Life, 1883-10-04 · page 10 of 16
Life — October 4, 1883 — page 10: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Satire and Social Commentary in Life Magazine, Page 166 **The "Lily" Poem:** A comedic dialect piece mocking German-American courtship. The speaker, "Hans," pursues a rotund German girl named Lily, progressively exaggerating her weight (200, 300, even 600 pounds). The humor relies on heavy Germanic accent rendering ("dot," "vos," "schmile") and the absurdist image of a massive woman who remains desirable despite her size. This satirizes both immigrant speech patterns and romantic folly. **"American Aristocracy No. IV":** Life responds to reader backlash over previous articles about New York's elite "First Circlers." Subscribers—some defending genealogical claims, others attacking Life's social commentary—have flooded the magazine with letters. Life defends itself as neither snobbish nor socialist, but simply objective about America's wealthy classes who control "public highways," finance, and transportation. The piece mocks both the aristocrats themselves and readers obsessed with defending or attacking them.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
LILY. IRY, fairy Lily ! Dot leedle Deutch gal, Lily ! Ven I ekshd her off she love me, She shoomps righd oop, by shinks, und shoves me— “Go vay, Hans, you silly.” Lily veighs two hoonert pound, Airy, fairy Lily. Ven I gourt dot Lily (Lily vos a vidder), I don'd gif somedings avay, I do n’d tell her vot I say— She's no pig vol, needer: Schmile und schmile youst all de vile, Vhispers nodding oudt, but schmile,— Dot's youst like a vidder ; Vot off she veigh tree hoonert pound, Dot ish no heft for a vidder, Ve gets married righd avay Off I do n'd gif her der midden. Lily 's so pig ash a bale of hay, But she 's youst like a kitten. When ve fighd, den we agree ; Lily vos de gal for me— Vot off she veigh seex hoonert pound, Dot shblaindid vidder, Lily ! HAROLD VAN SANTVOORD. A DANGEROUS summer resort. Man-chased-her-by- the-sea. Why not change its name to “ Villain-still- pursued-her-by-the-sea.” ‘Tue fires at Mt. Desert will not go out until the last Phair Philadelphian leaves the place. AMERICAN ARISTOCRACY. No. IV. ** Ido not like the office ; But, sith I am entered in this cause so far, Prick’d to it by foolish honesty and love,— I will go on."—Ohello 11. 3. HEN Lire inadvertently, yet with benevolence, gave place in its columns to the various conundrums of our esteemed sub- scriber ‘* Kitt Von KuLL,"' several weeks ago, and kindly endeav- ored to slake his violent thirst for genealogical information con- cerning American Aristocrats in general and our matual friends the First Circlers in particular, it was unaware to what a fearful length it. was committing itself. The subject seemed easily and naturally exhaustible. The questions were, as he took pains to state, ‘‘ categorical,” and Lire’s reply was couched in as trenchant and yet musical language as possible. But a second attack on Lire and time and space followed, and still another, until now the vista of possible controversy which looms up stretches to infinity. Lire is now called upon to give place in its columns to a swarm of letters from other esteemed sub- scribers, some meekly inclined to dispute its canons of genes- logical faith, others belligerently advancing a sweeping denial of its statements, others paying it the sweetest tribute of incense and balm, others in fierce but somewhat unorthodox rhetoric berating the audacity which prompted any exposition of a social democracy, and some capering with delirious gladness over the possibility of having their own private axes ground, and clamoring to be allow- ed to ‘‘ touch up” this or that social demigod of their own especial clique. One enthusiastic gentleman—whose script and ortho graphy are brilliantly unconventional, but whose ideas cannot wholly be grasped, owing to his having expressed them in that variety of idiom peculiar to Limerick, in the South of France— has evidently somewhat misconceived impressions of Lire and its mission, for, after an exuberant burst of derision, he entreats us to ** go for thim dudes,” and ‘* make it hot fur the bloats"—by which latter term, it is to be supposed, he means our esteemed friends who control the public highways leading from this city to the boundless North and West, influence the rise and fall of certain hydraulic securities, possess the bobtail conveyances running on our streets, and are otherwise enormously powerful persons. To these esteemed’ subscribers, collectively, there is but one answer to be made—Lire is neither a snob nor a socialist. It as firmly refuses to admit that mono-phalangeal shoes, affectionate trousers, altitudinous collars and a telescopic hat necessarily: make a man a fool, as it declines to acknowledge that these pic- turesque articles of apparel, or a heavy bank account, a lop-sided pedigree, a refroussee disposition, an extensive acquaintance or a listless drawl, can entitle an ignorant idler or a riotous profligate to be considered a gentleman. It does not believe that to the shop-girl, the nurse, the cook, the housemaid and the seamstress, however excellent in morals and womanly in disposition, justly belongs the title “lady,” no more than does it to that purse- proud and tip-tilted person of grand estate and immense pat- ronage, who sinks all that is lovely and loveable in her sex and shows only the ugliest and most unbearable traits which humanity can evolve, Neither is Lire a social republican. The wildest clamor for universal suffrage drops into a hush at the presentment of Shakespeare and Mr. Oscar WivDe or Napoleon and Mr. comicbooks.com