Life, 1895-12-12 · page 8 of 18
Life — December 12, 1895 — page 8: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of Life Magazine Page 382 This page satirizes early 20th-century women's literary and intellectual pretensions. The article "Among the Literary: The Evolution of an Idea" describes a social gathering where women in fashionable dress recite poetry while musicians hide behind furniture—mocking the performative nature of amateur literary circles. The accompanying cartoons ridicule women attempting serious intellectual work. One depicts a woman struggling with excessive papers, suggesting women are overwhelmed or unsuited for serious writing. The dialogue mocks a "Girl Bachelor" who claims to be a "Growth" rather than accepting traditional roles, which the Man Bachelor dismisses as pretentious. The satire targets women's claims to literary and professional ambition as laughable affectation—a common theme in early Life magazine's conservative humor about changing women's roles.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
-LIFE- AMONG THE LITERARY. THE EVOLUTION OF AN IDEA. T was the kind of Circus known as a Literary At Home. Women were wearing decollété gowns at four o'clock in the afternoon, exposing mottled shoulders, reciting their own poems, and doing other daring things. Two large table d’héte-fed musi- cians tried to hide themselves and their mandolins behind one small palm. Among the crowd of women a small percentage of puny men crushed between the women's sleeves, seemed to prove that the brainy race of men at leisure in the day-time are somewhat unimpressive in form. A few night policemen would have been an acquisition. The Man Bachelor was trying to drink a half lemon moistened with a little warm tea, and also trying to make conversation. Both tasks were difficult. the latter especially so because he was a writer, and was always afraid of saying something that he might have written and got paid for. But the Girl Bachelor, to whom he had been allotted by the Hostess, didn’t help him out at all, for she had usurped among Man's other privileges that of sitting silent and waiting to be entertained. He reflected that women always liked to be talked to about themselves, and at last, with a great effort, recklessly squandered an idea on her. “Such young women as you,” he began rhetorically, “are a growth of the last five years.” “You flatter me,” said the Girl Bachelor. “am more than seven. And I have been called a lot of bad names, from New Woman to Fin-de-siécle Freak ; but never before a ‘Growth.’ What have I done to be put upon the same level as “WHY, THERE GOES A FLYING MACHINE!” “So ir ist It's THE FIRST ONE I'VE SEEN IN TEN YEARS. I CAN REMEMBER WHEN THE SKY USED TO BE COV! D WITH THEM, CURIOUS HOW SOON THESE FADS DIF OUT.” * SURELY YOU REMEMBER MR. TWADDLES, WHO PREACHED THE FL TO YOUR TRIBE TEN YEARS AGO ? “On, Yes! [REMEMBER HIM VERY WELL, He Was DELICIOUS.” a Tumor?” “| beg your pardon,” began the Man Bachelor. “Not at all,” the other kind of Bachelor replied.“ Only don’t try to work off any more rejected editorials on me. I am not a Waste Paper Basket. To put it vulgarly, I would prefer to be a‘ Growth.’ The chances are that I should con- tain less badness. Why should I have to sit here and swal- low what can’t be worked off on the great American Public for two cents?" “Then perhaps you will kindly define your unique posi- tion yourself,” said the Man Bachelor sulkily, “ for it is one thing to have a paucity of ideas, and another to note that people are on to the fact. I suppose that you would prefer to talk about yourself?" “It is the brightest thing you have suggested, with the exception of the chocolate,” she replied composedly, giving him her empty cup. “ Well, as a matter of fact, 1 am not yet in a position to support a husband. 1 work——"" “Not sew?” “ My! how behind date you are. ials were rejected. No wonder your editor- When there are sewing machines, and men tailors, and boy milliners, too, We have not begun sow- ing our wild oats yet. Perhaps that was what you meant?” And he pretended it was, for it is hard to be accused of being behind date, when you have been writing a mid-sum- mer story with both feet on the register. Then he went home, put both feet back on the register, and