The sun., 1918-11-17
A BARBARIC YAWP.

nelegance the neatly adJectved noun was felt TO be
really brilliant Stump speakers made the eagle
scream chap like WHITMAN had to be charac-
terized handily too. '.'-<
The epigrammatc mind is the card index mind
Now the remarkable thing about the card index is
its casualty list. People who card index things are
people who proceed to forget those things. The
metal rod that transixeS the perforated cards
pierces the indexers' brains. mechanical device
has been called into play. Brains are unnecessary
any more The day of pigeonholes was slightly
better; for the pigeonhOles were not unlike the
human brain in which things are tucked away
together, because they really have some association
with each other. But the card index alphabetizes
ruthlessly. Fancy an alphabetical brain!
Epigrams are like that. A man cannot take the
trouble to think: he falls back on an epigram. He
cannot take the trouble TO remember and so he card
indexes. The upshot is that he can find nothing in
the card index and of course has recollection to
fall back on Or he recalls the epigram without
r having the slightest idea what it was meant to
signify.
But this is not to be about card indexes nor even
about epigrams. 1t is to be barbaric yawp, by
which it is to be supposed was once meant the happy
consciousness and the proud wonder that struck
into the heart of an American poet. WHITMAN was
not so much poet as the chanteyman Of LoNGFEL-
lows Ship of State. There an hour when the
ehanteyman had an inspiration, when he as by
an apocayptc light all the people Of these United
States linked and joined in a common effort. Every
man. woman and child Of the millions tailed on the
rope; every one of them put his weight and muscle
to the task. 1t was tremendous hour. 1t was the
hour of a common effort. Itwas the hour for which,
WALT felt, men had risked their lives century
earlier. It was a revealed hour it had not yet ar
rived; but it was sure to come. And in the glow
of that revelation he singer lifted up his voice
and sang. God grant he may be hearing
the mighty chorus!
The People of America.
America is not land but people. And people
may have no land and still they will remain a
people There has, for years, been no country Of
Poland; but there are Poles. There has been a
country of Russia for centuries but there is to-day
no Russian people. What makes peoplef Not a
land certainly. Not political forms nor political
sovereignty. Not even political independence. Nor,
for that matter, voices that pretend or aspire to
speak the thoughts of nation. Poland has had
such voices and Russia has had her artists, musi-
clans, novelsts, poets
The thing that makes people is thing over
which statesmen have no control. Geography
throws no light on the subject Nor does that study
of the races of man which is called anthropolOgy.
tt is not psychological secret psychology covers
multitude of guesses). Philosophy may evolve
beautiful systems of thought, but systems of
thought have nothing to do with the particular
puzzle before
The secret must be sought elsewhere Is If an in
herited thing, this thing that makes peopleF That
can't be; ours is mixed inheritance here in
America 1t is an abstract ideaG Abstract ideas
are never more than architectural pencillings and
seldom harden into concrete foundations. Is it
common emotion? If it should be able to
agree on a name for it. Is it an instinct? An in
stnct might be back of it.
What is left? Can it be religion9 As such it
should be easily recognizable. But an element of
religion? An act of faith9
Yes, for faith may exist with without creed,
and the act of faith may be deliberate involun-
tary. Wed or unwilled the faith is held; formu-
lated or unfomulated the essential creed is there.
Let us look at the people of America, and
women of very divergent types and tempers far
apart: men and women of inextricable heredities
and of confusing beliefs ordinarily, Of
Eaob holi cof Of