TheIllustrated London Newsno sooner became an assured success than it was imitated. ThePictorial Timeswas the first competitor that entered the field, and a very strong literary staff was collected to contend for the new path that had been opened. Douglas Jerrold wrote the leading articles; Thackeray was critic and reviewer, in which capacity he reviewed Macaulay’sEssaysand Disraeli’sConingsby; Mark Lemon was dramatic critic, Peter Cunningham art critic, while Gilbert A’Beckett was the humorous contributor; the managingeditor was Henry Vizetelly, and Knight Hunt, author of theFourth Estate, afterwards editor of theDaily News, was the sub-editor. One man who has since become famous as a journalist was amongst the artists employed on the new paper. Those who only know Mr. George Augustus Sala as a brilliant writer will be surprised to learn that he is also a facile draughtsman, and was on the artistic staff of thePictorial Timesin 1847. ThePictorial Timeswas continued for several years, but it never achieved such a measure of success as to become permanently established. A story used to be told in connexion with it which gave some countenance to the popular belief that some of the sketches in illustrated newspapers were evolved from the inner consciousness of the artists. I cannot answer for the truth of the anecdote, but I know it served to amuse the world of Bohemia at the time. When the Queen and Prince Albert went first to Scotland, the newspapers in recording the movements of the royal party related, among other things (quoting a Scottish contemporary), that Her Majesty and the Prince had gone one day to ‘see the shearing.’ The conductors of thePictorial Timesseeing this, and being anxious to present their readers with a perfect record of the royal doings, forthwith set an artist to work to produce a pleasant pastoral scene, with a group of shepherdsshearing their sheep—not knowing that ‘shearing’ in Scotland meanscutting the corn, and forgetting for the moment that sheep-shearing is not usually done in the autumn.
Much energy and capital have been expended on several other attempts to found pictorial journals in London, but most of them failed to secure a profitable footing.Pen and Pencilcontained some capital cuts by Linton; and theIllustrated Times, a threepenny paper, was well done. TheIllustrated News of the World, in addition to numerous woodcuts, issued portraits engraved on steel.The Ladies’ Newspaperwas started to fill a supposed void in journalism, but was ultimately absorbed by theQueen, in which connexion it still flourishes. TheIllustrated Midland Newswas broughtout in Manchester, but it could not find in that city and its neighbourhood sufficient sustenance to subsist beyond a brief period. TheIllustrated London and Provincial Newsin its title endeavoured to attract both town and country, but it only had a short career. While these different ventures were in progress, thePenny Illustrated Paperappealed to a lower stratum of the public with great success, and it has now a very large sale, having combined theIllustrated Timeswith its original title. In some of these enterprises the promoters appear to have been unable to shake off, in choosing their titles, the fascinating influence of the word ‘illustrated.’ A joint-stock company broke the spell, and started a paper with the very original title of theGraphicon the eve of the great war between France and Germany. It was a most favourable time for establishing a new paper, and the conductors handled the opportunity with great ability and success. The printing and generalget-upof theGraphicare excellent, and it has earned for itself a wide popularity. ThePictorial Worldwas started as a threepenny paper, and after existing several years at that price it became the property of a company and was raised to sixpence. During the Egyptian War it made strenuous efforts to obtain a footing on the same platform with theIllustrated London Newsand theGraphic. The large lithographic portraits published by thePictorial Worldwere very good. As the public taste improved under the influence of the pictorial press new fields were opened up for cultivation by the enterprising journalist. TheIllustrated Sporting and Dramatic Newsaddressed itself not only to the sportsman and actor, but also to that section of the public which finds amusement in the incidents and humours of the sporting world and the stage. It has deservedly obtained a good position. The last new comer on the journalistic stage is theLadies’ Pictorial, which has recently been enlarged and greatly improved. Its light and elegant contents are well suited to the tastes of its numerous patrons. All the existing illustrated papers in London have their publishing offices inthe ‘Line of Literature,’ as Fleet Street and the Strand have been called. In the streets and courts in the neighbourhood are housed numbers of engravers and draughtsmen, who find it mutually convenient to work in the vicinity of the head-quarters of pictorial journalism. Many of the same fraternity consume the midnight oil in distant suburbs, their work gravitating to the great centre in the morning.
All the countries of Europe, the United States, some of the cities of South America, the Colonies of Canada and Australia, have now their illustrated newspapers. Some of them supplement their own productions by reproducing the engravings from the English papers, and many have attained a high degree of artistic merit. The American journals are especially noteworthy for their excellent engravings.
CHAPTER IX.
How an Illustrated Newspaper is Produced—Wood-engraving—Boxwood—Blocks for Illustrated Newspapers—Rapid Sketching—Drawing on the Block—Method of Dividing the Block for Engraving—Electrotyping—Development of the Printing Machine—Printing Woodcuts—Machinery for Folding Newspapers—Special Artists—Their Dangers and Difficulties—Their Adventures in War and Peace.
How an Illustrated Newspaper is Produced—Wood-engraving—Boxwood—Blocks for Illustrated Newspapers—Rapid Sketching—Drawing on the Block—Method of Dividing the Block for Engraving—Electrotyping—Development of the Printing Machine—Printing Woodcuts—Machinery for Folding Newspapers—Special Artists—Their Dangers and Difficulties—Their Adventures in War and Peace.
Indescribing the production of a modern pictorial newspaper, I take theIllustrated London Newsas the type of its class, because it was the first paper of the kind that was ever established. The art of wood-engraving, to which the illustrated newspaper owes its existence, has been fully described by competent authors. The best work on the subject is that produced by the late John Jackson in 1839; but since that date the resources of the art have been greatly developed, chiefly through the influence of illustrated newspapers.
The material used for wood-engraving is box-wood, which is preferred to all other kinds of wood on account of its close grain, hardness, and light colour. It admits of finer and sharper lines being cut upon it than any other wood, and great quantities are consumed in producing the engravings of an illustrated newspaper. According to Mr. J. R. Jackson, Curator of the Kew Museum, the box-tree is at the present time widely distributed through Europe and Asia, being found abundantly in Italy, Spain, Southern France, and on the coast of the Black Sea, as well as China, Japan, Northern India, and Persia. The box of English growth is so small as to be almost useless for commercial purposes. What is called Turkey box-wood is the best, and this is all obtained from the forests that grow on theCaucasus, and is chiefly shipped at Poti and Rostoff. The forests extend from thirty to a hundred and eighty miles inland, but many of them are in the hands of the Russian Government and are closed to commerce. Within the last few years a supply of box-wood has been obtained from the forests in the neighbourhood of the Caspian Sea; but Turkey box is becoming dearer every year and inferior in quality. After the wood is cut in the forest, it is brought down on horseback to the nearest river, put on board flat-bottom boats, and floated down to the port of shipment. It arrives in this country either at Liverpool or London, chiefly the former, and is usually in logs about four feet long and eight or ten inches across.
The wood intended for engraving purposes is first carefully selected and then cut up into transverse slices about an inch thick. After being cut, the pieces are placed in racks something like plate-racks, and thoroughly seasoned by slow degrees in gradually heated rooms. This seasoning process ought to last, on an average, four or five years; but the exigencies of trade seldom allow of so long a time. Theyare then cut into parallelograms of various sizes, the outer portion of the circular section near the bark being cut away, and all defective wood rejected. These parallelograms are then assorted as to size, and fitted together at the back by brass bolts and nuts. By this means blocks of any size can be made, and they possess the great advantage of being capable of being taken to pieces after a drawing is made, and distributed among as many engravers as there are pieces in the block. This invention of making bolted blocks was brought forward just about the time theIllustrated London Newswas started, when large blocks and quick engraving came to be in demand. In the days of thePenny Magazine, blocks were made by simply glueing the pieces of wood together, or they were fastened by means of a long bolt passing through the entire block.
The cut given on the opposite page represents the back of a half-page block of theIllustrated London News, and shows the way in which the bolts and nuts are used for fastening the different parts of the block together.
For the production of a pictorial newspaper a large staff of draughtsmen and engravers is required, who must be ready at a moment’s notice to take up any subject, and, if necessary, work day and night until it is done. The artist who supplies the sketch has acquired by long practice a rapid method of working, and can, by a few strokes of his pencil, indicate a passing scene by a kind of pictorial shorthand, which is afterwards translated and extended in the finished drawing. The sketch being completed on paper, the services of the draughtsman on wood come into requisition, for it is not often that the drawing on the block is made by the same person who supplies the sketch. Sometimes the sketch to be dealt with is the production of an amateur, or is so hastily or indifferently done that it has to be remodelled or rearranged in drawing it on the wood. Faulty or objectionable portions have to be left out or subdued, and perhaps a point in the sketch that is quite subordinate, is brought forward and made to forma prominent part of the picture. All this has to be done without doing violence to the general truth of the representation, and with due consideration for the particular conditions of the moment, such as the amount of finish and distribution of light and shade suitable for rapid engraving and printing.
An example of the adaptation of a rapid sketch occurs in the engraving of the surrender of Sedan, published in theIllustrated London News, September 17, 1870. This sketch, which carries with it the strongest evidence of being taken ‘under fire,’ came to hand a few hours before the engravings for the current week were to be ready for the printer. The cream or heart of the sketch, representing an officer waving a white flag over the gate of Sedan attended by a trumpeter, was taken for the subject, while the comparatively unimportant part of the sketch was left out. The drawing was rapidly executed and as rapidly engraved, and was ready for press at the usual time. I give a reduced copy of the engraving, together with a facsimile reduction of the original sketch, which will show the reader the way in which hurried sketches are sometimes adapted to the purposes of a newspaper without at all impairing their original truth.
Sometimes more than one draughtsman is employed on a drawing where the subject consists of figures and landscape, or figures and architecture. In such a case, if time presses, the two parts of the drawing are proceeded with simultaneously. The whole design is first traced on the block; the bolts at the back of the block are then loosened, the parts are separated, and the figure-draughtsman sets to work on his division of the block, while another draughtsman is busied with the landscape or architecture, as the case may be. Occasionally, when there is very great hurry, the block is separated piece by piece as fast as the parts of the drawing are finished—the engraver and draughtsman thus working on the same subject at the same time. Instances have occurred where the draughtsman has done his work in thisway, and has never seen the whole of his drawing together. The double-page engraving of the marriage of the Prince of Wales in theIllustrated London News, March 21, 1863, was drawn on the wood by Sir John Gilbert at 198 Strand, and as fast as each part of the drawing was done it was separated from the rest and given to the engraver. Considering that the artist never saw his drawing entire, it is wonderful to find the engraving so harmonious and effective. Photographing on the wood is now in general use for portraits, sculpture, architecture, and other subjects where there is a picture or finished drawing on paper to work from.
The drawing on wood being completed, it passes into the hands of the engraver, and the first thing he does is to cut or set the lines across all the joins of the block before the different parts are distributed among the various engravers. This is done partly to ensure as far as possible some degree of harmony of colour and texture throughout the subject. When all the parts are separated and placed in the hands of different engravers each man has thus a sort ofkey-noteto guide him in the execution of his portion, and it should be his business to imitate and follow with care the colour and texture of the small pieces of engraving which he finds already done at the edge of his part of the block where it joins the rest of the design. The accompanying cuts represent a block entire and the same subject divided.
Though this system of subdividing the engraving effects a great saving of time, it must be admitted that it does not always result in the production of a first-rate work of art as a whole. For, supposing the subject to be a landscape with a good stretch of trees, the two or three engravers who have the trees to engrave have, perhaps, each a different method of rendering foliage; and when the whole is completed, and the different pieces are put together, the trees perhaps appear like a piece of patchwork, with a distinct edge to each man’s work. To harmonise and dovetail (so to speak) these different pieces of work is the task of the superintending artist, who retouches the first proof of the engraving and endeavoursto blend together the differences of colour and texture. This is often no easy task, for the press is generally waiting, and the time that is left for such work is often reduced to minutes where hours would scarcely suffice to accomplish all that might be done. Or the block to be engraved may be a marine subject, with a stormy sea. In this case, like the landscape, two or three engravers may be employed upon the water, each of them having a different way of representing that element. Here it is even more difficult than in the landscape to blend the conflicting pieces of work, and requires an amount of ‘knocking about’ that sometimes astonishes the original artist. All this is the necessary result of the hurry in which the greater part of newspaper engravings have to be produced. When the conditions are more favourable better things are successfully attempted, and of this the illustrated newspapers of the day have given abundant proofs.
It is obvious that when a block is divided and the parts are distributed in various hands, if any accident should occur to one part the whole block is jeopardised. It is much to the credit of the fraternity of engravers that this rarely or ever happens. I only remember one instance of a failure of this kind within my own experience. An engraver of decidedly Bohemian character, after a hard night’s work on the tenth part of a page block, thought fit to recruit himself with a cheering cup. In the exhilaration that followed he lost the piece of work upon which he had been engaged, and thereby rendered useless the efforts of himself and his nine compatriots.
When the block is finished the parts are screwed together by means of the brass bolts and nuts at the back of the block. It is then delivered to the electrotyper, who first takes a mould of the block in wax, which mould is then covered with a thin coating of blacklead, that being a good conductor of electricity. The mould is then suspended by a brass rod in a large bath filled with a solution of sulphate of copper and sulphuric acid. A strong current of electricity,obtained from a dynamo-electric machine close at hand, is conducted to the wax mould in the bath and also to a sheet of copper which is placed near the mould. The electricity decomposes the copper and deposits it in small particles on the mould, on which a thin coating of copper is gradually formed, producing an exact facsimile of the original engraved block. This copper reproduction of the woodcut is filled in at the back with metal, mounted on wood, and is then ready for the printer, who has his ‘overlays’ all ready, and the business of printing begins.
There is nothing more wonderful in the history of printing than the rapid development of the printing machine and the extraordinary increase of its productive power. The ordinary press, though greatly improved, was found quite inadequate to the demands made upon it; and, the attention of practical men being directed to some more rapid means of production, the steam printing machine was invented. As early as 1790 Mr. W. Nicholson obtained letters patent for a machine very similar to those since in use; but it was not till 1814 that any practical use was made of the steam printing machine. In that year a German named König constructed a machine for theTimesnewspaper, which worked successfully; but, though highly ingenious, the machine was very complicated, and it was soon superseded by the invention of Messrs. Applegarth and Cowper, possessing several novel features. This machine, again, was replaced by another where the type was arranged vertically. Then came Hoe’s American machines, and finally the Walter Press, the principle of which last invention has, in the Ingram Rotary Machine, been successfully applied to the printing of cheap illustrated newspapers. By the old ‘two-feeder’ machines the engravings were printed on one side of the sheet, and, by a second printing, the type on the other side. They turned out 1500 impressions of the engravings in an hour, while the type side was printed (by a six-feeder American machine) at the rate of 12,000 impressions an hour. ThePenny Illustrated Paperis printed by the IngramRotary Machine at the rate of 6500 an hour. It prints both sides of the sheet at once, cuts each number to its proper size, folds it, and turns it out complete. It occupies no more space than an ordinary perfecting machine, and only requires four men to attend to it, while thirty men and five ‘two-feeders’ would be required to do the same amount of work by the old system.
If a block be well engraved and carefully used in printing there is practically no limit to the number of impressions that may be taken from it. The blocks in the Christmas number of theIllustrated London Newsof 1882 had 425,000 impressions taken from them, and they are still good for a new edition of the like number.
After the paper is printed each sheet is neatly folded by folding machines, which fold the entire edition in a few hours. One double-action folding machine will fold fifty sheets in a minute. As it is found that machinery for folding newspapers works much better at a moderate speed, in the case of the Ingram Rotary Machine it has been arranged in duplicate, so that each folder only works at half the speed of the printing machine. The folding machine completes its work by inserting the paper in its cover; but as theIllustrated London Newshas not sufficient space for machines to carry out the whole of this part of the business, a number of women and girls are employed, whose nimble fingers supplement the work of the folding machines.
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 sketchesof 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 warriorsof 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.
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 theIllustrated London Newssent 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 allkinds 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.
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 thesketches, I don’t know what I should do, in fact I don’t think I could do anything, for I would not, for any considerationbe 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.’
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 acochonof 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 theIllustrated London Newsof 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-bookand 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 same artist who made his sketches into pills, being at Bremerhafen, found himself so watched and dogged by the police and others who had observed he was a stranger, that he could not make the sketch he wanted. After much walking about he at length returned to the place where he desired to sketch, and sitting down at the edge of the harbour he began to draw lines with his umbrella on the mud, as if in a fit of abstraction, and soon had sketched in this way the principal points of the scene before him. This herepeated several times, until the view was fixed in his memory, when he retired to the railway-station, and there, unobserved, committed the scene to his sketch-book. On another occasion, in the neighbourhood of Mezières, he was driven at nightfall to seek a lodging in a very lonely and villainous looking inn. The occupants of the place looked upon him with evil eyes, and dreading lest one more should be added to the numerous graves already near the cabaret, he betook himself to a neighbouring wood, where he spent the whole night surrounded by the carcases of dead horses. At Lyons he penetrated into the theatre where the people were storing corn and flour in anticipation of a siege. He had made some hasty notes in his sketch-book, when he was observed and obliged to retreat, followed, however, by several men. He had noticed an umbrella shop round the corner in the next street, and into this shop he rushed, seized an umbrella, opened it, and kept it expanded between himself and the door, as if examining the quality of the silk, while his pursuers ran past, when he demanded the price of the umbrella, paid the money, and walked off, glad to escape at so small a cost. Sometimes his adventures had a more amusing termination. When the spy-fever prevailed very strongly both in France and Germany, he was one day looking into a shop-window when he became conscious that he was watched by two officers. ‘Now,’ thought he, ‘I am in for it again, and shall certainly be arrested.’ This feeling was confirmed as one of the officers advanced towards him, and raising his hand as if to seize him by the collar, addressed him thus: ‘Permit me, monsieur, to adjust the string of your shirt collar, which has escaped from behind your cravat.’1This gentleman was somewhat old-fashioned in his costume, and during his wanderings was sometimes mistaken for a sea-captain. He had evenreceived confidential proposals to discuss the question of freight.
TheIllustrated London Newshad five artists in the field during the Franco-German war: W. Simpson, R. T. Landells, G. H. Andrews, C. J. Staniland, and Jules Pelcoq. From the fact of Landells being already known to the Crown Prince of Prussia and several of his staff, it was settled that his destination should be Germany, and I remember that before his departure he expressed to me just the slightest shade of discontent that he should be selected to go on what he thought would be the losing side. He was destined, however, to be present at the proclamation of the German Emperor in the palace of Versailles, and he was one of the first to enter Paris after it capitulated to the German army. Soon afterwards he very nearly experienced the unpleasant consequences of being taken for a German spy. Landells himself was of a dark complexion, and might very well have passed for a Frenchman, but on the occasion referred to he was in the company of a brother artist (Mr. Sidney Hall, of theGraphic), who, being fair, might easily be mistaken for German. The excited mob of Paris had just vented their rage on a suspected spy by drowning him in the Seine, and the two special artists were loitering on the outskirts of the crowd, when Mr. Hall imprudently took out his sketch-book, which was no sooner perceived than a cry was raised of ‘Prussian spy!’ and they too would probably have been pitched into the river had they not managed, with great difficulty, to escape from the crowd.
When the German armies were closing round Paris M. Jules Pelcoq consented to be shut up in the devoted city for the purpose of supplying theIllustrated London Newswith sketches. During the hardships of the siege he was quite unable to obtain fuel to warm his apartment, and was compelled to retire to bed, where, wrapped in a blanket, he finished up the rough sketches he had made out of doors, which were then photographed and sent off by balloons to London. These balloons were regularly despatched duringthe prevalence of winds that would carry them to the provinces unoccupied by the Germans. They were followed by Prussian light cavalry as long as they were in sight, and some were captured. Afterwards, as the city became more closely invested, and the danger increased, the precaution was taken of despatching the balloons at night, and the time fixed on was kept concealed from all save those immediately concerned, in order to avoid, as far as possible, the chances of its being communicated to the enemy, and thereby exposing the aëronauts to the fiery rockets and other projectiles with which the Germans were prepared to favour them. The railway-stations were generally chosen as the starting-places, for they not only offered large open spaces in which to fill the balloons, but, being situated away from the centre of Paris, there was less risk, in ascending, of coming in contact with buildings.
To provide against the loss of sketches so sent, photographic copies were despatched by other balloons. In some cases two, and even three, copies of the same sketch reached my hands by balloon-post during the German investment of Paris. Considering the danger and difficulty of this mode of communication, the intercourse between theIllustrated London Newsand its artist in Paris was kept up pretty regularly during the whole siege.
The requirements of special artists when on the ‘war path’ vary according to circumstances. Mr. Simpson, in France during the Franco-German war, found no scarcity of food, but could seldom get a bed to sleep in. On the other hand, Mr. Melton Prior, in South Africa and other hot countries, found that he was never sure of obtaining either food or drink. During the war in Herzegovina in 1876 the newspaper correspondents had to rough it pretty considerably. Sometimes, when the special artist got to a resting-place for the night, he would have to work up his sketches by the light of a single candle, which he kept in an upright position by holding it between his feet as he sat on the ground, while the correspondent of a London‘daily’ scribbled his notes beside him. The difficulty of obtaining sleeping accommodation was experienced by another artist in Servia, who was obliged one night to go to rest in a sort of diligence or covered waggon which stood in the inn yard. It was the only ‘spare bed,’ and the tired ‘special’ was very glad to coil himself up within its recesses. These hardships, however, belong to the past. Just as the combatants in modern warfare fight their battles with the most scientific weapons, so the newspaper correspondent now goes to the field armed with the latest appliances against cold, fatigue, hunger, and thirst. Heprovides himself with an abundant supply of tinned meats and champagne, plenty of clothing, the latest improvements in saddlery; and when he arrives at the scene of action he buys as many horses as he wants for himself and servants. Acting on the experience of former campaigns, Mr. Prior was able in the Zulu War to travel much more comfortably than any member of the staff, not even excepting Lord Chelmsford himself. ‘I had then no fewer than five horses: two in the shafts of my American waggon, one for myself, one for my servant, and one spare horse. I followed the army through all its marches in my travelling carriage, and on the eve of the Battle of Ulundi I was the only man who had a tent; all the others lay down in the open.’
While recording the progress of events—the deeds of war mingling with the works of peace—the pictorial press is not unmindful of what is done in the cause of humanity. One of the recent experiences of the special artist was in making a journey across Siberia in search of the survivors of the crew of the American exploring shipJeanette. Mr. J. Gordon Bennett, the proprietor of theNew York Herald, having sent out a commissioner to search for the missing expedition, he was joined by the special artist of theIllustrated LondonNews. They had before them a journey of two or three thousand miles, and they travelled in one of the covered sledges used in Siberia in the winter time. It was their travelling carriage by day and their sleeping apartment at night. Sometimes they had to turn out and defend themselves from the wolves which followed them over the snowy waste. The artist on this occasion was Mr. Larsen, of Copenhagen, who proved himself a first-rate special.
When the effects of a deadly climate are added to the usual chances of war, the courage and endurance of the newspaper correspondent are doubly tried. The ‘specials’ of the principal London journals joined the Ashantee expedition with as much alacrity as if they had been going to a review in Hyde Park. Among them was Mr. Melton Prior, the artist of theIllustrated London News, who landed at Cape Coast Castle before the arrival of the British troops, marched with them to Coomassie, and remained in that place till it was destroyed by the victors. But the long march in such a climate had exhausted the strength of many, and the special artist was among the number. On nearing Coomassie he could no longer trust to his own unaided powers of locomotion, so he laid hold on the tail of a mule which he saw ambling before him, and so was helped forward. The gentleman who was riding the mule turned round, when it proved to be Sir Garnet Wolseley himself, who, in answer to the exhausted artist’s apologies, good-humouredly told him to ‘hold on!’
While coolness and courage are indispensable qualifications for the special artist, if he can sometimes accomplish a little harmless dissimulation he finds it very useful. In 1877, during the war between Russia and Turkey, a special artist overcame the difficulties he encountered in getting to the front by assuming the character of a camp-follower, and professing to sell composite candles, German sausages, Russian hams, dried fish, Dutch cheese, &c., and when passing Cossacks became importunate they were propitiated with a candle or two, a slice of cheese, or a packet ofRoumanian tobacco. In like manner the artist who went to the port of Ferrol to accompany Cleopatra’s Needle to London shipped on board the tugAngliaas a coal-trimmer, and signed the usual articles as one of the crew, there being no room for passengers. After the successful voyage of the tug the artist left her at Gravesend, being anxious to bring his sketches to head-quarters; but until he was legally discharged from service he ran the unpleasant risk of being taken up for absconding from his ship.
Not the least of a special artist’s troubles is to get his sketches sent home without loss of time. Mr. Simpson, who has had a large and varied experience as a special artist, having been all round the world in that capacity, gives it as his opinion that the first duty of a special correspondent when he arrives at the scene of action is to find out the post-office, if he happens to be in a part of the world where such a civilised institution exists. He should take care to post all his packets himself, and never trust to any one else. He says, ‘In all my various travels I never lost a packet but once, and that was during the week’s fighting at the time of the Commune in Paris. There were three sketches in the packet. I was very dubious about letting them out of my hands, but I had been all the week with the correspondent of theTimes, who had spent a considerable sum of money upon messengers to get his letters taken through the lines outside Paris and off to London. I ventured to let my packet go with his, thinking it was safe, but neither of them ever reached their destination.’ In connexion with this subject I may quote the following story related by Mr. Prior to the editor of thePall Mall Gazette:—‘I remember one time when I was attached to Mehemet Ali’s head-quarters in Bulgaria during the Russo-Turkish war. The Turkish censor stopped no fewer than six weeks of my sketches. Things were getting desperate. Our people were telegraphing out to know whether I was alive or dead; and, finding that something must be done, I determined to see the thing through or leave the camp. It so happened that I hadbeen the witness of some peculiarly atrocious deeds perpetrated by Turks upon Bulgarians, so I set to work and drew half-a-dozen faithful representations of the sufferings which I had witnessed. Armed with these I went up to the censor’s office and asked that they might be stamped for transmission home. The censor looked at the first and said it was ridiculous. Couldn’t pass that; no such atrocities had ever been committed; and so forth. The second was condemned in the same way, and so on until the last was reached. When he had rejected that also I said to him very deliberately, “You are going to pass every one of these sketches!” “On the contrary,” said he, “I am going to tear them up.” “If you do,” said I, “I shall draw not only six but twelve pictures worse than these, and send them home by my own messenger.” “I will have him arrested then,” said the censor. “Very well, then, in that case I shall leave the camp at once, and in London I will draw twenty pictures all worse than these, and they will all be published, so that people may see the real truth about how you are behaving here.” The censor, like a sensible man, saw that it was no use carrying things with too high a hand, and came to terms. He admitted he had stopped all my sketches, promised to do so no more, and I left him with my atrocity pictures in my pocket, assuring him that the first sketch of mine that he stopped again the whole series should go to London by the next steamer. I never had any more trouble with him in that respect, though he paid me out by having me arrested some months later.’
During the Franco-German War Mr. Simpson often proved the advantage of his plan of always posting his sketches himself. At the fall of Strasburg he was in the advanced trench when the white flag was displayed from the tower of the cathedral. It was late in the evening when he got home to bed, but he was up with the first streak of dawn finishing his sketch of the historical event he had witnessed the day before. He then walked five miles to General Werder’s head-quarters to post the sketch. He wasted notime in trying to get a horse or carriage, in which he might have failed, nor would he trust the packet to a messenger. He knew that the slightest delay would postpone the publication of the sketch for a whole week. The sketch arrived in time, as he had calculated, for the next publication, and he had the satisfaction of knowing that on this occasion, as on many others, his promptitude and energy had well served the interests of the journal he represented.
A special artist has to encounter many troubles and vexations apart from the dangers and difficulties of war time. When Mr. Simpson was at Brindisi, on his way to the opening of the Suez Canal, wishing to sketch the town and fortifications, he ensconced himself in a snug corner, well sheltered from the ‘Bora,’ or cold wind that was blowing, and had settled down comfortably to work, when he was interrupted by a man who addressed him in Italian, a language Simpson did not understand. He, however, made out that the man’s ‘padre’ or master would not like Simpson to be there; but the latter replied in plain English that he cared nothing for his ‘padre,’ that he had the permission of the Commandant to go where he pleased, and so he went on with his sketching. After much unintelligible talk the man attempted to stop the sketcher’s view by standing between him and the town, but finding the sketching went on just the same, he suddenly went away and then returned with a gun, pointing it in a threatening manner towards Simpson, who thought the gun was perhaps not loaded, or at all events that the man would never be such a fool as to shoot him, so he merely gave a majestic wave of his hand and went on with his work. The man’s rage then increased to such a degree that he seized the butt end of his gun, uttering a volley of curses, and from the word ‘testa’ Simpson supposed the man wanted to smash his head. However he never flinched, and the man, lowering his gun, muttered something about the ‘Cani,’ and went off again. Presently he returned dragging with him a huge dog. Simpson felt more afraid of the dog than the man, but it turned out that the dog had more sense than hismaster and refused on any terms to attack the artist. He bolted, the man after him, and Simpson then armed himself with two stones in case the attack should be renewed, resolving, like Tell when he devoted one of his arrows to Gessler, that one stone should be for the dog and the other for his oppressor. The man however could not get the dog to return to the attack. He had exhausted the whole of his resources, and was evidently astonished and annoyed to find he had failed to frighten the artist, so he finished off with a torrent of curses and then gradually calmed down. He remained watching the completion of the sketch, and then obligingly favoured the artist with some criticisms on his work. He pointed out that a ship in the harbour had been forgotten, and could not understand that it had been purposely left out because it interfered with one of the principal buildings. In this instance it was perhaps best for bothparties that they did not understand each other’s language; but the special artist is occasionally placed at a disadvantage by not understanding the language of the country where he happens to be. However it rarely leads to more than a temporary embarrassment, and is often the cause of more amusement than vexation. Mr. G. H. Andrews on one occasion desired to have a couple of eggs for breakfast, but could not make the maid of the inn comprehend his meaning. He tried all he knew of French, Flemish, and German, but the girl shook her head. At length a bright idea struck the artist. He drew from his pocket a pencil and note-book, and sketched a couple of oval forms, meaning them for eggs, and explained by gestures thatthatwas what he wanted. The girl’s face brightened at once when she saw the sketch, and with a nod of intelligence she tripped away. In a few minutes she returned and presented the hungry artist with—a pair of spectacles!
The late Mr. S. Read, who was one of the first special artists employed on the pictorial press, travelled much abroad, yet he knew little or nothing of any language save his mother tongue. Germany, Italy, Austria, Spain, France, Belgium, Switzerland, were all visited by him, and he got on very well without speaking the language of any of those countries. He was a man of genial humour, accustomed to make the best of everything, and not easily put out by trifles. He was once travelling in the south of France when a fellow-passenger in the train accosted him in French, and was much surprised to find he was not understood.
‘Vat!’ said the Frenchman; ‘you travel and speak no French! Speak you German?’
‘No.’
‘Nor Italian?’
‘No.’
‘Spanish?’
‘No.’
‘Ah, mon Dieu! you travel and speak noting!’ and with a pitying grimace and shrug of the shoulders he looked roundat the other passengers. Presently our artist took his revenge. As they were passing a town with a ruined castle on a hill he said, with much fervour, addressing the Frenchman,—
‘How beautifully that old tower is relieved by the dark foliage! What a splendid contrast is the cold grey of the hill behind! How harmoniously the distance is blended with the middle distance, and the middle distance with the foreground, by means of the bridge across the river!’ The Frenchman stared, stammered, and confessed he did not comprehend.
‘What!’ said our artist; ‘you travel and do not understand English!’
‘Ver leetle.’
‘Do you speak Scotch?’
‘Non, m’sieur.’
‘Nor Irish!’
‘Non.’
‘Welsh?’
‘Non.’
‘Suffolk?’
‘Non, non, m’sieur.’
With an exact imitation of the Frenchman’s contemptuous shrug our friend turned to their fellow-travellers amid the loud laughter of those who understood the joke.
When the special artist exercises his vocation at home, though he lacks the excitement of danger, he meets with many amusing incidents. An artist who attended the meeting of the British Association at Lincoln many years ago desired to sketch the house which was reputed to have been the residence of John o’ Gaunt, and asked the waiter at the hotel if he could direct him to it. ‘Johnny Gaunt, Sir?’ said the waiter, evidently puzzled; ‘I don’t know him, Sir, but I’ll inquire.’ In a few minutes he returned and said he had inquired at the bar, but that no such person as Johnny Gaunt resided thereabouts. Another, who was something of a wag, was once making a sketch in the heart of St. Giles’s;there were no School Boards in those days, and numbers of idle street boys surrounded our sketcher, performing all manner of bewildering gymnastics. Not at all disturbed, however, he amused himself by asking his young friends numerous questions, all of which were answered with rapid pertness. At last he inquired of one active imp if he could read. ‘No, I can’t read,’ said the young gentleman, ‘but I can stand on my head and drink a quartern o’ gin.’
The methods pursued by special artists in obtaining their sketches are as various as the methods of painters in producing their pictures, or of authors in writing their books. One man uses a very small sketch-book, another prefers a large one, but they all require to supplement their hurried sketches with marginal notes. When there is not time to sketch a complete cow, it is good to write underneath the sketch, ‘This is a cow.’ Many events have to be sketched that last only a few minutes, and in such cases some little mistakes will occur even with old practitioners. Literary correspondents are liable to the same misfortune. At a certain royal marriage in St. George’s Chapel, Windsor, the Lord Chamberlain obligingly sent a gentleman to attend the members of the press, and inform them as to the name and rank of the distinguished guests as they entered the chapel. The correspondents courteously allowed the artists of the pictorial press to take front places, so that some of their number were unable to see what was going on, and had to trust to their comrades for information. When the Duke of A——, in full Highland costume, entered the chapel, there was a general inquiry, ‘Who is that?’ ‘That,’ said the gentleman from the Lord Chamberlain’s department, ‘is the Duke of A——, the great Mac Callum More.’ ‘Who is it?’ cried some of the gentlemen in the background, and the name was passed on, but by the time it reached the outer fringe of correspondents it was changed into ‘The Duke of A—— with the Great Claymore,’ and under that style and title his grace’s name figured in at least one newspaper next day.
What may be called the shorthand notes for a sketch are sometimes difficult to make out without explanation. On one occasion a sketch was under consideration, when the editor made certain suggestions to the artist, who was very good natured, and of a most pliant disposition. ‘I think, you know,’ said the editor, ‘if you were to add two or three more figures in the foreground it would improve the composition and help to detach the principal group from this windmill.’ ‘Well, the fact is,’ replied the artist, ‘what you call a windmill I intended for a man on horseback, but if you think it will come better as a windmill I’ll alter it with pleasure.’