Life, 1901-07-04 · page 8 of 20
Life — July 4, 1901 — page 8: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of Life Magazine Page This page features poetry mocking self-important literary and public figures of the era. The poems ridicule pompous attitudes—particularly one titled "Song of True Majesty" by F.A. Mussey, attacking someone's overblown ego and false grandeur. The cartoon below depicts three figures at a news stand: two caricatured men in suits flanking a woman in a floral dress. The signs advertise magazines and publications. The caption reads "Combined we're but thirty cents," suggesting satire about the cheap cost of magazines or the minimal value/worth of the three figures combined—likely mocking specific contemporary personalities or types (publishers, editors, or celebrities) by reducing their importance to a trivial monetary value.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
8 (A sudden hush falls over the enlire assemblage, as Mr. F. W. Munsey rises from his seat, makes a significant signal, and is borne down the winding stairs by a faithful corps of assistant editors, He has on a Roman toga decorated with hand-painted reproductions of the photographs of our most popular actresses, and wears on his head a lovely wreath of gilded excelsior. He steps forward and sings.) Sone or T With a c & Mopesty. F. A, Muvsey. ain complaisance I note your obeisance Which is naturally due my position : And how, cireumspeetly, You have given correctly ME proper and just recognition. Tho’ I blush and sigh And in yain I try To hide the truth, I cannot sham ; So I beg to declare, With my modest air, ‘This important fact : I’m the great I Am. Cuorvs. Tho’ it makes him blush, yet he is no sham, And he begs us to know he's the great TAm. (Ac this point a sudden interruption occurs, as @ little man with a pouter-pigeon stride hastens MSCLURES MAGAZINE out aN Some *LIPE « through the throng. He proves to be 8. S. Mc- Clure.) Sone or True Great) Ha! Ha! Ha! Pooh! Pooh! Pooh! You're the veriest kind of a stripling! It makes me swerve, When I think of your nerve. As if I didn’t have Kipling! S. S. McCiure. My magazine May be cheap and lean And greatly deteriorated. But yours! Oh stuff! As a mere big bluff It is overestimated ! And I'll have you know When it comes to blow, Without any pretense to sham, sir, —Tho’ I blush right here; s becomes my sphere— That Zam the great I Am, siri Cuorvs. He asserts, with never a thought of sham, That he himself is the great I Am. (Here «loud sound of trumpets is heard, and the noise of escaping steam, us a locomobile dashes up; the crowd scatters, and John Brisben Waiker hee [BELIEVE THIS NUMBER OF : TY MAGAZINE MeiS THE GEST YET es [know BECAUSE L MADE 7 MYSELF TEN - CENTS “Combined we're but thirty cents,” = FAS MUNSEY] > LS ADVTS fy \ hastily alights. He is clad in a full armor of the latest Irvington make and carries a gold pen ten Jest long which he bulances gracefully in his right hand, He steps forward and sings.) J.B. Waker. ‘What cheap pretense Of insolence ! It is really beyond endurance! To compete with me Is Lese-majesté, T’m amazed at such assurance! Why, I'am the greatest thing on earth! I'm the head of all typography. Advice I pen To the rulers of men Without regard to geography. Sone or TRuESvperrority. I'm a brain ability I can write or talk about myself with equal- ized facility. And allow me to Tn my own modest way There is no one can approach me in convol- vular agility ! And tho’ I blush, I must ery “Tush!” For the simple truth I'm giving, aggregation of a marvelous ie comicbooks.com