The Philistine: a periodical of protest (Vol. III, No. 2, July 1896)

In Short

This periodical serves as a manifesto for the "Society of the Philistines," a group of writers and thinkers centered in East Aurora, New York, who reject the stuffy conventions of their day. Through a collection of essays, poems, satirical "side talks," and short stories, the volume champions artistic sincerity over institutional gatekeeping. It remains a vital document for its preservation of a distinctively American voice—one that is skeptical of authority, appreciative of the "tumult and tatters" of real life, and deeply committed to the freedom of the individual creator.

The Story

The volume opens with a spirited call for liberation from the burdens of conventional living, signaled by a sea song that demands we cast off care and embrace the raw, crashing force of the ocean. This theme of discarding the "bandbox" aesthetic of the era permeates the entire collection. The central narrative arc is found in the critical defense of Stephen Crane’s The Red Badge of Courage. By centering a review on Crane’s work, the editors argue that true literature must capture the chaotic, unvarnished reality of experience rather than the sanitized, heroic tropes favored by official histories.

This argument against the "Procrustean notions" of publishers is echoed in a series of personal anecdotes where writers describe the absurd hoops they must jump through to get their work into print. One author details the exhausting, futile cycle of submitting a manuscript only to have it rejected by editors who demand impossible lengths or claim the work might "offend Bulgarians." Another story offers a satirical look at a frustrated epic poet who, in a fit of manic inspiration, uses his pet cat as an inkwell to complete his masterpiece, only to realize that the resulting "purple" mess is exactly the kind of unrefined vitality his work required.

The collection further explores the dynamics of social pretense through sketches that dissect the absurdity of high-society etiquette and the insincerity of the publishing world. In a mock "heart to heart" advice column, an editor confesses to running a successful journal by systematizing gossip and mining the work of genuine artists for "ready-made titles" to feed a hungry, undiscriminating public. The progression concludes with a series of "Side Talks" that directly address the reader, mock the pretensions of the "Windy City" and other cultural hubs, and offer biting commentary on the literary politics of the day. The final impression is one of a defiant, humorous, and deeply self-aware community standing in open protest against the moral and artistic stagnation of the 1890s.

How It Unfolds

The call to freedom The issue opens by stripping away the heavy, formal expectations of Victorian literature, replacing them with a call for salt air and unencumbered life. This sets the tone for the entire periodical: a rejection of the neat and the ornamental in favor of the wild and the honest.

The defense of realism A major beat involves the critical appraisal of a young Stephen Crane, positioning his work as the antithesis of the stiff, "bandbox" military histories of the past. The writing here champions the common soldier’s perspective, arguing that true heroism is found in the nervous, confused human heart, not in the orderly columns of a textbook.

The frustration of the marketplace Several accounts shift the focus to the practical, often humiliating experience of being an author in an age of arbitrary editorial standards. These beats highlight the struggle of the creator against a publishing industry that cares more for length, fashion, and avoidances of offense than for the integrity of the art itself.

The satire of the expert The later pages turn toward a sharper, more pointed critique of the "successful" literary figure, represented by the editor who admits that gossip and plagiarism are the true engines of modern literary fame. This section moves from individual struggle to a systemic indictment of how the "Philistines" view the state of contemporary letters.

The final dissent The concluding pages are an act of rebellion, using humor, lists of upcoming "Little Journeys," and sharp-tongued responses to readers to solidify the group's identity. By rejecting the formal tone of a magazine and adopting the voice of a provocateur, the periodical asserts its right to exist on its own terms, outside the gates of the established literary world.

The People

The figures populating these pages are defined by their resistance to the "Procrustean" pressures of their time. The narrator of the "Side Talks"—the voice of the East Aurora school—is the most consistent presence, acting as a witty, acerbic gatekeeper who uses humor and sarcasm to keep the reader at a distance from the "enemy." He is the one who claims that "care’s an enemy to life," and he treats the publishing establishment with the same irreverence one might show a pompous bore at a party.

Stephen Crane appears not as a character in a drama, but as a symbol of the "new" writer whose intuitive genius threatens the old guard. He is the standard-bearer for the type of literature the society wants to see: honest, breathless, and unconcerned with patriotic tracts. In contrast, the "New Assistant" and the "Old Book-keeper" in the idyll of the hot office represent the common man, trapped in a stifling, heat-drenched reality that they attempt to survive with humor and beer. Their struggle is the quiet, daily, and relatable counterpoint to the more bombastic manifestos of the editors. These individuals are all united by a desire to speak their minds, a goal that is constantly blocked by the "averages" of the world—the editors, the critics, and the moralists who demand that art be "wholesome" and "pure."

In Its Own Voice

"The breathlessness, the hurry, the confusion, the seeming aimlessness, as of a whole family of disturbed ants, running to and fro, yet somehow accomplishing something at last; all these aspects... are yet those surest to be omitted, not merely by the novelists, but by the regimental histories themselves."

In this assessment of Stephen Crane's work, the author identifies the specific, messy truth of the human experience that the periodical seeks to champion.

"I set out on my next story wondering if the time would ever come when a man could speak his mind to his fellow men in print, or if all written things would have to be shaped according to the Procrustean notions of the average editor."

This quote encapsulates the central grievance of the writers featured in the periodical—the tension between individual expression and the rigid demands of the publishing industry.

What It's Really About

At its core, this work is an argument for the supremacy of the individual voice over the institutional filter. It asks uncomfortable questions about the nature of literary value: Why do we prioritize polish over truth? Why is "success" in literature so often divorced from actual merit? The text treats the "Philistine" not as a term of derision, but as a badge of honor for those who refuse to conform to the polite, safe standards of the late 19th-century establishment. It is a defense of the "tumult and tatters" of life, arguing that art's primary duty is to be authentic to the human condition, even when that condition is ungracious, unornamental, or messy.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the biting, skeptical wit of H. L. Mencken or the early, rebellious spirit of American modernism will feel right at home here. It is a quick, punchy, and surprisingly modern read, full of the kind of irreverent energy that makes Victorian-era literature feel sudden and alive. You will find it refreshing to see a period publication that does not take itself seriously, even when it is making serious points about the state of culture.

However, a modern reader must be prepared for the period-specific attitudes that crop up in the "Side Talks"—some of which reflect the prejudices and insular worldviews of 1896. The humor can be brittle, and some of the references to Irish poverty and religious politics are distinctly of their time, requiring a bit of historical patience. Yet, the main draw remains the voice: that of a writer who has decided that if the world is going to be "hot" and "uncomfortable," he might as well be honest about it. It is a book that stays with you for its audacity, capturing the specific, gritty transition of an era finding its own voice, and it provides a fascinating, unfiltered look at the birth of the American "little magazine."