mrs. Bond had tied on was saturated with blood. I ran
crying down stairs, and Mrs. Bond and her daughter-in-law were very
much frightened, for they, at first, thought I had done some mischief
to myself, they proposed that I should not go to my place that night,
but as I was not in so much pain and a man had been hired to take my
boxes, I thought I had better go, as the lady had been a fortnight
without a servant, and I thought I should lose it if I did not go at
once, so I walked through a heavy snow storm.
At night my mistress enquired why my head was tied up, and I merely
said I had a bad ear-ache. I set to work the next day to clean the
house, which was very dirty with her being so long alone, and I was
obliged to do it in cold water as I had so little fire.
This lady, who was very much in years, was the daughter of a Scotch
earl, whose estates had been forfeited in what was called the
Rebellion. She had been long a widow and was very kind to me in
her manner, but she was penurious in the extreme. In a few days
the hæmorrage from my ear had nearly subsided, when she spied a
stain on my handkerchief, and I told her all about it. She was so
frightened that she sent for her doctor who, when he came, said after
questioning me that it no doubt proceeded from a violent cold, caught
on leaving Bromley, and had I not been blest with an uncommonly strong
constitution it would either have killed me or settled on my brain. He
requested my mistress to let him know if it should return, but it never
did.
The family consisted of my mistress and myself, and a gentleman who was
the minister of the Scotch Church in London Wall: he occupied three
rooms, with attendance; there was besides, a monkey, two dogs, a cat,
and many birds, all of which I had to attend to. My mistress had very
high connections, and used to spend her time very much among them,
and she would be away for days and weeks together, and leave me with
very little to subsist on, and with orders to give “Jacko” the best
of everything, I had once complained on her return from a merchant’s
house in Finsbury Square, where she had been for a week, that she had
left me too little; and she said, “My dear Mary, when I was young there
was a famine, and ever since I have had such a veneration for all the
necessaries of life that I cannot bear to see anything used profusely;
but you never saw a famine, Mary.”
I replied, very innocently, that “I never did, but that I was sure I
should always think of a famine if I thought of her place.”
The gentleman who lived in the house, when he had no invitations, used
to dine at home, sometimes two or three times a week, and he seldom
ate the whole of his chops, or steaks, and what he left used to eke
out my very frugal dinners. I think he suspected that I was kept very
short, and was always very civil to me. My mistress had an old spinet,
which she used to play on: and I seeming much pleased with it, she
said she would teach me to play on it, if I would not eat so much, as
I could not learn with a full stomach; but I declined the offer, as I
got little enough as it was. One day, after looking at me earnestly,
she said, “Mary, child, you would be very handsome were it not that
your cheeks are too large; if you would eat less, they would soon be
thinner.” I do not think I made any answer, but I thought about it, and
soon after went to a looking glass and examined my face more than I had
ever done before, and thought my cheeks, which were very rosy then,
would do very well: at any rate, I would not quite starve myself to
make them thinner.
After this my mistress said she had lost a good counterpane, and the
servant I had succeeded must have taken it away with her. As I knew
where her friends lived, I offered to go and let her know, that she
might give an account of it; for I thought it a sad thing to be falsely
accused. She came, and it turned out she had lent it to the lodger, who
found his own house linen. This brought about a reconciliation between
my mistress and her; for she had lived with her a long time, and they
had parted in a sudden quarrel; and after that I had very little peace
there, and I could hardly ever do anything to please her. The old
servant was certainly more suitable for the place than I was. As she
was above forty years old, I dare say her appetite was not so sharp as
that of a girl not seventeen.
If she had said she was going to have Sarah back, it would have been
all very well, and she need not have fallen out with me; but I am
sorry to say that many ladies, when they wish to part with a servant
who is not guilty of any particular fault, instead of being candid,
and warning them to quit, they find fault about trifles, and teaze and
aggravate them to give warning themselves.
My mistress was much in the habit of buying articles from hawkers
at the door; and one day, when she had been a long time with a
costermonger, disputing about price, one of her little dogs slipped
past her, or, perhaps, the man took it; for though the dog-stealers
were not so much on the alert then as they are now, they were bad
enough; and it certainly was a curious little animal. However, she
threw all the blame on luckless me; and soon after, in cleaning the
birds, a goldfinch escaped through a broken wire, and flew out of the
window. In addition to this, she said, that when she was absent I
ill-used the monkey. Now that I should have been afraid to do, as he
was the most vicious little beast that ever was. I most certainly hated
him, and would never, when speaking of him, call his fore feet anything
but “paws,” though she often chid me for not saying “hands.”
I likewise got out of the lodger’s good graces; for he had a present
made him of a nice little cheese, and, telling me to take it down
stairs to prevent its getting dry, I could not resist the temptation of
cutting divers little bits, which, as he did not dine at home for some
time, made, I must confess, a sad inroad into it. I did not think of
laying it to the cat or rats, and when I took it up and put it on the
table, I shall never forget how enraged and aghast he looked when he
saw its shrunken dimensions. When his dinner was over, he went to my
mistress and laid a heavy complaint against me, and, what was worse,
insinuated that she ought to make good the damage; for if the girl had
been properly fed, he did not think she would have taken his cheese,
as he had left much nicer things in her way, such as wine, sugar, and
biscuits. This was enough to raise a storm, and in the midst of it I
gave warning, and left when the month was up; and a weary month of it
I had. My mistress deducted from my wages for every little thing I had
broken during the seven months I had been with her, and her old servant
came every day and made what mischief she could, for fear I should
stop; for she knew, though I did not till afterwards, that her mistress
had a large sum of money sent her by her son, who was an indigo planter
in the East Indies; so she was very anxious to get back to her,
and I heard, some years after, that my mistress left her something
considerable at her death.
The gentleman, who seemed sorry for me, in spite of the cheese affair,
told me to go to a house in Artillery Place, where the lady wanted a
housemaid. It was at a West India merchant’s, and I was to succeed a
young woman who had left, intending to marry. The lady came before I
left for my character. My mistress said I was sober and honest, but I
did not attend to her family.
“Dear me!” said the lady, “why Mr. Y. said you had no family.
She then began to enumerate her monkey, birds, dog, and beautiful cat,
at which the other laughed, and said that I was to come to her directly.
Here I might have done very well, but in a little time my mistress told
me that the young woman who left to be married had fallen out with
her intended, and wished to come back; and as she had been with her
two years, and I was so young, and hardly servant enough for her, she
meant to take her back again; at the same time she would give me a good
character, and I might stay there till I got a place.
I went to mind some children for a short time, and then to stop with
a lady whose servant was ill; and, with one thing or other, was
very unsettled for some months. I then went to reside with an old
acquaintance of my mother’s on Snow Hill. I had not been long there,
when a young man, a jeweller, who visited them, sent me a very ardent
love letter, and asked the persons I was with to intercede with me for
him, which they did; but there was something so effeminate about him,
at least in my opinion, that I would not hear of it. They represented
to me that his parents were in good circumstances, and he was their
only child, and no doubt they would yield to his wishes; and when I
said that he was only like a great girl, such as I was myself, they
were highly offended, and I resolved to seek a regular service.
One of my old friends in the city sent me after a housemaid’s place
at No. 10, Lambeth Terrace. The lady, who was a clergyman’s widow,
said she gave £7 a year to a housemaid, but if I would take the place
as servant-of-all-work for a time, she would give at the rate of nine
guineas a year, as part of her family was absent. Now this to me was
a very great offer, and though I would not have undertaken to build
a house up, I don’t think I should have minded pulling one down for
that money, as it would furnish me with what I wanted, without being
beholden to anybody. I told her that I was quite willing to agree to
her terms, but was afraid I could not manage the cooking. She said she
would instruct me. To this I replied that I would do the best I could,
but that if I failed she must forgive me, as I was very young. She
then asked how old I was; and when she found I was not much more than
seventeen, she was very much surprised.
I went there on the 7th of February, 1805. Here I worked very hard,
but my mistress, who was an excellent manager, regulated my work, so
that I took no harm; but I heard that she used to have a great many
servants in a year. How it was I do not know, for she was very kind
indeed to me, and bitterly I repented leaving her, which I did in six
months, having been persuaded by a nursemaid at the next door, who had
been set on by her mistress, who had reasons for wanting young girls
who were not likely to be very prying, as she lived in a very equivocal
situation—namely, as housekeeper and relative to a single gentleman,
high in the law, and who afterwards became a judge, and sentenced
Corder to death at Bury St. Edmonds for the murder of Maria Martin. I
gave Mrs. Pearce warning, and very much vexed she was; and when her
next door neighbour came for my character, she called me into the room,
which is very unusual; but she knew more of her than I did, and she
gave me an excellent character, in all respects, in my presence. I went
to the place the same day, and soon found I had made a bad exchange,
except in wages, which was ten guineas a year, and to be raised if I
stopped. My mistress soon began to tyrannize over me by scolding almost
continually. Indeed, it seemed her only occupation when the gentleman
was not there. I asked the nursemaid how she could have been so
unkind as to persuade me to leave a place that was to me so much more
pleasant, to come into such a turmoil. She said she would not deny it,
but she did it for her own sake; for she was a farmer’s daughter from
Wiltshire, and had left home through a dispute with her sister, and
had come to a cousin of her’s in town, who got her the place, and who
was very desirous that she should stop a year in it. The little girl
she nursed was said to belong to a lady that was dead, and her father
abroad; and that our master was her guardian. He was very little there,
and when the carriage brought or fetched him away, we were ordered
never to speak to the men servants, nor let them come into the house.
Our mistress led a most secluded life. The ladies in the neighbourhood
had been very obliging to her till Mrs. Pearce and I parted; and most
likely she had complained of her to them, as after that they all seemed
to avoid her. We had very bad living; very little meat, and the bread
kept till it was mouldy before it was cut. When I had been there six
months, Ann, the nurse, went away, and another young woman came. She
had not been there long when she observed to me, that she was sure that
our mistress was Christine’s mother, and what is called a “kept lady;”
and no doubt she had a liberal allowance to keep house with, but was
half-starving us in order to make a sly purse for herself.
“Gracious Heaven!” I exclaimed, “do you think so? To my thinking, she
leads a wretched life: we might as well all live in a convent. If this
is being kept, I prefer remaining among the ‘hewers of wood and drawers
of water,’ and keeping myself.”
I made a great many attempts to leave her, by giving warning, and going
after other places; but when the ladies came for my character, she
always said something that broke it off. Amongst many others was Mrs.
Radcliff, the authoress, who lived on China Terrace: she told her that
I was sober and honest, but that I was much younger than I looked to
be, “and was very thoughtless; which the lady said would not suit her,
as her time was otherwise engaged than looking after maids. I was sadly
vexed, and had it not been for the sweet little Christine, whose baby
affection was my chief pleasure, as she had never taken kindly to her
new nurse, she was set down to needle work, and the child used to play
about with me, while I did my work; and Heaven knows how much longer
I should have been there, had not a lady in Canterbury Place, just
opposite, married, which made a change in the domestic arrangements of
the family, which used to consist of a brother and two sisters, and
two female servants. The married lady going away, they were going to
keep but one servant; and thinking that the servants who had been there
when they kept two, would not settle down alone, they got them both
places amongst their friends. I went to speak to Miss W—, and she was
much pleased, and said she would wait a month for me, as she had heard
Mrs. Pearce, who was a friend of hers, speak very highly of me; and she
would not have come after my character at all, only that she did not
wish to hurt the other’s feelings.
It was rather curious, I had lived at Nos. 9 and 10, on Lambeth
Terrace, which make nineteen,—I went to No. 19, Canterbury Place,—I
was just turned of nineteen years old,—and it was the nineteenth
century.
In this place I remained nearly three years and a-half: my mistress was
kind to me beyond everything, and I had a most excellent place. The
starving places I had been in had the good effect of making me really
economical in everything that came under my care, and that I had the
use of, though I very much disapprove of a famine; and my employers
were thoroughly satisfied with me. But there was one thing I could
never reconcile myself to, and that was, a great part of the time I was
in the house by myself; for my mistress used to go out a great deal,
often being at her sister’s for days and weeks together. I was not
afraid of being in the house alone, but it made me feel so dull; and I
confess, I used to look back and think my lot hard, compared with what
it might have been, under other circumstances, I found, (if I may be
allowed the expression) that I had “lost caste;” for if I called on
any of my relations, if any one came in, I was requested to step into
another room, and kept in the back ground, because I was a servant. I
mentioned it to my mistress, who, after that, used to let me sit and
work with her, when she was at home; and the third summer I was there,
she went to Brighton, and took me with her. At the lodgings we went to,
in Dorset Gardens, there was but one kitchen, and that occupied by the
persons of the house, I therefore resided with them; and there were
four in family, besides many acquaintances who used to come in. We were
there three weeks; and when I came home, the change I had seen made my
situation seem more irksome than ever.
Thus, as it often happens, the very means taken to mend a matter, make
it worse. I was, a long time, ashamed to name it, because I knew that I
had been taken to Brighton for a great treat: at all events, I stopped
nearly a year after, and then I mustered courage enough to tell my good
and kind mistress that I must leave her, for the frequent solitude I
could no longer bear; and I left a good home.
I had the offer, through Mrs. Pearce, of the cook’s place, at Alderman
Goodbehere’s, on China Terrace, but I was afraid to take it, thinking
I never could cook for an alderman, as my knowledge of cooking was
very limited at that time; and I went as housemaid, in a Jew’s family,
in Leman Street, Goodman’s Fields; but, in a short time, I heard that
there was great difficulty in getting a place, after living with Jews;
and as Miss W— had given me an excellent character, I could not think
of losing it, and told the lady I would only stop till she could get a
servant, and must have my three years and a-half character returned. A
few days after, I had forgotten something I ought to have done, and she
said I had not a second idea.
“Then, Ma’am,” said I, “if you think that is the case, I can be of no
service to you; and I will leave immediately.”
I think persons objecting to servants out of Jew families lie under
a great mistake—at least the Jew gentry; for they are far more moral
than many who call themselves Christians. In point of cleanliness,
they equal, if not excel, others; their obedience to the Mosaic laws
compelling them to have such periodical house-cleanings and rummagings
as no other people have.
I went to my old friend, Mrs. Bond; and my next place was with the head
clerk of an eminent solicitor, in Great Winchester Street, who lived
rent free, and had the care of the house and offices; and his wife
and I agreed very well: but when I had been there about ten months, a
cheesemonger’s wife, in the same street, said to me one day, that she
thought I might better myself, and, if I liked, she would look out for
a plain cook’s place for me, among her customers.
As I was now near four-and-twenty, and, of course, as I had gone along
had picked up a little knowledge of culinary matters, I felt much
obliged to her; and in a short time she recommended me to a lady, whose
daughter wanted a cook, and had wrote to her to engage one; and I went
to live at Staines, where there was a nurse and housemaid besides
myself, and a lad who looked after the horse and chaise, worked in the
garden, and cleaned knives; and I got on tolerably well, considering
it was my first cook’s place; only I was obliged to submit very much
to my fellow-servants, they having both lived with my mistress for a
long time, and during her widowhood, as the gentleman was her second
husband. They were both much older than I was; but as, at that time,
I was pliable enough, I conformed to them pretty well, and thought to
stop a twelvemonth.
When I had been there about eight months, the lad came in one day from
getting errands, as it was some distance from the town, and the nurse
and housemaid being both there, began teazing him. At last he, being
provoked, said—
“I can tell you something, Ann and Ellen: you cannot think how the
folks down in Staines town admires our Mary; and I don’t find as they
admires you a bit.”