German Cartoonists and the War

After last week's display of Louis Raemaekers cartoons, Spottenback Saturday now grants a few German cartoonists of World War I a chance to give their say. Except for the Gulbransson cartoon, these cartoons were reprinted in contemporary issues of Cartoons Magazine, published out of Chicago, which means they must have had to get past both German and U.S. wartime censors. As such, it is possible that they may not necessarily be the best examples of German wartime satire.

"The Blood Bath," From Der Brummer, Berlin, 1917

American troops joined the fighting in Europe in August of 1917, and patriotic fervor in the U.S. was at a peak, so the above cartoon very much misrepresents American popular feeling. The nations wading in the blood bath do not include Germany or its allies, which would have gotten this cartoon (and possibly its cartoonist) spiked.

German government dismissed "America's worthless assistance" to the Entente powers. Gustav Brandt here offers one idea to buttress the official government line, a fine example of the jugendstil of bold, flat areas of solid color that became popular among German cartoonists of the early 20th Century.

by Gustav Brandt in Kladderadatsch, Berlin

Better known west of the Maginot Line as art nouveau, jugendstil gets its name from Jugend, a cultural magazine published in Munich. Brandt himself (1861-1919) was at this time a long-established cartoonist whose earlier cartoons conformed to 19th Century tastes for greater detail and verisimilitude.

Here's another example of jugendstil, with a similar jab at Wilson as a money-grubbing capitalist, this time from a Simplicissimus cartoonist about Pope Benedict XV's peace proposal.

"Wilson's Answer" by Olaf Gulbransson in Simplicissimus, Munich, September 18, 1917

Another Kladderadatsich cartoonist lampoons the refusal of England's Lloyd George, the U.S.'s Wilson and France's Poincaré to consider German armistice proposals; each had declared that an end to Hohenzollern rule of Germany was a prerequisite condition for peace.

"We Will Never Negotiate" by unidentified cartoonist (Arthur Johnson?) in Kladderadatsch, Berlin

Speaking of Russia, Wilhelm Schulz in the brash satirical magazine Simplicissimus portrays Germany proffering a helping hand to its eastern neighbor. Russia, however, is threatened by its erstwhile allies.

"Helpless Russia" by Wilhelm Schulz in Simplicissimus, Munich, July 17, 1917

The U.S. was not the only Johnny-come-marching-lately into the Great War. In spite of its recent history with England and Russia, and the fact that its rival Japan had also sided with the Entente, China declared war on Germany in August, 1917.

"China" by W. A. Wellner in Lustige Blätter,  Berlin, January 1917

Given British and Russian imperialist designs on China, there was significant support in military and government circles for an alliance with Germany; one such supporter was former President/future Premier Sun Yat-sen. But the government of Duan Qirui viewed an Entente victory as more likely than a victory by the Central powers and hoped to gain territory at any post-war bargaining table. (They would be bitterly disappointed.)

"Tremble, Germania!" by Carl Olof Petersen in Lustige Blätter, Berlin, July 23, 1917

The sinking of the Athos I with 900 Chinese workers aboard by a German U-boat off the coast of Malta in February, 1917, furthermore, served as China's Lusitania moment. Yet if Germany was officially unconcerned with America's entry into the war, it was hardly any more worried about the Chinese navy.

The February Revolution

"Sic Transit Gloria" in Novy Satirikon, Petrograd (St. Petersburg, Russia), March, 1917

This March marks the 100th anniversary of the February Revolution in Russia. (Czarist Russia still adhered to the Julian calendar, which by 1917 had fallen 13 days behind the Gregorian calendar in use in much of Europe, European colonies, and the Americas. Ponder that while you're springing ahead one measly hour tonight.)

A series of workers' strikes and protests against food shortages beginning in early February grew in size, bringing industrial and commercial activity in the capital to a near complete standstill by March 10 (a.k.a. February 25). With much of his army tied up with the war in Europe, Tsar Nicholas II had only a residual force of green or injured soldiers available to quell the demonstrations, and many troops proved unable or unwilling to do so. Troops began to mutiny, and demonstrations grew into riots.

"The Sceptre" by Oscar Cesare in New York Evening Post, March 16, 1917

Attempting to return to Petrograd, Nicholas was arrested by revolutionaries on March 14 (March 1) and abdicated the throne on behalf of himself and his son Alexei the next day. Nicholas nominated his brother, the Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovich, as his successor; but Michael saw that the situation was hopeless and declined the crown.

"By Divine Right of the People" by Jones in Boston Journal, March 14, 1917

The center-left provisional government of the Russian Duma and the more radical Petrograd Soviet would spend the next eight months wrestling for power; but for now, it appeared to be a victory for democracy. Among American editorial cartoonists, there was near unanimous approval of the overthrow of the tsar.

"The New Boss of the House" by Wm. Hanny in St. Joseph (Mo,) News Press, March 15, 1917

If it could happen in Russia, C.F. Naughton wondered, where else could popular revolt throw off the shackles of their imperialist overlords?

"Even Russia Wins Liberty" by C.F. Naughton in Duluth Evening Herald, March 17, 1917

John "Ding" Darling imagines that the Russian revolution might even inspire the German people to shake off their own monarchy. After all, "Czar/Tsar" and "Kaiser" derive from the same Latin root!

"Come Off That Fence" by Jay "Ding" Darling in New York Tribune, March 16, 1917

Judging from the cartoons allowed by the German censors, the German government wasn't terribly worried.

"The Czar's Plaything" in Lustige Blätter, Berlin, March 26, 1917

On the cover of Lustige Blätter a month later, the Russian revolutionaries look positively heroic:

"Die Hungerrevolution" (The Hunger Revolution) by Ernst Heilemann in Lustige Blätter, Berlin, April 23, 1917 

Wilson on the Brink

Soundingback Saturday starts things off this week with a British view of the American president 100 years ago:

"The Intrusive 'Leadsman'" by Edward T. Reed in Sunday Evening Telegraph, London, February, 1917

A frequent feature of E.T. Reed's cartoons is his spelling out of how other people's accents diverge from the King's English. Woodrow Wilson, as I'm sure you know, hailed from Vajinnia, Joejah, South Kehlahna and Noo Joysey; if you're planning a career as a Woodrow Wilson Impersonator, you might want to do some further research before taking Reed's word for how the president sounded. I've tried to make the dialogue large enough to read on line, but in case I've failed, here it is:

President Woodrow Wilson: "Reck'n it looks mighty like as if we're gett'n' vu-rry near harbor. Guess I'll start heaving the lead a bit, anyways."
Lloyd George: "My good man, it's not the slightest use your messing about with that lead! WE know the port WE'RE making for perfectly well, and shan't need YOUR assistance."

For those of you who aren't old-timey sailors, a leadsman uses a block of lead attached to a rope to determine the depth of water, called "sounding."

If it's rather curious that Prime Minister Lloyd George still feels that he shan't need Wilson's assistance, he'll welcome it quite soon enough. The point that Reed is trying to make is that Lloyd George is committed to total victory over Germany, while Wilson would be happy with achieving a more modest truce.

In fact, thanks to the German resumption of "unrestricted submarine warfare" at sea, the Wilson administration was moving closer and closer to joining the Allies. Keeping to a nautical theme, Philly cartoonist Bill Sykes aims his criticism at the U.S. Congress, where there was still reluctance to commit to the war in Europe.

"Goner Let the Water Out, By Heck!" by Wm. Sykes in Philadelphia Evening Ledger, February 26, 1917

The label on the lightning bolt is "U-boat crisis"; on the ship is "Nationalism"; and on the auger is "Petty Partisanship."

On March 1, the Wilson administration revealed to the American public the Zimmerman telegram, in which the German Foreign Secretary urged Mexico to declare war on the U.S., if the U.S. abandoned neutrality in the European war. In return for keeping the U.S. preoccupied in its own hemisphere, Germany promised to support returning Texas, Arizona and New Mexico to Mexico.

The trademark in this cartoon is a bit difficult to read; it says "War Plot / Made in Germany."

"Do You See That Trademark?" by Wm. F. Hanny in St. Joseph (Mo.) News Dispatch, March 2, 1917

The Mexican government of President Venustiano Carranza decided that its army was no match for the Americans. Besides, The U.S. had just given up the hunt for Pancho Villa and had withdrawn its troops from Mexico in January.  Furthermore, even if everything were to go as Herr Zimmerman promised, the Mexican government was having enough problems governing Mexicans without adding a large population of well-armed Norteamericanos to the country.

"Long Distance—Europe on the Wire" by Edward S. "Ted" Brown in Chicago Daily News, February/March, 1917

War wasn't Wilson's only problem; that pesky labor-management dispute at the railroads was still unsettled. With the Adamson Act pending before the Supreme Court, leaders of the four major railroad unions decided that this was their last chance to strike for the eight-hour day before U.S. entry into the war would compel them to stay at work.

"An Annoying Interruption" by Ted Brown in Chicago Daily News, March 15, 1917

(The creator of the previous two cartoons, Ted Brown, filled the editorial cartooning seat left vacant at the Chicago Daily News by the death of Luther Bradley at the beginning of 1917.)

From the other side, here's a German view of the American president, from the cover of the Berlin satirical magazine Lustige Blätter:

"Doppelzüngig" by Carl O. Petersen for Lustige Blätter, Berlin, February 26, 1917

The full title translates "Double-tongued: the Snake from the White House." One fork of the tongue reads "I want peace!" while the other reads "I break relations with Germany!"

So anyway, that's where we stood as Woodrow Wilson settled in for the Inauguration of his second term on March 5, 1917 (the traditional date of March 4 falling on a Sunday that year).

"Beginning His Second Volume" by Wm. F. Hanny in St. Joseph News Dispatch, March 5, 1917 

100 Years Ago: O Verdun!

You may have noticed on the front pages from 1916 that have appeared on Saturback Sommeday here lately that by this point of the year, the Battle of Verdun had been underway for several months. Lasting from February into December, the Battle of Verdun was the single longest battle of the Great War.

"Offensives and Defensives" by John McCutcheon for Chicago Tribune, July 6, 1916

Verdun-sur-Meuse is a small river town on what was the Western Front; you'll find it on a line between Luxembourg and Paris. The French had not expected an attack there in winter, so the Germans were able to capture several forts in the first four days of their advance. Once the French put General Petain in charge of defenses there, however, a deadly stalemate took hold. By July, 185,000 were dead on the French side, 200,000 on the Germans'.

In June, the British launched a counterattack at the Somme, where they would suffer their greatest losses of the war over the next several months. It succeeded in forcing the German army to divert forces about 120 miles northwest, softening their line enough that the French were finally able to retake some six miles of territory on July 5.

"The Crown Prince and the German Sheep on Their Way to Slaughter"
Gabriel Galantara for L'Asino, (Rome)

German sheep being herded to slaughter was a theme I came across more than once in searching out cartoons about this particular battle. Keep in mind that as far as cartoonists in the belligerent countries were concerned, the enemy's casualties were always the more significant issue than those of one's own side.

"CLOWN PRINCE: Gott is mit uns! Another hundred thousand German lives will do it!"
Joseph Morewood Staniforth for Western Mail (Cardiff, Wales) 

In the U.S., officially a neutral country for the moment, some cartoonists saw that the carnage was equally tragic on both sides.

"Shade of Dante: 'My Inferno Was Child's Play.'"
William C. Morris for Harper's Weekly Independent, New York, July 17, 1916

As for German cartoonists, I have only this one cartoon about Verdun, probably from May or June. Here, the German soldier has his hapless French foe pinned on his back; the two figures belching fire in the background are British Prime Minister Herbert Henry Asquith and Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Dmitrievich Sazonov.

W. A. Wellner for Lustige Blaetter, Berlin

I don't know what the caption to that cartoon was in the original German, and I don't speak German anyway; but I doubt there was anything clever or witty to Wellner's cartoon, or in any of the other German cartoons I've seen. Faced with the horrors of war, most continental cartoonists abandoned any sense of humor in favor of hyperbolic chauvinism.

"The Eagle Strangled by France"
Louis Raemaekers for Amsterdam Telegraf

Louis Raemaekers was without a doubt a great cartoonist, but even with reported grain shortages in Germany, the idea that France was strangling the German Eagle is wildly optimistic at this point of the war. The Western front was still entirely in France. This British cartoon by Leonard Raven-Hill is a better metaphor:

"Held" by Leonard Raven-Hill for Punch (London)

In July, a number of other cartoonists repeated some variation of this second cartoon by Raven-Hill from a few months earlier:

"The Grapes of Verdun" by Leonard Raven-Hill for Punch (London)

Meanwhile, Germany and Austria-Hungary also had to deal with the last major offensive of Czarist Russia on their Eastern Front. From his vantage point in America's Midwest, here's how things stood in John McCutcheon's eyes.

"The Supreme Test" by John McCutcheon for Chicago Tribune, July 3, 1916