All the time I sat with Mrs Bargrave, which was some hours, she recollected fresh sayings of Mrs Veal. And one material thing more she told Mrs Bargrave, that old Mr Breton allowed Mrs Veal ten pounds a year; which was a secret, and unknown to Mrs Bargrave, till Mrs Veal told it her.
Mrs Bargrave never varies in her story; which puzzles those who doubt of the truth, or are unwilling to believe it. A servant in the neighbour’s yard, adjoining to Mrs Bargrave’s house, heard her talking to somebody an hour of the time Mrs Veal was with her. Mrs Bargrave went out to her next neighbour’s the very moment she parted with Mrs Veal, and told her what ravishing conversation she had with an old friend, and told the whole of it. Drelincourt’s Book of Death is, since this happened, bought up strangely. And it is to be observed, that notwithstanding all the trouble and fatigue Mrs Bargrave has undergone upon this account, she never took the value of a farthing, nor suffered her daughter to take anything of anybody, and therefore can have no interest in telling the story.
But Mr Veal does what he can to stifle the matter, and said, he would see Mrs Bargrave; but yet it is certain matter of fact that he has been at captain Watson’s since the death of his sister, and yet never went near Mrs Bargrave; and some of his friends report her to be a liar, and that she knew of Mr Breton’s ten pounds a year. But the person who pretends to say so, has the reputation of a notorious liar, among persons whom I know to be of undoubted credit. Now Mr Veal is more of a gentleman than to say she lies; but says, a bad husband has crazed her. But she needs only present herself, and it will effectually confute that pretence. Mr Veal says he asked his sister on her death-bed, whether she had a mind to dispose of anything? And she said, No. Now, the things which Mrs Veal’s apparition would have disposed of, were so trifling, and nothing of justice aimed at in their disposal, that the design of it appears to me to be only in order to make Mrs Bargrave so to demonstrate the truth of her appearance, as to satisfy the world of the reality thereof, as to what she had seen and heard; and to secure her reputation among the reasonable and understanding part of mankind. And then again, Mr Veal owns, that there was a purse of gold; but it was not found in her cabinet, but in a comb-box. This looks improbable; for that Mrs Watson owned, that Mrs Veal was so very careful of the key of the cabinet, that she would trust nobody with it. And if so, no doubt she would not trust her gold out of it. And Mrs Veal’s often drawing her hand over her eyes, and asking Mrs Bargrave whether her fits had not impaired her, looks to me as if she did it on purpose to remind Mrs Bargrave of her fits, to prepare her not to think it strange that she should put her upon writing to her brother to dispose of rings and gold, which looked so much like a dying person’s request; and it took accordingly with Mrs Bargrave, as the effects of her fits coming upon her; and was one of the many instances of her wonderful love to her, and care of her, that she should not be affrighted; which indeed appears in her whole management, particularly in her coming to her in the day-time, waiving the salutation, and when she was alone; and then the manner of her parting, to prevent a second attempt to salute her.
Now, why Mr Veal should think this relation a reflection, as it is plain he does, by his endeavouring to stifle it, I cannot imagine; because the generality believe her to be a good spirit, her discourse was so heavenly. Her two great errands were to comfort Mrs Bargrave in her affliction, and to ask her forgiveness for the breach of friendship, and with a pious discourse to encourage her. So that, after all, to suppose that Mrs Bargrave could hatch such an invention as this from Friday noon till Saturday noon, supposing that she knew of Mrs Veal’s death the very first moment, without jumbling circumstances, and without any interest too; she must be more witty, fortunate, and wicked too, than any indifferent person, I dare say, will allow. I asked Mrs Bargrave several times, if she was sure she felt the gown? She answered modestly, If my senses be to be relied on, I am sure of it. I asked her, if she heard a sound when she clapped her hand upon her knee? She said, she did not remember she did; but said she appeared to be as much a substance as I did, who talked with her. And I may, said she, be as soon persuaded, that your apparition is talking to me now, as that I did not really see her: for I was under no manner of fear, and received her as a friend, and parted with her as such. I would not, says she, give one farthing to make any one believe it: I have no interest in it; nothing but trouble is entailed upon me for a long time, for aught I know; and had it not come to light by accident, it would never have been made public. But now, she says, she will make her own private use of it, and keep herself out of the way as much as she can; and so she has done since. She says, she had a gentleman who came thirty miles to her to hear the relation; and that she had told it to a room full of people at a time. Several particular gentlemen have had the story from Mrs Bargrave’s own mouth.
This thing has very much affected me, and I am as well satisfied, as I am of the best-grounded matter of fact. And why we should dispute matter of fact, because we cannot solve things of which we can have no certain or demonstrative notions, seems strange to me. Mrs Bargrave’s authority and sincerity alone, would have been undoubted in any other case.
Jonathan Swift
Directions to the Footman
Your employment being of a mixt nature, extends to a great variety of business, and you stand in a fair way of being the favourite of your master or mistress, or of the young masters and misses; you are the fine gentleman of the family, with whom all the maids are in love. You are sometimes a pattern of dress to your master, and sometimes he is so to you. You wait at table in all companies, and consequently have the opportunity to see and know the world, and to understand men and manners; I confess your vails are but few, unless you are sent with a present, or attend the tea in the country; but you are called Mr in the neighbourhood, and sometimes pick up a fortune, perhaps your master’s daughter; and I have known many of your tribe to have good commands in the army. In town you have a seat reserved for you in the play-house, where you have an opportunity of becoming wits and criticks: you have no profest enemy except the rabble, and my lady’s waiting-woman, who are sometimes apt to call you skip-kennel. I have a true veneration for your office, because I had once the honour to be one of your order, which I foolishly left by demeaning my self with accepting an employment in the custom-house. But that you, my brethren, may come to better fortune, I shall here deliver my instructions, which have been the fruits of much thought and observation, as well as of seven years experience.
In order to learn the secrets of other families, tell your brethren those of your master’s; thus you will grow a favourite both at home and abroad, and be regarded as a person of importance.
Never be seen in the streets with a basket or bundle in your hands, and carry nothing but what you can hide in your pocket, otherwise you will disgrace your calling: to prevent which, always retain a blackguard boy to carry your loads; and if you want farthings, pay him with a good slice of bread or scrap of meat.
Let a shoe-boy clean your own shoes first, for fear of fouling the chamber, then let him clean your master’s; keep him on purpose for that use and to run of errands, and pay him with scraps.
When you are sent on an errand, be sure to hedge in some business of your own, either to see your sweet-heart, or drink a pot of ale with some brother-servants, which is so much time clear gained.
There is a great controversy about the most convenient and genteel way of holding your plate at meals; some stick it between the frame and the back of the chair, which is an excellent expedient, where the make of the chair will allow it: others, for fear the plate should fall, grasp it so firmly, that their thumb reacheth to the middle of the hollow; which however, if your thumb be dry, is no secure method; and therefore in that case, I advise your wetting the bowl of it with your tongue: as to that absurd practice of letting the back of the plate lye leaning on the hollow of your hand, which some ladies recommend, it is universally exploded, being liable to so many accidents. Others again, are so refined, that they hold thei
r plate directly the left arm-pit, which is the best situation for keeping it warm; but this may be dangerous in the article of taking away a dish, where your plate may happen to fall upon some of the company’s heads. I confess my self to have objected against all these ways, which I have frequently tryed; and therefore I recommend a fourth, which is to stick your plate up to the rim inclusive, in the left side between your waistcoat and your shirt: this will keep it at least as warm as under your arm-pit, or ockster (as the Scots call it). This will hide it so, as strangers may take you for a better servant, too good to hold a plate; this will secure it from falling, and thus disposed, it lies ready for you to whip it out in a moment, ready warmed, to any guest within your reach, who may want it. And lastly, there is another convenience in this method, that if at any time during your waiting, you find yourself going to cough or sneese, you can immediately snatch out your plate, and hold the hollow part close to your nose or mouth, and, thus prevent spirting any moisture from either, upon the dishes or a lady’s head-dress: you see gentlemen and ladies observe a like practice on such an occasion, with a hat or a handkerchief; yet a plate is less fouled and sooner cleaned than either of these; for, when your cough or sneese is over, it is but returning your plate to the same position, and your shirt will clean it in the passage.
Take off the largest dishes, and set them on with one hand, to shew the ladies your vigour and strength of back; but always do it between two ladies, that if the dish happens to slip, the soup or sauce may fall on their cloaths, and not daub the floor: by this practice, two of our brethren, my worthy friends, got considerable fortunes.
Learn all the new-fashion words, and oaths, and songs, and scraps of plays that your memory can hold. Thus, you will become the delight of nine ladies in ten, and the envy of ninety-nine beaux in a hundred.
Take care, that at certain periods, during dinner especially, when persons of quality are there, you and your brethren be all out of the room together, by which you will give yourselves some ease from the fatigue of waiting, and at the same time leave the company to converse more freely, without being constrained by your presence.
When you are sent on a message, deliver it in your own words, altho’ it be to a duke or a dutchess, and not in the words of your master or lady; for how can they understand what belongs to a message as well as you, who have been bred to the employment? But never deliver the answer till it is called for, and then adorn it with your own style.
When dinner is done, carry down a great heap of plates to the kitchen, and when you come to the head of the stairs, trundle them all before you: there is not a more agreeable sight or sound, especially if they be silver, besides the trouble they save you, and there they will lie ready near the kitchen door, for the scullion to wash them.
If you are bringing up a joint of meat in a dish, and it falls out of your hand, before you get into the dining room, with the meat on the ground, and the sauce spilled, take up the meat gently, wipe it with the lap of your coat, then put it again into the dish, and serve it up; and when your lady misses the sauce, tell her, it is to be sent up in a plate by itself.
When you carry up a dish of meat, dip your fingers in the sauce, or lick it with your tongue, to try whether it be good, and fit for your master’s table.
You are the best judge of what acquaintance your lady ought to have, and therefore, if she sends you on a message of compliment or business to a family you do not like, deliver the answer in such a manner, as may breed a quarrel between them, not to be reconciled: or, if a footman comes from the same family on the like errand, turn the answer she orders you to deliver, in such a manner, as the other family may take it for an affront.
When you are in lodgings, and no shoe-boy to be got, clean your master’s shoes with the bottom of the curtains, a clean napkin, or your landlady’s apron.
Ever wear your hat in the house, but when your master calls; and as soon as you come into his presence, pull it off to shew your manners.
Never clean your shoes on the scraper, but in the entry, or at the foot of the stairs, by which you will have the credit of being at home, almost a minute sooner, and the scraper will last the longer.
Never ask leave to go abroad, for then it will be always known that you are absent, and you will be thought an idle rambling fellow; whereas, if you go out, and no body observes, you have a chance of coming home without being missed, and you need not tell your fellow-servants where you are gone, for they will be sure to say, you were in the house but two minutes ago, which is the duty of all servants.
Snuff the candles with your fingers, and throw the snuff on the floor, then tread it out to prevent stinking: this method will very much save the snuffers from wearing out. You ought also to snuff them close to the tallow, which will make them run, and so encrease the perquisite of the cook’s kitchen-stuff; for she is the person you ought in prudence to be well with.
While grace is saying after meat, do you and your brethren take the chairs from behind the company, so that when they go to sit down again, they may fall backwards, which will make them all merry; but be you so discreet as to hold your laughter till you get to the kitchen, and then divert your fellow-servants.
When you know your master is most busy in company, come in and pretend to settle about the room, and if he chides, say, you thought he rung the bell. This will divert him from plodding on business too much, or spending himself in talk, or racking his thoughts, all which are hurtful to his constitution.
If you are ordered to break the claw of a crab or a lobster, clap it between the sides of the dining room door between the hinges: thus you can do it gradually without mashing the meat, which is often the fate of the street-door-key, or the pestle.
When you take a foul plate from any of the guests, and observe the foul knife and fork lying on the plate, shew your dexterity, take up the plate, and throw off the knife and fork on the table without shaking off the bones or broken meat that are left: then the guest, who hath more time than you, will wipe the fork and knife already used.
When you carry a glass of liquor to any person who hath called for it, do not bob him on the shoulder, or cry sir, or madam, here’s the glass, that would be unmannerly, as if you had a mind to force it down one’s throat; but stand at the person’s right shoulder and wait his time; and if he strikes it down with his elbow by forgetfulness, that was his fault and not yours.
When your mistress sends you for a hackney coach in a wet day, come back in the coach to save your cloaths and the trouble of walking; it is better the bottom of her pettycoats should be daggled with your dirty shoes, than your livery be spoiled, and yourself get a cold.
There is no indignity so great to one of your station, as that of lighting your master in the streets with a lanthorn; and therefore, it is very honest policy to try all arts how to evade it: besides, it shews your master to be either poor or covetous, which are the two worst qualities you can meet with in any service. When I was under these circumstances, I made use of several wise expedients, which I here recommend to you: sometimes I took a candle so long, that it reached to the very top of the lanthorn and burned it: but, my master after a good beating, ordered me to paste the top with paper. I then used a middling candle, but stuck it so loose in the socket that it leaned towards one side, and burned a whole quarter of the horn. Then I used a bit of candle of half an inch, which sunk in the socket, and melted the solder, and forced my master to walk half the way in the dark. Then he made me stick two inches of candle in the place where the socket was; after which, I pretended to stumble, put out the candle, and broke all the tin part to pieces: at last, he was forced to make use of a lanthorn-boy out of perfect good husbandry.
It is much to be lamented, that gentlemen of our employment have but two hands to carry plates, dishes, bottles, and the like out of the room at meals; and the misfortune is still the greater, because one of those hands is required to open the door, while you are encumbred with your load: therefore, I advise, that the door may be alway
s left at jarr, so as to open it with your foot, and then you may carry out plates and dishes from your belly up to your chin, besides a good quantity of things under your arms, which will save you many a weary step; but take care that none of the burthen falls till you are out of the room, and if possible, out of hearing.
If you are sent to the post-office with a letter in a cold rainy night, step to the ale-house, and take a pot, until it is supposed you have done your errand, but take the next fair opportunity to put the letter in carefully, as becomes an honest servant.
If you are ordered to make coffee for the ladies after dinner, and the pot happens to boil over, while you are running up for a spoon to stir it, or are thinking of something else, or struggling with the chamber-maid for a kiss, wipe the sides of the pot clean with a dishclout, carry up your coffee boldly, and when your lady finds it too weak, and examines you whether it has not run over, deny the fact absolutely, swear you put in more coffee than ordinary, that you never stirred an inch from it, that you strove to make it better than usual, because your mistress had ladies with her, that the servants in the kitchen will justify what you say: upon this, you will find that the other ladies will pronounce your coffee to be very good, and your mistress will confess that her mouth is out of taste, and she will for the future suspect herself, and be more cautious in finding fault. This I would have you do from a principle of conscience, for coffee is very unwholsome; and out of affection to your lady, you ought to give it her as weak as possible: and upon this argument, when you have a mind to treat any of the maids with a dish of fresh coffee, you may, and ought to substract a third part of the powder, on account of your lady’s health, and getting her maids good-will.
The Penguin Book of the British Short Story, Volume 1 Page 5