Judge, 1915-03-06 · page 9 of 24
Judge — March 6, 1915 — page 9: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page satirizes upper-class spring leisure during Lenten season. The prose section mocks condescending attitudes of wealthy adults toward youth, urging older generations to appear more interesting and "artistic" to younger people. "The Overture" poem, credited to Kate Masterson, ridicules the wealthy observing Lenten fasting while complaining about deprivation. References to "Alimony Lane" and "Peacock Alley" suggest marital discord among the affluent. The poem ironically catalogs forbidden foods (jelly, pâté, poulet) while describing their actual consumption in "sackcloth and ashes"—mock-pious posturing. The illustration shows a woman in a polka-dotted dress ascending into snow-filled air, apparently escaping to spring leisure activities. The overall satire targets the hypocrisy of wealthy society's performative piety during Lent, their complaints about self-imposed restrictions, and their obsession with seasonal social rituals. The closing maxim—"If everybody were rich, the world would be poorer"—underscores the critique of materialism.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
ee Let us be’ indifferent to the need of th till youth perceive its own need, and so has to apply to us as the cus- todians of what is surely worth while! Give the fledgelings a chance to consider us commonplace grown- ups of sedate forty as something more than mere commodities built into the an- Sawn cient scenery, and thereby quite unrelated to their own soaring spirit. Yes, happily we certainly can, by an appropriate—artistic, too, if you will—an appropriate reserve, arouse in the nature of the juveniles some curiosity as to our intrinsic human possibilities. We will do it. Then perhaps we shall discover a wealth of kinship hitherto unsuspected. And quite naturally unsuspected, because hitherto impossible of their demon- stration toward us, under our simple, old, mistaken habit of wearing our hearts on our sleeves. The Overture The Lenten purple palls the town. The time has come for flitting To piny woods and porches down For golf and bridge and knitting. The clubs are empty—every one Who's any one’s cavorting Where there's a fighting chance for fun, For folly or for sporting. We stroll through Alimony Lane And rest in Peacock Alley; For merriment we seek in vain Where tango trotters rally. Oh, kindly devil of the grill, Your warm glow on us casting, Disperse this unrelenting chill That comes from gloom and fasting. The jell is on the ga The pate de foie i: The chic poulet in aspic put, But not for our beguiling. For us no guinea-hen saute, No filet mignon flashes; We sip our barley fizz frappe In sackcloth and in ashes. Away—away—to wooded lake! Dost hear the love bird calling Where laughing pussy willows shake And early buds are falling? Hid in the tre King Pan, the gay, His harp of life strumming Amarch triumphant. Clear the way! * Another spring is coming! fA —Kate Masterson. oARToH/ If everybody were rich, the world would be poorer. THE LAST SNOW comicbooks.com