Judge, 1900-05-26 · page 5 of 16
Judge — May 26, 1900 — page 5: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This poem satirizes male romantic ideals through exaggerated contradiction. The speaker catalogs an impossible list of female qualities: she must be both a "country lass" and a "queen," tall yet not too tall, sweet yet chic and dashing, modest yet graceful, capable yet subservient to his whims. The satire's punch arrives in the final stanzas: he demands she indulge his "slightest whim" without limiting his "bachelor's freedom," and crucially, "she mustn't flirt—I must be all in all." The closing plea to the "public press" to find "a being quite so rare" underscores the absurdity—no such woman exists. The accompanying sketch of an idealized woman reinforces this: she's the visual embodiment of impossible perfection. The cartoon mocks men's unrealistic, often contradictory expectations of women, particularly the demand for simultaneous independence and complete devotion. Credited to Jean Hooper Page, it critiques masculine entitlement and fantasy.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
HIS IDEAL, MY IDEAL maid is a maid of moods— My moods, of course, I mean. I sometimes love a country lass, And then again a queen. My ideal wife I know not of — In fact, I scarce can tell. She must be all my heart requires And suit my fancy well, She must be tall, she must be sweet, And, truth to tell, most fair, With sunlight in her glorious smile As well as in her hair. She must be chic and dashing, too, And drive her trap with vim ; At table she must serve with grace, And be quite in the swim. A goodly fellow she must be, Whom I can trust most true ; And then I only ask in life A comrade when I'm blue. She mustn't be too tall nor short, Not very fat nor lean; Yet sylph-like she must always be And with a stately mien. T could not love a haughty lass, With arrogance and pride, Whose only thought was of herself And no one else beside. ‘She mustn't think that in this world Of wickedness and sin All the angels were sent out And she the one left in. A winning way, a modest grace, Pure as the morning breeze. The world gives much to womankind ; T only ask for these. Her robes might grace a haughty queen Bedecked in golden crown ; But the girl I love must wear with ease Even a muslin gown. La 7 She must indulge my slightest whim, Nor bachelor’s freedom blight ; A smile must greet me at the door, However late at night. It isn’t much for which I ask— In fact, I think it small; And last, but most, she mustn't firt— 7 must be all in all. PANRAYA And thus unto the public press STAt Aw6, T lay my longings bare. Will some one tell me where to find A being quite so rare? JEAN MOOrER PAGE. comicbooks.com