Are You a Bromide? Part 1

Are You A Bromide?

by Gelett Burgess.

ARE YOU A BROMIDE?

The terms "Bromide" and "Sulphite" as applied to psychological rather than chemical a.n.a.lysis have already become, among the _illuminati_, so widely adopted that these denominations now stand in considerable danger of being weakened in significance through a too careless use. The adjective "bromidic" is at present adopted as a general vehicle, a common carrier for the thoughtless d.a.m.nation of the Philistine. The time has come to formulate, authoritatively, the precise scope of intellect which such distinctions suggest and to define the shorthand of conversation which their use has made practicable. The rapid spread of the theory, traveling from Sulphite to Sulphite, like the spark of a pyrotechnic set-piece, till the thinking world has been over-violently illuminated, has obscured its genesis and diverted attention from the simplicity and force of its fundamental principles.[1] In this, its progress has been like that of slang, which, gaining in popularity, must inevitably decrease in aptness and definiteness.

[Footnote 1: It was in April that I first heard of the Theory from the Chatelaine. The following August, in Venice, a lady said to me: "Aren't these old palaces a great deal more sulphitic in their decay than they were originally, during the Renaissance?"]

In attempting to solve the problem which for so long was the despair of philosophers I have made modest use of the word "theory." But to the Sulphite, this simple, convincing, comprehensive explanation is more; it is an opinion, even a belief, if not a _credo_. It is the _crux_ by which society is tested. But as I shall proceed scientifically, my conclusion will, I trust, effect rational proof of what was an _a priori_ hypothesis.

The history of the origin of the theory is brief. The Chatelaine of a certain sugar plantation in Louisiana, in preparing a list of guests for her house-party, discovered, in one of those explosive moments of inspiration, that all people were easily divided into two fundamental groups or families, the Sulphites and the Bromides. The revelation was apodictic, convincing; it made life a different thing; it made society almost plausible. So, too, it simplified human relationship and gave the first hint of a method by which to adjust and equalize affinities.

The primary theorems sprang quickly into her mind, and, such is their power, they have attained almost the nature of axioms. The discovery, indeed, was greater, more far-reaching than she knew, for, having undergone the test of philosophical a.n.a.lysis as well as of practical application, it stands, now, a vital, convincing interpretation of the mysteries of human nature.

We have all tried our hands at categories. Philosophy is, itself, but a system of definitions. What, then, made the Chatelaine's theory remarkable, when Civilization has wearied itself with distinctions? The attempt to cla.s.sify one's acquaintance is the common sport of the thinker, from the fastidious who says: "There are two kinds of persons--those who like olives and those who don't," to the fatuous, immemorial lover who says: "There are two kinds of women--Daisy, and the Other Kind!"

Previous attempts, less fantastic, have had this fault in common: their categories were susceptible of gradation--extremes fused one into the other. What thinking person has not felt the need of some definite, final, absolute cla.s.sification? We speak of "my kind" and "the other sort," of Those who Understand, of Impossibles, and Outsiders. Some of these categories have attained considerable vogue. There is the Bohemian versus the Philistine, the Radical versus the Conservative, the Interesting versus the Bores, and so on. But always there is a shifting population at the vague frontier--the types intermingle and lose ident.i.ty. Your Philistine is the very one who says: "This is Liberty Hall!"--and one must drink beer whether one likes it or not. It is the conservative business man, hard-headed, stubborn, who is converted by the mind-reader or the spiritualistic medium--one extreme flying to the other. It is the bore who, at times, unconsciously to himself, amuses you to the point of repressed laughter. These terms are fluent--your friends have a way of escaping from the labeled boxes into which you have put them; they seem to defy your definitions, your Orders and Genera. Fifteen minutes' consideration of the great Sulphitic Theory will, as the patent medicines say, convince one of its efficacy. A Bromide will never jump out of his box into that ticketed "Sulphite."

So much comment has been made upon the terminology of this theory that it should be stated frankly, at the start, that the words Sulphite and Bromide, and their derivatives, sulphitic and bromidic, are themselves so sulphitic that they are not susceptible of explanation. In a word, they are empirical, although, accidentally it might seem, they do appeal and convince the most skeptical. I myself balked, at first, at these inconsequent names. I would have suggested the terms "Gothic" and "Cla.s.sic" to describe the fundamental types of mind. But it took but a short conversation with the Chatelaine to demonstrate the fact that the words were inevitable, and the rapid increase in their use has proved them something more real than slang--an acceptable and accepted terminology. Swallow them whole, therefore, and you will be so much better for the dose that, upon finishing this thesis you will say, "Why, _of course_ there are no other words possible!"

Let us, therefore, first proceed with a general statement of the theory and then develop some of its corollaries. It is comparatively easy to define the Bromide; let us consider his traits and then cla.s.sify the Sulphite by a mere process of exclusion.

In this our world the Bromides const.i.tute, alas! by far the larger group. In this, the type resembles the primary bodies or other systems of cla.s.sification, such as the Philistines, the Conservatives, the Bores and so on, _ad nauseam_. The Bromide does his thinking by syndicate. He follows the main traveled roads, he goes with the crowd.

In a word, they all think and talk alike--one may predicate their opinion upon any given subject. They follow custom and costume, they obey the Law of Averages. They are, intellectually, all peas in the same conventional pod, unenlightened, prosaic, living by rule and rote.

They have their hair cut every month and their minds keep regular office hours. Their habits of thought are all ready-made, proper, sober, befitting the Average Man. They worship dogma. The Bromide conforms to everything sanctioned by the majority, and may be depended upon to be trite, ba.n.a.l and arbitrary.

So much has a mere name already done for us that we may say, boldly, and this is our First Theorem: that all Bromides are bromidic in every manifestation of their being. But a better comprehension of the term, and one which will perhaps remove the taint of malediction, will be attained if we examine in detail a few essential bromidic tendencies.

The adjective is used more in pity than in anger or disgust. The Bromide can't possibly help being bromidic--though, on the other hand, he wouldn't if he could.

The chief characteristic, then, seems to be a certain reflex psychological action of the bromidic brain. This is evidenced by the accepted bromidic belief that each of the ordinary acts of life is, and necessarily must be, accompanied by its own especial remark or opinion.

It is an a.s.sociation of ideas intensified in each generation by the continual correlation of certain groups of brain cells. It has become not only unnecessary for him to think, but almost impossible, so deeply these well-worn paths of thought have become. His intellectual processes are automatic--his train of thought can never get off the track.

A single ill.u.s.tration will suffice for a.n.a.lysis. You have heard it often enough; fie upon you if you have said it!

"_If you saw that sunset painted in a picture, you'd never believe it would be possible!_"

It must be borne distinctly in mind that _it is not merely because this remark is trite that it is bromidic_; it is because that, with the Bromide, the remark is _inevitable_. One expects it from him, and one is never disappointed. And, moreover, it is always offered by the Bromide as a fresh, new, apt and rather clever thing to say. He really believes, no doubt, that it is original--it is, at any rate, neat, as he indicates by his evident expectation of applause. The remark follows upon the physical or mental stimulus as the night the day; he cannot, then, be true to any other impulse. Originality was inhibited in him since his great-grandmother's time. He has "got the habit."

Accepting his irresponsibility, and with all charity to his undeveloped personality, we may note a few other examples of his mental reflexes.

The list is long, but it would take a large encyclopaedia to exhaust the subject. The pastime, recently come into vogue, of collecting Bromidioms,[1] is a pursuit by itself, worthy enough of practice if one appreciates the subtleties of the game and does not merely collate hackneyed phrases, irrespective of their true bromidic quality. For our purpose in elucidating the thesis in hand, however, we need cull but a few specimens, leaving the list to be completed by the reader at his leisure.

[Footnote 1: For this apt and cleverly coined word I am indebted to Mr.

Frank O'Malley of the New York "Sun," who has been one of the most ardent and discriminating collectors of Bromidioms.]

If you both happen to know Mr. Smith of Des Moines, the Bromide inevitably will say:

"_This world is such a small place, after all, isn't it_?"

The Bromide never mentions such a vulgar thing as a birth, but

"_The Year Baby Came_."

The Bromide's euphemisms are the slang of her caste. When she departs from her visit, she says:

_"I've had a perfectly charming time."_

_"It's SO good of you to have asked me_!"

"_Now, DO come and see us_!"

And when her caller leaves, her mind springs with a snap to fasten the time-worn farewell:

"_Now you have found the way, do come often_!"

And this piece of ancient cynicism has run through a thousand changes:

"_Of course if you leave your umbrella at home it's sure to rain!_"

But comment, to the Sulphite, is unnecessary. These remarks would all be in his Index Epurgatorius, if one were necessary. Except in jest it would never even occur to him to use any of the following remarks:

I.

"_I don't know much about Art, but I know what I like._"

II.

"_My mother is seventy years old, but she doesn't look a day over fifty._"