As We Were Saying — Reading Companion

The Drawer's Recurring Voice and Strategy

Across the excerpts, the Drawer appears as a consistent editorial persona—wry, opinionated, and fond of mock-serious pronouncements. In 'Rose and Chrysanthemum,' he declares a bet on the rose; in 'Social Screaming,' he notes that 'the Drawer cannot do anything about it' when asked to reform society. This self-deprecating stance allows Warner to critique without seeming harsh. The Drawer often addresses readers directly, as in 'Social Clearing-House,' where he 'would like to emphasize the noble, self-sacrificing spirit of American women' before detailing the absurd burdens of visiting etiquette. This ironic praise is a hallmark of his style.

Notice how the Drawer shifts between first-person plural ('we used to say') and third-person ('the Drawer'), creating a conversational yet detached tone. He rarely offers solutions, preferring to diagnose social follies with a raised eyebrow. Readers should track how this persona evolves or remains consistent across essays.

Social Customs as Targets: From Chrysanthemums to Calling Cards

Warner's essays zero in on specific, often trivial social practices to expose deeper anxieties. The chrysanthemum represents fashion's tyranny: it 'can never be large enough nor showy enough to suit us.' Similarly, the 'Social Clearing-House' essay dissects the 'etiquette of visiting' in Washington, where women need 'a bookkeeper' just to track calls paid and due. Warner calls this 'a work which men can admire without the power to imitate,' undercutting the praise with the sheer absurdity of the system.

In 'The Loss in Civilization,' the Drawer criticizes how society treats strangers: 'the stranger, the guest, sit in helpless agony… isolated and separate, because all the talk is local and personal.' He compares this to the cruelty of 'the Sioux Indian,' a jarring analogy that underscores his point about 'a want of sympathy.' These examples show Warner using hyperbole and unexpected comparisons to make his critiques memorable.

The Role of Women and the Burden of Politeness

Women figure prominently in these excerpts, often as both victims and enforcers of social codes. In 'Social Clearing-House,' Warner praises American women's 'heroism' in bearing 'the burdens of artificial foreign usage,' but the praise is double-edged: they 'submit to them with a grace and endurance all their own.' The essay implies that women's labor—intellectual and physical—is wasted on trivialities like visiting cards. Warner even suggests that 'the monument to the women who perished in it will need to be higher than that to the Father of his Country,' a darkly comic reference to the Civil War monument in Washington.

Yet the Drawer also acknowledges women's agency: they 'represent these usages to be a burden almost intolerable' yet continue them. This tension—between critique and sympathy—runs through the collection. Readers should note how Warner balances admiration for women's capabilities with frustration at the systems they uphold.

Humor, Irony, and the Limits of Reform

Warner's humor often depends on understatement and ironic juxtaposition. In 'Social Screaming,' he notes that 'the rich are as good as anybody else, according to their lights,' then immediately undercuts this by adding that 'charity would cover a multitude of sins' if society were kinder to itself. The Drawer frequently professes helplessness: 'The Drawer cannot do anything about it. It can only ask the prayers of all good people on Christmas Day for the rich.' This mock-piety deflates any pretense of reform.

Yet the humor is not merely dismissive. Warner uses it to highlight genuine problems—the isolation of strangers, the absurdity of fashion, the exhaustion of social rituals. His essays do not propose solutions, but they sharpen the reader's eye for the 'vulgarity' that creeps into 'higher social life.' The Drawer's final note, that 'we do not have them with us always—they are here today, they are gone to Canada tomorrow,' wryly acknowledges the transient nature of wealth and fashion alike.

Reading As We Were Saying as a sequence rewards attention to the Drawer's evolving targets and tone. Each essay stands alone, but together they build a portrait of Gilded Age America obsessed with display, etiquette, and conformity. Warner's wit is sharpest when he lets a single image—a flower, a calling card, a dinner party—unfold into a broader critique. Approach these essays as conversation starters rather than arguments; the Drawer invites you to laugh, nod, and perhaps see your own social world a little more clearly.

That rainy afternoon, Warner’s As We Were Saying felt like eavesdropping on a witty neighbor’s mutterings about overblown flower arrangements and the strange loneliness of calling cards. His Drawer persona lingered, so I wandered to the shelf for something with that same unhurried, sidelong glance. There it was: On the Margin: Notes and Essays — A Closer Reading. Different pages, yes, but the same quiet company of a mind that prefers margins to headlines.