The Pictorial Press: Its Origin and Progress

by Mason Jackson

THE EVE OF A BATTLE: NEWSPAPER CORRESPONDENTS SLEEPING ON THE FIELD.

In these days of electric telegraphy Puck’s notion of putting ‘a girdle round about the earth in forty minutes’ is not so very far from being realised. The London citizen as he sips his coffee at his villa in the suburbs runs his eye over the pages of his morning paper, and reads of events that took place yesterday many thousand miles away. Before he starts for business he is informed of what is passing on every side of the inhabited earth. This rapid transmission of intelligence is somewhat damaging to the illustrated newspaper, for by the time it can publish sketches of interesting events in far distant countries the freshness of the news is gone, and the public mind is occupied with later occurrences. Until some method is invented of sending sketches by electricity the pictorial press must endure this disadvantage, but in the meantime it spares no pains to overtake the march of events. Wherever there is any ‘moving accident by flood or field’ the ‘special artist’ of the illustrated newspaper is found ‘takin’ notes.’ No event of interest escapes his ever ready pencil. He undergoes fatigues, overcomes formidable difficulties, and often incurs personal danger in fulfilling his mission. On the eve of a battle he will sleep on the bare ground wrapped in a blanket or waterproof sheet, and he will ride all night through a hostile country to catch the homeward mail. He is equally at home in the palace and the hovel, and is as ready to attend a battle as a banquet. He thought nothing of stepping over to China to attend the nuptials of the celestial Emperor; and on that occasion extended his travels until he had completed the circuit of the globe, winding up with a run on the war-path among the American Indians. He assisted at the laying of the telegraph cable between Europe and America, and diversified his labours, and showed the versatility of his powers by taking part in an impromptu dramatic entertainment which he and his comrades got up for the occasion, and which they appropriately called ‘A Cable-istic Extravaganza.’ He was at the opening of the Suez Canal, and he passed with the first railway train through the Mont Cenis tunnel. In pursuing his vocation the special artist has to encounter the perils of earth, air, fire, and water. Now he is up in a balloon, now down in a coal-mine; now shooting tigers in India, now deer-stalking in the Highlands. Dr. Schliemann no sooner announced that he had discovered the site of Troy than the special artist was down upon the spot at once. He is found risking his life in the passes of Afghanistan, and in Zululand assisting at the defeat and capture of Cetywayo. Now he is at the bombardment of Alexandria, and now facing the savage warriors of the Soudan at El-Teb and Tamasi. At the present time (November, 1884), he is on his way up the Nile with the expedition for the relief of General Gordon at Khartoum, and he is in India with the Boundary Commissioners exploring the dangerous passes of the Afghan frontier. In peace or war the special artist pursues his purpose with stoical self-possession in spite of cold, hunger, and fatigue.

A CABLE-ISTIC EXTRAVAGANZA, PERFORMED BY NEWSPAPER CORRESPONDENTS ON BOARD THE GREAT EASTERN, AT SEA, JULY, 1866.

The special artist may be said to have commenced his career with the Crimean War. While the signs of the coming storm were yet distant the Illustrated London News sent the late Mr. S. Read to the expected scene of action, and during the whole course of the war special artists were on the shores of the Black Sea and in the Baltic to chronicle the great events of the time. The world had scarcely forgotten Balaklava and Inkerman when the war between Italy, France, and Austria broke out. Solferino and Magenta were fought, Garibaldi conquered Sicily, and wherever the interest was greatest there the special artist was found. Special artists went with the contending armies when Denmark opposed herself single-handed to the united forces of Prussia and Austria, and delineated every important incident of the campaign. When the present Emperor of Germany was crowned King of Prussia at Königsberg special artists travelled to that ancient city to furnish sketches of the ceremony. The gigantic civil war in America, and the brief struggle between Prussia and Austria in 1866, gave active employment to the special artist; and when a British force advanced into Abyssinia a special artist was with that most romantic expedition, and sent home numerous sketches of the remarkable scenery of the country, as well as of all the principal events of the campaign. The assault on Magdala, the dispersion of King Theodore’s broken army, the customs and dwellings of the people, were all noted and illustrated. When the great war of 1870, between France and Prussia, broke out, the illustrated newspapers had special artists on both sides, who encountered all sorts of hardships, and passed through all kinds of adventures in fulfilling their duties. Besides being frequently arrested as spies, and undergoing the privations of beleagured places, they had also to run the risk of shot and shell, and sometimes they were obliged to destroy their sketching materials under fear of arrest. One of them was in custody as a spy no less than eleven times during the war. The danger of being seen sketching or found with sketches in their possession was so great that on one occasion a special artist actually swallowed his sketch to avoid being taken up as a spy. Another purchased the largest book of cigarette papers he could obtain, and on them he made little sketches, prepared in case of danger to smoke them in the faces of his enemies.

HEADQUARTERS OF SPECIAL ARTIST IN ASIA MINOR, 1877.

The following extract from a letter I received from a special artist during the war, will give some idea of the trouble and danger of sketching:—

‘Of the trouble I have taken to get these sketches you can have no conception. The plan I have been obliged to adopt is this. I walk about quietly, apparently noticing only the goods in the shop-windows. When I see anything, I make memoranda on small bits of tissue paper, perhaps in a café, or while appearing to look at the water from the top of a bridge, or on the side of an apple, with a big knife in my hand pretending to peel it. These little mems I roll up into pills, place them handy in my waistcoat pocket to be chewed up or swallowed if “in extremis.” When I get home at night, first making sure that I am not overlooked by way of the window, I unroll these little pills, and from those mems make a complete outline on a thin piece of white paper. Then I paste these sketches face to face, trim the edges, and it looks like a plain piece of paper, but hold it up to the light and the sketch shows. So I make memoranda all over it,—the times of trains starting, prices of articles, or extracts from newspapers. When I get to a place of safety, I soak these pieces of paper in water, pull the sketches apart, and from them have made the sketches I have forwarded to you. If I could not get into a place of safety to make the sketches, I don’t know what I should do, in fact I don’t think I could do anything, for I would not, for any consideration be found making a sketch, nor with a sketch in my possession; nor should I dare post a sketch at the “Bureaux de poste,” but I might get it into a street box.’

ARREST OF NEWSPAPER CORRESPONDENTS AT METZ, DURING THE FRANCO-GERMAN WAR.

Another special artist being at Metz, found himself in the midst of a population infected with what he called the ‘spy-fever.’ About a dozen English newspaper correspondents were there, and they became a united body through persecution. There was always about a fourth of their number in prison, and what most persons would have considered to be clear evidence that they were not spies, was in the minds of the French clear evidence that they were. If they were told that the correspondent of an English newspaper could not possibly be a spy, the reply was that that was just the character that a cochon of a Prussian spy would assume. The townspeople of Metz became quite wild when they heard of the French defeats at Wörth and Forbach, and when they saw an artist sketching the Emperor’s carriage, they pounced upon him as a Prussian spy, and he and his companions were marched off in custody, amid the hootings of the mob. The following account of this affair is extracted from the Illustrated London News of August 20, 1870: ‘Three of the representatives of London papers, Mr. Simpson, Mr. Henry Mayhew and his son, went to the railway station, having heard a rumour that the Emperor was about to start for the front, and also that a train full of the wounded was expected to arrive. At the station they met Mr. Stuart, another newspaper correspondent, who had just come from Italy, having travelled all night. They found the Emperor’s carriage and horses waiting to be forwarded by a train on the railway towards St. Avold. Our artist thought it would be doing no harm to employ the few minutes of his waiting at the station in making a slight sketch of the carriage and horses, which might be useful as materials for an illustration of some future scene where the same equipage might figure. He took a small sketch-book and pencil out of his pocket and quickly finished this little drawing. There was no attempt at concealment; he even showed his sketch to one of the bystanders who was close to him, and who seemed to watch his movements with some curiosity. Mr. Simpson then rejoined his three English companions, but had scarcely done so before they were surrounded by a large party of artillery soldiers, who wore undress jackets and had not their arms with them. They were taken into custody, each one placed between two soldiers, and thus were marched through the streets of Metz to the Place de la Cathedral. A mob of people followed, increasing as they went on, and reviling the foreigners as “Sacrés Prusses,” or “Cochons de Prusses,” threatening vengeance upon them, which might probably have been taken if their violence had not been restrained by the presence of the soldiers. The whole party were then brought into the guard-room, where several persons came forward as their accusers to denounce them as spies of the enemy, lurking about Metz with a hostile and insidious purpose. The chief evidence against one of them was that he had bought three copies of a Metz local newspaper; another was suspected because he had been seen four days successively in the same café, “and always sitting in the same seat;” a third could be no true man, because, while he said he belonged to a London paper, he confessed that he had just come from Florence. The main charge against Mr. Simpson was that he did not lodge at an hotel, but in a private house. These particulars were repeated to the crowd outside, which filled the whole Place, and was in a state of raging fury; till at last the officers in charge made their appearance and commenced a more regular examination. Our artist produced his passport, which was approved as in due order; but his little sketch-book, with its scraps of notes and bits of outline, seemed to contain matter for serious investigation. In spite of his awkward and rather alarming position, he was struck with the absurdity of viewing such innocent scrawls as proof of heinous guilt. He endeavoured, however, with the assistance of Mr. Mayhew, to explain what they were, and to persuade the officers that they could do no harm. After a tedious detention, they were permitted to write a note to a friend, who instantly went to the Provost-Marshal, and at once got an order for their immediate release. Their private letters and papers were examined. Several other persons, Frenchmen as well as foreigners, including one who was the artist employed by a Paris illustrated paper, were arrested at Metz on the same day; and more than one of them suffered rough usage at the hands of the mob. On the next day they were all ordered to leave the town.’ The following is a facsimile of the sketch that produced all this commotion.

THE EMPEROR’S CARRIAGE AT METZ.