Part 11 (2/2)

Disraeli offering Victoria the Imperial crown of India.]

Punch, however, is really the most satisfactory and comprehensive source for the history of political caricature during the years following the siege of Paris down to 1886. From the indefatigable pencil of Tenniel and Sambourne we get an exhaustive and pungent record of the whole period of Disraeli's ascendency, the fruits of his much-criticised foreign policy, England's att.i.tude regarding the Suez Ca.n.a.l, her share in the Turco-Russian conflict, her acquisition of the island of Cyprus, the fall of Khartoum, the Fenian difficulties of 1885, and the history of Mr. Gladstone's Home Rule policy.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”Tightening the Grip.”]

Throughout the cartoons of this period there is no one figure which appears with more persistent regularity than that of Lord Beaconsfield, and with scarcely an exception he is uniformly treated with an air of indulgent contempt. Of course, his strongly marked features, the unmistakably Semitic cast of nose and lips, the closely curled black ringlets cl.u.s.tering above his ears, all offered irresistible temptation to the cartoonist, with the result that throughout the entire series, in whatever guise he is portrayed, the suggestion of charlatan, of necromancer, of mountebank, of one kind or another of the endless genus ”fake,” is never wholly absent. Even in Tenniel's cartoon, ”New Crowns for Old,” which commemorates the pa.s.sage of the Royal t.i.tles Bill, conferring upon the Queen the t.i.tle of Empress of India, the scene is confessedly adapted from Aladdin, and ”Dizzy” is portrayed as a slippery Oriental with an oily smile, in the act of trading a gaudy-looking piece of tinsel headgear for the more modest, but genuine, regal crown topped with the cross of Malta.

The bestowal of the t.i.tle of Earl of Beaconsfield upon Mr. Disraeli, which followed within a very few weeks, was too good a chance for satire for Mr. Tenniel to let pa.s.s, and he hit it off in a page ent.i.tled ”One Good Turn Deserves Another,” in which Victoria, with the Imperial crown of India upon her head, is conferring a coronet upon ”Dizzy,” kneeling obsequiously at her feet.

[Ill.u.s.tration: aeolus--Ruler of the Storms. The Easterly Wind too much for Bismarck.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”L'etat C'est Moi!”]

At this time the one international question which bade fair to a.s.sume any considerable importance was that of Russia's att.i.tude in the Balkan peninsula. Already in June, 1886, we find _Punch_ portraying the Czar of Russia as a master of the hounds, just ready to let slip the leash from his ”dogs of war.” Servia, Montenegro, Bosnia, and Herzegovina, in pursuit of the unsuspecting Sultan of Turkey, while John Bull in the guise of a policeman, is cautiously peering from behind a fence, evidently wondering whether this is a case which calls for active interference. It is only a few days later that the outbreak of an insurrection in Bosnia and Herzegovina hastens a decision on the part of Europe to ”keep the Ring” and let the Sultan ward off the ”dogs of war” single-handed--an incident duly commemorated in _Punch_ on June 19. The Turkish atrocities in Bulgaria, however, aroused public sentiment throughout the Continent to such a degree that the Powers united in demanding an armistice. Tenniel's interpretation of this incident takes the form of a sick-chamber, in which the Sick Man of Europe is surrounded by a corps of ill.u.s.trious physicians, Drs.

Bull, William I., Francis Joseph and Company, who are firmly insisting that their patient shall swallow a huge pill labeled ”Armistice”--”or else there's no knowing what might happen!” The protocol on Turkish affairs which soon after this was proposed by Russia and supported by Disraeli, forms the subject of two suggestive cartoons in _Punch_. The first, ent.i.tled ”Pons Asinorum,” depicts the protocol as a make-s.h.i.+ft bridge supported on the docile shoulders of John Bull and the other European Powers, and spanning a lagoon ent.i.tled ”Eastern Question.” Over this bridge the Russian bear is stealthily crawling to his desired goal, his eye half closed in a sly wink, his sides bristling like a veritable a.r.s.enal with weapons. The second cartoon, alluding to the Porte's rejection of the protocol, represents Disraeli looking disconsolately upon a smoldering pile of powder kegs and ammunition, over which he has placed the protocol, twisted into the shape of a candle-snuffer. ”Confound the thing! It is all ablaze!” he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.es, while Lord Hartington reminds him, ”Ah, my dear D., paper will burn, you know!”

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Hidden Hand.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Irish Frankenstein.]

The next significant caricature in the _Punch_ series belongs to the period of actual hostilities between Turkey and Russia, after Plevna had been completely invested and the Turks were at all points being steadily beaten back. This caricature, ent.i.tled ”Tightening the Grip,”

showing the struggling Turk being slowly crushed to death in the relentless hug of the gigantic bear, may safely be left to speak for itself without further description. Meanwhile, England was watching with growing disquiet Russia's actions in the Balkans. In one cartoon of this period, Mr. Bull is bluntly refusing to be drawn into a game of ”Blind Hookey” with the other European Powers. ”Now then, Mr. Bull, we're only waiting for you,” says Russia; and John Bull rejoins: ”Thank you, I don't like the game. I like to see the cards!” Prince Bismarck at this time was doing his best to bring about an understanding between England and Russia, but the difficulties of the situation threatened to prove too much even for that veteran diplomat.

_Punch_ cleverly hit off the situation by representing Bismarck aeolus, the wind-G.o.d, struggling desperately with an unmanageable wind-bag, which is swelling threateningly in the direction of the East and a.s.suming the form of a dangerous war-cloud. Eventually all misunderstandings were peacefully smoothed away at the Berlin Congress, which Tenniel commemorates with a cartoon showing ”Dizzy” in the guise of a tight-rope performer triumphantly carrying the Sultan on his shoulders along a rope labeled ”Congress,” his inherent double-dealing being suggested by his balancing pole, which he sways back and forth indifferently, and the opposite ends of which are labeled ”peace” and ”war.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Daring Duckling. June, 1883.

An early appearance of Mr. Chamberlain in caricature.]

Comparatively few cartoons of this period touch upon American matters. All the more noteworthy is the one which Mr. Tenniel dedicated to the memory of President Garfield at the time of the latter's a.s.sa.s.sination. It is a worthy example of the artist's most serious manner, at once dignified and impressive. It bears the inscription, ”A Common Sorrow,” and shows a weeping Columbia clasped closely in the arms of a sorrowing and sympathetic Britannia.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Settling the Alabama Claims.]

M. Gambetta seldom received attention at the hands of English caricaturists; but in 1881, when the resignation of Jules Ferry and his colleagues resulted in the formation of a new ministry with Gambetta at the head, and both English and German newspapers were sarcastically saying that ”the Gambetta Cabinet represented only himself,” _Punch_ had to have his little fling at the French statesman, portraying him as beaming with self-complacence, and striking an att.i.tude in front of a statue of Louis XIV., while he echoes the latter's famous dictum, ”L'etat c'est moi!”

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Mirage._

Gordon Waiting at Khartoum.]

Two cartoons which tell their own story are devoted to Fenianism. The first commemorates the Phoenix Park outrage in which Lord Frederick Cavendish, the newly appointed Chief Secretary, lost his life. The cartoon is called ”The Irish Frankenstein,” and is certainly baleful enough to do full justice to the hideousness of the crime it is intended to symbolize. The second cartoon, ent.i.tled ”The Hidden Hand,”

shows the Fenian monster receiving a bag of gold from a mysterious hand stretched from behind a curtain. The reference is to a supposed inner circle of a.s.sa.s.sins, directed and paid by greater villains who kept themselves carefully behind the scenes.

The tragedy of Khartoum formed the subject of several grim and forceful pages. ”Mirage” was almost prophetic in its conception, representing General Gordon gazing across the desert, where, by the tantalizing refraction of the air, he can plainly see the advancing British hosts, which in reality are destined to arrive too late. ”Too late,” in fact, are the very words which serve as a caption of the next cartoon. Khartoum has fallen, and Britannia, having come upon a fruitless mission, stands a picture of despair, her face buried upon her arm, her useless s.h.i.+eld lying neglected upon the ground.

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