Phase 3 of My Relationship With Starr, and Pro Celibacy Propaganda, a Bachelor's Take

You know when you meet a new person for the first time, but realize that it isn't actually the first time?  When you realize that you met her before, but she looked totally different to you then (before you knew her well)?  There is a moment when your perception of someone changes and you suddenly "really" see them for the first time, and though you remember the other person you knew, this new person will never look like her again.  People can become more or less attractive after these moments of knowing, or simply become one of "your people" who you accept without need for further evaluation.  It is a strange feeling when someone you found unattractive or peripheral becomes adorable and significant, and then again when adorable becomes comfortable (and thus more significant, in a way). 

This is where Paul Starr and I are in our relationship.  At first I found his introduction dull and overly stylized; when I noticed his humor and became interested in his subject, he became witty and fascinating; when we became good friends, I barely noticed him at all, simply counted on him to continue as himself.  At this point, I don't even feel as if I am reading in the same way-- its more of a gleaning or absorbing-- and have trouble evaluating the presentation of information, or even differentiating between what I knew before and what I learned from Starr (though I thought I knew very little before...).  So I am glad to have the opportunity to write about my subject search in the periodicals (though this has been my favorite section of The Creation of the Media so far).  I have little to say other than I am fascinated by what Americans were reading and in what format at what price, and want to know more about the specific new stories and fiction Starr alludes to.

On that note, this is my week when it comes to primary research!  My interest lies in the presentation of marriage in eighteenth century literature, and I know little about the American take other than the treatment of the old maid stereotype for a conference presentation I did last year.  This time, I found something about "unmarried men" (search terms) entitled "Arguments in Favor of Celibacy" printed in The American Universal Magazine in 1797 by a man named "Misogamos" (punny!).  Good old Misogamos posits the reasons to avoid marriage: because it is expensive, women bring misery (misery is repeated frequently) and only helpful for women who find marriage beneficial.  He quotes "wise" ancients (ironically, "wise" looks a lot like "wife" in the old fashioned print!).  He argues that women are devils, have no souls, are focused on fashion and spending, obstinate, deaf to "rational argument," and blames their lack of education on their lack of interest and mental capacity.  He even goes so far as to say "if there was anything to marry but women" it might be a less miserable situation. 

However, Misogamos also points out that the nature of man requires change and argues that though women may be pleasing at first, men soon tire of the same old coat, horse, or even wife-- his only example that doesn't heap the blame on women.  Children, which he sees as the natural outcome of marriage, multiply the misery by ten for each child-- so nine children plus a wife equals one hundred and ten miseries.... not sure about his math abilities... But in case that hurts his ethos, Misogamos compares liberty to celibacy, announces "Liberty or Death!" and links marriage to slavery.  He argues that marriage, like slavery, "sinks [man] into lethargy, ignorance and apathy" and reminds us of slaves in America "possessing capacities equally good" who are far behind in knowledge because of slavery.

I would like to imagine this essay is a satire, for how can a man see the ways oppression in slavery dulls the minds of the enslaved, but not see how women were similarly oppressed by the institution of marriage and by societal expectations?  How does he overlook the fact that women were also not educated, for instance?  If it is a satire, it is too subtle to be obvious; even though I find it difficult to imagine a true misogynist would sign his name "Misogamos." Unfortunately, the name and my wounded feelings are the only arguments I have in favor of calling this a satire.

On a cheerful note, the old maid stereotype was not as pronounced at the time Misogamos published his arguments, and the term "spinster" still meant someone who spins.  This would all change in a few years and the old maid would become a common joke in periodical poems and images, helping to remind women of the importance of marriage (or their un-importance without marriage, really).  Perhaps it would be interesting to compare the increase in pro-bachelor literature and increase in anti-old maid literature?  Was there a correlation?  Or is it a conversation in periodical print?