Life, 1885-11-12 · page 12 of 14
Life — November 12, 1885 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of Life Magazine Page 278 This page contains satirical sketches and brief humorous observations mocking fashionable society's affectations and absurdities. **The cartoons** (labeled "Astronomical") appear to depict upper-class women engaged in frivolous activities—observing through telescopes and socializing—satirizing their pretensions to intellectual pursuits. **The sidebar quips** mock contemporary fashions and social trends: a "fashionable malady" where nervous exhaustion signals status; a "belle" whose appeal depends on sunburned, peeling skin from Mount Desert vacations; and Sitting Bull's approval of Pittsburgh's cleanliness (likely ironic given industrial pollution). **The main story** by F. Marshall White describes a case of mistaken identity: the narrator, Sir Arthur Sullivan (the famous composer), is confused at a dinner for boxer John L. Sullivan, causing guests acute embarrassment when they realize their celebrated guest isn't the prize-fighter they expected. The humor lies in the guests' disappointed realization that the famous person present is utterly unknown to them.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
1 Diuren Gbearransns ASTRONOMICAL. THE FASHIONABLE MALADY EXTENDS. ADY OF THE HOUSE: “ Bridget, l think if you took less stimulants it would be better for you.” Bridget: “Och! No, indade, mum; Patrick says it is stimulation that I nade; he says, says he, ‘Biddy, darlint, ye looks loike a lady dying ov ner- vous perspiration. BELLE is most a belle when she has been sunburnt at Mount | Desert and her nose be- | gins to peel. She is otherwise musical when she wears rings and bangs, with bugles and fluted skirts and attends to kettledrums. ITTING BULL has just been to Pitts- burgh, and says it is the only clean city in the Union; that is, clean from the red man’s point of view. FoR A SHOEMAKER WHO HAS LOsT HIS WiFE—“Let not the shoe- maker go beyond his last.” and crowding to obtain a glimpse of me when I alighted. | An immense amount of champagne was brought in, but the | dinner itself was despicable. I was very much embarrassed, also, by the fact that my entertainers were continually asking me about persons and things with which I was totally unac- quainted. They inquired how much I weighed, and when I said 135 pounds they laughed as if it were a capital joke. One of them begged me to give what he called an “ exhibi- tion song" on the stage the'next night ; and another, with a great many apologies, asked me if I didn’t think it was lowering myself for a man with my gifts to lead an orches- tra. Just as the dinner was concluded a tall stranger burst into the room, and was greeted with a shout of welcome. “T come all the way on the Lightnin’ ‘ Express,’ he said. | “T would n't a missed seein’ Sullivan for anything. Where is he?” I was dragged to my feet and presented to him. “ You ain't Sullivan,” he said contemptuously. At this all the others in the room formed a ring around us, and some one advised the new arrival to say his prayers. “T beg your pardon,” I said, “ but I am Mr. Sullivan.” “That fellow ain't'no more John L. Sullivan than I am,” shouted the stranger, turning to the others. “Of course I’m not John L. Sulliv: be,” I'said. “I am Sir Arthur Sullivan.” There was a moment of perfect silence, in which my enter- tainers gazed into each other's faces with expressions of heart- rending despair. Then a threatening murmur arose that chilled my heart's blood, and rushing to a window I escaped and fled from that city. I have been wondering ever since who John L. Sullivan is, and whether he is a librettist or a composer. : F. Marshall White. ‘whoever he may comicbooks.com