Raemaekers' Cartoons Part 23

But now it has waxed fat--and kicked. And its end is near.

CECIL CHESTERTON.

[Ill.u.s.tration: IT'S FATTENING WORK]

OUR LADY OF ANTWERP

"Here I and sorrows sit. This is my throne, bid Kings come wors.h.i.+p it."

Such seems to be an appropriate legend for Raemaekers' beautiful triptych which he has ent.i.tled "Our Lady of Antwerp." Full of compa.s.sion and sympathy for all the sufferings of her people, she sits with the Cathedral outlined behind her, her heart pierced with many agonies. On the left is one of the many widows who have lost their all in this war.

On the right is a soldier stricken to death, who has done his utmost service for his country and brings the record of his gallantry to the feet of Our Lady of Antwerp.

Antwerp, as we know, was at the height of its prosperity in the sixteenth century. We have been told that no fewer than five hundred s.h.i.+ps used to enter her port in the course of a day, while more than two thousand could be seen lying in her harbour at one time. Her people numbered as many as one million, her fairs attracted merchants from all parts of Europe, and at least five hundred million guilders were put into circulation every year. We know what followed. Its very prosperity proved a bait to the conqueror. In 1576 the city was captured by the Spaniards, who pillaged it for three days. Nine years later the Duke of Parma conquered it, and about the time when Queen Elizabeth was resisting the might of Spain Antwerp's glory had departed and its trade was ruined. At the close of the Napoleonic wars the city was handed over to the Belgians.

A place of many memories, whose geographical position was well calculated to arouse the cupidity of the Germans, was bound to be gallantly defended by the little nation to which it now belonged.

Whether earlier help by the British might or might not have altered the course of history we cannot tell. Perhaps it was not soon enough realized how important it was to keep the Hun invader from the sacred soil. At all events we do not look back on the British Expedition in aid of Antwerp in 1914 with any satisfaction, because the a.s.sistance rendered was either not ample enough or else it was belated, or both. So that Our Lady of Antwerp has still to bewail the ruthless tyranny of Berlin, though perhaps she looks forward to the time when, once more in possession of her own cities, Belgium may enter upon a new course of prosperity. We are pledged to restore Belgium, doubly and trebly pledged, by the words of the Prime Minister, and justice will not be done until the great act of liberation is accomplished.

W. L. COURTNEY.

[Ill.u.s.tration: OUR LADY OF ANTWERP]

DEPORTATION

Nothing, when one a.n.a.lyzes it, could be imagined more thoroughly characteristic of Prussia than the particular stroke of policy by which a large proportion of the male population of Belgium--as also in a somewhat lesser degree of Northern France--was separated from its family ties and hurried away into exile in Germany, there to be compelled to work for the profit of enemies.

It had all the marks of Prussianism.

Firstly, it was a violation of the civilized and Christian tradition of European arms. By the rules of such warfare the non-combatant was spared, wherever possible; not only his life but his property and liberty were secure so long as he did not abuse his position.

Secondly, it was an affront to decent human sentiment quite apart from technical rules; the man, guilty of no offence save that of belonging to a country which Prussia had invaded without justice and ravaged without mercy, was torn from his family, who were left to the mercy of their opponents. We all know what that mercy was like.

Thirdly, it was an insult to the human soul, for the unfortunate victims were not only to be exiled from their country, but to be driven by force and terror to serve against it.

Fourthly, and finally, like all the worst Prussian crimes, it was a stupid blunder. Prussia has paid already a very high price for any advantage she may have gained from the mutinous and unwilling labour of these men, and for the swelling of her official return for the edification of her own people and of neutrals by the inclusion of "prisoners of war" of this description. To-day, when she knows not where to turn for men, she is obliged to keep a huge garrison tied up in Belgium to guard her line of retreat. And when the retreat itself comes, the price will rise even higher, and the nemesis will be both just and terrible.

CECIL CHESTERTON.

[Ill.u.s.tration: HUSBANDS AND FATHERS

Belgian workmen were forcibly deported to Germany.]

THE GERMAN BAND

The German Band, as we know it in this country, has never been noted for harmonious music. Blatancy, stridency, false notes, and persistency after the coppers, have been its chief characteristics.

And the same things prevail when it is at home.

Never since the world began has there been such a campaign of barefaced humbug and lying as that organized by William, Hindenburg, Hollweg and Co. for the deceiving and fleecing of the much-tried countries temporarily under their sway.

But the money had to be got in by hook or by crook, and by hook and by crook and in every nefarious way they have milked their unfortunate peoples dry.

But there is another side to all this. In time, the veil of lies and false intelligence of victories in the North Sea, and at Verdun, and, indeed, wherever Germany has fought and failed, will be rent by the spear of Truth.

Then will come the _debacle_. And then, unless every sc.r.a.p of grit and backbone has been Prussianized out of the Teuton, the revulsion of feeling will sweep the oppressors out of existence; and Germany, released from the strangle-hold, may rise once more to take the place among the civilized nations of the world which, by her foul doings of the last two years, she has deliberately forfeited.

JOHN OXENHAM.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WAR LOAN MUSIC

"Was blazen die Trompeten Moneten heraus?"]

ARCADES AMBO

Looking at this cartoon one can understand why Raemaekers is not _persona grata_ in the Happy Fatherland. With half a dozen touches he has changed Satan from the magnificent Prince of Evil whom Gustave Dore portrayed into a--Hun. Henceforth we shall envisage Satan as a Hun, talking the obscene tongue--now almost the universal language in Hades--and hailed by right-thinking Huns as the All Highest War Lord.

w.i.l.l.y senior must be jealous.

With the learned Professor, the cartoonist not only produces a composite portrait of all the _Herren Professoren_, but also drives home the point of his amazing pencil into what is perhaps the most instructive lesson of this monstrous war--the perversion to evil uses of powers originally designed, nourished, and expanded to benefit mankind. When the _Furor Teutonicus_ has finally expended itself, we do not envy the feelings of the ill.u.s.trious chemists who perfected poison gas and liquid fire! Will they, when their hour comes, find it easy to obey the poet's injunction, and, wrapping the mantle of their past about them, "lie down to pleasant dreams?"

We are a.s.sured that these professors have not exhausted their powers of frightfulness. It may be so. This is certain: Such frightfulness will ultimately exhaust them. With this reflection, we may leave them, grist to be ground by the mills of G.o.d.

HORACE ANNESLEY VACh.e.l.l.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ARCADES AMBO

THE PROFESSOR: "I have discovered a new mixture which will blind them in half an hour."

SATAN: "You are in very truth my master."]

"IS IT YOU, MOTHER?"

Since the opening of hostilities in the present war the Scottish regiments have given repeated proofs of a valour which adds new l.u.s.tre to the great traditions of Scottish soldiers.h.i.+p. Through all the early operations--on the retreat from Mons and at the battles of the Marne and the Aisne--the Royal Scots Guards, the Scots Greys, the Gordon, the Seaforth and the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, the King's Own Scottish Borderers gained many fresh laurels by their heroism and undaunted spirit. The London Scottish Territorials, too, have shown a prowess as signal as that of the Scots of the Regular Army; while the mettle of men of Scottish descent has made glorious contribution in France and elsewhere to the fine records of the Overseas armies.

It is the inevitable corollary that death should levy a heavy toll on Scottish soldiers in the field. Thousands of kilted youth have suffered the fate which Raemaekers depicts in the accompanying cartoon. It is not, of course, only the young Scot whose thought turns in the moment of death to the hearth of his home with vivid memories of his mother. But the word "home" and all that the word connotes often makes a more urgent appeal to the Scot abroad than to the man of another nationality. There is significance in the fact that, far as the Scots are wont to wander over the world's surface, they should, under every sky and in every turning fortune, treasure as a national anthem the song which has the refrain:--

"For it's hame, an' it's hame, fain wad I be, O! it's hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie!"

The German soldier in this war would seem to have lost well nigh all touch of humanity. Yet the draughtsman here suggests that even the German soldier on occasion yields to the pathos of the young Scot's death-cry for home and mother. There is grim irony in the dying man's blurred vision which mistakes the hand of his mortal foe for that of his mother.

Of such trying scenes is the drama of war composed.