Life, 1915-04-01 · page 22 of 72
Life — April 1, 1915 — page 22: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This story satirizes American literary celebrities and their selective charity. Two allegorical figures—**Modesty and Art**—personified as refugees from war-torn Europe, approach a famous American author seeking shelter and food. The author, initially courteous, quickly redirects them to the Foreign Relief Committee rather than offer personal hospitality. The satire's point: prominent American writers publicly champion causes and accept praise for their cultural importance, yet avoid actual inconvenience. The author prefers to donate his **name** to an organization rather than provide material help—delegating charity while maintaining his reputation. The cartoon's title, "If It Looked the Way It Feels," and the accompanying illustration of an artist sketching a sleeping vagrant suggest the gap between artistic sympathy and real action. The final dialogue about "fifty dollars' worth of time spent" emphasizes the author's self-importance over genuine assistance.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
weet a el Oo cal ooh until the war drove us out. We had to go somewhere, and so we came here.” At this Modesty spoke, very quietly, very demurely, her wan cheeks flushing “Yes, sir,” she continued, “ we belong to each other, he and I, and we never have been parted; “but here, sir, the crowds confuse us, and the atmosphere is unclear, and, of course, we shall IF IT LOOKED THE WAY IT FEELS Incognito Besides, they looked rather pleasant HEY came into the room quietly— Modesty and Art—and sat down patiently together. You would scarcely have known they were there. Some- how they never make any noise, those two. And the great man was writing. By and by the great man chanced to look up from his typewriter and saw ‘hem both sitting there. And he was quite naturally surprised. Wouldn't you be surprised if you were a great man and Modesty and Art should come into your room—and you didn't know who they were? But the great man was cautious. He was accustomed to homage. These strangers might have come to pay that. So he thought it was best to take it for granted that there was the best of reasons why they should be there. and inoffensive. There was nothing about them to alarm anybody. “Good afternoon,” said the great man, politely. On the table there were some sketches he had drawn for the great book he was writing, a masterpiece of literature, a book that teemed with human interest. “ What can I do for you?” said the great man. His visitors were sitting rather close together, their hands clasped. Art spoke. “This is Ame sir?” asl “Yes. “You must pardon me for askin, said Art, “but we are comparative strangers to this land. We came origi- nally from Greece, but we have lived, you know, in Italy and France until— , is it not, great go back some day; but meanwhile, could you let us possibly stay with you? We'll promise not to interrupt you or cause you any thought, we may but have a bite to eat and some straw upon which to sleep. They told us at the corner that you were among the greatest of these people, and so we—”" The great American author—for by this time the indulgent and discerning reader will no doubt have recognized him—arose with a kindly smile and motioned the two strangers to the door. He pointed into the distance. “My friends,” he said, “your story interests me greatly, and if I were not so busy I should love to become better acquainted with you both. But my house is full and the demands upon me are exacting. Do you see that large sign down there? Well, that is the headquarters of the Foreign Relief Committee. You go there and they will take care of you and see that you both get back safe and sound after the war. Just tell them my name and it will be all right. Don’t mention it. Good afternoon.” Then he went back to his typewriter, his brow furrowed with care, and, looking up at the clock as he prepared to strike the first key, he said: “These interruptions! At least fifty dollars’ worth of time spent!” Pup: 1 DON'T SEE HOW A REFINED ARTIST COULD TAKE PLEASURE IN MAKING A PICTURE OF MIM