Judge, 1918-12-28 · page 5 of 33
Judge — December 28, 1918 — page 5: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "To An Ancestor" by D.B. Van Bures This satirical poem compares a human to an ape ancestor, likely referencing early 20th-century debates over Darwinian evolution. The illustration shows a man sketching a caged ape, with the caption "I note some condescension in your wink, as though you felt superior to men." The poem mockingly addresses an ancestral ape, suggesting humans haven't evolved much morally or intellectually. It catalogs human flaws—arguing, drinking, scheming—while acknowledging our biological kinship with primates. The satire critiques human pretensions to superiority and civilization. The final *L'Envoi* section ironically concedes the ape might be right: humans constantly bicker, and perhaps we'd be better off simply "hung up in the attic by the tail"—a jab at human vanity and self-destructive behavior.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Paay “LT Nore Soate To Coxpescenston 1x Your Wink, as Tuoucu You a =| AS Fevt Superior to Men.” An Ancestor By D. B. Vax Buren Illustration by Oviver Herrorpd GING simian, with beady eyes, urvivor of some dim arboreal clan, Locked in your smelly cage, I recognize ‘The primal architect’s rough sketch of man E For some have told me, could I tvace my line Far back and all the ancient record read, I'd find you were an ancestor of mine, My family tree a proper tree indeed! It may be so, for who ain L to jest Or cavil at’ your antics, after all 1 must acknowledge you, or at the best Become involved with Adam in his Fall. Pray, do not look so shocked, or take to flight On learning my relationship to you, rtled look of yours is scarce polite, pling a long-lost nephew at the Zoo! | Impartial critics from another sphere Comparing us together, agile friend, Might very well conclude that it is clear The difference is mere de-tail in the end I note some condescension in your wink, | As though you felt superior to men, | Poor tailless creatures with a taste for drink Who swapped their caudals tor a goosequill pen | L'Envoi Wherewith to keep on piling creed on cre Adding confusion to obscurity, Although we cannot learn to match the speed And certainty with which you nip a flea! True, I can shave my chin and go to church And learnedly discourse about my soul, But, then, I cannot bound from perch to perch, Or swing from a trapeze or climb a pole. ‘To my dull ears, what you are saying now Sounds idle chatter, meaningless and shrill; Pethaps you're saying to yourself, “I vow That fool docs nought but jabber—what a pill!” Your hairy limbs to me look rather bare, Yet I can well imagine you might melt In pity for the wretch condemned to wear Weird funnels to protect his tender pelt. Our wisdom makes a hell of sky and sea, Tears up the kindly earth with iron hail, While you hang swaying in some lofty tree, Depending by a long prehensile tail! You wrinkle up your nose and shake your head, Mainly enough to you it seems so queer That men are always arguing instead Of quietly hanging from the chandelier! Old boy, you're right, for in a world where fuss And ‘wrangling and contention never fail, How peaceful it would be if most of us Were hung up in the attic by the comicbooks.com