The Observations (12 page)
CLOTHES MAKETH THE MAID
I am still strongly of the opinion that, in order to make a subject truly obedient, she must be appropriately dressed. Neither of the frocks that Bessy arrived with is in the least maid-like. Perhaps that sort of apparel goes un-remarked in Glasgow among the factory crowd, but here in the Shires, ordinary folk dress more simply and I suspect that (particularly given our dairymaids’ scandalised attitude to her) eyebrows would be raised at the sight of satinet and scarlet silk.
Not only must the subject feel like a maid, all who see her must be able to identify her as what she is, in order that they respond to her appropriately. Thus any faux pas can be avoided. I have heard tell of a lady’s maid who, in best clothes and on her day off, took a shortcut through the drawing room, and was there engaged in conversation by a gentleman who had mistaken her for a fellow houseguest. The girl was inexperienced enough (or perhaps the more cynical among us might say sly enough) to talk to him as an equal and it seems that quite a budding romance was underway when, just in time, the mistress of the house appeared. One can only imagine this lady’s mortification, under the circumstances. I do not know what happened to the maid in question, but there can be no doubt that she was severely chastised. Of course, a servant need not have a uniform—and indeed in all but the very best households uniformed staff can strike a vulgar and aspirational note. However, to avoid embarrassment, a maid should always be dressed simply and plainly, in her proper clothes.
To this end, I sent our new girl off on an errand yesterday while I had a look through my own wardrobe for something for her to wear amongst my old everyday clothes. I found nothing suitable but then remembered that in the attic I had stored the belongings of Nora, the very excellent and devoted maid whose death is recorded elsewhere in these pages. It occurred to me that it might be eminently practical to get some use out of her things. They are doing no good to anyone, hidden in a box, and it seems unlikely now that someone will turn up to claim them. Indeed, the more I thought about it, the more I considered it to be a sheer act of extravagance to leave them up there, mouldering, when here was a girl under my roof in desperate need of decent attire!
The clothes were in need only of a little pressing, which task I accomplished in a matter of moments. The girl returned from her errand soon thereafter (to my great relief—I had begun to worry that the call of the open road, her natural Gypsy instincts and the money in her pocket might seduce her, after all, into wandering off to Edinburgh). Anxious to see what she would look like in the clothes—in other words, that they would be the right size and that she would look appropriately maid-like—I persuaded her to try them on. They are a little tight in the here and there but the fit is adequate. I must say, she was quite transformed. Of course, I certainly did not want this subject to dwell morbidly on the origins of these frocks.
Girls of her sort, especially the Roman Catholics, are ruled by a complex set of superstitions, and so I gave her a plausible explanation for the sudden appearance of the clothes.
The afternoon brought a gentleman caller. Subject served us tea and although Nora’s clothes and a little instruction had made her more maid-like in rehearsal, when faced with a real guest some aspects of her performance were disheartening. It seemed she took a dislike to this guest (all too evident in her dealings with him) and in general, her demeanour lacked an appropriate level of civility. A maid should never betray her own feelings, no matter how deeply they run or how much she absolutely detests and despises a particular character. Unfortunately, we do not always have a say in who enters our home, in who must be entertained and given refreshment. But we have to be polite nonetheless.
Following his departure, I happened to catch the girl dancing a little jig in the hall and I suddenly had a glimpse of her as a “person‘. For a moment, I almost envied her the freedom she has—the lack of responsibility and care, only simple duties to carry out, no need to deal with irksome society, her brain untrammelled by the kind of anxieties and worries that plague her superiors and so on. Of course, one could not imagine changing places with such a person—and nor would one wish it! Nonetheless, I suddenly viewed her in a slightly different light.
I also felt a rather mournful regret for dear Nora. If only it were she, dancing in the hall and not this new girl! I may not have mentioned it before, because it is of no importance, but there is a slight resemblance between the subject and Nora. This Bessy has a little more flesh on her and is younger and under scrutiny, of course, it is clear that she is not dear Nora (with her charming habit of calling me “m’lady‘!). Nonetheless, Bessy is of Irish origin, of similar height, and the hair is a comparable shade—though Nora’s was, of course, always tidy. Even the shape of face and length of the nose are similar. Of course, anyone might have remarked upon Nora’s prettiness, whereas this girl is not so much pretty as—perhaps, one might say—voluptuous, but now that she was wearing Nora’s clothes, the similarity was more pronounced. I mention it only in passing, as it is of absolutely no importance. All the wishing in the world will not bring Nora back and no-one can replace her since she was in many respects, the perfect servant.
OBEDIENCE TESTING AND “PURPOSE‘
I have already documented the use of the “stand/sit‘ test for gauging a subject’s tendency to obedience (a less hazardous and more easily controlled version of the ”walk’ test). Without question, I have shown that the stand/sit test is initially an excellent indication of whether or not a subject is naturally inclined to obey. Readers may not fully appreciate, however, that thereafter, it can be used to measure how well a subject is progressing in terms of aptitude for servility. I had hoped to illustrate this with Morag, Bessy’s predecessor, but her refusal to co-operate in anything but what she saw as “regular‘ duties meant that we were often in conflict. She refused the stand/sit test point blank, no matter how many times I tried to persuade her. I admit that I was at a loss to know how to proceed. In the end (and with some misgivings) I trapped her in the pantry one morning, having first ensured that it contained some food, a jug of water, a chamber pot, a cushion to sit on and her preferred reading material. I told her (through the door) that I would let her out only as and when she agreed to submit to my test. Morag remained in the pantry for four and a half hours (the length of time I believe it took her to read ”The Courant’ and take a short nap), after which she seemed to realise that my will was stronger than her own and she agreed to co-operate if I would only set her free. Upon release, she refused to speak to me, and glared rather a lot, but when asked she did perform the stand/sit test for the first time, achieving a rather poor six repetitions. Despite this, I congratulated her and gave her gifts of a shilling and the rest of the day off. It seems, however, that she was only shamming co-operation in order to achieve her freedom, as—within the hour—she was gone forever from this house. I will pass over the exact manner of her departure. Suffice to say, it was plain that she had very much taken against me and had no intention of returning. (Luckily, that was the day that the new subject wandered onto our land.)
Of course, Bessy lacks the kind of natural obedience that was present in dear Nora, but at least she is certainly more compliant than Morag. However her early results with the stand/sit test were also a little disappointing. Of course, one must bear in mind that she is not used to service and is therefore perhaps not accustomed to responding, daily and unthinkingly, to what a mistress might ask of her. Unlike those that have been more in the world than myself, I have no real knowledge of how a factory operates, but I imagine that once the labourer has mastered his small task—the pulling of a lever here, or the turning of a cog there—he is left to get on with his work unsupervised, and if this (as I strongly suspect) is the girl’s habitual environment, she will be unused to taking repeated commands.
When asked later why she did not co-operate fully with the experiment, Bessy stated that she did not understand the porpoise“ of what she was being asked to do. Of course, a truly obedient mind would not question purpose but carry out instructions as commanded, without stopping to analyse why or how. This and certain other of the subject’s peculiarities add weight to my suspicion that she is not innately obedient.
In an attempt to draw more evidence from the subject, I round occasion to ask about her so-called previous employer. The girl has clearly invented this character—“Mr. Levy‘—in order to fit in with her story about having served as a housekeeper. Having created this invention, however, she appears to have been taken in by it. She talks incessantly—and always in glowing terms—about her ”Mr. Levy’. One would think that the man was a saint. I find myself disliking him intensely—and yet I realise that he is only a figment of her imagination! (Needless to say, there has been no reply to the letter that I sent to the address she provided.)
Playing along with her Phantasy, I put this to her: had she always known the purpose of what “Mr. Levy‘—(this great Paragon!)—had commanded her to do? She thought for a moment and then said that she had understood the porpoise of most things he had wanted, without even having to ask him, but that some of the things he made her do had indeed left
her
a little baffled. However, as she seemed unable (or unwilling) to be specific about or to describe what these particular duties were, we had to drop the subject. (Mr. Levy, apparently, did not mind if she used newspaper to wipe coal off the carpet.)
Hell roast her, I thought. Calling my Mr. Levy a figment! It seemed she had got no reply to her letter, which made me a bit hopeful. But what she had said in the title about a “most particular case‘ still had me worried and so I read on.
COAXING PHASE
Alongside the element of disorientation I have introduced, by degrees, the “coaxing‘ or ”bonding’ process, whereby the disoriented subject is encouraged to form a closer, trusting relationship with the mistress. As a means of spending more time with the subject when our daily labours had ended, I instigated punctuation lessons. (Perhaps dear Nora did not have this girl’s vocabulary, but she certainly knew what to do with a full stop!) The evening lesson gives us a chance to be seated side by side, in quiet and intimate circumstances, and I believe that Bessy would already (secretly) rather that we were friends than mistress and maid. She has a tendency, unless instructed otherwise, to seek out my company at every opportunity, for instance, walking me to and from church. If I retire to my room, it is only a matter of time before she will come knocking, often with little excuse. She is also keen to get me to divulge information about myself and my husband and often asks questions that are a little “off colour‘. Rather than discourage this, I have been (very subtly) encouraging it, in the interests of gaining her trust. From time to time, I tell her a little about myself, giving her something of my history with one or two mild embellishments. Rest assured, I reveal nothing too personal, but simply give her enough to make her feel that I am confiding in her. I do believe that she is quite ensnared by me. (By the by, she will also now perform 40 sit/stand repetitions, without question or complaint. However, here we seem to have stalled—if only I could get her to 50 it would feel like real progress!)
By this time I was sick to my stomach and I had the sweats. But that was nothing compared to how I began to feel when I came across the title of her next entry, whereupon I was filled with dread.
AN INTRIGUING LETTER FROM A JEWISH GENTLEMAN
This morning, I was most surprised to receive a short communication from a Mr. Samuel Levy of Candleriggs, Glasgow. It seems that he is the brother of ‘Mr. Benjamin Levy“ of Crown House, the gentleman (now indeed deceased) whom Bessy claims was her former employer. Mr. Samuel Levy says that he found my letter at Crown House when he went there to supervise the clearing of the premises, which have been shut up for several weeks, ever since his brother’s funeral.
According to Samuel Levy, there was an Irish girl who did indeed spend a number of months in his brother’s house. However, he says that this girl’s name was not Bessy Buckley, and he requests that I send a description of the girl that I have engaged, so that (in the first instance) he can establish whether or not we are speaking of the same person.
I must admit I am now rather intrigued, and have responded by return of post. I strongly suspect that my description will not match that of the ex-servant. It is my opinion that Bessy, in a moment of panic, gave me the address of one of her female acquaintances, perhaps a maidservant that she met one day while out walking in the park. Bessy may even have visited this girl at her place of work and had a glimpse of the master (which, no doubt, is where she will have gleaned her impression of the famous “Mr. Levy‘). The maid may also have spoken of her master’s death, hence Bessy’s story as told to me.
It remains to be seen whether I should confront her with her lies or not, and what course of action I should take. However, in the meantime, and until I hear from Mr. Levy (brother), I intend to continue with my research.
STARTLING NEWS CONCERNING BESSY
I have just, this very morning, received a reply from Mr. Samuel Levy. To my great surprise, it seems that my description of Bessy matches perfectly that of the girl who used to live at Crown House. Mr. Levy says that there is no mistaking her, despite the difference in names. He claims that although the girl was ostensibly employed as his elderly brother’s housekeeper she was, in fact, kept there under IMMORAL CIRCUMSTANCES, the specifics of which he does not enter into but which can be guessed at, even by someone like myself who has not been much in the world.
This girl’s name, he writes, is not Bessy but DAISY (!). No surname is known. The brothers Levy were apparently estranged for many years, a family argument having caused them, in earlier times, to set up in competition as rival furriers and although Benjamin was retired, the feud continued until his death (aged 62). Subsequently, Samuel came to know what went on in his brother’s house and upon learning full details from the neighbours he closed up the premises and ordered the girl to leave.
