MY OPERA BOX. My opera-box! my opera-box! And one among them, Mr. Coxe, My opera-box! my opera-box! My opera-box! my opera-box! And mine to ope your coffer's locks, My opera-box! my opera-box! And rents reduced, and in arrear, And money scarce, and all things dear! Then be obedient, Mr. Coxe, T. H. B. SKETCHES ON IRISH HIGHWAYS. IRISH SERVANTS. A BLUNDER! a palpable blunder! my readers may exclaim. What? are Irish servants picked up on Irish highways? do they grow rife as blackberries upon the bushes? do they wander forth at noon and eventide, and roost in the hedges or by the way-side? Gentle English reader, they do; the instant the sound of carriage-wheels or the high trotting of a horse is heard within the precincts of a mansion or farmhouse, the cooking, washing, scouring, cleaning-all, all is neglectedleft to do its own work-and every domestic, from the lady's maid, rich in many coloured ribands and “lashins of lace," down to the scullion, who exults in bare-foot freedom, all "step out" to “ see the quality." Every village in the world has its appointed spot "where maids do congregate." In France it is under the great chestnut or apple-tree of the district; in England, round the pump; and in Ireland, at the cross-roads. You never pass cross-roads in the vicinity of gentlemen's houses without seeing a group of servants hard and fast at a gossip, particularly if the time be after six, and the evening fine. There they stand-one arm a-kimbo-the broad borders of their caps floating on the breeze-one foot resting on the instep of the other-and thrice happy if a mound of stones, commonly called a ditch, skirt the highway. Against this they lean, while others sit in the "gripe" of the ditch after a peculiar fashion which I never could comprehend, seeing that they manage to support themselves on their heels, while their drapery appears fixed round them like what little children call " a cheese. It is amusing enough to note such a small company, high in debate or retailing the news, and sitting in judgment on the concerns of their masters and mistresses; but in the matter of judging, I confess the decided superiority of an Irish servant over an English one. The Irish servant cares little how he is debased provided his master is exalted. "Maybe I'm low, mane, and ungenteel myself," said an officer's Irish tiger one day to a poor tradesman who had been "abusive." "Maybe I'm, and maybe I'm not, that's neither here nor there; but as for my master, who has the heart's blood of a gentleman in him, even if he does owe you a dirty trifle-if you dare to turn yer breath agin him, by the powers! I'll make ye sup sorrow in the horse-pond for yer breakfast." وو Pat, it is easily perceived, had no ambition beyond what small portion of credit and respectability his master reflected upon him-no wish to be honoured on his own account. "His master" is his lord, and while in his service he is bound to consider himself his thrall. "If you call me a rascal," exclaimed an English servant similarly circumstanced, "I'll take the law of you. If my master owes you money, let him pay it-I'm not bound for him-nor I'll not be called rascal for nothing nor nobody." I do not consider this an advantage as far as Irish servants are concerned, but rather a proof of how little independence exists in the country amongst that class of people. "Look up to the gentry and demane yourself to them properly," is the advice of an Irish parent to a child going to service; but the spirit of admonition from a good English mother to her son is directly the opposite-" Do your duty to God and man, but don't be put upon by any one." The genuine worship of aristocracy-a bowing down to those who sit in high places-is far more alive at this moment in Ireland than in any other of the sister kingdoms. An Irishman must have something to lean upon-his landlordand above all his priest, whereon to repose his spirit-and the door-post, or the handle of his spade, or a ruined wall, against which to lean his body. This is peculiarly the case with Irish servants; 'first of all, they "depind" upon their masters and mistresses not seeing their omissions, keenly perceiving how much they omit themselves; and they also "depind" upon Judy this or Barney the other to steal into the kitchen and help them to get through their work. "How 'ud they ever do it else, and the wages so small, and the times so bad?" The fact of it is, that every regular servant in an Irish gentleman's family has his own peculiar tail, which, if not carefully clipped, will in time, by its manifold turnings and windings, destroy the head of the whole. I know several of what are called "good managers" who become outrageous at the idea of a charwoman entering their well-ordered mansions; what would they say to an Irish servant's tail? Take an example. An Irish mistress descends to the lower regions at an hour when she is not looked for. Thomas," to the butler," what strange boy is that I saw in the pantry?". "That? Oh, that's Jemmy Lownds, just come in to hould master's coat, while Larry brushes it." "I mean the lad with red hair; I know James.” "Oh, 'tother gorsoon, ma'am ; he only stept in to see after Jemmy." "Katherine," to the cook, "what business has the weeder to come in and do the kitchen-maid's work, while the kitchen-maid does yours, and you have been looking over the yard wall this hour past?" "Lord save us, my lady! what will the gentry see afther next? My heart was weak in my body for want of a little fresh air, and I jist stept out to take a mouthful, and see Barney Tooly and Jack Johnson and two or three of the workmen help the groom to catch the mare; and sure we'd never get through the work but for the help now and agin." 66 I saw two strange caps in the laundry." "I don't think there's any but Jenny Robins, stept in to do a hand's turn for poor Anty, that's kilt alive with the big heavy washes. Oh, my grief! times are changed when ladies like you think it worth their while to see afther the comers an' goers, and demane themselves with thinking of the bit and the sup! I very much fear that the generality of Trish housekeepers do not, as Katherine would say, "demane" themselves in any such way. If they attended more to their domestic concerns, there would be less ruin among the higher classes of Irish society. I am really at a loss to account for the fact, though fact it unquestionably is, that there is a certain carelessness—a want of order-of neatness-of regularity in doméstic arrangements, perceptible in almost every Irish house. They appear to me never to think where or how they put their things; their beautiful furniture is seldom half-dusted, and from the ladies' boudoir, where tinsel usurps the place of sterling ornament, down to the kitchen, where one thing is applied to twenty different uses, there is a total absence of Dec.-VoI.. XLII, NO. CLXVIII, 2 G arrangement. I know many who will be very angry at my saying this, and still more angry with me for printing it; but it is so palpable -observed by every one at all accustomed to England and English habits-that I am assured it is better to tell the truth boldly than to whisper it in corners. My deep and heart-felt praise do I give to the warm, hospitable, and affectionate feelings of my dear countrywomen; they are as full of talent as they are of genuine kindness, but they most deplorably lack the precision-the neatness-the thoughtfulness-which sheds the halo of comfort over an English ménage. Their minds are as informed, their manners more pleasing, yet they often act as if their brains as well as their houses required to be put in seemly order. I do not think they deserve the imputation so often and so severely cast upon them of want of cleanliness; no nation, I do believe, wash so frequently, but their carelessness makes them soil twice what they clean once; and only those who live amongst them can note the difference. A wellregulated house is always the result of a well-regulated mind, and though Irish servants are very impracticable, still I know they can be managed, for in their own country they are docile, respectful, and not half as quarrelsome as they are here. Imperfections are readily acquired; and the servants who come to England"seeking their fortun" pick up the extravagance and sauciness peculiar to our serving-men and maidens, graft it upon their national pride, and so not unfrequently become epitomes of the bad of both countries. Irish servants have, generally speaking, one quality which covers a multitude of sins-the strongest possible attachment to their employers. "It isn't for me to see their faults; don't they give me the bit I eat and 'the rag I wear? and why should I say anything against them? I'll stick up for them while I've breath in my body; for I'm not ungrateful." The affection of Irish nurses to their foster-children is one of the most powerful and devoted feelings of which human nature is capable; they will follow and serve them through evil report and good report-in poverty and in prosperity-in a foreign land, as well as in their own country; and one instance I well remember, of a poor nurse, who, when she heard her foster child-the younger son of a family that had been both respected and respectable in former timeswas in an English gaol, came over, attended him during his sad and lonely hours of imprisonment; and when he was doomed to an ignominious death, never left his side till he exchanged time for eternity. She talked to him of those he had loved, before his soul and his name became polluted by evil. And it was a holy thing, within the prison walls, to hear that grey-headed woman put up her heart-felt prayers to the Almighty, for the object of such pure affection. When all was over she claimed his body,-waked it, after the fashion of her country; sold all she possessed in the world to give it decent burial; and was herself his monument; for, a few nights after, she was found dead upon his grave! Such a story does not need the embellishment of fiction. I remember when it first became my duty to engage servants, my heart overflowed with patriotism. I resolved that none but Irish should perform the labours of my household; which, of course, like all young matrons, I determined should be conducted on so liberal and judicious a principle, that the gratitude and affection of my domestics would be an example of the purity and goodness of (Irish) human nature. Of course I began by expecting too much; and even now I believe I received too little in return. However, now that I have got over all soreness about certain blunders and inattentions, and various and variegated mistakes, I derive much amusement from the remembrance of the oddity and eccentricity of my poor countrywomen. They were curious mixtures of good and evil; active and energetic, when excited by strong motives-indolent and lazy on ordinary occasions. I especially remember a cook, who was over-fond of any libation that bore the semblance of whiskey. In one of her tipsy freaks she had fallen against the kitchen range, and the result was, the loss of an eye. Poor Mary Keegan! this did not prevent her from very frequently seeing double; and her evening salutation was generally as follows: let it be understood that Mary, when addressing you, had sacrificed too liberally to Bacchus to stand quite erect, and her mind was always filled with the idea, that the person who spoke to her was the very person who "knockt" out her eye. Moreover, when "tossicated," she had a great desire to assist the housemaid in carrying up water, or coal, or china, or glass; anything, in fact, that was likely to occasion confusion if spilt or destroyed. If she met me in the hall, or on the stairs, down would go whatever she had on the floor, and then folding her hands over her apron, she would make a low, staggering curtsey. "Good evening to you, mistress dear; I hope you're very good dinner was turned to your liking-ah! don't ye be looking that-away at me, darlint lady-an't I worked to an oil, and faith I can't stand it.” "So I perceive, Mary." "God bless you, ma'am, dear, and mark ye to grace; and now, ma'am, will ye be plased to give me my fine eye that you knockt out o' my head ?" Me, Mary, I never knockt out your eye! יי! "Well a-lannan! it's out any way; an' if it is out, what sinnifies it to Molly Keegan who knockt it out. So ma'am, dear, I'll trouble ye eye!" Poor Molly! she was a faithful, troublesome, affectionate, cross, but clean servant; and used always to declare that she came over to England for the express purpose of teaching the English" dacensy*." One, however, of the most genuine specimens of Irish style, and Irish display I ever met with, was a certain butler; an old, and, in many respects, a favourite servant of a friend with whom I have spent many happy hours, and whom I recently visited. He rejoiced in the name of Rowland, but he was always called Rory. There was a quaintness, an oddity, and a love of show about the man, which I never saw equalled, even in his own country. Rory was tall and well-looking; exceedingly attached to his mistress, and to his own opinion. Now as his mistress's opinion and his own were usually at variance, there was a perpetual struggle in his mind as to which should overcome the other. Rory's deference for my friend prompted implicit obedience. Rory's self One of my other maids had received a hint or two of my propensity for storytelling, and I could never get from her any answer beyond "Yes, mistress," or " No, mistress."-all my labour to induce her to utter a longer sentence was in vain. At length, somewhat annoyed at her brevity, I insisted on knowing what she meant, and then she did somewhat extend her reply," Arrah, let me alone, mistress; ye know ye are goin' to put me into a book." |