Settling Scores

Last Saturday's post started (sort of) with Poland, so let's begin there today.

"Inconsiderate" by Gilbert Wilkinson (?) in The World, London, ca. April, 1919

I'm not absolutely positive of the identity of the cartoonist of "Inconsiderate," but I can make out enough of his signature to consider Gilbert Wilkinson its likely author.

"Die Schlächtergilde von Paris" by uncredited cartoonist in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, April 13, 1919

Our topic this Spoilsback Saturday is the settling of scores in the Paris peace negotiations at the end of World War I. In the above parody of Rembrandt's Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp, the cartoonist predicts an unpleasant outcome for the surgeons planning to slice off Danzig (present-day Gdansk, Poland) and the Saar region (now in France) from the German patient.

To the extent that Europe would fall back into World War II over German attempts to reclaim those territories, I suppose the cartoonist was not terribly far off the mark.

"Just a Guess at the Terms for Turkey" by Bill Sykes in Philadelphia Evening Ledger, May 5, 1919

The victors at the Paris peace negotiations also considered how to carve up the Ottoman Empire, and their solutions have given rise to a whole century of wars, refugees and terrorist attacks since then.

"Anything He Would Do Is an Improvement" by William Hanny in St. Joseph (MO) News-Press, April 23, 1919

Bill Sykes and William Hanny here draw a rare pair of cartoons that do not hinge on depicting Turkey or its leader as a meliagris gallopavo.

Of course, Hanny had used that pun less than a week before.

"Vor der Proklamierund des Völkerbundes" by Werner Hahmann in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, April 26, 1919

When it came to carving up the Austro-Hungarian Empire, members of the Entente had competing claims.

"More!" by John Cassel in New York World, April 20, 1919

Both Italy and the newly formed Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes laid claim to Fiume (the present-day port city of Rijeka, Croatia) at the north end of Kvarner Gulf. As shown in John Cassel's cartoon, the allies awarded the former Austrian territories of Trentino and Trieste to Italy, but Italian irredentists claimed Fiume and environs by virtue of the fact that Italians made up nearly half of its residents. Not quite a third of the remainder were Croatian; Italians made up a majority of urban dwellers while Croats were the majority of rural folk.

"Mi sento Come se Fossi di Nuovo sul Piave" by "Luccio" in Il 420, Firenze, Italy, ca. April, 1919

Students of history and followers of this blog will recall that the Piave is the river where the Italian army was finally able to push back against Austrian and German advances into their country.

I have no explanation of why the Yugo-slav in this Italian cartoon has a supersized tampon dangling from his teeth.

"Get Your Cart Out from the Middle of the Street" by Leo Thiele in Sioux City Tribune, ca. April, 1919

Fiume/Rijeka is a significant seaport for Croatia, situated as it is at a deep, sheltered harbor near the narrowest stretch of the Dinaric Alps. Roads and railways from inland Croatia naturally converge there. But being so far removed from the boot of Italy, its importance to Italy was more a matter of prestige than commerce.

"I Due 'Wilson' alla Conferenza de la Pace" by Gabriele "Rata Langa" Galantara in L'Asino, Rome, May 11, 1919

The Italian government viewed President Woodrow Wilson's failure to side with Italy on the Fiume Question as a betrayal of his idealistic lectures about self-determination of peoples. Their cartoonists quickly switched from depicting him as Santo Woodrow to drawing him as a duplicitous moralizer. Above, "The Two 'Wilsons' at the Peace Conference" brandish an umbrella labeled "Direction toward self-determination" and a whip labeled "Interests of Capitalism."

"Woodrow in der Klamme" by Arthur Johnson in Kladderadatch, Berlin, May 11, 1919

German cartoonists were happy to join in ridiculing the American president. Arthur Johnson's Italian, on the left, points to the British promises of territory that had prompted Italy to abrogate its treaty with Germany and to declare on the side of the Entente. His Serbo-Croatian, on the right, points to similar British promises. I would note that Serbia was in the war at the outset, relying on Russian promises of support rather than any promises from the British who weren't even in the war yet.

"It Happens in the Best Regulated Families" by Jay "Ding" Darling in New York Tribune, May 9, 1919

Wilson's proposed compromise — which was the short-lived solution — was to establish Fiume/Rijeka as a free city, perhaps even the home of his League of Nations. Italy's Prime Minister Vittorio Orlando stormed out of the peace negotiations, protesting that he was personally insulted by the allies' failure to uphold British promises. "Ding" Darling correctly predicted that Italy would eventually return to the table.

"Their Vision" by John McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune, May 2, 1919

Peace negotiations faced a similar dilemma of conflicting promises in the Far East. Japan and China had both declared war against Germany, betting on the Entente to be the eventual and more magnanimous victors. Japanese forces ousted Germany from the Kiautschou Bay Leased Territory on China's Shandong peninsula early in the war. China wanted the territory back, but was repeatedly pressured to accept Japanese sovereignty there. Wilson sided with the Chinese, but Britain and France had given their assurances to Japan, and the Paris Treaty gave Shandong to Japan.

"The Penalty of Pacifism" by John McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune, May 6, 1919

Student-led protests against foreign imperialism and the Beijing government's fecklessness broke out in China on May 4 and spread across the country. The university students demanded the resignation of three government officials they blamed for selling out the country; they even burned down one of the officials' houses and assaulted his hapless servants.

"Mrs. Japan and Her Infant at the Peace Table" by R.O. Evans in Baltimore American, March, 1919

After some protesters were beaten and thrown in jail, a general strike in support of the students succeeded in gaining their release. China refused to sign the Versailles treaty, eventually negotiating a separate peace with Germany in 1921 and regaining possession of Shandong province a year later. But the May Fourth movement would lead to the development of the Chinese Communist Party. And another protest one month and seventy years later.

"You Can't Blame Japan for Feeling It an Insult" by Jay "Ding" Darling in New York Tribune, March 23, 1919

I was going to end this post on the topic of China (just like last Saturday's episode), but I ought to bring up one more issue that Japan brought to the negotiating table. Japan wanted the League of Nations charter to require that member countries grant "equal and just treatment" to all aliens in their borders who are nationals of other member states.

The Japanese proposal did not make it into the League charter, thanks to opposition from the Europeans and the American Congress, but it did inspire an unusually sympathetic response for the time from "Ding" Darling.

It Ain't Over Till It's Over Over There

As promised, Siegback Saturday focuses this week on European cartoonists' response to the end of World War I.

"Zwischen Krieg und Frieden" by Wilhelm Schulz in Simplicissimus, November 19, 1918

Most of these cartoons appeared in weekly publications, and since I don't know the dating conventions of each of the journals, there might be some cartoons that were drawn before the armistice was signed and others drawn well afterward. "Zwischen Krieg und Frieden" illustrates the point noted last week that the killing continued right up to 10:59:59.99 a.m. Paris Time on the last day of hostilities.

"Aufwärts" by J.D. (?) in Ulk, Berlin, November 15, 1918

"Völkersehnsucht" by Otto Lendecke in Simplicissimus, November 26, 1918

I was a little surprised to find so few cartoons that expressed relief at the war finally being over. As the † next to Otto Lendecke's name above the Simplicissimus cover illustration indicates, the Austrian painter had died a month before the end of the war, so "Völkersehnsucht" is obviously not a response to the armistice except on the part of the magazine editors.

"Die Waffenstilstandsbedingungen" by Thomas Theodor Heine in Simplicissimus, November 26, 1918

Judging from the rest of the cartoons I've seen, the end of hostilities on the battlefield clearly did not extend to an end of hostilities on the drawing boards — on either side of the conflict.

"The 'Victorious' Hun" by David Wilson in The Passing Show, November, 1918

From Great Britain, David Wilson gloats over Supreme Allied Commander General Ferdinand Foch forcing Chief of the German General Staff Paul von Hindenburg to sign an unconditional surrender.

"Il Trionfo della Giustizia" by Giove "Tony" Toppi in Il 420, Florence, November 24, 1918

What the triumph of justice looked like depended upon which side you were on.

"So Also Sieht ein Gerechtigkeitsfriede Aus" by Gustave Brandt in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, November 24, 1918

The pediment in Gustav Brandt's cartoon reads "The Justice Peace Group of the Entente Sculptors."

"Le Kaiser" by C. Léandre in Le Rire, Paris, November 16, 1918

From the Allies, there was no shortage of scorn to heap upon the abdicated Kaiser Friedrich Wilhelm Viktor Albert Hohenzollern. And since I'm not going to write a separate post about Australian cartoons, here's one from the Sydney Bulletin.

"Take My Seat" (perhaps by one of the Lindsay brothers?) in Sydney Bulletin, November, 1918

Returning to Europe, neither was the Kaiser's fall mourned in neutral Spain:

"Su Debida Recompensa" in Esquella, Barcelona, ca. November, 1918

Another Catalan cartoonist observes that Armistice Day fell on the Feast Day of St. Martin, traditionally a day for slaughtering pigs. The caption is a common saying which is pretty much the flip side of "every dog has its day."

"A Cada Porc Li Arriba el seu Sant Martí" by Josep «Picarol» Costa Ferrer in Campana de Gràcia, Barcelona, November 16, 1918

Of course, Mr. Hohenzollern was not the only guy suddenly unemployed at the end of the war:

"La Salle des Trônes de la Quadruplice" by L.M. in Le Rire, November 16, 1918

The other members of the Quadruplice were Austrian Emperor Karl, the Ottoman Sultan and the Bulgarian Tsar. In fact, the Entente allowed Ottoman Sultan Mehmet VI (who had acceded to the throne in July after the death of his brother, Mehmet V) to retain his title and position; but he would be overthrown four years later. Bulgaria's Tsar Ferdinand I abdicated in October as one of the terms of his country's surrender; he was succeeded by his son, Boris III, whose reign — in name — lasted into World War II. (Mainly in the plain.)

"La Fine degli Imperatori" by Gabriele "Rata Langa" Galanta in L'Asino, Rome, November 24, 1918

If cartoonists living on the winning side of the war could joke about how the Kaisers had fallen, German cartoonists had to find someone among the allies that they could poke fun at. They chose the king of Italy, whose government had forsaken the country's erstwhile alliance with the Central Powers in a gamble for attaining Italian territories of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

"Der Treppenwitz der Weltgeschichte" by Arthur Johnson in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, November 17, 1918

My translation of the Arthur Johnson's German is rather inexact and requires a little explanation.  "Treppenwitz" is a literal translation of the French "l'esprit d'escalier," referring to that perfect rejoinder one thinks of only after it's too late (on the way down the staircase while leaving the party). In German, however, the word has come to mean a joke that ends up with unintended unfortunate consequences — those Baraboo high school seniors taking a group photo doing a Nazi salute, for example.

In this case, Johnson pushes the idea that Italy's King Victor Emmanuel III is the joke, and the unfortunate consequence is the fall of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. I'm curious why Johnson, whose father was American but who was born and raised in Germany, wrote "Austria" on the shield instead of "Österreich"; perhaps he just didn't have enough room.

"Der Unersättliche" by Olav Gulbrandsson in Simplicissimus, Munich, November 26, 1918

Olav Gulbrandsson portrays Victor Emmanuel's victory parade boasting the names of Italy's 1917 defeats in battle. Twitting the 5' tall Italian king seems to have been the last resort of Germany's cartoonists wishing to find someone among the conquerors of the Central Powers who could be portrayed as a buffoon; I assume that punning the name Vittorio with the German sieg was purely intentional.

"S. Wilson" by "Tonv" in Il 420, Florence, November 17, 1918

I've been given conflicting translations of the dialogue in this little cartoon by the Italian cartoonist who signed his work "Tonv"; I believe the mother is telling her son that she is hanging a hagiographic portrait of U.S. President Woodrow Wilson in place of whatever saint it is that she's taking down, on account of his having performed a true miracle. This blog gets hundreds of visits from people in Italy, so if any of you cittadini would care to leave a good translation in the comments, I'd be happy to replace this paragraph with it. (Having used several of his cartoons in this series, I've also been repeatedly frustrated in my efforts to find out who "Tonv" was; qualcuno può aiutarmi?)

"Da Beim Tod" by Fritz Boscovits in Nebelspalter, Zurich, November, 1918

Not everyone shared that Italian mother's adoration of Mr. Wilson. At the German-sympathetic Swiss journal Nebelspalter, cartoonist JFB holds Wilson responsible for the slaying of the Central Powers (Mittelmächte), while his allies are depicted as dogs barking over the sad remains of such a handsome, noble creature.

"John Bull's Fourteen Points" by Frank Holland in John Bull, London, ca. Oct./Nov., 1918

America's allies had their differences with Wilson as well. As far as Britain and France were concerned, his 14 Points may have been a useful propaganda ploy against Germany while hostilities raged, but now that it was time to implement the peace, exacting punishment upon the vanquished was going to take precedence over the namby-pamby head-in-the-clouds idealism of that egghead professor from Princeton.

"Gli Effetti di un' Indigestione" by "GiToppi" in Il 420, Florence, November 17, 1918

As I mentioned earlier, Italy had also joined the Entente eager to claim territory from Austria. Caporetto is the present-day Slovenian city of Kobarid on the Italian border; Hemmingway recounted the disastrous 1917 rout of the Italian army at the then-Austrian village in A Farewell to Arms. At the end of the war, the Italian army occupied the town, and it was annexed to Italy from 1919 until being turned over to Yugoslavia under the Paris Treaties of 1947.

"La Resa dei Conti" by RIV in Il 420, Florence, November 17, 1918

As depicted in "The Rendering of Accounts," none of Germany and Austria's neighbors were about to let bygones be bygones. And we know how that turned out.

...Oh, Death was never enemy of ours!
We laughed at him, we leagued with him, old chum.
No soldier's paid to kick against his powers.
We laughed, knowing that better men would come,
And greater wars...

(From Wilfred Owen's "The Next War")

Baseball, Sunday Drivers, and Murderous Medicis

Gosh, it's been a fortnight and a half since we revisited World War I, so Scattershot Saturday takes a quick look around at how the War That Didn't Quite End All Wars was going in September, 1918.

"We're Ready, Uncle Sam" by Berrns (?) in Milwaukee Journal, September 11, 1918

I wanted to start with this cartoon only because the Milwaukee Journal didn't employ an editorial cartoonist in those days. I don't know whether this front page cartoon was drawn by someone in the ad department at the Journal or by someone in D.C. cranking out one of these for each of the 48 states.

Whichever it was, the directive had clearly gone out that cartoonists needed to publicize that all men age 18 to 45 were now required to register for the draft. "18 to 45" appeared on scores of editorial cartoons all across the nation at once, with no need to spell out the significance of those numbers.

"Batter Up!" by J.W. McGurk in Philadelphia Journal, September, 1918

The draft, and a Selective Service “Work or Fight” order, requiring all able-bodied men to either serve in the military or work in a “necessary” civilian occupation, pushed the 1918 World Series of baseball up to September 5 through 11. The Boston Red Sox defeated the Chicago Cubs four games to two in the series, which suffered from a lack of popular interest. Players even threatened to go on strike over the poor attendance, which could possibly have been because so many of their fans were busy in the trenches overseas.

In a move to tap into popular support for the war effort, a military band was featured during the seventh inning stretch of game one in what is reputed to be the first playing of "Star Spangled Banner" — not yet our national anthem — at a sporting event.

(The dialogue in these cartoons is difficult to read even with click-to-embiggen technology; McGurk's baseball player is saying, “Here's where the doggone game goes on ice!”)

"The Gasoline Slacker..." by Billy Ireland in Columbus Dispatch, ca. September, 1918

Low attendance at Comiskey and Fenway may also have had something to do with the government urging Americans to "save gas for General Pershing" by curtailing unnecessary automobile travel. A particular target was Sunday driving, when one was presumed to have no particular reason to leave the house. And yes, Game Five of the World Series was played on a Sunday.

In Billy Ireland's cartoon, a carload of "gasoline slackers" whizzes past "those of us who would like the use of our cars the rest of the week." Uncle Sam, carrying his "supply of gasoline," grouses that "If they haven't any more sympathy for the welfare of our men in France than that, I will have to take over all of the gas."

"The Complete Alibi" by Harold T. Webster in New York Tribune, ca. September 10, 1918

For all the gasless Sundays, Meatless Mondays, Wheatless Wednesdays and so forth being promoted on the Home Front, the Entente forces at last had some good news to report from the Western Front. One month into the 100-Day Offensive, the allies were pushing the German army east from the Somme and the Marne.

Webster's Kaiser assures the German people that "Ve are trying to entice der enemy into Berlin und dey iss svallowing der bait mit sinker, line und hook! Alretty ve has fooldt dem into taking t'ousands und t'ousands of our men prisoner! It iss a glorious victory yet!!"

"Den Verdieste Seine Krone!" by Arthur Johnson in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, September 8, 1918

The erosion of Germany's Western Front could no longer be ignored even by German cartoonists, so Arthur Johnson was left to carp about the high price the Entente armies paid in human lives for their victories. The note atop this cartoon explains that "General Foch was handed the marshal's baton by Poincaré."

"A New Policeman on the Beat" by Bushnell for Central Press Association, ca. September, 1918

On the Eastern Front, American cartoonists displayed considerable overconfidence in reports of victories by Japanese, Czechoslovakian and Cossack fighters against the Bolsheviks in Siberia. The Czechoslovak People's Army of Komuch seized Kazan, Tartarstan from the Bolsheviks in August and captured the Imperial Russian gold reserve. Backed by the Czechoslovakians, anti-Bolshevik Russians established a rival government in Omsk, Siberia in September. It would last only two years.

"Reinfall" by Max Richter in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, September 8, 1918

Max Richter's cartoon errs in the opposite direction, predicting that Czechoslovakian hopes of independence from Austria-Hungary would be doomed by their partisans' adventures in the east. The text below explains that Czechoslovakians, lured by British promises of self-determination, happily entered the Siberian mousetrap, but predicted they would have difficulty getting out.

"Le Prime Vittorie dei Nippo-Americani in Siberia" by Glycetti (?) in Il 420, Florence, September 15, 1918

And then there's this Italian take on the Siberian situation.

To the modern reader, there's a whole lot of non sequitur in this cartoon, ostensibly about some military victory by American and Japanese troops in Russia. I have no explanation for the crying moon, Kaiser Wilhelm's ladder, the nail through the Russian bear, why Woodrow Wilson and the Japanese guy are barely onlookers, or why the Italian, Frenchman and British characters are standing on a cloud (unless they're dead, which would be kind of weird, but, well okay, let's go with that).

I can tell you that Lorenzino de' Medici was a Renaissance era Italian politician who befriended, debauched with, then assassinated his cousin Alessandro, the Duke of Florence. He then wrote a grandiloquent Apology claiming to have killed Alessandro in the interests of reestablishing a republic, fled to exile in Venice, and was eventually killed by agents of Emperor Charles V, Alessandro's father-in-law. Supposedly, the devil refused to admit Lorenzino into Hell for fear that he would usurp the devil's rule.

"La Corona di Polonia e Carletto" by Luccio in Il 420, Florence, September 8, 1918

So here's a cartoon about Austrian Emperor Charles I that is needs absolutely no explanation. Does it?

And finally, the Allies moved ahead with plans for the post-war world. President Wilson commissioned his diplomatic adviser, Edward "Colonel" House in September to draw up a constitution for the League of Nations. House proposed that "unethical" state behavior such as espionage would result in "blockading and closing the frontiers of that power to commerce or intercourse with any part of the world and to use any force that may be necessary."

"Vorberatungen für den zu Gründenden 'Völkerbund' der Entente" by Max Richter in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, September 15, 1918