Life, 1911-06-22 · page 15 of 44
Life — June 22, 1911 — page 15: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This illustration and poem by Arthur Guiterman satirize hereditary aristocracy and class hierarchy. The cartoon shows a train station scene where social classes intermix, accompanying a narrative poem about a weakling "Champion" of the king—a man of noble birth but no actual martial skill, forced to defend the monarchy's "divine right" to rule. The satire's point: when a commoner laughs at this pretense, everyone—lords, princes, even the king—joins in, realizing the absurdity of rank based on birth rather than merit. The poem's conclusion—"There were no princes, peers and lords / Or dukes or kings—but only Men!"—mocks the notion that nobility conveys inherent superiority. This reflects early 20th-century *Life* magazine's progressive critique of entrenched privilege and aristocratic pretension, suggesting that shared humanity supersedes artificial social distinctions.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
ZATH a pall of cloth of gold AN ACCOMMODATION TRAIN The King’s Champion They gave him sceptre, orb and ring; As one of more than earthly mold They crowned his brow, they “King!” Then, up the rich and splendid line Where princely circlets flashed and glowed, To prove his master’s right divine The Champion, full armored, rode. The Champion, whose ancient name Was once the theme of song and tale, The Champion! whose puny frame Could hardly bear the antique mail; Whose arm, untrained in any art, His fathers’ sword might scafecly raise, Yet must he mock the knightly part His fathers played in ruder days. While trumpets blew a silver blast He gazed around with haughty eye; Upon the pave a glove he cast And piped his challenge, weak and high: itor doubts our Monarch’s right My gauntlet here I fling called him And dare the knave to mortal fight With sword and lance !—Long live the King! Awed silence held the throng a span, When, straight as spear or arrow-shaft, Out stepped a Man, a stalwart Man, Who spake no word, but looked—and laughed! He laughed with deep, full-throated zest The laugh of fresh, glad-humored mirth Of one who sces the gorgeous jc st Of pride of rank and wealth and birth. And as he laughed all eyes were cleared; Rich laughter rolled from side to side; In gales of laughter disappeared The silk and gold of pomp and pride. Loud laughed the lords of high renown; The princes laughed as loud as they; ‘They laughed their painted 'scutcheons down. The carls and barons laughed away Their orders, crests and jeweled swords And last, the king laughed too! And then There were no princes, peers and lords Or dukes or kings—but only Men! Arthur Guiterman, comicbooks.com