Life, 1885-07-09 · page 12 of 16
Life — July 9, 1885 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "The Butter's Steak" Fable This is a satirical Aesop's-style fable mocking human vanity and social pretension. A pompous plate of boarding-house butter boasts to a beefsteak about its superiority, claiming success comes from maintaining distance and aloofness from common people ("profanum vulgus"—the vulgar masses). The butter preaches that familiarity breeds contempt. The joke: a buzzard swoops down and eats the butter anyway, leaving the humble beefsteak untouched. **The satire targets** the Victorian upper-class belief that maintaining social distance and exclusive superiority guarantees protection or success. The moral explicitly states it illustrates "the airy texture of human calculations and the instability of human grandeur"—essentially: pretension is fragile and meaningless in the face of fate. The page also includes parody of overwrought literary analysis (the "analytical novel" excerpt mocking psychological realism), plus period gossip about R. Lowell and whist clubs.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
APATE of long range Boarding-House Butter was one morning preparing to take ashave, when a slice of invulnerable, iron-clad, gate-hinge Beef Steak walked up and said : “You carry your age wonderfully well. In fact, you are fattening up as you grow old, and you are the best preserved plate of Butter I ever saw. What is the secret of your success in keeping whole? You must have a recipe for immortality.” “It’s all due to my superior tact, skill, and knowledge of the world,” replied the Butter, as it put on a thick lather of soap and began to whet its razor. “I manage people by making them stand off from me. Familiarity is fatal to greatness. The com- mon people worship me from afar, but are afraid to approach me. You can effect nothing, except by direct contact with the profanum vulgus. You are too plebeian to make a hit and build yourself up.” These words were scarcely spoken when a majestic buzzard swooped down from the over-arching empyrean, and gobbled up the vain plate of Butter, leaving the terri- fied beefsteak unmolested. Mora-: This Fable feebly illustrates the airy texture of human calculations and the instability of human grandeur. J. A. Macon. | logical analysis. EXTRACT FROM AN ANA- LYTICAL NOVEL THAT NEEDS NO PLOT. “ E wondered why she paused in the road as she moved slowly away from him. Somehow, the thought came into his mind. | There are times when—who knows how ?—thoughts will come into one’s mind. Even when the mind is too small to receive them, they will linger near with a mute appeal. Sebastian stood like a dreamy statue on a rainy day as this train of reflection percolated through him. He had seen the lady depart with doubt on her face, with repose in her bearing, with restful calm in her movements. She had paused; he had seen her pause. Why had she paused? He asked himself the question, because the thought had come into his mind. Without the thought, where would have been the question? What would the question have signified without the antecedent condition of the thought ? But there was no time for psycho- He approached the place where the lady had stood still, There was a brier in the path which had caught her dress and de- tained her. This explained all. The matter was no longer puzzling be- cause it was plain. The riddle was easy as soon as ‘twas read. He turned and looked with a westward gaze in the direction of the de- parted sun. The glinting play of the purple twilight still shone along the horizon. He withdrew rapidly. If he had not gone he would have been there now.” R. LOWELL has joined a whist club. As a tip for the other gentlemen who form the set, we would state that the London 7elegraph, in its parting tribute to the ex-Minister, said, ** He won all our hearts.” Verb, Sap. ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS. IR ART—UR SULLIV—N :—(1.) In answer to your inquiry concerning your long-lost brother, John, we would say that there is a gentleman in Boston by that name, | wild West. | who bears the strawberry mark you mentioned on his left bicep. (2.) Concerning the McAdoo in the United States, we can only refer you to Mr. Logan, the weird orator of the comicbooks.com