Pomposity, ponderosity, machine-like movement, ruthless, cold, and calculating logic, which sticks at nothing, not even the lowest of low cunning, want of sense of humor, the absence of anything like sportsmanship or chivalry--these are qualities which the average Englishman does not admire, and finds it difficult even to understand. He cannot help reading his own characteristics, which are for good and bad so different, into other men and creatures. He cannot understand their entire absence, and it is difficult for him to believe that men so differently constituted can exist. Mr. Raemaekers wants to make us realize the fact, to present it embodied. The legitimate emphasis of his caricature has this for its object. Ponderous, pompous, pachydermatous, self-satisfied, fat, successful and comfortable; but without feeling for the comfort of others. We have here the type of German military domination. Submit to Germany and you will be happy, in the German way, which is the best way, because it is German. If you don’t like that, you must lump it. That is the message of this speaking likeness. HERBERT WARREN. [Illustration] _The Old Poilu_ Of all Raemaekers’ cartoons this is the one that pleases me most. It is the French Army. The Grand Army that tramped away into the night after the bugles of 1812-15 left behind it more than a sentiment and a story. It was the spirit of that army that broke the Germans at the Marne and held them at Verdun, and it is the same spirit that is holding them now on the Somme. Here is the fighting face of France, recalling the baggage carts of the Beresina no less than the guns of Austerlitz. The old soldier of the Emperor, the old soldier of the Republic. Cambronne no less than Joffre. It is the face that has seen the snows of Russia and the sunlight on the Pyramids, victory and defeat, the heights and the depths, and always, across all and through all, the fair land of France. The secret is in the eyes. Look at them! H. DE VERE STACPOOLE. [Illustration] _Humanity Torpedoed_ That really is the essence of the matter, the summing up of the World War in an illuminating phrase. The Machine _versus_ the Man! Before the outbreak of war, in those far-off days when we talked so glibly of human progress and civilization, the machinery which controlled and coördinated life seemed to be a bigger thing than life itself. The Machine in politics, in our myriad industries, in our moments of relaxation was scrapping men relentlessly. The very few perceived this and protested vigorously, but quite in vain. Even in religion, using the word in its highest sense, the Machine held human souls in its grip and ground them out to an approved pattern. Was the war inflicted upon a generation of fools to teach them wisdom? It may well be so. _Et propter vitam vivendi perdere causas!_