THE "PAS DE DEUX."
From the "Scène de Triomphe" in the Grand Anglo-Turkish Ballet d'Action. (The Finished Sketch by Sir John Tenniel for the Cartoon in "Punch," 3rd August, 1878.)
Then came "A Leap in the Dark" (1867)—Britannia on her hunter, Dizzy, "going blind" through the hedge of Reform; and soon after the series on the Franco-Prussian War and the situation that immediately preceded the outbreak of hostilities, more particularly that (proposed by Mr. du Maurier) in which the shade of the great Napoleon stands warningly in the path of the infatuated Emperor; while those that illustrated the close of the struggle, aroused a deeper sympathy for France than all the leading-articles and descriptive essays put together. Tenniel's hell-hounds of war, who menace the fallen figure of France distraught, are again seen in the series, almost as fine, that accompanied and followed the Russo-Turkish struggle. A few months later heroics were once more set aside for humour, and the celebrated cartoon representing the successful termination of the Berlin Treaty was given forth—"The Pas de Deux" (1878)—in which Lords Beaconsfield and Salisbury in official dress are executing their pas de triomphe with characteristic grace and ineffable mock-seriousness of mien.
Another cartoon that attracted general attention for its exquisite fooling, and that still haunts the mind of those who can appreciate a completely happy adaptation of text to subject and situation, is "The Political 'Mrs. Gummidge'" (May, 1885). Mr. Gladstone, as Mrs. Gummidge, sits in the Peggotty boathouse by the fire, on which a pot of Russian stew is simmering, while her knitting, marked "Egypt," has fallen from her weary hands, and, the very picture of misery, moans out: "I ain't what I could wish to be. My troubles make me contrairy. I feel my troubles, and they make me contrairy. I make the House uncomfortable. I don't wonder at it!!!" To which Mr. John Peggotty-Bull, pointing with his pipe-stem at the portrait of Beaconsfield on the wall, mutters (deeply sympathising, aside), "She's been thinking of the old 'un!" It was proposed by Mr. Burnand.
But Sir John Tenniel's greatest success of all in recent years—artistically and popularly successful—is undoubtedly the great picture illustrative of Prince Bismarck's resignation in 1889, entitled "Dropping the Pilot." The subject, it may be stated, was not a suggestion made at the Table, but it was handed in from the late Gilbert Arthur à Beckett, who was too ill to attend the Dinner—(he died very soon after)—and who thus, as so many other Punch contributors have done—Thomas Hood, Artemus Ward, Leech, Gilbert Abbott à Beckett, Charles Bennett, and others—sent in one of the most valuable of all his suggestions just as his career was drawing to its close. The idea was immediately accepted, and its excellence fully appreciated. It was decided that it should occupy a double-page; and Sir John Tenniel, who has always risen to a great occasion, did the fullest justice to the subject. When the paper was sent round to the Staff, as it always is, on the Monday night, they foresaw with delight that here was a great coup, and their conviction received ample confirmation on the publishing-day from the country at large. There was a world of pathos in the weather-beaten old mariner who goes thoughtfully, full of doubt and care, down the side of the ship he had originally designed and had since piloted so long and so well—now discharged as no longer wanted; and there was a world of meaning in the ambitious and self-reliant young Commander who looks over the ship's bulwark and gazes at the bent figure of his departing counsellor. The cartoon, said Mr. Smalley, pleased equally the Emperor and the Prince, for there was that in it which both felt and sought for. The original sketch for the drawing on the wood was finished by the artist as a commission from Lord Rosebery, who then presented it to Prince Bismarck. In acknowledging the drawing the ex-Chancellor declared, "It is indeed a fine one!" "The Hidden Hand"—a criticism on Irish political crime and its incitement—was another of Gilbert à Beckett's most striking suggestions. It appears on p. 103, Vol. LXXXIV., 1883.
Next I would mention—besides Mr. Sambourne's admirable Jubilee picture of "The Mahogany Tree," in which the Proprietors and Staff are gathered round the Table as they toast triumphant Punch (see Frontispiece)—another cartoon which, nobly conceived, if not quite so fine in execution, under the title of "Forlorn Hope" (October, 1893—proposed by Mr. Milliken), has been held by some as second only to "Dropping the Pilot." It is the pathetic picture of Mr. Gladstone at the moment of his retirement leading the attack against the House of Lords. A grand old fortress crowning an enormous cliff stands out strongly in evening light against the distant sky, and the grand old warrior, in coat of mail, is struggling up the steep and slippery side—a hopeless task, eloquent of the courage of despair.
THE POLITICAL MRS. GUMMIDGE.
(The finished Sketch by Sir John Tenniel for the "Punch" Cartoon, 2nd May, 1885. By Permission of Gilbert E. Samuel, Esq.)
Last of all upon this list, on May 15th, 1895, was the grand design, also suggested by Mr. Milliken, entitled "The Old Crusaders!"—Mr. Gladstone and the Duke of Argyll "brothers-in-arms again" in their crusade against the Turkish persecutions in Christian Armenia—the full significance being insisted on by parallel dates—"Bulgaria 1876: Armenia 1895." There is an air of unsurpassable dignity in the design of the two old comrade-statesmen, mounted knights armed cap à pie, riding forth, representative of Christendom and the nation's conscience. Immediately on seeing the week's Punch the Marquis of Lorne telegraphed from Windsor to Sir John Tenniel, asking to be allowed to acquire the original drawing; but he had been forestalled by the other Champion's son, Mr. Henry Gladstone, who was then in town, and had secured the prize for his family an hour or two before.