Life, 1886-03-25 · page 4 of 16
Life — March 25, 1886 — page 4: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "The Moon and I" - Political Satire Analysis This cartoon depicts a silhouetted cat gazing at the moon through a window. The caption "The Moon and I" is a visual pun on the famous saying "The moon and I" (often attributed to romantic or philosophical musings). The accompanying text discusses political figures including Jake Sharp, the Aldermen, Henry Clay, and D. Pratt (called "the great American traveler"). The satire mocks capitalist "knights of labor" and their rest days, critiques nouveau riche collecting of porcelains, and ridicules an Alderman's request to revise the Commandments to "Thou shalt not squeal." The cartoon likely satirizes the disconnect between ordinary people (represented by the cat) and those in power, who pursue grand ambitions while common folk simply observe from below.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
ON CHANGE. (A COUPLET FOR THE CAPITALIST.) ITH sétréking changes is our country blessed, And “ knights of labor ” now mean days of rest / . . . UR cartoon this week will send a thrill of pride to the soul of every patriot. The upper classes of other nations may have an individuality and a character of their own, but, by Jove, ‘tis n't English, y’ know ! . . . feat Justitia ruat celum, Ada dear, may be literally translated, let Justice be done though it ruins the ceil- ing. We are always prepared, Sweet, to crack such classic nuts as this free of charge. . . . OME ingenious creature has invented a theatre hat that shuts up, to be worn by ladies. If this same man—or any other—can be prevailed upon to patent a woman to go with this hat, who is likewise capable of shutting up during the performance, he will be the leading inventor of the age. * . HE Sun says that the quest of fine porcelains and other treasures of art carries with it a conviction of benevo- lence toward your fellow creatures. We don’t know about the benevolence, but in these days of Morgan Collections it carries with it the sublime conviction of a long pocket-book. . . * A BADLY frightened Alderman has requested that one of the Commandments be revised to read: Thou shalt not squeal. . “THe Moon anp I.” RUMOR has crept out into the atmosphere that?Jake Sharp and the Aldermen are organizing ‘a strike for less investigation. HERE was a man in Washington last week whose hair reached to his knees. He once uttered a solemn oath that he wouldn’t cut it till Henry Clay was elected to the presidency. His faith in the Wig party must be considerably shaken by this time. . . . ANOTHER IDOL SHATTERED. HE illustrious D. Pratt, Esq., will have to take a back seat as the great American traveler. He has been left hopelessly in the rear by the ex-Hon. Alexander V. David- son, formerly Sheriff of this county. We do not say that Mr. Davidson has been in more nor, indeed, in as many places as has Mr. Pratt, but in the short space of one week Mr. Davidson, with the aid of the newspapers, has done more traveling than the ex-great American traveler could cram into four hundred years with the aid of a four-ply Vanderbilt income. In proof of our assertion we offer the following plain, un- varnished statement of facts: On Monday last Mr. Davidson left the Jersey City station of the Pennsylvania Railroad on the Southern Mail bound for Florida, there to while away a few days amid the alligators and other reptilia, such as land sharks, hotel keepers, and “crackers.” One hour subsequent to his departure, while his train was thundering through New Brunswick, Mr. Davidson walked quietly into the Grand Central Depot at Forty-second street and purchased a through ticket to Chicago by the limited express. This seems passing strange, but its strangeness sinks into the deepest depths of the commonplace when we reflect that the ex-Sheriff had no sooner purchased his ticket than he sauntered coolly into the leading hotel in Bermuda and sat down to a magnificent repast of native potatoes and onions. For one afternoon this was doing pretty well, but on Wednesday Mr. Davidson eclipsed even his own previous achievement. At three o'clock P. M. Wednesday he embarked from Boston for Liverpool. At four he had managed to get back on shore and register at White Sulphur Springs, while at 7.30 that same evening he dined with Minister Cox and drank a bottle of his Sublime Porte in Constantinople. Don't let us hear the name of Daniel Pratt after this. His diminished head should be concealed beyond the possi- bility of discovery even by so eminent an Excavator as Luigi Palmitoff di Chippriotti. J. K. Bangs. comicbooks.com