Life, 1914-01-08 · page 8 of 44
Life — January 8, 1914 — page 8: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This satirical sketch mocks operatic melodrama by depicting a domestic dispute between a Wooden Soldier and his beloved, set in a nursery. The humor lies in treating cheap toy soldiers as tragic operatic characters—absurdly elevating trivial domestic conflict to the level of grand opera. The dialogue parodies operatic conventions: emotional declarations ("I love you!"), demands for proof and certificates of authenticity, and references to German manufacture. The Wooden Soldier's beloved questions whether he's "real wood or not" and demands documentation, reducing romantic sincerity to commercial authenticity concerns. The satire targets both operatic excess and early 20th-century consumerism's obsession with certified quality and origin, treating love as a commodity requiring verification.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Scene: Deserted nursery. (The Wooden Soldier edges over to the Rag Doll.) OODEN SOLDIER: I love you! Rac Dott: Sh! You mustn't. W. S.: You amaze me! You aston- ish me! You paralyze me! Haven't wooden soldiers been making love to rag dolls ever since— R. D.: Wait! W. S.: I know what you are going to say—what they all say—that such a fine fellow as I, with my bright new uniform should not be making love to a poor little rag doll like you! As if this mattered. As if my great heart did not go out to you. Isn't it my turn to tell you that I love you alone? T R. D. (impatiently) : I don’t believe anything of the sort. Here’s the point, A Modem Love Affair my dear fellow. How do I know that you are O. K.? W. S.: What's that? R. D.: I mean eugenically O. K. You must be investigated first or get a certificate. W. S.: Investigated? Certificate? You must be mad! Haven't wooden soldiers always been humbly accepted by rag dolls? It is about time for you to fall on my shoulder and weep for joy. This is the customary thing to do. Come to my arms, darling! I don't care whether your face is washed or not, or how frayed you are at the edges. R. D.: Never! W. S.: You refuse? R. D.: Until you can produce a cer- tificate from your maker stating that you are a fit person to marry. How do I know whether you are real wood or not? You may be cheap cardboard. All is not pine that glistens with paint. W. S. (proudly): You forget that I was made in Germany. R. D. (calmly): Then go back to Germany and get your certificate. No unpasteurized wooden soldier for me. w. S. fire): Farewell. cans leave home, What the Late Dr. Alfred Russel Wallace Thought of it (jumping into the open No wonder Ameri- ACCINATION is not a mere fallacy, not a mere medical error; it is worse than a drivelling superstition—it is a crime.” comicbooks.com