The History of the Nineteenth Century in Caricature Part 8

Many of the best cartoons of the period revolve around the rivalry between General McClellan and General Grant, and the incidents of the McClellan-Lincoln campaign of 1864. "The Old Bull-dog on the Right Track" is one of the best products of the war cartoonists. It represents Grant as a thoroughbred bulldog, seated in dogged tenacity of purpose on the "Weldon Railroad," and preparing to fight it out on that line, if it takes all summer. At the end of the line is a kennel, labeled "Richmond," and occupied by a pack of lean, cowardly hounds, Lee, Davis, and Beauregard among the number, who are yelping: "You aint got the kennel yet, old fellow!" A bellicose little dwarf, McClellan, is advising the bulldog's master: "Uncle Abraham, don't you think you had better call the old dog off now? I'm afraid he'll hurt these other dogs, if he catches hold of them!" To which President Lincoln serenely rejoins: "Why, little Mac, that's the same pack of curs that chased you aboard of the gunboat two years ago. They are pretty nearly used up now, and I think it's best to go in and finish them."

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Old Bull Dog on the Right Track.

_From the collection of the New York Historical Society._]

The conservative policy which marked the military career of General McClellan and his candidacy for the Presidency in 1864 is ridiculed in a cartoon ent.i.tled "Little Mac, in His Great Two-Horse Act, in the Presidential Canva.s.s of 1864." Here McClellan is pictured as a circus rider about to come to grief, owing to the unwillingness of his two steeds to pull together in harmony. A fiery and stalwart horse represents "war"; while peace is depicted as a worthless and broken-down hack. Little Mac is saying, "Curse them balky horses--I can't manage the Act nohow. One threw me in Virginia, and the other is bound the wrong way." In the background is the figure of Lincoln attired as a clown. "You tried to ride them two horses on the Peninsula for two years, Mac," he calls out, "but it wouldn't work."

Another striking cartoon of this Presidential campaign depicts the Republican leaders burying the War Democracy. The cartoon is called "The Grave of the Union," and was drawn by Zeke. The hea.r.s.e is being driven by Secretary Stanton, who commenced, "My jacka.s.ses had a load, but they pulled it through bravely." In harness and attached to the bodies of jacka.s.ses are the heads of Cochrane, Butler, Meagher, and d.i.c.kinson. At the head of the grave, a sort of master of ceremonies, is the familiar figure of Horace Greeley, saying, "I guess we'll bury it so deep that it will never get up again." By his side is Lincoln, who is inquiring, "Chase, will it stay down?" to which Chase replies, "My G.o.d, it must stay down, or we shall go up." The funeral service is being conducted by Henry Ward Beecher, who is carrying a little negro in his arms. "Not thy will, O Lord, but mine be done." Beecher is reading from the book before him. The coffins about to be lowered into the grave are marked respectively "Free Speech and Free Press,"

"Habeas Corpus," and "Union."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Little Mac, in his Great Two Horse Act, in the Presidential Canva.s.s of 1864.

_From the collection of the New York Historical Society._]

One of the most striking caricatures suggested by the contest between Lincoln and McClellan for the Presidency of 1864 is ent.i.tled "The Abolition Catastrophe; or, the November Smash-up." It is really nothing more than the old hackneyed idea of the "Presidential Steeplechase" presented in a new guise. The artist, however, proved himself to be a false prophet. It shows a race to the White House between two trains, in which the one on which Lincoln is serving as engineer has just come to destruction on the rocks of "Emanc.i.p.ation,"

"Confiscation," and "$400,000,000,000 Public Debt." The train in the charge of General McClellan, its locomotive flying the flag "Const.i.tution," is running along smoothly and rapidly and is just turning the curve leading up to the door of the White House.

McClellan, watching from his cab the discomfiture of his foe, calls derisively, "Wouldn't you like to swap horses now, Lincoln?" In the coaches behind are the elated pa.s.sengers of the Democratic train. In striking contrast is the plight in which the Republican Party is shown. Lincoln, thrown up in the air by the shock of the collision, calls back to his rival, "Don't mention it, Mac, this reminds me of a"--an allusion to the President's fondness for ill.u.s.trating every argument with a story. From the debris of the wreck of the locomotive peer out the faces of the firemen--two very black negroes. One is calling, "War's de rest ob dis ole darky? Dis wot yer call 'manc.i.p.ation?" And the other, "Lor' A'mighty! Ma.s.sa Linc.u.m, is dis wot yer call Elewating de n.i.g.g.e.r?" The pa.s.sengers behind are in an equally unhappy strait. Secretary Stanton, pinned under the wheels of the first coach, is crying, "Oh, dear! If I could telegraph this to Dix I'd make it out a victory." Among the pa.s.sengers may be recognized the countenances of Beecher, Butler, and Seward, while blown up in the air is Horace Greeley, calling out to Lincoln that the disaster only verifies the prediction which had been printed in the _Tribune_.

Popular discontent at the unreliability of news of the war found utterance in a skit representing Lincoln as a bartender occupied in concocting a mixed drink, called "New York Press," which he is dexterously pouring back and forth between two tumblers, labeled respectively "Victory" and "Defeat." The ingredients are taken from bottles of "Bunk.u.m," "Bosh," "Brag," and "Soft Sawder."

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Grave of the Union.

_From the collection of the New York Historical Society._]

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Abolition Catastrophe.

_From the collection of the New York Historical Society._]

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Blockade on the "Connecticut Plan".

_From the collection of the New York Historical Society._]

In the same series as the "Abolition Catastrophe" is a cartoon ent.i.tled "Miscegenation; or, the Millennium of Abolition," intended to depict the possible alarming consequences of proclaiming the whole colored race free and equal. It humorously depicts a scene in which there is absolute social equality between the whites and the blacks.

At one end of the picture Mr. Lincoln is receiving with great warmth and cordiality Miss Dinah Arabella Aramintha Squash, a negress of unprepossessing appearance, who has as her escort Henry Ward Beecher.

At a table nearby Horace Greeley is treating another gorgeously attired negress to ice cream. Two repulsive looking negroes are making violent love to two white women. A pa.s.sing carriage in charge of a white coachman and two white footmen contains a negro family. In the background, Englishmen, Frenchmen, and others are expressing their astonishment at the condition in which they find American society.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Miscegenation.

_From the collection of the New York Historical Society._]

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Confederacy in Petticoats.

_From the collection of the New York Historical Society._]

The attempt at escape, the apprehension and the incarceration of the President of the Confederacy are ill.u.s.trated in a long series of cartoons. Two of the best are "The Confederacy in Petticoats" and "Uncle Sam's Menagerie." The first deals with the capture of Jefferson Davis at Irwinsville by General Wilson's cavalry. Davis, attired in feminine dress, is climbing over a fence in order to escape his pursuers. He has dropped his handbag, but he still holds his unsheathed knife. "I thought your government was too magnanimous to hunt down women and children," he calls out to the Union soldiers, one of whom has caught him by the skirts and is trying to drag him back.

Mrs. Davis, by her husband's side, is entreating, "Don't irritate the President. He might hurt somebody."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Uncle Sam's Menagerie.

_From the collection of the New York Historical Society._]

The cartoon "Uncle Sam's Menagerie" shows Davis in captivity at Fortress Monroe. The Confederate president is depicted as a hyena in a cage, playing with a human skull. An Uncle Sans of the smooth-faced type in which he at first appeared is the showman. Round Davis's neck is a noose connecting with a huge gallows and the rope is about to be drawn taut, while from an organ below the cage a musician is grinding out the strain, "Yankee Doodle." In the shape of birds perched on little gallows of their own above the President's cage, each with a noose around his neck, are the figures of the other leaders of the Confederacy. A crow is pecking at a grinning skull under which is written "Booth." To this skull Uncle Sam is playfully pointing with his showman's cane.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Protecting Free Ballot.

_From the collection of the New York Historical Society._]

Alleged Republican intimidation at the poles in the election of 1864 is a.s.sailed in a cartoon representing a Union soldier about to cast his vote for McClellan. A thick-lipped negro stands guard over the ballot box, rifle in hand. He presents the point of the bayonet at the soldier's decorated breast. "Hallo, dar!" he calls out threateningly, "you can't put in dat, you copper-head traitor, nor any odder, 'cept for Ma.s.sa Lincoln." To which the soldier sadly replies, "I am an American citizen and did not think I had fought and bled for this.

Alas, my country!" A corrupt election clerk is regarding the scene with disquiet. "I'm afraid we shall have trouble if that soldier is not allowed to vote," he says. To which a companion cynically replies, "Gammon him, just turn round; you must pretend you see nothing of the kind going on, and keep on counting your votes."

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Nation Mourning at Lincoln's Bier.

_By Tenniel in "Punch."_]

CHAPTER XX

NATIONS AND MEN IN CARICATURE

In looking over the historical and political caricature of the nineteenth century, one very naturally finds several different methods of treatment and subdivision suggesting themselves. First, there is the obvious method of chronological order, which is being followed in the present volume, and which commended itself as being at once the simplest and the most comprehensive. It is the one method by which the history of the century may be regarded as the annals of a family of nations--a grotesque family of ill-a.s.sorted quadrupeds and still more curious bipeds, stepping forth two by two from the pages of comic art as from the threshold of some modern Noah's ark--Britannia and the British lion, Columbia and Uncle Sam, India and the Bengal tiger, French Liberty and the imperial eagle. It is the one method which focuses the attention upon the inter-relation, the significant groupings of these symbolic figures, and disregards their individual and isolated actions. What the Russian bear, the British lion, are doing in the seclusion of their respective fastnesses is of vastly less interest than the spectacle of the entire royal menagerie of Europe uniting in an effort to hold Napoleon at bay. In other words, this method enables us to pa.s.s lightly over questions of purely national interest and home policy--the Corn Laws of England, the tariff issues in the United States--and to keep the eye centered upon the really big dramas of history, played upon an international stage.

It subordinates caricature itself to the sequence of great events and great personages. It is the Emperor Napoleon, his reign and his wars, and not the English caricaturist Gillray; it is Louis Philippe, the bourgeois king, and not Philipon and Daumier, who form the center of interest. In other words, from the present point of view, the caricature itself is not so much the object looked at as it is a powerful and clairvoyant lens through which we may behold past history in the curiously distorted form in which it was mirrored back by contemporary public opinion.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Figures from a Triumph.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Diagnosis.

"A bad regime during ten years. All your trouble comes from that. You will soon become convalescent with a good const.i.tution and fewer leeches."]

Other methods, however, might be used effectively, each offering some special advantage of its own. For instance, the whole history of the nineteenth century might be divided, so to speak, geographically. The separate history of each nation might have been followed down in turn--the changing fortunes of England, typified by John Bull; of Russia in the guise of the bear; of the United States under the forms of the swarthy, smooth-faced Jonathan of early days, and the pleasanter Uncle Sam of recent years; and of France, typified at different times as an eagle, as a Gallic c.o.c.k, as an angry G.o.ddess, and as a plump, pleasant-faced woman in a tricolored petticoat. Again, if it were desirable to emphasize the development of comic art rather than its influence in history, one might group the separate divisions of the subject around certain schools of caricature, dealing first with Gillray, Rowlandson, and their fellows among the allied Continental nations; pa.s.sing thence to the caricaturists of 1830, and thence carrying the sequence through Leech, Cham, Tenniel, Nast, down to the caricaturists who in the closing years of the century developed the scope of caricature to a hitherto unparalleled extent. Still again, the history of the century in caricature might be traced along from some peculiarity, greatly exaggerated, of some great man to another personal peculiarity of some other great man: leaping from the tri-cornered hat of the Emperor Napoleon to the great nose of the Iron Duke, then on to the toupet and pear-shaped countenance of Louis Philippe, the emaciation of Abraham Lincoln, the grandpa's hat of the Harrison administration, the forehead curl of Disraeli, the collar of Gladstone, the turned-up moustaches of the Emperor William, and the prominent teeth of Mr. Roosevelt. This feature of the caricature seems important enough to justify a brief digression. It forms one of the foundation stones of the art, second only in importance to the conventionalized symbols of the different nations. From the latter the cartoonist builds up the century's history as recorded in its great events. From the former he traces that history as recorded in the personality of its great men.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Egerean Nymph.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Paul and Virginia.]

The cartoons in which these different peculiarities of personal appearance are emphasized cover the whole range of caricature, and the whole gamut of public opinion which inspired it. Here we may find every degree of malice, from the fierce goggle eyes and diabolical expression which Gillray introduced into his portraits of the hated Bonaparte down to the harmless exaggeration of the collar points by which Furniss good-naturedly satirized the appearance of Mr.

Gladstone. Again, in this respect caricature varies much, because all the great men of the century did not offer to the caricaturists the same opportunities in the matter of unusual features or personal eccentricities.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The First Conscript of France.]

The authentic portraits and contemporary descriptions of the first Napoleon show us that he was a man whose appearance was marred by no particular eccentricity of feature, and that the cartoons of which he is the princ.i.p.al subject are largely allegorical, or inspired by the artist's intensity of hatred. One German caricaturist, by a subtle distortion and a lengthening of the cheeks and chin, introduced a resemblance to a rapacious wolf while preserving something of the real likeness. But in the goggle-eyed monsters of Gillray there is nothing save the hat and the uniform which suggests the real Napoleon. It was a sort of incarnation of Beelzebub which Gillray wished to draw and did draw, a monstrosity designed to rouse the superst.i.tious hatred of the ignorant and lower cla.s.ses of England, and to excite the nation to a warlike frenzy. The caricature aimed at Bonaparte's great rival, the conqueror of Waterloo, was produced in more peaceful times, was the work of his own countryman, was based mainly on party differences, and, naturally enough, it was in the main good-natured and kindly.

Wellington in caricature may be summed up by saying that it was all simply an exaggeration of the size of his nose. The _poire_ drawn into resemblance of the countenance of Louis Philippe was originally innocent enough, and had it been entirely ignored by the monarch and his ministers, would probably have had no political effect, and in the course of a few years been entirely forgotten. But being taken seriously and characterized as seditious, it acquired an exaggerated significance which may almost be said to have led to the revolution of 1848 and the establishment of the Second Republic. From the rich material offered by our War of Secession the caricaturists drew little more than the long, gaunt figure and the scraggy beard of Lincoln, and the cigar of General Grant. The possibilities of this cigar, as they probably would have been brought out by an artist like Daumier, have been suggested in an earlier chapter. It was the goatee of Louis Napoleon that was exaggerated to give a point to most of the cartoons in which he was a figure, although during the days of his power there were countless caricatures which drew suggestions from the misadventures of his early life, his alleged experiences as a waiter in New York and a policeman in London, his escape from prison in the clothes of the workman Badinguet (a name which his political enemies applied to him very freely), and the fiasco at Strasburg. No men of their time were more freely caricatured than Disraeli in England and Thiers in France, for no men offered more to the caricaturist, Disraeli being at once a Jew and the most exquisite of affected dandies, and Thiers being, with the exception of Louis Blanc, the smallest man of note in France. In one cartoon in _Punch_, Disraeli was figured as presiding over "f.a.gin's Political School." In another he was represented as a hideous Oriental peri fluttering about the gates of Paradise. Thiers's large head and diminutive stature are subjects of countless cartoons, in which he is shown emerging from a winegla.s.s or concealed in a waistcoat pocket, although _Punch_ once humorously depicted him as Gulliver bound down by the Lilliputians.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Situation.

_By Gill._]