I came across this gem a few weeks ago on a public domain site and saved it for today, now that the Fourth of July is drawing near.
"Unrummaged" - now there's a word for you!
The topic of the essay is about spring cleaning from a man's point of view.
The biography of the author is first, followed by the essay. May it make you laugh (or at least smile) today.
Francis Hopkinson, 1737-1791. He was the son of an Englishman;
born in Philadelphia, and was educated at the college of that city, now the
University of Pennsylvania.
He represented New Jersey in the Congress
of 1776, and was one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence.
He was one of the most sensible and elegant writers of his time, and
distinguished himself both in prose and verse.
His lighter writings abound
in humor and keen satire; his more solid writings are marked by clearness
and good sense.
His pen did much to forward the cause of American
independence.
His "Essay on Whitewashing," from which the following
extract is taken, was mistaken for the composition of Dr. Franklin, and
published among his writings,
It was originally in the form of "A Letter
from a Gentleman in America to his Friend in Europe, on Whitewashing."
There is no season of the year in which the lady may not, if she
pleases, claim her privilege; but the latter end of May is generally fixed
upon for the purpose.
The attentive husband may judge, by certain
prognostics, when the storm is at hand. If the lady grows uncommonly
fretful, finds fault with the servants, is discontented with the children, and
complains much of the nastiness of everything about her, these are
symptoms which ought not to be neglected, yet they sometimes go off
without any further effect.
But if, when the husband rises in the morning, he should observe in the
yard a wheelbarrow with a quantity of lime in it, or should see certain
buckets filled with a solution of lime in water, there is no time for
hesitation.
He immediately locks up the apartment or closet where his
papers and private property are kept, and, putting the key into his pocket,
betakes himself to flight.
A husband, however beloved, becomes a perfect
nuisance during this season of female rage. His authority is superseded,
his commission suspended, and the very scullion who cleans the brasses
in the kitchen becomes of more importance than he.
He has nothing for it
but to abdicate for a time, and run from an evil which he can neither
prevent nor mollify. The husband gone, the ceremony begins.
The walls are stripped of their
furniture--paintings, prints, and looking-glasses lie huddled in heaps
about the floors; the curtains are torn from their testers, the beds crammed
into windows, chairs and tables, bedsteads and cradles, crowd the yard,
and the garden fence bends beneath the weight of carpets, blankets, cloth
cloaks, old coats, under petticoats, and ragged breeches.
Here may be
seen the lumber of the kitchen, forming a dark and confused mass for the
foreground of the picture; gridirons and frying pans, rusty shovels and
broken tongs, joint stools, and the fractured remains of rush-bottomed
chairs.
There a closet has disgorged its bowels--riveted plates and dishes,
halves of china bowls, cracked tumblers, broken wineglasses, phials of
forgotten physic, papers of unknown powders, seeds and dried herbs, tops
of teapots, and stoppers of departed decanters--from the rag hole in the
garret, to the rat hole in the cellar, no place escapes unrummaged.
It
would seem as if the day of general doom had come, and the utensils of
the house were dragged forth to judgment.
In this tempest, the words of King Lear unavoidably present
themselves, and might, with little alteration, be made strictly applicable.
"Let the great gods,
That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads,
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,
That hast within thee undivulged crimes
Unwhipp'd of justice.
Close pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents, and cry
These dreadful summoners grace."
This ceremony completed, and the house thoroughly evacuated, the
next operation is to smear the walls and ceilings with brushes dipped into
a solution of lime, called whitewash; to pour buckets of water over every
floor; and scratch all the partitions and wainscots with hard brushes,
charged with soft soap and stonecutters' sand.
The windows by no means escape the general deluge. A servant
scrambles out upon the penthouse, at the risk of her neck, and, with a mug
in her hand and a bucket within reach, dashes innumerable gallons of
water against the glass panes, to the great annoyance of passengers in the
street.
I have been told that an action at law was once brought against one of
these water nymphs, by a person who had a new suit of clothes spoiled by
this operation: but after long argument, it was determined that no
damages could be awarded; inasmuch as the defendant was in the exercise
of a legal right, and not answerable for the consequences.
And so the poor
gentleman was doubly non-suited; for he lost both his suit of clothes and
his suit at law.
These smearings and scratchings, these washings and dashings, being
duly performed, the next ceremonial is to cleanse and replace the
distracted furniture.
You may have seen a house raising, or a ship launch-
-recollect, if you can, the hurry, bustle, confusion, and noise of such a
scene, and you will have some idea of this cleansing match. The
misfortune is, that the sole object is to make things clean.
It matters not
how many useful, ornamental, or valuable articles suffer mutilation or
death under the operation. A mahogany chair and a carved frame undergo
the same discipline; they are to be made clean at all events; but their
preservation is not worthy of attention.
For instance: a fine large engraving is laid flat upon the floor; a number
of smaller prints are piled upon it, until the superincumbent weight cracks
the lower glass--but this is of no importance.
A valuable picture is placed
leaning against the sharp corner of a table; others are made to lean against
that, till the pressure of the whole forces the corner of the table through
the canvas of the first. The frame and glass of a fine print are to be cleaned; the spirit and oil used on this occasion are suffered to leak
through and deface the engraving--no matter.
If the glass is clean and the
frame shines, it is sufficient--the rest is not worthy of consideration. An
able arithmetician hath made a calculation, founded on long experience,
and proved that the losses and destruction incident to two white washings
are equal to one removal, and three removals equal to one fire.
This cleansing frolic over, matters begin to resume their pristine
appearance: the storm abates, and all would be well again; but it is
impossible that so great a convulsion in so small a community should
pass over without producing some consequences.
For two or three weeks
after the operation, the family are usually afflicted with sore eyes, sore
throats, or severe colds, occasioned by exhalations from wet floors and
damp walls.
I know a gentleman here who is fond of accounting for everything in a
philosophical way.
He considers this, what I call a custom, as a real
periodical disease peculiar to the climate. His train of reasoning is
whimsical and ingenious, but I am not at leisure to give you the detail.
The result was, that he found the distemper to be incurable; but after
much study, he thought he had discovered a method to divert the evil he
could not subdue. For this purpose, he caused a small building, about
twelve feet square, to be erected in his garden, and furnished with some
ordinary chairs and tables, and a few prints of the cheapest sort.
His hope
was, that when the whitewashing frenzy seized the females of his family,
they might repair to this apartment, and scrub, and scour, and smear to
their hearts' content; and so spend the violence of the disease in this
outpost, whilst he enjoyed himself in quiet at headquarters. But the
experiment did not answer his expectation.
It was impossible it should,
since a principal part of the gratification consists in the lady's having an
uncontrolled right to torment her husband at least once in every year; to turn him out of doors, and take the reins of government
into her own hands.
There is a much better contrivance than this of the philosopher's; which
is, to cover the walls of the house with paper. This is generally done. And
though it does not abolish, it at least shortens the period of female
dominion.
This paper is decorated with various fancies; and made so
ornamental that the women have admitted the fashion without perceiving
the design.
There is also another alleviation to the husband's distress. He generally
has the sole use of a small room or closet for his books and papers, the
key of which he is allowed to keep.
This is considered as a privileged
place, even in the whitewashing season, and stands like the land of
Goshen amidst the plagues of Egypt.
But then he must be extremely
cautious, and ever upon his guard; for, should he inadvertently go abroad
and leave the key in his door, the housemaid, who is always on the watch
for such an opportunity, immediately enters in triumph with buckets,
brooms, and brushes--takes possession of the premises, and forthwith puts
an his books and papers "to rights," to his utter confusion, and sometimes
serious detriment.
Notes.--Lear.--The reference is to Shakespear
Pictured are cleaning supplies and home-baked treats that Jasmine brought for Mother's Day 2020, when cleaning supplies were difficult to get.
