Household Papers and StoriesStowe, Harriet Beecher
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Household Papers and Stories
Stowe, Harriet Beecher
Didactic fiction; Home economics -- Fiction; Short stories
than any we can hire; in fact, when we do hire, we are discontented
and uncomfortable, for who will do for us what we will do for
ourselves? But when we have company! there's the rub, to get out all
our best things and put them back,--to cook the meals and wash the
dishes ingloriously,--and to make all appear as if we didn't do it,
and had servants like other people.
There, after all, is the rub. A want of hardy self-respect, an
unwillingness to face with dignity the actual facts and necessities
of our situation in life,--this, after all, is the worst and most
dangerous feature of the case. It is the same sort of pride which
makes Smilax think he must hire a waiter in white gloves, and get
up a circuitous dinner party on English principles, to entertain a
friend from England. Because the friend in England lives in such
and such a style, he must make believe for a day that he lives so,
too, when in fact it is a whirlwind in his domestic establishment
equal to a removal or a fire, and threatens the total extinction of
Mrs. Smilax. Now there are two principles of hospitality that people
are very apt to overlook. One is, that their guests like to be made
at home, and treated with confidence; and another is, that people
are always interested in the details of a way of life that is new to
them. The Englishman comes to America as weary of his old, easy,
family-coach life as you can be of yours: he wants to see something
new under the sun,--something American; and forthwith we all bestir
ourselves to give him something as near as we can fancy exactly like
what he is already tired of. So city people come to the country, not
to sit in the best parlor and to see the nearest imitation of city
life, but to lie on the haymow, to swing in the barn, to form intimacy
with the pigs, chickens, and ducks, and to eat baked potatoes,
exactly on the critical moment when they are done, from the oven of
the cooking-stove,--and we remark, _en passant_, that nobody has ever
truly eaten a baked potato unless he has seized it at that precise
and fortunate moment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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