Bogus Intellect
New York Ledger
Dec. 30, 1865
Dec. 30, 1865
THERE IS ONE CLASS of women that in my opinion need extinguishing. I think I hear some male voice exclaim, One? I wish there were not a great many! Sir! I know that the foolishest woman who was ever born is better than most men; but I am not treating of that branch of the subject now. As I was about to remark, there is a class of sentimental women who use up the whole dictionary in speaking of a pin, and circumlocute about the alphabet in such a way, every time they open their mincing lips, that nobody but themselves can know what they are talking about, and truth to say, I should have been safe not to admit even that exception. Their "ske-iy" must always be heavily "ble-u;" to touch household matters with so much as the end of a taper finger would be "beneath them," and that though Astor may have considerable more money in the bank than themselves. To sweep, to dust, to make a bed, to look into a kitchen-closet, to superintend a dinner --- was a woman made for that? they indignantly exclaim. Now, while I as indignantly deny that she was born with a gridiron round her neck, I repudiate the idea that any one of these duties is beneath any woman, if it be necessary or best that she should perform them. I could count you a dozen women on my fingers' ends, whom the reading world had delighted to honor, who held no such flimsy, sickly, hot-house views as these. Because a woman can appreciate a good book, or even write one or talk or think intelligently, is she not to be a breezy, stirring, wide-awake, efficient thorough, capable housekeeper? Is she not to be a soulful wife and a loving, judicious mother? Is she to disdain to comb a little tumbled head, or to wash a pair of sticky little paws, or to mend a rent in a pinafore or little pair of trousers? I tell you there's a false ring about women who talk that way. No woman of true intellect her felt such duties beneath her. She may like much better to read an interesting book, or write out her own thoughts when she feels the inspiration, than to be much employed this way, but she will never, never disdain it, and she will faithfully stand at her post if there can be no responsible relief-guard. You will never find her sentimentally whining about moonshine, while her neglected children are running loose in the neighbors' houses, or through the streets. You may be sure she is the wrong sort of woman who does this; she has neither head enough to attain to that which she is counterfeiting, nor heart enough really to care for the children she has so thoughtlessly launched upon the troubled sea of life. I sincerely believe that there are few women with a desire for intellectual improvement, who cannot secure it if they will. To be honest, they find plenty of time to put no end of embroidery on their children's clothes; plenty of time to keep up the neck-and-neck race of fashion, though it may be in third-rate imitations. They will sit up till midnight, but they will trim a dress or bonnet in the latest style, if they cannot hire it done, when the same energy would, if they felt inclined, furnish the inside of their heads much more profitably; for mark you, these women who are above household cares will run their feet off to match a trimming, or chase down a coveted color in a ribbon. That isn't "belittling!" That isn't "trivial!" That isn't "beneath them!"
It is very funny how such women will fancy they are recommending themselves by this kind of talk, to persons who's approbation they sometimes seek. If they only knew what a sensible, rational person may be thinking about while they are patiently but politely listening to such befogged nonsense; how pity is dominant where they suppose admiration to be the while; how the listener longs to break out and say, My dear woman, I have washed and ironed, and baked and brewed, and swept and dusted, and washed children, and made bonnets, and cut and made dresses, and mended old coats, and cleaned house, and made carpets, and nailed them down, and cleaned windows, and washed dishes, and tended the door-bell, and done every "menial" thing you can think of, when it came to me to do, and I'm none the worse for it, though perhaps you would not have complimented my "intellect," as you call it, had you known it. Lord bless me! there's nothing like one's own hands and feet. Bells are very good institutions when one is sick, but I never found that person who, when I had use of my feet, could do a thing as quick as myself, and as a general thing the more you pay them the slower they move; and as I'm of the comet order, I quite forget it is "beneath me" to do things, till I've done them. So you see, after all, so far as I am concerned, it is no great credit to me, although it is very shocking to know that a woman who writes isn't always dressed in sky blue, and employed in smelling a violet.
It is very funny how such women will fancy they are recommending themselves by this kind of talk, to persons who's approbation they sometimes seek. If they only knew what a sensible, rational person may be thinking about while they are patiently but politely listening to such befogged nonsense; how pity is dominant where they suppose admiration to be the while; how the listener longs to break out and say, My dear woman, I have washed and ironed, and baked and brewed, and swept and dusted, and washed children, and made bonnets, and cut and made dresses, and mended old coats, and cleaned house, and made carpets, and nailed them down, and cleaned windows, and washed dishes, and tended the door-bell, and done every "menial" thing you can think of, when it came to me to do, and I'm none the worse for it, though perhaps you would not have complimented my "intellect," as you call it, had you known it. Lord bless me! there's nothing like one's own hands and feet. Bells are very good institutions when one is sick, but I never found that person who, when I had use of my feet, could do a thing as quick as myself, and as a general thing the more you pay them the slower they move; and as I'm of the comet order, I quite forget it is "beneath me" to do things, till I've done them. So you see, after all, so far as I am concerned, it is no great credit to me, although it is very shocking to know that a woman who writes isn't always dressed in sky blue, and employed in smelling a violet.
Fanny Fern
To cite this project:
Fanny Fern, "Bogus Intellect," Fanny Fern Archive, Ed. Haley Jones (2019) http://fannyfernarchive.org.
Fanny Fern, "Bogus Intellect," Fanny Fern Archive, Ed. Haley Jones (2019) http://fannyfernarchive.org.
