Life, 1918-01-03 · page 30 of 40
Life — January 3, 1918 — page 30: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This WWI-era page combines anti-German propaganda with domestic humor. The main poem by Christopher Morley references Felix Fivet, a three-week-old Belgian infant killed by Germans in Dinant—apparently shot for his parents "firing on German troops," a propaganda allegation. The poem uses this atrocity to evoke maternal protection and future Belgian vengeance, framing German brutality against civilians as unforgivable. The cartoon jokes below address different wartime anxieties: a magistrate questions a reckless driver; a "Major" and "Pacifist" debate response to violence (the Pacifist's non-resistance is mocked). The final section, "Resentment," satirizes American home-front domesticity during Prohibition and wartime rationing. A wife resents her husband because wartime restrictions (no cigars, theater, billiards) have eliminated all bad habits she might reform him about—leaving her with no New Year's complaint. The satire targets wives' domestic grievances as trivial compared to war's actual suffering.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
To All Mothers and Fathers Felix Fivet. aged three weeks, was murdered by the Germans in Dinant, Belgium, “ for firin: troops."—(See Hugh Gibson's “Journal from Our Legation in Belginm,” p 2 HENEVER I W Nestled against the pillow his fragrant little head, And smoothing down the blankets his mother sings and stoops, I think of Fel on see my baby, asleep and safe in bed Fivet, who “fired on German troops.” When the last cathedral crumbles, when the cottages are dust, When Prussian high commanders When, in his grand compassion, the ‘¢ sated of their lust, Hun withdraws his men— The hloodstained streets shall cry alond when Belgium speaks again, And every tortured hamlet and every vanished chime Shall testify, shall testify the horror of that time— The burly, booted cruelty, the anguish of the weak: Dear God! That shall be Pentecost when Belgian mothers speak. So when I see you safe in bed, my blessed sleeping hoy, And tightly clutched beside you some best belovéd toy, And when your mother tucks you in, and by your crib she stoops, I think of little Felix, who “ fired on German troops.” Christopher Morley. Magistrate WHEN YOU SAW THE DECEASED YOU NRITHER SLACKENED YOUR SPEED NOK ALTERED YOUR COURSE? “NO, YOUK HONOR, BUT 1 BLEW MY HORN AND CURSED 11M.” “LTE The Major: 1¥ 4 MAN WERE TO SLAP YOUR WIFE'S CHEEK WHAT WOULD you 70? The Pacifist: 1D TURN HER OTHER CHEEK, Resentment Tis New Year's Eve. Moodily the woman gazes at her husband. With a gloom which is suspiciously joyful he gazes into the fire. For hours she has racked her brain trying to think of some reform he should accomplish in himself—some bad habit he should give up—some good resolution she can suggest. But the state has gone dry, the price of food is so high that he has had to cut out cigars, cards, billiards, golf, the theatre and all other unnecessary things Silently she asks herself bitterly how this is going to be a Happy New Year for her. | comicbooksigemmas