Imagine, if you will, the first thing you see upon waking in the morning and the last thing you see before sleep in the evening is a shining plaque stamped with text and images that declares: “PREPARE TO MEET THY GOD.”¹ This text, in black ink and all capital letters, is encircled by green leaves and flowers of indigo and burgundy. Above the text, nestled between the ends of the wreath, a white-skinned angel robed in the same shade of green as the leaves blows a trumpet whose bell is pointed towards the right. Above the angel, in serif text too small to read from a distance, is a quote from Psalm 31:1: “In thee, O Lord, do I put my trust, let me never be confounded.” The finish of the glossy lustreware lives up to its name, reflecting light from all angles due to the raised rim of the plaque and its scalloped edges. This plaque is normally displayed on the wall of the maid’s bedroom, hung with a braided pink ribbon (to complement the colour palette of the painted frame), placed directly in the line of sight of a person laying down in the twin-sized bed.

The woman who slept under this plaque was not just a maid, but the maid-of-all-work. She would have been the only live-in household servant other than the cook; below the cook in rank, she would have been responsible for everything outside of the cook’s duties. Her bedroom is the smallest and at the very back of the house, closest to the servants’ stairs. While aesthetic opinion is always subjective, the plaque is arguably the most beautiful object in the curated bedroom. The shine of the lustreware draws the gaze, holding it with the gold frame corners and the rare use of purple pigment,² especially notable when found inside a servant’s private room. What makes the plaque powerful, in addition to this beauty, is the religious message it shares.

I spent my first tour of Dalnavert going from room to room taking notes on objects that might be of interest to me for this exhibit, until I was stopped in my tracks upon my first peek into the maid’s bedroom. As a member of the clergy, I have spent a decade exploring theology and humankind’s search for meaning and purpose through our gods. This plaque stood out from all the other items in the working-class woman’s bedroom, and made me contemplate how its disassociation from the aesthetic of its surroundings called attention to its purpose: while the shine and the colour capture our wandering eyes, they are there to lead us to the commandment in bold type at the very centre: PREPARE TO MEET THY GOD. So who was her god? Scholar Krista Lysack reminds us the Victorian era, often referred to as an “Age of Doubt,” actually witnessed an increase in “religious discourses” alongside the well-known secularization of society; Lysack argues that one of the manifestations of this state of affairs was an increase in devotional literature for the home.³ While such devotionals ranged from printed bibles to collections of religious poetry and more, I think of how such materials may or may not have fit into the life of a maid-of-all-work. Such a job would have required getting up first thing in the morning (likely even before the cook), working physically hard all day, and then probably being the last to go to bed. After long days of hard labour, I wonder how often her eyes or her hands and arms were willing to engage with a book. With the plaque placed right in the line of sight from her head on her pillow, she would have been able to use the plaque as a devotional, a form of lectio divina (a religious practice wherein one contemplates a single phrase repeatedly).

Even if she could not see the psalm from her bed, she would know it was there during her devotions. The psalm is one of comfort, guiding its reader to place trust in one’s god for clarity and a strong moral compass. While modern, secular culture might initially receive the “prepare to meet thy god” as a threat—I considered that myself before seeing the tiny psalm—in the full context it is a message of comfort and resolve, and when used as a devotional might help our maid to both rest well and work well. Imagine, once again, that this plaque is the first thing you see upon waking: prepare to meet your god of truth and righteousness in the work you do today. Then, as you finally lay down after your labours, the plaque is before you again: prepare to meet your god, who sustains you and renews you in your sleep.

At the time of this writing, we know little about the woman who lived in that bedroom, and it is unlikely we can confirm whether she had a devotional plaque of her own. However, the dedicated team of staff and volunteers here at Dalnavert have strived to make sure she is not forgotten to history and are actively pursuing new information about her identity and her life.