Life, 1898-02-17 · page 5 of 20
Life — February 17, 1898 — page 5: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of Life Magazine Page 125 This page depicts a romantic domestic scene from what appears to be an Edwardian-era short story titled "These Lords of Creation." The illustration shows a woman in a peignoir receiving a man in her sitting room; the accompanying narrative describes their reconciliation after a quarrel. The satire is subtle: the section header "These Lords of Creation" ironically undercuts the male character's authority. The text reveals that despite the man's self-righteous demeanor, *he* was actually at fault, yet he expects the woman to apologize and comfort him. The joke mocks masculine pretense—these supposed "lords" depend entirely on women's emotional labor and forgiveness. The decorative illustration of "A Dressed Fowl" at page's bottom may reinforce this commentary on masculine vanity.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“Thereupon the expected hap These Lords of Creation. TT had quarreled, and seriously. It had been entirely her fault— but he was in love. “T think [can manage it,” she said, re- Nectively, as she passed rapidly about the room, giving deft, expressive touches. A fire was burning on the hearth, and the air was sweet with the fragrance of She lowered a shade here, drew y there, till a soft half- light filled the room, Then she rolled the comfortable morris to a companion- able nearness to her own low one by the tea-table, and smiled to herself a satisfied ‘ed her work. There was # familiar step in the hall. With a quick movement she snatched a rose from a vasc, flirted a few drops from its wet stem onto the open pages of a book, then, dropping the rose, vanished. smile as she sur} He had come fuily determined to be severe—but just, you know. He could well afford to be that. She had trifled with him long cnough, he had reasoned 125 to himself as he walked down the avenue. She had been in the wrong, wholly so, and heshould not humble himself, She would be penitent, of course, and he would be kind and gentle, as it behooved him to be, yet he would reason with her and show her wherein she had erred. They would make up, for she was sweet and amiable, and he was so entirely right. So he passed into the room with a conscious air of victory. She was a long time in coming. He Vegan to be anxious. She couldn't pos- sibly refuse to see him, could she ? Aimlessly he about the room, A dainty white-bound book he had given her lay face down, open, on the wide corner seat. There was a faint imprint on the soft cushion, and a rose lay on the floor, His stern face relaxed a littic, and a tender light stole into hi: He picked up the is blotted with tear wandered eyes, She had been crying! Poor child, per- haps he had been harsh. His heart gave aremorseful pang as he put the book away and turned to greet her. “You are pale,” anxiously, as his troubled eyes sought her face. “A trifle, perhaps.” She smiled as moment in his « “My head her hand r clasp. n troubling me a bit,” and she smiled again, a sad, wan little smile. “It was my fault.” he said, reproach: ‘A DRESSED FOWL.”