Life, 1889-05-23 · page 5 of 20
Life — May 23, 1889 — page 5: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "The Charge of the Light Brigade" - Life Magazine Satire This page parodies Tennyson's famous 1854 poem about a disastrous cavalry charge. The satirical poem describes a chaotic dinner party where guests ("the Four Hundred"—a term for New York's elite social circle) charge into a supper room, creating mayhem with bottles and breaking glassware. The accompanying illustration shows well-dressed socialites in formal attire amid the chaos. The dialogue below reveals the joke: a woman claims her suit of armor belonged to her great-great-grandfather, whom she kept protected from flies while ploughing—absurd pretension masquerading as aristocratic heritage. The satire mocks both high society's pretensions and the reckless behavior of wealthy New York elites at fashionable gatherings.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
THE CHARGE OF THE -TIGHT BRIGADE. (APRIL 29, 1889.) ALF a night, half a night, Half a night drinking, All through the supper-room Strode the Four Hundred. “Forward the Tight Brigade! Charge on the wine!” they said. Into the supper-room Strode the Four Hundred. “Forward the Tight Brigade!” Was there a man dismayed ? No, tho’ McAllister knew Some one had blundered : Theirs not to stop and think, Theirs not to pay the chink, Theirs but to take a drink: Into the supper-room Strode the Four Hundred. Bottles to right of them, Bottles to left of them, Bottles in front of them Popp’d, popp’d and thundered. Stormed at with cork and glass, Boldly they strove to pass Into the supper-room : Into the room en masse Strode the Four Hundred. Smashed all their drinking ware, Smashed over solid fare, Grabbing the waiters there, Charging the table, while All the world wondered. Plunged in the sparkling froth Fought they, exceeding wroth ; Dudes and the deadheads Reeled from the table-cloth Spattered and sundered. Then they strode back, but not, Not the Four Hundred. Bottles to right of them, Bottles to left of them, Bottles behind them Popp’d, popp'd and thundered. Stormed at with cork and glass, While fell there many an ass, They that had legs to pass Came through the supper-room— Back from éhe room, alas! All that was left of them, Left of Four Hundred. When can ¢heir glory fade? Oh, the wild charge they made! Society wondered. Honor the charge they made, Honor the Tight Brigade— What a Four Hundred ! Timothy Hagen. Mi! than a i id ‘ill He; WHERE DID YOU GET THAT SUIT OF ARMOR? She: THAT BELONGED TO MY GREAT-GREAT GRANDFATHER. He (who knows the family history); OW, YES; TO KEEP THE FLIES OFF WHILE HE WAS PLOUGHING ? comicbooks.com