Life, 1914-07-16 · page 22 of 40
Life — July 16, 1914 — page 22: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This humorous poem satirizes the tension between intellectual women and romantic relationships in early 20th-century America. The narrator loves a highly educated, cultured woman whose intelligence intimidates him—she discusses mysticism, eugenics, Icelandic ichthyology, and bacteriology with ease, while he admits he's "but a muddler." The joke is the contradiction: she's intellectually superior and beautiful, yet her very education makes her emotionally distant and unapproachable ("never dare to cuddle her"). He yearns for traditional feminine warmth (wanting her to "coyly roll her eyes") but she seems above such sentimentality. The cartoon illustrates this dynamic: two figures interact awkwardly near ivy-covered ruins, suggesting the mismatch between romantic ideals and reality. The satire mocks both the "new woman" of the era and male insecurity about female education—poking fun at men threatened by intelligent wives.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
THE SAME OLD TUNE My Highbrow Sweetheart LOVE a cultured Highbrow maid, Who treats me very icily; Her conversation’s wise and staid-- I wish she'd talk more spicily. Her manner is sedate and chill, She never is hilarious; I sometimes wonder if she will Get gay before they bury us! There is no word she can't define, No theme she can’t expatiate; But, oh, when we went out to dine, The absent-minded way she ate! I can’t keep up her mental pace,— She says I'm but a muddler; Though she’s: an angel's dream of grace, I'd never dare to cuddle her! On Mysticism in Malay Her wits will fairly scintillate; But when I watch her dimples play I'd like to chuck her chin till late. She'll glibly quote, with face aglow, Eugenic Enchiridion. I can’t. But I'll just bet I know Enough to raise a kiddy on! She's conversant with ways of Sorbs; Bacilli she can solarize; Put when I note her lovely erbs I wish she'd coyly roll her eyes. She's mastered all the most abstruse Icelandic Ichthyotomy ; She thinks I am a great big goose! Oh, well there is a lot o’ me. Her cheek is like a rose of Ma Her face is sweet and blossomy ; I wonder, if I went away, Ii she would feel the loss o’ me? Oh, tell me, men, whose highbrow wives Are very intellectual— Tell me, do you lead happy lives? Or, say, have they henpecked you all? CW. comicbooks.com