The Wasp, 1918 · page 95 of 330
The Wasp — 1918 — page 95: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This appears to be a narrative scene rather than a political cartoon. The text depicts a social confrontation between two men: young Mr. Stanton (an ensign, or junior military officer) and an older gentleman identifying himself as James Burnham. The scene's tension centers on class and social standing. Burnham tactfully corrects Stanton's reference to "Swan Alley" (implying a lower-class address) by asserting he's "of Burnham in Berkshire" (a more respectable location). Stanton reacts with anger and suspicion, interpreting this as a deliberate slight to his memory or status. The satire appears to mock the rigid social hierarchies and sensitivities of the period—how quickly offense is taken over geographical associations and the suggestion that one's past was spent in less-desirable neighborhoods. Stanton's aggressive response ("I'll prick your failing memory") reveals the precariousness of social position among ambitious young men. Without additional context or visible illustrations, the specific historical references remain unclear.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
86 | THE WASP Close at his heels followed a black servant armed with cool drinks. He came at last to young Mr. Stanton, halted, and bowed low. “Let me offer you a glass of this punch, sir,’ he said. “ Rum, a dash of orange bitters, sugar, spring-water, and a slice of green lime. Very good, I assure you. Cools the blood, quenches the thirst, and at the same time pleases the palate.” Stanton’s cheeks flamed and he stared insolently. ‘¢ Mr. James Burnham, of Swan Alley, as I live! ”’ he drawled. : ‘“‘ Say, rather, of Burnham in Berkshire,” returned the older man softly. ‘ But if I have the honour of your acquaintance, sir, it was likely enough come by during my brief and somewhat humiliating sojourn in Swan Alley. Yes, it could not have been at Burnham. You will — forgive me, sir, I’m sure, that your name and the fact of our former acquaintance have ee my memory.” The blood thickened in the ensign’s smooth cheeks. **So that’s the line you take, is it?” ie whispered hotly. “ You don’t know me, hey? Q *Sblood, sir, Pll prick your failing memory for | pecimic books; com |