If I Had My Own Blue Box:

Moore’s Rural New-Yorker

July 29^th, 1861

Letter from Aunt Betsey.

The man that’s telling about his wife scolding on Mondays, is in a bid “pickle,” to be sure. I’d just like to be lookin’ in at the kitchen window next time his “A.” washes, and see how things do go on, for if he’s as much of a saint as a body would think from hearing his side of the question, he really ought to be translated away from all that “domestic discord and discontent.” As for his wife, she must be a dreadful cross woman, troubled with a drop of black blood in her heart, or something of that kind, if she can’t be satisfied when he tries to help her.

There’s precious few men that have the knack of helping a woman more than they hinder, but it always make [sic] good natured just to have Joshua try to help me, even if he knocked down twenty things where he picked up one, and put the fire all out trying to kindle it, ‘cause he showed his good will, and that’s the main thing. I don’t happen to be constituted so that I think a man isn’t a true man – or as near true as anybody gets to be in this world of mortal failin’s – if he don’t always see when he might do a chore to help his wife; for let folks that has boys to bring up, say what they will, and do what they will, to learn ‘em to do chores in the house, if it isn’t in them to be quick to see, and handy to do, they can’t be made over.

But about that scolding and feeling cross on wash days. There’s quite a number of reasons why a woman may feel out of sorts – some of the “Country Cousin” and the rest have given – and seeing that I’ve had the cares of a family (as you may know by my gray hairs), maybe I’m qualified to give a little bit of advice, too. It isn’t in human natur’ to really like to be sweating over a tub of hot suds and soiled clothes, breathing steam and scrubbing till shoulders ache and fingers are blistered; and the men would only have to try it a few times to find that it brought out some dirty streaks, even in their angelic natures; but when it has to be done, a body must make the best of it, and one way to do this is to begin with that first law, order. Know just what you are going to do, and how you are going to do it, then go ahead. If you do your work alone, get your breakfast and have things go on a near right as they generally do; if you go to snapping, you’ll be likely to get snapped at back again, and that’ll be a load for your heart to carry, a slight heavier than any your hands will find. Pick up things, and sweep your rooms, not as thoroughly as you generally do, if you have not the time, but still so that they’ll look decent, for if you’re naturally tidy, having your rooms look worse than usual will be one thing that’ll fret you. There’s something in your personal appearance, too. It’s all very well to have a wash-dress, but there’s no sort of use in having it torn half off the waist, ripped under the arms, or any such thing. I don’t blame men for not feeling much like helping a woman in such a rig, with her hair hanging down her back, like enough, and her face looking as sweet as could be expected in such a settling our; but if you look as well as you may, and ask as pleasantly as you can (if he don’t think to do it without asking) to have wood and water brought for you, you’ll be likely to get it. Then if you are sensible, you will be very glad to have your liege lord say, “Is there anything more we can do to hell you?” to which you will answer, “No, thank you;” and he will go to do his work and you to yours, neither of you to be disturbed by the other’s petty trials if you are wise enough to keep then to yourselves.

Hoping that the afflicted “A.” and his wife may be benefited by confiding their troubles to the public, I am, respectfully, your Aunt Betsey.

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Moore’s Rural New-Yorker

May 11th, 1861

Woman’s Rights and Aunt Betsy

Seeing a communication from “O.” to Aunt Betsey, and feeling somewhat interested in the old lady, – of whom, by the way, I have some slight knowledge, – excuse the liberty I have taken of saying a few words on the subject, which shall be done with due deference for her gray hairs.

Our aunt, being country born and bred, has a heart, – a real, loving heart, that feels for others woes. She is ever ready to assist the needy or relieve the distressed, and as she is naturally of a very cheerful disposition, I think something must have happened, which “riled” her more than common, when she spoke of woman’s rights. Often does she gather us about her, and many are the words of wisdom which fall from her lips as she relates her experiences in order that we may profit thereby. She is called a kind, charitable person, and I beg you, “O.,” not to judge her by that conversation. I cannot agree with her, for to me life appears like the April day, all clouds and sunshine, and that “Woman’s Rights” are to guard woman’s home from the storms that oft will cloud the domestic sky, and so to arrange her culinary affairs that the “butter and honey” of forbearance and love, in place of being all used at once, shall be spread so evenly on the bread of everyday life. In such a home, the husband, instead of treading her “rights under his foot,” will feel that his right to cherish and protect her is the dearest one on earth. As for the wood and water, not true man will let his wife bring them in while he sits idle, and when he asks for his shirt, it is not because he knows your dislike to tumbled drawers; and does not his smile amply repay you for your trouble. Yes, indeed, and there’s another of your right, to win that smile, from your liege lord, by kindly deeds and pleasant words, and a true woman will value it more than all the rights of suffrage which can be granted her.

I do not wish to be understood as saying that there are no abused women, for alas, there are many such; but I cannot think “the best of men” will so far, forget their manhood as our aunt declares, – if so, oh shades of Horace, deliver me from such a fate. Better for us, Cousin O., to live the unloved, unloving old maid’s life, than the loving but unloved one of a husband’s slave.

Jennie. Dowittville, N.Y., 1861.

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Moore’s Rural New-Yorker

April 13, 1861

Queries for Aunt Betsey

Dear Aunt Betsey: – Will you allow one of the “girls” who hasread what you thing of “Woman’s Rights” to say a few words? I like to look at the bright side. Now, honored Aunt, I know that woman’s home is, in many respects, her “world,” and that there are many things to learn away from boardin’s schools and ‘cademys; but Aunty, do you really think we are all going to get our necks broken when we jump off that “precipice” you told up about? I know you did not exactly say so, but then, )we have no precipices on the prairies,) in all the stories we read about people jumping or falling off them, they are sure to get killed. Do you really think, too, that when we “get married” and “go tagging after a man,” we shall “never see him at home?” Are you sure he never will bring in a pail of water or an armful of wood? Will he never ask if there is anyting he can do to help us? Do you know he will be unable to find his own shirt, if we, (as we ought,) have a place for it and keep it there? Must we always leave the shirts till there are a dozen to mend? Do you think it will “take half an hour to find a needle” every time we want one? Is it imposisble to get along without a “honey moon”? – or, can we not have the “butter and honey” spread all over the bread rather than on one spot? Now, Aunty, I will know there will be a great many “briars and sticks.” But will he never help us over them?

If you are sure all these evils will befall me if I get married, your admonitions will save one of your nieces from a “woman’s fate.” Please tell me, Aunt Betsey.

Respectfully, your niece, O. Princeville, Ill., 1861.

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Moore’s Rural New-Yorker
April 6, 1861

Woman’s Duties
My subject you may call a trite one, and such I fancy it will be unto the end of time, if the newspapers of our land continue, as persistently as ever, to herald forth the duties, obligations, and dependency of woman. I must say I have become perfectly disgusted with this constant prating. One might as well imagine that woman was utterly ignorant of her peculiar duties and adaptations, and that the rest of the race, in commiseration thereof, had set them selves up as her instructors. Now, with all due deference to the wondrous knowledge possessed by the “lords of creation,” it certainly seems to me that females are usually quite as intelligent as the other sex, and I imagine they know about as well how to “act well their part in life.”
We are told again and again, that home happiness depends mostly upon the wife, mother, sister, and daughter. Don’t we know this? Don’t we know that after a day has been spent in the discharge of the many wearisome household duties, and the husband and father, sons and brothers, return from their labor, or, as in frequently the case, from lounging in some public place talking politics, – listening to or retailing scandle, – don’t we know that, under such circumstances, some tact is necessary to meet dissatisfaction and discord with content and pleasantness? to have things so righted round, and straightened out, that home shall present a cheerful aspect?
Besides this, there is a wonderful cry among some about the dependence of woman upon man. It sounds in our ears from the Atlantic to the Pacific, – by priest and people. Why, they say, of course, they are particularly dependant [sic] upon us, – of course, they Bible says do. I have known men that could quoite only one passage of scripture correctly, and that you will find in Collossians, iiic, 18v. Moreover, common sense teaches it. If this is common sense, I am glad I was endowed with it.
Now, we know that we are, in some sense, dependant creatures, – that one person must rely, somewhat, upon another; but the wife is no more dependant on her husband, than he upon his wife. Supposing his earning do provide the provisions and clothing, what’s it all going to amount to if his wife does not know how to use these things to the best advantage? How is a man to gain wealth, if his wife or daughters spend faster than he can earn. Many a man has acquired wealth who never would but for the economy and thrift of his industrious wife, and many are struggling now to provide the mere necessities of life, who might have been prospering, had they, in the management of their business, heeded the advice of the wife. But, dear me, no, – they are not going to have a woman interfering in their affairs; and thus they often come to be dependant upon the exertions of their “better half,” for the support of themselves and families.
They talk to us, too, of our great influence upon society, – how essential it is that we should be models of purity and goodness, so that all who come within this magical influence shall be metamorphosed there-by. Now, how potent soever this may be in some cases, when I see the sons of some of the best mothers following so closely in the footsteps of upworthy fathers, I am convinced it is necessary somebody should be good besides the mother.
When clouds of darkness and sorrow surround the pathway, who endures best the blast of adversity, – is it man? Nay. In the severe trials of life, the stern man is often the soonest shaken, and finds himself dependent upon the weak woman for aid and sympathy, – the closest observers of human nature have testified to the truth of this.
Some talk much of the great necessity of woman being Christians. Is it because the soal of man is less precious, – because he is holier by nature, or because his responsibility to the Creator is less? – that he considers it so much more oblicatory upon females to yieled their wills to the Saviour? Such is not the case. They know that the influence of the Gosple is to make one meek, patient, long-suffering, under all circumstances, and such a spirit as this they like to deal with. One that will not conflit with their pet whims and might wills. In most instances, when you really probe to the bottom of the thing, you will find it is all selfishness which prompts this cry about the great adaptation of religion ot the hear and life of woman. That there are noble exceptions I grant, but among the masses they are few.
You men who are so supremely particular about your food, your clothes, and, in fact, everything, – who want your wives and children always to be apple-pie order, and think they can keep so, no matter what engaged in, how do you suppose you would manage to gratify your exquisite taste, without the aid of some one or more of those depenant beings called women? Don’t you believe there would be some muddy coffee, – some burnt cakes, – some ragged garments, and some tumbled linen? It really distresses me to think of it. But, after all, what’s the use of talking or writign? To be sure it frees my mind a little, but that is not much consolation, when the conviction is constantly forcing itself upon me that,
“A man convinced against his will,
Is of the same opinion still.”
Gainesville, N.Y., 1861. Maude Elliott

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