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 civilized?"