Life, 1909-01-07 · page 35 of 60
Life — January 7, 1909 — page 35: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
**"The Airship" (top cartoon):** depicts what appears to be an early automobile accident or breakdown scene, with several figures examining or working on a damaged vehicle. A boat is visible in the background. The title's meaning is unclear from the image alone. **Main Poem "Consistency":** This satirical verse critiques Victorian hypocrisy. The poem highlights the contradiction between what respectable people consume in art and entertainment versus how they judge actual people: - We display nude artwork in homes but would shun a naked woman seeking shelter - We enjoy plays mocking marriage and virtue, yet condemn immoral behavior in real life - We weep over fictional fallen women in literature while despising actual ones - We romanticize rural life in poetry while actually preferring city struggle **Lower cartoon:** A frustrated man carrying peanuts complains that the elephant won't eat them—mocking a false folk belief about elephants' preferences. Both pieces mock human inconsistency and blindness to their own contradictions.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
THE AIRSHIP Consistency E have bought and framed a picture of a lady, And given it the best place in our hall; She stands where spreading branches make it shady, And she hasn't any clothing on at all! If she who was the model came undressed, Exhibiting her grace of form and feature And asking for a nook in which to rest, . Do you think we would admit the shameless creature We go to plays in which the chief employment Of men and women is to scorn the need Of virtue, and we find a keen enjoyment In sceing marriage lightly travestied. We laugh to see the husband fooled, the wife Become a jest for love that burns too deeply: But in the stern realities of life We turn from those whose vows are given cheaply. and read in eager exaltation And often let our tears fall on the book For her who finds the depths of degradation, Her crimson stains we nobly overlook And sigh with satisfaction when at last She rests upon the hero's breast, forgiven; But in the flesh we'd loath her as she passed, However splendidly she might have striven. We breathe with rapture as we sit perusing The poet's lines concerning flowery lanes, And in our joy indulge in pensive musing O’er those bucolic haunts where quiet reigns; In fancy we can hear the plowman’s voice As joyously he sings some honest ditty; But, coming back to earth again, our choice Is still to struggle in the roaring city. S. E. Kiser. “DARN THE GUY THAT SAID ELEPHANTS LIKED PEANUTS. HERE I'VE LUGGED THIS TWO BLOCKS, AND THE BLAMED BEAST WON'T EVEN ToucH 17.’” comicbooks.com