John Jackson (London, Mishcon de Reya): Some weeks ago I remarked in a piece posted on OurKingdom that livelihood without liberty is mere servitude. When I wrote that I did not yet know that Molly had died in hospital, in her 93rd year, in early January.
Molly, born and bred in Scotland, left school when she was 14. Armed with the sound and extensive teachings that her country, with its poverty, Calvinist traditions and commitment to universal education, then provided to all its children, Molly went straight into ‘service', probably as a kitchen maid, with a wealthy family that owned a local ‘big house'. There she was joined later by a younger sister who, after some years, married the assistant gardener, Dick, employed by the same household.
Molly rose steadily to seniority in the servants' quarters, with her younger sister not far behind. And Dick became head gardener with a reputation for horticultural skill that led to him being consulted widely by local garden owners and their gardeners. He featured also on BBC gardening programmes.
When Dick's wife died, Molly moved into the gardener's bungalow that went with Dick's job and, with old age approaching, Molly and Dick, keeping each other company, subsided into semi-retirement. Molly was available to help out and advise on household matters at the big house and Dick, increasingly crippled by arthritis, became a head gardener who instructed a younger generation on how to do the gardening. That was the situation when I got to know them 15 years ago.
Two things impressed themselves on me. Dick and Molly, two of the most naturally ‘sweet' people I have ever known and with a delicious sense of humour, were staunchly loyal to their old employers and their family. They saw them as there own and telephoned the big house each evening before turning in to be sure that everything and everybody was ‘alright'. That loyalty was reciprocated in a generous and admirable way. I had no doubt that the big house family also saw Dick and Molly as a part of ‘them' to be looked after and kept secure for the rest of their days.
But I had the strong impression that, understandably I suppose, Dick and Molly were valued more as old retainers to whom an obligation was owed than as free people. And that affected the behaviour of Dick and Molly. It was some time before Molly stopped calling my wife and me ‘Mr and Mrs Jackson' and treating us as guests of the big house. With Dick it was different. He and I shared an interest in plants and we quickly related to one another as ‘plantsmen' on first name terms. It was some time however before he would call my wife by her first name.
This bothered me. Instinctively I am egalitarian. I have never liked the idea of someone being someone else's servant. For that is what a retainer is! This dislike has its origins in an experience I had in my paternal grandparents' house when aged 8. For my grandparents, their house was a statement of achievement. They had clawed their way out of the East End of London into a terraced house in Woodford Green. If you got to Woodford Green, with its class-conscious snobbism, you were on your way. But the real measure of importance was how many servants you had. And my grandparents had two, a cook and a housemaid.
Cook, I never knew her by another name, was a country girl who hugged me into her ample, apron covered belly smelling of cabbage water and called me ‘Deary'. Annie, a Dr Barnados girl and barely sixteen, was told by Cook that she must address me as ‘Master John'. I think that was more a reflection of the difference between the status of Cook and of Annie than of that between Annie and me. It made me squirm a little though, particularly if there were others about. Cook and Annie were allowed an afternoon off every other week but, before leaving the house, had to present themselves for inspection by my grandmother. One afternoon I was distressed to hear Annie, whom I adored, in floods of tears as she was sent to her room for the fourth time to adjust the angle of the feather in her hat.
The following afternoon, whilst being walked across the Green to be presented to a great aunt, I said ‘I thought you were unkind to Annie yesterday, Gran.' My grandmother spun me round and said ‘John, you must understand two things. Firstly people of that class are very fortunate to be in employment. And secondly, what they have never known they can never miss.' The first, although I did not then appreciate it , was probably correct. The second struck me as terribly wrong. It set me on the path to being a revolutionary.
It would be nice to think that people being in servitude to others, and the attitudes that go with it, are things of the past other than in our Royal and ducal palaces. Unfortunately that is not the case.
Less than 8 years ago, I decided to visit a professional huntsman who, I was informed, had interesting views on how fox hunting should be conducted if it was, as in his view it should be, for the purpose of environmental sustainability and wild life management. I was telephoned by a senior member of the ‘shire' hunting community, holding different views, the evening before the visit. He reminded me, with implied criticism, that I would be meeting ‘someone else's servant.' My response left that hunter in no doubt that I was not ‘sound'.
The business world is still infected also. In family owned businesses, ‘staff' are not to ‘know' too much in case they forget their ‘place'. In due time some of those businesses grow to considerable economic and social importance: it takes time for the unhealthy attitude to ‘place', an insidious poison, to disappear.
I never asked Molly how she saw this aspect of her life but on one glorious occasion Dick made his view clear. Dick had entrée to a large number of beautiful gardens within easy driving distance from his bungalow. He had contacted the owners and their gardeners and we spent an afternoon immersed in plants and the growing of them. Towards the end of the afternoon we we were invited into the houses for a dram and a chat. I was struck by how much more ‘equal' Scotland is than England, particularly Southern England, and how there is a subtle but important distinction between ‘status difference' (Scotland) and ‘class difference' (England).
His tongue loosened a little by the drams, Dick told me, as I drove us back to his home, that the custom for ‘big houses' to enclose their flower gardens by high walls and well away from sight of the house is so that the young ladies of the house do not get ‘over-heated' by the sight of young gardeners toiling in the sun stripped to the waist. He also told me that in his first job as a gardener's boy he had the noisome task once a year of digging out a big house's cess pit. The contents were laid in a deep trench and covered in earth. Leeks were then planted. ‘When the laird and his guests ate those great fat leeks, I don't suppose they realised it was there own shit.' Dick said to me with a sly little grin. That told me a lot. I am not sure whether he would have come out with it in front of Molly.
Molly and Dick, and all the Mollys and Dicks, have suffered a considerable injustice over many years. Economic and social circumstances have forced them to surrender a part of their fundamental freedom in return for security. They have been obliged to trim their behaviour and their tongues to be sure of not upsetting their masters. That is a form of servitude and, however enlightened a master may be and however warm the mutual feelings may be, it is wrong. Most people in employment encounter this problem at some point. It is an infection.
When I was a young law student, employment law was taught as the law of "Master and Servant'. Remembering Annie, that made me wince. Meeting Molly, and Dick, many years later reminded me why. If we truly believe in liberty and all that goes with it, we must insist on a society that reflects those values. We must not require people to ‘trade' liberty, or any part of it, in return for livelihood. Otherwise we will all eat Dick's leeks. Molly would have been upset by that.
