1. Melville, Herman, “The Paradise of Bachelors”Google Scholar and “The Tartarus of Maids,” in The Complete Stories of Herman Melville, ed. Leyda, Jay (New York: Random House, 1949), 204Google Scholar. In its first year, Reveries of a Bachelor sold 14,000 copies. It continued to sell, ultimately appearing in over fifty editions, apart from those issued by its authorized publisher, as well as in a variety of foreignlanguage editions. Its author, a bachelor himself at the time of publication, received letters from readers in America and abroad praising the book, asking for advice on love affairs, proposing marriage. Poems, and even a French polka, were dedicated to him. Reveries's reception is described in Waldo H. Dunn's hagiography, The Life of Donald G. Mitchell (Ik Marvel) (New York: Scribner's, 1922), 230Google Scholar. Although the sales of Reveries may seem modest when compared with the decided hits of the antebellum decade, Susan Geary notes that “whenever figures were mentioned, they represented the extreme rather than the mean” (“The Domestic Novel as a Commercial Commodity: Making a Best Seller in the 1850s,” Papers of the Bibliographical Society of America 70 [07–09 1976], esp. 366–69).Google Scholar

2. Hawthorne, Nathaniel, Passages from the English Notebooks, 2 vols. (London: Strahan, 1870), 2: 6.Google Scholar

3. Miller, Mary Rice, “The Making of Old Bachelors,” Outlook 49 (04 7, 1894): 629.Google Scholar

4. Welsh, Robert Gilbert, “Bachelordom,” Atlantic Monthly 105 (03 1910): 330Google Scholar; and Ford, James L., “Luxurious Bachelordom,” Munsey's Magazine 20 (1898): 584, 588–90.Google Scholar

5. For a theoretical and historical overview of race suicide in turn-of-thecentury popular discourse, see Bederman, Gail, Manliness and Civilization: A Cultural History of Gender and Race in the United States, 1880–1917 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995), 196–206.CrossRefGoogle Scholar

6. This statement is attributed to “an English scientist in The Nineteenth-Century,” The Cosmopolitan 6 (11 1888): 93Google Scholar. The American magazine, The Cosmopolitan, in its “Live Questions” column for November and December 1888, featured selected “representative” responses to the question “Is Marriage a Failure?” Earlier that year, this question had provoked a lively correspondence debate consisting of over 27,000 letters in the English newspaper, the Daily Telegraph; the immediate instigator of this pressing, though apparently perennial, question was an article published in the Westminster Review by Mona Caird pronouncing marriage a “vexatious failure.”

7. Miller, , “Making of Old Bachelors,” 69.Google Scholar

8. Chauncey, George, Gay New York: Gender, Urban Culture, and the Makings of the Gay Male World, 1890–1940 (New York: Basic, 1994), 79Google Scholar. Gorn, Compare Elliott, The Manly Art: Bare-Knuckle Prize Fighting in America (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1986), 141–42Google Scholar (“Sociologists have talked of a ‘bachelor subculture’ to capture a phenomenon so common to nineteenth—and early twentieth-century cities: large numbers of unmarried males finding their primary human contact in one another's company … Here, implicitly, was a rejection of the cult of domesticity so characteristic of bourgeois Victorian life”); and Gilfoyle, Timothy J., City of Eros: New York City, Prostitution, and the Commercialization of Sex, 1790–1920 (New York: Norton, 1992), 104Google Scholar (“the bachelor attack on the feminized family and the trappings of domestic life”).

9. Chauncey, , Gay New YorkGoogle Scholar (76–79), and Gorn, , The Manly Art (141–42)Google Scholar both note this discrepancy.

10. In Subduing Satan: Religion, Recreation, and Manhood in the Rural South, 1865–1920 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1990)Google Scholar, Ted Ownby employs a spatial and geographical metaphor, rather than a “subcultural” one (39): “male quarters in later nineteenth-century cities … a few blocks normally provided the settings for exclusively male professions, services, and recreations.”

11. I am indebted to Marsh, Margaret's “Suburban Men and Masculine Domesticity, 1870–1915” (American Quarterly 40 [06 1988]: 165–86)CrossRefGoogle Scholar, for its theorization of “masculine domesticity” as practiced by married men in American suburbs; see also Marsh, 's Suburban Lives (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1990).Google Scholar

12. See Meanings for Manhood: Constructions of Masculinity in Victorian America, ed. Carnes, Mark C. and Griffen, Clyde (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990)Google Scholar, especially Griffen, “Reconstructing Masculinity from the Evangelical Revival to the Waning of Progressivism: A Speculative Synthesis” (183–205), for historical accounts of the turn of the century as a period of constriction rather than crisis for middle-class American masculinities. See also Damon-Moore, Helen, Magazines for the Millions: Gender and Commerce in the Ladies' Home Journal and the Saturday Evening Post, 1880–1910 (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1994), esp. 129.Google Scholar

13. See Mumford, Kevin J., “‘Lost Manhood’ Found: Male Sexual Impotence and Victorian Culture in the United States” (Journal of the History of Sexuality 3 [1992]: 33–57)Google Scholar, for a summary of the use of the crisis paradigm in recent histories of American culture and Anglo-American manhood. According to Mumford, John Higham 's influential 1970 article, “The Reorientation of American Culture in the 1890s,” stands as a founding formulation of a turn-of-the-century crisis in American culture. Next, studies from the mid-1970s to the mid-1980s (by such scholars as Peter Filene, Joe Dubbert, and Michael Kimmel) elaborated Higham's thesis by adding gender, thus formulating a “crisis of masculinity.” Finally, in her 1990 book Sexual Anarchy, Elaine Showalter further developed the masculinity crisis thesis by adding sexuality, thus arguing for a turn-of-thecentury crisis of gender and sexuality. Mumford himself refines Showalter's refinement by arguing that the late 19th century was characterized by a “sexual — more than a gender — crisis.”

14. Bederman, , Manliness and Civilization, 10–11.Google Scholar

15. In this essay, I refer to popular writing on the subject of bachelors. This catchall category is meant to gesture toward the huge body of fiction and nonfiction prose, poetry, drama, and essays, the publication of which exploded in the magazine revolution of the 1890s. The periodicals and popular books from which most of my material has been drawn range from the highbrow to the lowbrow, with most of it falling in the middle range of family magazines, though the material drawn from women's magazines may be somewhat disproportionate. That is to say, by the turn of the century, the quantity of publishing that targeted middle-class female consumers may have been statistically disproportionate to the population as a whole. Moreover, it may well be that bachelors were a subject of particular interest to women, in part because of curiosity about bachelor doings (from many of which they were excluded) and in part because of their interest in reforming bachelors for marriage. Another cause of a conceivable mismatch between the readers of and the subjects represented in this popular writing is the fact that many of the magazines were marketed to readers of a somewhat lower socioeconomic class than those typically portrayed in their pages. For example, many of the new ten-cent monthlies of the 1890s, such as The Cosmopolitan and Munsey's, did not overtly distinguish themselves from the “quality” monthlies except in cost, seeking to expand the readership of these magazines to a lowermiddle-class or white-collar working-class audience interested in wealthy urban families, theaters, public buildings, and vacation resorts of the rich. Finally, although some of the sources are fiction, many of them fall into the pseudo—or quasi-nonfictional category of the human-interest story, a genre whose ideological bias with respect to the status quo is highly complex and probably not generalizable. As these comments indicate, it would be naive to think that periodical writings provide a transparent window onto the historical scene, but they nevertheless illuminate the fears, desires, and interests of writers, editors, publishers, and readers. I consider them a valuable source of insight into the attitudes and beliefs that intersected with the more material aspects of this history, and with the production and consumption of literary texts, exchanges that often took place through the medium of these publications. There is a growing body of work on periodical publication, too large to cite in full here. For several useful accounts, see Wilson, Christopher, “The Rhetoric of Consumption: Mass-Market Magazines and the Demise of the Gentle Reader, 1880–1920,” in The Culture of Consumption: Critical Essays in American History, 1880–1980, ed. Fox, Richard Wightman and Lears, T. J. Jackson (New York: Pantheon, 1983)Google Scholar; Ohmann, Richard, “The New Discourse of Mass Culture: Magazines in the 1890s,” University of Hartford Studies in Literature 16 (1984): 16–35Google Scholar; and Schneirov, Matthew, The Dream of a New Social Order: Popular Magazines in America, 1893–1914 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1994).Google Scholar

16. Carl Degler argues that an increasing proportion of women in the United States did not marry, and Paul Jacobson's and Thomas Monahan's data show that, for both men and women, the marriage rate bottomed out in the mid-1890s and began rising, though slowly, after that. See Degler, Carl N., At Odds: Women and the Family in America from the Revolution to the Present (New York: Oxford University Press, 1980), 160Google Scholar; Jacobson, Paul H., American Marriage and Divorce (New York: Rinehart, 1959), 21–23Google Scholar; and Monahan, Thomas, The Pattern of Age at Marriage in the United States, 2 vols. (Philadelphia: Stephenson Bros., 1951), 1: 92.Google Scholar

17. Rotundo, E. Anthony, American Manhood: Transformations in Masculinity from the Revolution to the Modern Era (New York: Basic, 1993), 114–15Google Scholar; and Sennett, Richard, Families Against the City; Middle Class Homes of Industrial Chicago, 1872–1890 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1970), 206.CrossRefGoogle Scholar

18. Helsinger, Elizabeth K., Sheets, Robin Lauterbach, and Veeder, William, The Woman Question: Society and Literature in Britain and America, 1837–1883 (New York: Garland 1983), 135.Google Scholar

19. Gilfoyle, , City of Eros, 238.Google Scholar

20. Littell, E. T., “Club Chambers and Apartment Houses,” American Architect and Building News 1 (02 19, 1876): 59–60Google Scholar. Compare the push for kitchenless houses and multifamily dwellings by U.S. feminists, including Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Melusina Fay Peirce, and Victoria Woodhull. The seminal account is Hayden, Delores's The Grand Domestic Revolution: A History of Feminist Designs for American Homes, Neighborhoods, and Cities (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1981).Google Scholar

21. Hawes, Elizabeth, New York, New York: How the Apartment House Transformed the Life of the City (1869–1930) (New York: Knopf, 1993), 35–37Google Scholar. Among those “others” who depended on the services of the apartment hotel were travelers, “bohemians,” those who craved the excitement of the city, and “poorer middleclass families who could not afford all the rent and services for full-scale housekeeping” (Cromley, Elizabeth C., Alone Together: A History of New York's Early Apartments [Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1990], 189Google Scholar; see also Alpern, Andrew, Apartments for the Affluent: A Historical Survey of Buildings in New York [New York: McGraw-Hill, 1975]).Google Scholar

22. Hawes, , New York, 45Google Scholar; see also Cromley, , Alone Together.Google Scholar

23. Lejeune, Anthony, The Gentlemen's Clubs of London (London: Bracken, 1984), 15Google Scholar; and Henry, Anne, The Building of a Club: Social Institution and Architectural Type, 1870–1905 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1976), 3.Google Scholar

24. Nelson, Henry L., “Some New York Clubs,” Harper's Weekly 34 (1890): 195Google Scholar. Henry confirms that “The American city club was designedly social rather than residential. Like a large home, it did provide those bachelors who could not afford or had no desire to maintain quarters for themselves with extensive facilities for entertainment and relaxation, but such men rarely lived in the club” (Building of a Club, 4Google Scholar). However, Peter Laipson notes that “residence at clubs was sufficiently common that etiquette books provided for it. A bachelor who belonged to a club might engrave or write its name on the lower-left hand corner of a visiting card; if he lived there, on the right hand corner” (private correspondence).

25. “Clubs — Club Life — Some New York Clubs,” Galaxy 22 (1876)Google Scholar, cited in Rotundo, , American Manhood, 144.Google Scholar

26. “The Story of an Old Beau,” Scribner's 9 (02 1891): 199.Google Scholar

27. Two recent studies that analyze 19th-century men's clubs, lodges, and taverns as alternatives to domesticity are Clawson, Mary Ann, Constructing Brotherhood: Class, Gender, and Fraternalism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1989), esp. 175Google Scholar; and Carnes, Mark C., Secret Ritual and Manhood in Victorian America (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989), 39–150Google Scholar. See also Rotundo, , American Manhood, esp. 143–44.Google Scholar

28. Browne, Junius Henri's “Are Women Companionable to Men?” The Cosmopolitan 4 (02 1888): 454Google Scholar; and Henry, (Building of a Club, 4)Google Scholar substantiates this anecdotal claim.

29. Henry, , Building of a Club, 31–34.Google Scholar

30. Comparable new housing options became available, though much less extensively, for New York City's “bachelor women” in this period. See Humphreys, Mary Gay, “Women Bachelors in New York,” Scribner's 20 (1896): 626–36Google Scholar; and Taylor, Ella Louise, “Rose and Elizabeth in a Flat,” House Beautiful 19 (02 1902): 163–65Google Scholar, and “The Flat,” House Beautiful 19 (01 1906): 33.Google Scholar

31. Quoted in Hawes, , New York, 146Google Scholar; see also Groth, Paul, Living Downtown: The History of Residential Hotels in the United States (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 84–85.Google Scholar

32. Gilfoyle, , City of Eros, 53, 119–24.Google Scholar

33. Flat life was particularly associated with Paris (hence the English term French flats), but London was anomalous in its antipathy to such housing compared with American cities like New York, and also with other European cities and even other U.K. cities such as Edinburgh. In the early 20th century, apartments eventually did become the predominant dwelling type in the more fashionable, central areas of London and they did prove attractive to certain groups, particularly to childless households in either early or late adulthood and to those prosperous enough to maintain two homes, but the middle classes increasingly rejected the flat as a way of life, except for the rich and bachelors. Bachelors constituted a significant part of the flat-dwelling population in London, even though this population was quite small as compared with the middle-class apartment-dwelling population in American cities. For my understanding of the comparative history of urban apartment life, I am greatly indebted to Marcus, Sharon, Apartment Stories: Domesticity and Urban Culture in Paris and London, 1830–1880 (Berkeley: University of California Press, in press 1999)Google Scholar; I thank her for allowing me to read this work in manuscript. See also Tarn, J. N., “French Flats for the English in Nineteenth-Century London,” in Multi-Storey Living: The British Working-Class Experience, ed. Sutcliffe, Anthony (London: Croom Helm, 1974), 38.Google Scholar

34. Howells, William Dean, A Hazard of New Fortunes (1890; rept. New York: Signet, 1965), 58–59.Google Scholar

35. Cromley, , Alone Together, 1–15Google Scholar. While boarding with families became more common among the middle classes after midcentury, boardinghouses never became respectable (see Hayden, , Grand Domestic Revolution, 72).Google Scholar

36. Sutcliffe, Anthony (Towards the Planned City: Germany, Britain, the United States, and France, 1870–1914 [New York: St. Martin's, 1981], 94)Google Scholar and Jackson, Kenneth T. (Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States [New York: Oxford University Press, 1985])Google Scholar give a detailed history of the development of unplanned and, after 1875, planned suburban growth in the United States.

37. Marsh, , Suburban Lives, 14–15.Google Scholar

38. Clark, Clifford Edward Jr., The American Family Home, 1800–1960 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1986), 182.Google Scholar

39. Grant, Robert, “The Art of Living: The Dwelling,” Scribner's 17 (02 1895): 145Google Scholar. Grant's anti-urban rhetoric in this essay echoes, but also modifies, the influential voice of Andrew Jackson Downing, the foremost practitioner and critic of architecture and landscape gardening in the first half of the century. See son, Jack, Crabgrass FrontierGoogle Scholar, and Handlin, David P., The American Home: Architecture and Society, 1815–1915 (Boston: Little, Brown, 1979).Google Scholar

40. Cited in Hawes, , New York, 213.Google Scholar

41. Dreiser, Theodore, Sister Carrie (1900; rept. New York: Norton, 1970), 216.Google Scholar

42. Andreas, Eulalie, “Apartments for Bachelor Girls,” House Beautiful 32 (1912): 168–70.Google Scholar

43. Ford, , “Luxurious Bachelordom,” 585–86.Google Scholar

44. Ibid., 584, 591–92.

45. Ibid., 585.

46. Welsh, , “Bachelordom,” 330.Google Scholar

47. Bunce, Oliver Bell, Bachelor Bluff: His Opinions, Sentiments, and Disputations (New York: D. Appleton, 1881), 19, 25Google Scholar. The slightly earlier historical moment of Bunce's text might be discerned in its lack of enthusiasm for mechanization – the sketch discussed here ends with another character arguing, uncontested by Bachelor Bluff, that central heating is destroying the integrity of home life – and also in Bachelor Bluff's argument, in another sketch in this collection, that his ideal house is found neither in the city nor in the suburbs, but in the country.

48. In the early 1880s, it seems unlikely that he means the paid workforce, but rather the realm of unpaid, volunteer charitable work performed by public mothers, a term coined by Smith-Rosenberg, Carroll (Disorderly Conduct: Visions of Gender in Victorian America [New York: Oxford University Press, 1985], 263).Google Scholar

49. Bunce, , Bachelor Bluff, 25–26.Google Scholar

50. This phrase, of course, is the title of Ryan, Mary's The Empire of the Mother: American Writing About Domesticity, 1830–1860 (New York: Institute for Research in History; and Haworth, 1982)Google Scholar. For my discussion of mid-19th-century domesticity in this section, I am indebted to the groundbreaking studies of Ryan, Cradle of the Middle Class: The Family in Oneida County, New York, 1790–1865 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981)Google Scholar; and Sklar, Kathryn Kish, Catharine Beecher: A Study in American Domesticity (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1973).Google Scholar

51. The late-19th-century rise of consumer culture has been treated in more studies than can be mentioned here. Several of the most influential are Ewen, Stewart, Captains of Consciousness: Advertising and the Social Roots of the Consumer Culture (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1976)Google Scholar; Trachtenberg, Alan, The Incorporation of America: Culture and Society in the Gilded Age (New York: Hill and Wang, 1982)Google Scholar; Fox, Richard Wightman and Lears, T. J. Jackson, The Culture of Consumption: Critical Essays in American History, 1880–1980 (New York: Pantheon, 1983)Google Scholar; Bowlby, Rachel, Just Looking: Consumer Culture in Dreiser, Gissing, and Zola (New York: Methuen, 1985)Google Scholar; and Horowitz, Daniel, The Morality of Spending: Attitudes Toward the Consumer Society in America, 1875–1940 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1985).Google Scholar

52. Ford, , “Luxurious Bachelordom,” 586–88.Google Scholar

53. Compare, for example, the impressed but ultimately censorious tone of the text accompanying a photographic essay documenting “A Bachelor Apartment in the Ansonia, Designed by Mr. J. H. Freedlander, Architect” (Architectural Review 12 [1905]: 124–25Google Scholar), which concludes that “the apartment breathes the spirit of New York very much in the same way that the Hotel St. Regis typifies the love of display and magnificence developed in the people of that city, and we are led to wonder whether there will not soon come a reaction, with a return to extreme simplicity in the city's art and architecture.”

54. In Moralism and the Model Home: Domestic Architecture and Cultural Conflict in Chicago, 1873–1913 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980)Google Scholar, Gwendolyn Wright describes the transformation of the ideal middle-class dwelling from the home of 1873 – exuberant and highly personalized, with many contrasts and varieties symbolizing the uniqueness of the family – to the 1913 ideal of the home as a restrained and simple dwelling, whose uniformities render its inhabitants as visibly similar to other families, was in the ascendant. In The American Family Home, Clark notes that “a house with no coherent standard of design cluttered with a collection of miscellaneous debris that obscured rather than expressed individuality” (130) had, by the 1890s, begun to pass its prime, yet this shift in style was far from total during 1890s, a decade identified with aestheticism and conspicuous consumption.

55. Even by the mid-19th century, there is a undeniable fantasy element to such narratives of manly self-reliance, of men's efforts to free themselves of the trammels of consumer and industrial culture, the most famous of which may be Thoreau's retreat to Walden Pond.

56. Chaffee, Frank, Bachelor Buttons (New York: George M. Allen, 1892), 5–7.Google Scholar

57. According to Jackson, the most widely read writer on architecture in America was John Ruskin (see Crabgrass Frontier, 340 n. 55).Google Scholar

58. Decorating one's own interior because one is unable to afford a professional interior decorator hardly makes one a professional; on the whole, these decorating bachelors seem more like game amateurs than professionals. However, the publication of several of the chapters of Chaffee's Bachelor Buttons in women's magazines such as Harper's Bazaar and the Home-Maker, not to mention the explanatory, “how-to” quality of their descriptions, does suggest a kind of masculine professionalizing of the household arts meant for consumption by female amateurs. It is worth noting, moreover, that these representations of bachelor's interiors coincide historically with the advent of magazines devoted to house planning and furnishing (House Beautiful began in 1896 and its chief competitor, House and Garden, followed in 1901), and the professionalization of interior decoration more generally.

59. Chaffee, , Bachelor Buttons, 7–8.Google Scholar

60. Ford, , “Luxurious Bachelordom,” 586.Google Scholar

61. Chaffee, , Bachelor Buttons, 8–9.Google Scholar

62. Reid, Mary J., “A Bachelor's Den,” Outing 31 (12 1897): 248Google Scholar. Compare Sir Richard Burton's theorizing of a Sotadic Zone in the “Terminal Essay” to Thousand Nights and a Night (1888)Google Scholar. Sedgwick discusses this in Between Men: English Literature and Male Homosocial Desire (New York: Columbia University Press, 1985), 182–90Google Scholar. See also Marjorie Garber on Lawrence of Arabia in Vested Interests: Cross-Dressing and Cultural Anxiety (New York: Routledge, 1992), 304–52Google Scholar; and Boone, Joseph Allen, “Vacation Cruises – or, the Homoerotics of Orientalism,” PMLA 110 (1995): 89–107.CrossRefGoogle Scholar

63. Lubin, David M., Picturing a Nation: Art and Social Change in Nineteenth-Century America (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994), 280.Google Scholar

64. Ibid., 281.

65. Chaffee, , Bachelor Buttons, 10–11, 13, emphasis as given.Google Scholar

66. Welch, Deshler, “The Connoisseurs of Poverty Flat,” The Cosmopolitan 28 (1900): 664.Google Scholar

67. A 1921 article by Chicanot, Eugene L. (“A Bachelor's Breadmaking,” Outing 7 [07 1921]: 167–69)Google Scholar similarly describes cooking as a distinctly manly undertaking, “a new sport, which promised novel thrills and adventures,” and one that the bachelor attempts while on a solitary camping trip in the woods. In this text, however, the bachelor's misadventures creates in him a new respect for the “importance of woman's work,” leading him to conclude, “Let a man try to make a batch of bread, and when he is through he will make twice the husband he would have previously.” The difference between the estimates of the bachelor's capacity for cooking here and in the chafing-dish text might depend not only on the difference in their historical moments (that is, a post-World War I reaction against mascu line domesticity), but also on the difference between the theatricality of a chafingdish performance and the behind-the-scenes labor of bread making.

68. “Novelties in Chafing Dish Cookery,” Harper's Bazaar 33 (01 20, 1900): 51Google Scholar; Rorer, S. T., “The Chafing Dish for Impromptu Affairs,” Ladies' Home Journal 22 (11 1905): 64Google Scholar; and Judson, H., “Novel Uses for the Chafing Dish,” Delineator, 74 (04 1909): 137.Google Scholar

69. These are just some of the recipes given in Welch, Deshler's cookbook, The Bachelor and the Chafing Dish (New York: F. Tennyson Neely, 1896).Google Scholar

70. Sanford, M. C., “The Chafing-Dish and the College Girl,” Women's Home Companion 31 (04 1904): 12Google Scholar; and “Dainties at College Girls' Spreads,” Ladies Home Journal 24 (09 1907): 31Google Scholar. Such articles misrepresented the actual trend of nonmarriage for college-educated women by portraying college education as merely a minor detour – a training stop along the road to inevitable marriage – where young women could learn to be gracious and effective, if more casual, hostesses. According to Smith-Rosenberg, “From the 1870s through the 1920s, between 40 and 60 percent of women college graduates did not marry, at a time when only 10 percent of all American women did not” (Disorderly Conduct, 253Google Scholar). In “The Gibson Girl Goes to College: Popular Culture and Women's Higher Education in the Progressive Era, 1890–1920” (American Quarterly 39 [1987]: 211–30Google Scholar), Lynn Gordon describes the trivialization of the career goals and intellect of college women in popular representations. Although there are some positive implications for women of the turn-of-the-century revamping of domesticity, feminist analyses have long recognized the paradoxical expansion, rather than reduction, of women's labor associated with advances in household technology. For recent examples, see Strasser, Susan, Never Done: A History of American Housework (New York: Pantheon, 1982)Google Scholar; Cowan, Ruth S., More Work for Mother: The Ironies of Household Technology from the Open Hearth to the Microwave (New York: Basic, 1983)Google Scholar; and Hochschild, Arlie, The Second Shift: Working Parents and the Revolution at Home (New York: Viking, 1989).Google Scholar

71. Nation 79 (10 27, 1904): 343Google Scholar; and Schloesser, Frank L., The Cult of the Chafing Dish (London: Gay and Bird, 1904).Google Scholar

72. The bachelor narrator of an unattributed 1860 sketch entitled “The Wife for Me” in the English periodical Once A Week (05 1860): 507–9Google Scholar, declares that “I am alone in the world, and in proof of my determination to remain alone I have lately bought a patent bachelor's kitchen which would enable me to cook a chop, boil an egg, or turn out a cup of boiling water in two minutes – if I could only make it burn.” Such devices, including Alexis Soyer's “Magic Stove” and Thomas Tozer's “Bachelor Kettle,” had been marketed since the 1850s. See Freeman, Sarah, Muttons and Oysters: The Victorians and their Food (London: V. Gollancz, 1989), 114–15.Google Scholar

73. Welch, , “Connoisseurs of Poverty Flat,” 664, 666.Google Scholar

74. Ibid., 662; and Nadal, E. S., “London and American Clubs,” Scribner's 9 (03 1891): 300.Google Scholar

75. Welch, , “Connoisseurs of Poverty Flat,” 663.Google Scholar

76. Welch, , The Bachelor, 55.Google Scholar

77. Ibid., 15.

78. Johnston, Richard Malcolm, “A Bachelor's Counselings,” Century 44 (09 1892): 775.Google Scholar

79. For an excellent treatment of the effeminated, inversion model of samesex relations, see Chauncey, , Gay New YorkGoogle Scholar, especially chapter 2, “The Fairy as an Intermediate Sex” (47–63).

80. Chaffee, , Bachelor Buttons, 10.Google Scholar

81. Ford, , “Luxurious Bachelordom,” 584.Google Scholar

82. Chaffee, , Bachelor Buttons, 13.Google Scholar

83. See Miller, Richard, Bohemia: The Protoculture Then and Now (Chicago: Nelson-Hall, 1977)Google Scholar and Chauncey, (Gay New York, 430)Google Scholar for a survey of scholarly work on American Bohemia.

84. Chauncey, , Gay New York, 229.Google Scholar

85. Hawes, , New York, 27, 99.Google Scholar

86. Wharton, Edith, The House of Mirth (New York: Scribner's, 1905), 14.Google Scholar

87. On the increasing acceptance of premarital as opposed to extramarital sexuality in the early 20th century, see Bailey, Beth, From Front Porch to Back Seat (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1988)Google Scholar; D'Emilio, John and Freedman, Estelle, Intimate Matters (New York: Harper and Row, 1988)Google Scholar; and Laipson, Peter, “Kiss Without Shame for She Desires It: Sexual Foreplay in American Marital Advice Literature, 1900–1925,” Journal of Social History (03 1996): 507–26.CrossRefGoogle Scholar

88. Chaffee, , Bachelor Buttons, 13–14.Google Scholar