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Judge, 1890-12-13 · page 4 of 18

Judge — December 13, 1890 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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Judge — December 13, 1890 — page 4: Judge, 1890-12-13

What you’re looking at

This page satirizes New York's wealthy elite ("the Four Hundred"—a term for the city's most exclusive social circle). The lead poem mockingly depicts their outrage at Ward McAllister's forthcoming exposé book, which threatens to reveal their embarrassing secrets, fashions, and pretensions to public scrutiny. The joke is that despite their fury, the book will likely sell well while society watches their humiliation. The scattered witticisms below target various figures: Cleveland (depicted as clumsy), McAllister himself (mocked for constantly claiming intellectual superiors exist), and politicians like Parnell and Roger Q. Mills. The cartoons illustrate social absurdities—a bride demanding her husband stop displaying affection publicly, an Irishman confused about etiquette. The satire reflects Gilded Age anxieties: the newly wealthy's desperation for respectability, McAllister's gatekeeping role in society, and tension between old money and those seeking admission to elite circles.

📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE RAGE OF THE FOUR HUNDRED. # AGE by page, page by page, Page by page, onward Into a towering rage Read the four hundred. Laughter to right of them, Laughter to left of them, Laughter in front of them, Volleyed and thundered! Stormed every dude and swell, Matron and bud and belle ; Promptly they stormed and well— Yet—yet, the book would sell, ‘While the world wondered. Useless to question why, Useless to make reply— ‘Where should they flee and die— Flashed ail their foibles bare, Broadcast, hung out to air— Each poor disguise they wear Tattered and sundered. Fashion and style and fad— Oh, it was bad—too bad ! All the slim stock they had Ruthlessly plundered. ‘Oh, the unlooked-for raid Of the wild book he made And the rash things he sai ‘Was the man drunk or mad Thus to have blundered? Well, be that as it may, Long will they rue the day Ward said his little say— What there is left of them— Hapless four hundred ? Left of four hundred. MADELINE § BRIDGES. HUM OF THE COURT. SeTHE AL misfit of thing the original one. HE GREATEST prohibition—That of the people with respect to the party of that principle. REQUENT REMARK in Chicago—“And they said ‘Let there be Light, and there wasn’t any. a more truthful remark than THEIR HONEYMOON. Sur—''T do wish, George, you would stop hugging and kissing me! What would people think if they saw you? Remember, i'm not single now !” WHEN MR. CLEVELAND makes a joke one is reminded of an cle- phant trying to walk a tight rope; though, to be sure, an elephant indulges in such foolishness. THE YEAR just closing brought in a cure for consumption. May the new one witness an antidote for old age, though that ought to be preceded by one for trouble and all unhappiness. WATKINS MAN buried his wife on Monday and married again on Tuesday. We like to encourage neatness and dispatch, but there is such a thing as being in too much of a hurry. ‘ | HAVE ALWAYS preferred,” says Ward McAllister, “to associate with my superiors in intellect.” Dear boy, that is an excellent rule; but there must be many times when you are weary of the search, THE UNFITNESS OF THINGS. Micntatt. (toho has been sent to the grocery for macaroni) —"* Regorra! it’s wrong. Me an’ thot dago do aich be luggin’ th’ other's coat av ar-rms !" [7 18 TIME to look into the new year; but don’t use magnifying-glasses or you will see exactly what you don’t want. A VERY GOOD proof that a man is not a gentleman is his repeated declaration that he is and that you hadn't bet- ter forget it. +O FLIES on Roger Q. Mills,” says the Utica Observer. There have been some heavy frosts lately. It is a bad time for flies. HE LATE Horace Greeley did not know one kind of liquor from another; so, according to Ward McAllister, he was no gentleman. COYVHAT!" exclaimed Mr. Stanley with a look of horror and astonishment as he perused the election returns, “am L in darkest Africa again?” YOU CAN never tell what the New York Sux is going to do. The other day it came out in a long, double-leaded editorial in favor of an immediate millennium. *+P)OLLY ” is one of the prettiest of pet names; but when Henry Stanley is out of patience he spells it in three distinct syllables, with the accent on the first in a voice of subdued thunder. ME. PARNELL has had more power to hurt himself than have the London 7ymes and all his enemies together ; but much of the blame must be laid to She, or rather the O'Shea. A REPLETED YOUNGSTER, AneRDRorTH—" Dot Ergenspeil vas anise man, Dela.” Mrs, AbeDKotH—"* Vas he free mit his money AbeKDRrotn—"' You bet. He took liddle Fritzy in der resdaurand unt gef him a quart ohf pickles, four frangfurters, a pound ohf schweitzerkiise, unt fife plade-fuls of sauer- kraut, unt he ain'd fond obf schildrens mooch, either.” comicbooks.com