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 paralyzed by the
threat.