America in the War: Each cartoon faced with a page of comment by a distinguished American, the text forming an anthology of patriotic opinionRaemaekers, Louis
History
America in the War: Each cartoon faced with a page of comment by a distinguished American, the text forming an anthology of patriotic opinion
Raemaekers, Louis
World War, 1914-1918 -- Humor, caricatures, etc.
The small speck that at first seemed a dull mist hanging over the
Western Hemisphere caused little else than sarcastic flings at our
own Republic, and had it been possible to awaken pity in the breast
of the Arch Demon, striving to spread his wings over the whole world,
some sympathy might have fallen to us, for the weak mind we showed
in presuming we could do anything to check the Imperial army in its
brutal course. But happily great oaks from little acorns grow, from
stationary mists dark clouds may rise, from low uncertain rumblings
the ear-splitting thunder clap may spring, and make man and beast seek
cover. So, by the Grace of God, things have developed, and the mist
that was a banquet joke, is transformed, and spread into a veritable
storm, and its direction is across the wide ocean; it is an on-rusher
that awakens a craven fear; and it well may. It is no autumn cloud,
whose fleecy skirts the sun has painted with gold; but something
equalling the harbinger of death, that the soothsayers saw driving over
Rome when Cæsar’s end was nigh; on which could be seen “Fierce fiery
warriors in ranks, and squadrons and in right form of war”; and from
which blood is drizzling, not only to fall over France, or Flanders,
but perhaps to darken the sky, and crimson the soil, even at that nest
of iniquity, Potsdam.
PALMER COX.
[Illustration]
_Bring Her In!_
Yea, bring her in--the scarlet sign of shame!
Of shuddering horror to all times and lands!
Bring her, though late, to justice. Those, her hands,
With children’s blood thick-crusted, are the same
That stealing through night’s peaceful curtains came
To throttle blameless Belgium; from the brands
Of sacked and burning churches those dark bands
Befoul her garments, noisome as her name.
“Guilty of more than murder!” Not alone
Of broken hearts, drained eyes and myriad graves
Shall men make up the sum of her dread score,
But of faiths blasted, world hopes overthrown.
Then judgment write in tears of her bowed slaves,
“Earth sickens of her--Let her be no more!”
CHARLES EDWARD RUSSELL.
[Illustration]
_Germany’s “Peace” with Russia_
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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