s are affected by this sentiment; but he
despises them for it. Woman is the weaker vessel; and therefore,
according to his code, she must be taught to know her place, which is to
cook and sew, and produce "cannon-fodder" for the Government. Readers of
Schopenhauer and Nietzsche will remember the advice given by those
philosophers for the treatment of women. Nietzsche recommends a whip. It
never occurred to German officialdom that the pedantic condemnation of
one obscure woman, guilty by the letter of their law, would stir the
heart of England and America to the depths, and steel our soldiers to
further efforts against an enemy whose moral unlikeness to ourselves
becomes more apparent with every new phase in the struggle.

THE DEAN OF ST. PAUL'S.

[Illustration: THROWN TO THE SWINE

The Martyred Nurse]

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

THE LAND MINE

What does this cartoon suggest? I am asked and I ask myself. At first
very little, almost nothing, only uninteresting, ugly death, gloomy,
ghastly, dismal, but dull and largely featureless, blank and negative.
Has the artist's power failed him? No, it is strongly drawn. Has his
inspiration? What does it mean? Is it indeed meant? As I gaze and pore
on it longer, I seem to see that it is just in this blank negation that
its strength and its suggestion lie. It is meant. It has meaning. A
blast has passed over this place, and this is its sequel, its derelict
rubbish.

It is death unredeemed, death with no very positive suggestion, with no
hint of heroism, none of heroic action, little even of heroic passion;
just death, helpless, hopeless, pointing to nothing but decomposition,
decay, disappearance, _aneantissement_, reduction of the fair frame of
life to nothingness. That is the peculiar horror of this war. Were the
picture, as it well might be, even more hideous, and did it suggest
something more definite, a story of struggle, say, recorded in
contortion, or by wounds and weapons, it might be better.

But men killed by machines, men killed by natural forces unnaturally
employed, are indeed a fact and a spectacle squalid, sorry, unutterably
sad.

All wars have been horrible, but modern wars are more in extremes.
Heroism is there, but not always. It is possible only in patches. There
is much of the mere sacrifice of numbers. Strictly, there are scenes far
worse than this, for death