“FOR YOUR MOTHERLAND”

England’s your Mother! Let your life acclaim

Her precious heart’s blood flowing in your heart;

Take ye the thunder of her solemn name

Upon your lips with reverence; play your part

By word and deed

To shield and speed

The far-flung splendour of her ancient fame.

England’s your Mother! Shall not you, her child,

Quicken the everlasting fires that glow

Upon your birthright’s altar? England smiled

Beside your cradle, trusting you to show,

With manhood’s might,

The undying light

That points the road her freeborn spirits go.

England’s your Mother! Man, forget it not

Wherever on the wide-wayed earth your fate

Calls you to labour; whatsoe’er your lot—

In service, or in power, in stress or state—

Whate’er betide,

With humble pride,

Remember! By your Mother you are great.

England’s your Mother! What though dark the day

Above the storm-swept frontier that you tread?

Her vanished children throng the glorious way:

A myriad legions of her living dead—

Those starry trains

That shared your pains—

Shall set their crown of light upon your head.

England’s your Mother! When the race is run

And you are called to leave your life and die,

Small matter what is lost, so this be won:

An after-glow of blessed memory,

Gracious and pure,

In witness sure

“England was this man’s Mother: he, her son.”

EDEN PHILLPOTTS

“My son, go and fight for your Motherland!”

The bubble is very nicely balanced, for German “kultur,” which is in reality but another word for “system” or “organisation,” rather than that which English-speaking people understand by “culture,” has built up a system of internal credit that shall ensure the correct balance of the bubble—for just as long as the militarist policy of Germany can endure the strain of war. But money alone is not sufficient for victory; the peasant hard put to it to suppress his laugh, and the crowned Germania that built up the paper pedestal of the bubble, needed many other things to make that pedestal secure; there was needed integrity, and the respect of neighbouring nations, and the understanding of other points of view beside the doctrine of force, and liberty instead of coercion of a whole nation, and many other things that the older civilisations of Europe have accepted as parts of their code of life—the things this new, upstart Germany has not had time to learn. Thus, with the paper credit—and even with the gold reserve of which Germany has boasted, the pedestal is but paper. And the winds that blow from the flooded, corpse-strewn districts of the Yser, from Artois, from Champagne and the Vosges hills and forests, and from the long, long line of Russia’s grim defences—these winds shall blow it away, leaving a nation bankrupt not only in money, but in the power to coerce, in the power to inspire fear, and in all those things out of which the Hohenzollern dynasty has built up the last empire of force.

E. CHARLES VIVIAN

THE GERMAN LOAN

“Don’t breathe on the bubble or the whole will collapse.”

There are some English critics who have not yet considered so simple a thing as that the case against horrors must be horrible. In this respect alone this publication of the work of the distinguished foreign cartoonist is a thing for our attention and enlightenment. It is the whole point of the awful experience which has to-day swallowed up all our smaller experiences, that we are in any case confronted with the abominable; and the most beautiful thing we can hope to show is only an abomination of it. Nevertheless, there is horror and horror. The distinction between brute exaggeration and artistic emphasis could hardly be better studied than in Mr. Raemaekers’ cartoon, and the use he makes of the very ancient symbol of the wheel. Europe is represented as dragged and broken upon the wheel as in the old torture; but the wheel is that of a modern cannon, so that the dim background can be filled in with the suggestion of a wholly modern machinery. This is a very true satire; for there are many scientific persons who seem to be quite reconciled to the crushing of humanity by a vague mechanical environment in which there are wheels within wheels. But the inner restraint of the artist is suggested in the treatment of the torment itself; which is suggested by a certain rending drag in the garments, while the limbs are limp and the head almost somnolent. She does not strive nor cry; neither is her voice heard in the streets. The artist had not to draw pain but to draw despair; and while the pain is old enough the particular despair is modern. The victim racked for a creed could at least cry “I am converted.” But here even the terms of surrender are unknowable; and she can only ask “Am I civilised?”

G. K. CHESTERTON

EUROPE, 1916

“Am I not yet sufficiently civilised?”