“I don’t ‘old with this ‘ere vaccination, Mrs. Green. What’s vaccination done for my little Tommy? Since I ‘ad ‘im done ‘e’s ‘ad whooping cough, chicken-pox, measles–in fact, everythink but small-pox!”
(Punch, London, 1915)
“He says he has yellow fever, only the major doesn’t want to acknowledge it.”
“Nothing special, a blue [rookie] with yellow fever, he should be all green!”
(Le Régiment, Paris, 1915)
“This is outrageous! It’s reached forty degrees!”
“Don’t be surprised; it’s the typhoid fever.”
(El Mentidero, Madrid, 1915)
A multi-panel cartoon by Karel Stroff from Humoristické listy (Prague, 1915), drawn at a time during World War I when cities were beginning to experience food shortages, and producers were frequently suspected of overcharging for ersatz materials unsuited for human consumption.
2. At the “qualified authorities”: Rest assured, gentlemen, that my invention will not disappoint. We can start tomorrow.
3. It’s nothing, sir, vaccination is healthy. There are so many diseases today…
4. For Christ’s sake, old man, what are you doing? Throw away all the crumbs in the morning, and now make buns like there’s no tomorrow… Are you crazy?
I’m not crazy, but that’s the way it is, that’s the right and honest thing…
5. People cheered on this miracle–
6. (Signs reading “Glory to the most useful scientist!!” and “Long live the inventor of the serum against extortion!!”)
and the grateful nation demanded enthusiastic applause for the professor.
“Where is the Counsellor going then?”
“Well, he was vaccinated against smallpox and for the sake of better recuperation he is just starting a six-week holiday…”
(Humoristické listy, Prague, 1915)
“Last week I was vaccinated against smallpox, today I’m going to be treated against typhus, then against cholera–“
“Are you that afraid of those diseases?”
“Oh, that’s not it. But we have a single young doctor…”
(Humoristické listy, Prague, 1915)
Main caption: A French man of culture has made the proposal to introduce bombs with plague bacteria as a new means of warfare. If this benevolent enterprise were to be realized, then the Central Powers will not be accountable for the reply.
(Kikeriki, Vienna, 1915)
The Italians can then prepare themselves for bombs with the pathogen of galloping consumption.
Bacteria which produce extra upper legs are intended for their sympathetic ruler.
For English listening posts bullets with the sleeping sickness pathogen are at the ready.
Epilepsy will be transmitted to English flyers.
The Foreign Legion soldiers so valued by the Parisian ladies world for their dark skin color will have to cease their heartbreaking activity soon, when we’ve given them bleaching on their necks.
Transmitting the English disease to the equine ranks of the Allies is child’s play.
It will be just as easy to spread the bacillus of Masurian dropsy in the Russian army.
The lovely d’Annunzio ought to be punished by a secret medicament until his hydrocephaly has attained a form that makes it impossible to wear a hat.
For the delightful Gaby Deslys-Navratil [an immensely popular French singer and silent film actor who would expire in 1920 from complications following a bout with Spanish flu], who has gotten into a bit of a spot from all the kissing, we have a means ready to develop a splendid trunk in a short time, so that she can spare her lovely 42 cm mouth during her grueling advertising service.
This delightfully bizarre cartoon is one panel of six celebrating the arrival of spring and the renewed efforts of Cupid. Unfortunately, Cupid has various rivals and false pretenders with agendas of their own during the long winter. In this case, our favorite clystère theme is featured. Unfortunately, the anxieties mocked in this image are very much present for us today.
“And you, the disease-wasted cupid of people of analysis and science, people who, before a kiss, wipe their lips with carbolic acid, whose love is proportional to the drugs taken, I take leave of you as well.”
(Novyi Satirikon, Petrograd, 1915)
Sic Transit Pestilentia 