Life, 1897-03-04 · page 9 of 20
Life — March 4, 1897 — page 9: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "The Insanity Microbe and the Sunday Editor" This satirical piece mocks newspaper editors through whimsical fiction. An "Insanity Microbe" visits a New York Sunday newspaper editor's brain, finding it filled with "nondescript bacteria, representing every disease known." The joke targets the sensationalism and poor judgment of Sunday newspaper editors—a common complaint in early 20th-century satire. When the microbe tours the editor's "Chamber of Horrors" containing distorted images and scandal coverage, it finds nothing new to corrupt. The microbe concludes the editor is already so morally compromised ("a superfluity here") that even insanity cannot worsen him. The accompanying poem on the left satirizes women's fashion obsession with elaborate hats, warning of consequences.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
> LIFE: You'll certainly say That to wear it all day And then wear it all night is a fate to deplore. She wore it at dinners, she wore it at balls; She wore it at home when receiving her calls; She wore it at breakfast, at luncheon and tea, Not even at prayers from that hat was she free. She couldn't remove it on going to bed, She rose, bathed, and dressed with that hat on her head. If she lounged in the hammock, perusing a book, Or went to the kitchen to speak to the cook, In summer or winter, the hat was still there, so in the y when she shampooed her hair. Her lover would fain his fair sweetheart caress, But who to his bosom could tenderly press Twelve black, waving feathers and twenty-three birds? He said what he thought, in appropriate words, And broke the engagement. She vowed .she would go To a convent and bury her sorrow; but no— They wouldn't receive her. It was the old tale, “He broke the engagement.” That hat quite prevented her taking the veil. The curse was upon her! No mortal could save— She carried that ill-fated hat to her grave. MORAL. Now, all you young women with Gainsborough hats, Beware how you wear them to Saturday mats. Remember the fate Of this maid up-to-date, And take warning from her ere it may be too late. Carolyn Wells. A DROP = LIGHT, THE INSANITY MICROBE AND THE SUNDAY EDITOR. N Insanity Microbe once entered the brain of the editor of a New York Sunday newspaper. And the attendant showed him into the reception-room. This place was filled with a strange gathering of nondescript bacteria, representing every disease known. Not satisfied with this, the Insanity Mi- crobe asked to sce more. And the attendant conducted him to the Chamber of Horrors. Here Distorted Images, Deliberate False- hoods, Incipient Innuendoes, Embryonic Scandals and Criminal Conceptions thronged. The Insanity Microbe shuddered, and passed on to the picture gallery. There was nothing here that he hadn't seen before. He then said to the attendant: ‘‘Are you sure that in this abode there is not one germ of Truth, Purity, or Conscience?" And the attendant replied: ‘1 am.” “Then,” said the Insanity Microbe, drawing on his gloves, ‘I must depart to other and better fields, where I can do some execution. I'ma superfluity here.” And he went out.