The original answer to the question at the head of these insignificant remarks was (correct me if I am wrong) nothing. “A rose,” said Juliet, “by any other name would smell as sweet.” But of course she was wrong. If a rose were handed to a visitor in the garden, with the words, “Do see how wonderful this onion is!” such a prejudice would be set up as fatally to impair its fragrance. There is, in fact, much in a name; and therefore the attempt of a correspondent of The Daily Express to find a generic nomenclature for domestic servants should be given very serious attention; the purpose being to meet “the objection felt by so many women servants to being either called by Christian or surname.”
As a means of placating this very sensitive class the correspondent writes:—
“One nearly always calls a cook by the name of her calling. I therefore suggest that a name be adopted beginning with the first letter of the class. For example:—
Lady’s-maid Louise. Parlourmaid Palmer. Housemaid Hannah. General Gertrude. Scullerymaid Sarah.”
Here we have materials for a sweeping innovation which might, if it spread, not only simplify life but reinforce the language. For why confine such terms to domestic servants? If all parlourmaids are to be called “Palmer,” why not, for example, call all editors “Eddy” (very good Eddy, or very bad Eddy, according to taste)? And all London County Councillors, “Elsie”?
But let us look a little narrowly at the specimens given. “Palmer” for “parlourmaid” is good; but “Louise” does not reproduce the sound values of “lady’s-maid.” Some such word as “Lais” would be better, or why not “Lady-bird,” which combines the desired similarity with the new euphemism “home-bird,” invented to help transform domestic service to a privilege and pleasure? “Hannah” for “housemaid” is also wrong, although for “handmaid” it would be good. On the analogy of “Palmer,” why not call all housemaids “How”? or even “House”?
If American Colonels can be called HOUSE, why not English housemaids? For generals “Jenny” would be better than “Gertrude”; and for scullery-maids “Scully.” “Scully” is quite a good name; there is a distinguished psychologist named SULLY, and there was an M.P. for Pontefract named GULLY. No scullery-maid need be offended.
It is odd how we call some persons by their profession or calling, and others not. We say “Doctor,” but we do not address our gum-architect as “Dentist.” We say “Carpenter,” but we do not address a plumber as “Plumber.” (Incidentally, all plumbers might be called Warner). We say “Gardener” and “Coachman,” but we do not address an advocate as “Barrister.” If we had a definite rule everything would be simple, but as we have not it is necessary to find several more names. I am not at all satisfied with The Daily Express’s test. For example, what would a second parlour-maid be called? If three were kept they might be called Palm, Palmer and Palmist. A long vista of difficulties opens.