Life, 1903-11-05 · page 25 of 38
Life — November 5, 1903 — page 25: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains three separate satirical pieces: **"The Improvisator Sings"** (poem by Charlotte Becker): A romantic celebration of a wandering musician who chooses artistic freedom and tavern life over bishops' ranks and kingdoms, ultimately seeking forest burial rather than churchyard respectability. It mocks pretentious religious and social conventions. **"Mob"** (short narrative): Satirizes American social customs by presenting a scene where a narrator cannot distinguish between a lynch mob and a crowd celebrating newlyweds departing on their honeymoon—both apparently involving similar chaos and violence. This appears to be dark social commentary on American wedding customs and mob violence. **"A Temperance Crank"** (cartoon caption): A husband and wife discuss expensive furs; the wife reveals she ordered a *second set* (another hundred dollars worth) to preserve the first set. This mocks both excess consumption and the absurdity of hoarding luxury goods, while also satirizing the "temperance crank" type—moralistic do-gooders who ironically indulge in hypocrisy. All three pieces employ irony and exaggeration to critique social pretension and excess.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
The Improvisator Sings. ND were I pledged a bish- opric, And holy words men spake me, Should I forsake for mitred grat My song—the Devil take me! And were I pledge ingdom fair,— I'd choose in no grim palace, But in some merry roadside inn ‘To quaff my brimming chalice. And in no churchyard dig my grave,— Deep in the forest only ‘Then wouldst thou doa kindly turn, Good friends, where 1 lie lonely? So carve for me this chronicle : “He was, through joy or sorrow, Dame Music’s royal servitor, With no thought of the morrow. “He was a wanderer through the world, His song his comrade ever ; His dwelling was the open way, His roof, the changeful weather. “ He knew more happiness than pain ; ‘Through want his sins were shriven ; He loved much and he chaunted much— So be him much forgiven ! Charlotte Becker. Mob. A T the next station a furious mob was assembled. The air was filled with missiles and hoarse shouts. “A lynching!” I exclaimed, in horror. “Either that,” rejoined my companion, who, as I afterwards learned, while not an American himself, had closely observed the customs of the country, ‘or else a newly married couple are about to depart on their bridal tour.”” Anyway, it was fascinating, in a manne: The Hus'and: wuat! You DON'T MEAN To SAY THUSE FURS WERE TUREE UCNDRED DULLAns* “YES; RUT I'M GOING TO BE VERY CAREFUL OP THEM. IN FACT. 1 ORDERED ANOTHER SET ron A TEMPERANCE CRANK. ONLY A HUNDRED, *0 AS TO KEEP THESE POR BEST.” comicbooks.com