The recent descent of so many of her citizens from the people now
warring in Europe has of necessity prevented America from looking
on events in Europe with a single eye. But the predominant American
type and the predominant American frame of mind are still typified by
the lithe and sinuous figure of the New England pioneer. It is his
tradition to mind his own business, but it is also his business to
see that none of the old monarchies make free with his rights or with
his people. And he stands for a race that has been cradled in wars
with savages. No one knows better the methods of the Apache and the
Mohawk, and when women and children fall into such pitiless hands as
these, it goes against the grain with Uncle Sam to keep his hands off
them, even if the women and children are not his own. He would like
to be indifferent if he could. He would prefer to smoke his cigar,
and pass along, and believe those who tell him that it is none of his
affair. But when he does look--and he cannot help looking--he sees a
figure of such heavy bestiality that his gorge rises. He must keep his
hands clenched in his pockets lest he soils them in striking down the
blood-stained gnome before him.
Can he restrain himself for good? That angry glint in his eye would
make one doubt it. Here, surely, the artist sees with a truer vision
than the politician. And if Uncle Sam’s anger does once get the better
of him, if doubts and hesitations are ever thrust on one side, if he
takes his stand where his record and his sympathies must make him wish
to be, then let it be noted that this base butcher stands dazed and
paralysed by the threat.