A man of all work, 1854

Ah, novels! The bane of proper human existence, if you read 19th-century critics. They gave them readers all sorts of ideas. Especially them female readers. They got ideas about—well, about taking charge of their lives.

More than one young person attempting to live life as they wished was supposedly influenced by something in a book. So, it was stated, was an unnamed youngster living as a “man of all work” in Pennsylvania.

Oh, so much here; so very much. (Ignoring the unfortunately structured sentence that implies that the parents drove horses, etc., before discovering the whereabouts of the laborer.)

It’s difficult to believe that anyone would find hauling wood and loading hay “romantic” or would keep up such exhausting labor when less taxing work was available. And surely the character in the novel didn’t make a fortune by being a “man of all work.”

What seems to be key here is the “participating in public life.” By 1854, women were becoming more publicly vocal about expanding their role in the life of the U. S. Some were found to be voting. (Others casting a vote likely weren’t noticed.) And here, one editor appears to worry, was a young woman attempting to emulate one of those dreadful, dreadful women actively trying to influence the public life of the nation.

Thus the air of dismissal of the laborer’s actions. Surely a young woman wouldn’t have decided on her own to take an active role outside the confines of her home and family. She had to be led on by those seductive, pernicious, poisonous, addictive, vicious, distracting novels that lured innocent readers from the narrow path of rectitude.

That someone assigned female at birth might realize that a life as a man was more in keeping with a satisfying life probably didn’t cross the editor’s mind.