“There you are, doctor… We went to attend a psychological comedy last night, and since then he has been in this state…”
“Encephalitis lethargica! Since music is the only known cure, all you have to do is take him to the opera.”
(L’Avenir, Paris, 1920)
“…lazybones, five o’clock and still in bed!!!”
“But no, my dear, I am suffering from encephalitis lethargica.”
(Le Matin, Paris, 1920)
“He’s not moving anymore, you–knocked him out.”
“Not at all, I think he is suffering from encephalitis lethargica!”
(Le Journal, Paris, 1920)
“Is that a parliamentary deputy? He’ll sleep for four years.”
(Le Matin, Paris, 1920)
“What does she have?…”
[Woodrow Wilson] “Encephalitis lethargica…”
(L’Avenir, Paris, 1920)
“Poor old man! In the 30 years that I’ve known him, I have always seen him sleep in the office like this.”
“My goodness! It’s a long time since he invented encephalitis lethargica!!!”
(Le Petit Journal, Paris, 1920) (Presumably punning on the sense of languor.)
(Le Journal, Paris, 1920)
Mr. Guineapig, having read the newspapers, thinks that the headache which he is experiencing could well be the symptom of encephalitis lethargica.
His tailor having come to ask him for a fairly large sum for developing a very small waistcoat, Mr. Guineapig feels, without a doubt, that he must be suffering from it.
His plumber having presented him with an invoice for 1,100 francs, responsible for having opened and closed a faucet, Mr. Guineapig feels that encephalitis lethargica is making frightening progress.
His girlfriend having come to present him with some observations concerning the high cost of living, Mr. Guineapig feels quite sure that his days are definitely numbered.
Fortunately, having received a visit from a debtor who brought him a small deposit, Mr. Guineapig feels that encephalitis lethargica is not so dangerous and that it can be cured very well in some cases.
“Poor fellow, your wife has the sleeping sickness.”
“Ah!… Can I hope that she will sleep for a long time?”
(Le Journal amusant, Paris, 1920)
A tale from Caras y caretas, Buenos Aires, 1920.
Sarrasqueta, after suffering storms and tribulations, arrives happily at the sight of Buenos Aires, eager to disembark and embrace his friends.
The passengers, who were weak from not eating on schedule, now dedicate themselves to making up for the previous fasting.
And the cramps and pains begin. The Health Department declares the ship infected with a terrible epidemic of influenza, bubonic plague, cholera, toothache, and other scourges..
The choir of doctors orders the passengers to undergo a thorough health inspection and rigorous quarantine. As if counting sheep, they first order the ladies to parade before them at great speed to check their tongues, and to be able to see a thousand an hour.
Then, at a slow trot, the first-class gentlemen and third-class men parade by the doctors. Sarrasqueta is in line with his tongue sticking out from exhaustion and pale with emotion.
The doctor, seeing him pale and with a white tongue, stops him, declaring him unclean. Sarrasqueta accedes, but claims it is from having eaten meringues for dessert.
The doctor takes his temperature. Sarrasqueta asks him not to tickle him with the thermometer, because he’ll be laughing for the whole year.
They tell him that they are going to give him a vaccine against flu, scabies, and rabies. Sarrasqueta defends himself by saying that he is neither a test body, nor a guinea pig.
They order his gothic curls to be shaved off with the clipper, perhaps so that no one takes his hair.
A public health employee arrives, not very clean, and with a fogger for killing ants he fumigates Sarrasqueta from head to toe.
They put the luggage in the disinfection oven, and they return it to him burnt to a crisp. And then they condemn him to undergo days of quarantine until they see the result of the vaccine.
The Spanish Flu (indignant): An open window — a bathtub! I shouldn’t be here.
(De courant, Amsterdam, 1920)
Doctor: “Are those relatives of the patient?”
“No, those are neighbors: they found out that the patient has a terrible fever and came to warm up around him.”
(Bich, Paris, 1920) (Compare a similar German cartoon from 1847 in Fliegende Blätter)
Der neue Tag in Vienna printed a cartoon with a similar theme in 1919, apparently reprinted from a French source:
Title: “You have to know how to help yourself”
“Just stick close to Grandpa. He has the fever. Perhaps you’ll get warm near him.”
Sarrasqueta, without knowing why, is attacked by encephalitis lethargica: an irresistible slumber takes hold of him and there is nothing to wake him up.
His landlady enters announcing that it is office time and bringing him hot chocolate. Sarrasqueta, who is still in his lethargy, turns around.
The landlady disappears, Sarrasqueta takes the chocolate, then throws the cup on the ground, as if it had been broth. He goes back to sleep like a dormouse.
……
And when the maid told him that, according to the summary from the lottery, he had won the big one, he jumps out of bed and is finally delethargized.
(Caras y Caretas, Buenos Aires, 1920) (The available scan is rather low resolution, so it’s not worth breaking up into individual panels.)
Whoever does nothing, sleeps; whoever sleeps, dreams; whoever dreams, is delirious; and… His Excellency has got “encephalitis lethargica.”
(O Malho, Rio de Janeiro, 1920)
“Here we bring this individual that we found him sound asleep on the street.”
“Asleep? It is surely a case of encephalitis.”
“And it wouldn’t be a colossal drunk, would it?”
(El Mentidero, Madrid, 1920)
“At the end of a hundred years, the king’s son came to wake her up.”
“Darn! It’s like she had sleeping sickness!”
(Le Rire, Paris, 1920) (reproduced in Caras y Caretas)
Sic Transit Pestilentia 