Life, 1910-05-19 · page 14 of 40
Life — May 19, 1910 — page 14: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This satirical story uses a *gentleman mouse* narrator to critique class hypocrisy and injustice. The mouse family—poor but honest and unobtrusive—enters a mansion seeking shelter, causing minimal harm (one small hole). Meanwhile, the human residents' *own children* destructively "bounce through the house" and "whoop continually." When the mouse's wife is killed in a trap, the narrator bitterly highlights the double standard: the wealthy family suffers no consequences for their children's destructive behavior, yet uses lethal force against the mice for merely existing in their home. The title "The King Can Do No Wrong" underscores this—the wealthy operate without accountability while the poor are punished harshly for minor transgressions. This appears to be social commentary on class inequality and the disproportionate justice system of the era, using animal fable conventions to make its point safe for satire.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
THE KING CAN DO NO WRONG An Unpunished Criminal AM a gentleman mouse in good standing; my forefathers have toiled honestly in the fields, living, it is true, from hand to mouth, but continually trusting in the Providence that ever watches over us all, At least, that is what I have al- ways firmly believed until to-day. Last autumn, as the weather grew colder, I suggested to my dear little wife—I cannot speak of her without the tears coming to my eyes—that we seck more commodious quarters. While always uncomplaining and satisfied with her lot, asking nothing better, indeed, than to be my faithful partner, she agreed at once to the idea, and with her comfort in mind one moonlight evening with her I crossed the threshold of a com- modtous mansion, and we settled ourselves unobtrusively on a hidden rafter near a steam pipe. Mind you, the door was left wide open for us. There was no intimation that we were not welcome; indeed, I may say that this delightfully entreating word “ Welcome '* was on the very door-mat over which we entered. Nevertheless, we were carcful not to obtrude. We kept ourselves considerately in the background. With the excep- tion of gnawing a very small hole in a cheap pine board we did no harm. We lived on the scraps idly thrown away by the servants, and in quictly raising our little family—with scarcely a squeak—we were only doing what those lordly tyrants were doing themselves. Yet their own offspring bounced through the house, jarred the bric-a-brac off the shelves, rubbed the paint away and whooped continually like fiends. This morning I missed the dear partner of all my joys. In search for food for our little ones she had gone out the night before in faith that all was well. Suddenly, beside my- self with anxiety, running frantically over the floor of a re- mote closet, I stopped, horror-stricken. There, in a diabolical trap, they had caught her, in all her maternal innocence. And her still, lifeless form testified to a new form of hellish barbarity. Thus I am left alone with my little ones, to mourn until death—in some new and hideous form—shall take me off. “ nowpy-po? "* Ccomicbooks.com