BLACKWELL FAMILY MISCELLANY PRINTED MATTER ALICE STONE BLACKWELLTHE MACCABAEAN. 111 Worse than wild beasts' your deeds; the peoples' flesh You eat, as eats the moth a garment's mesh! "The widow's righteous claim ye do not heed, Because she brings the judge no gift. Behold, A bribe appeases wrath; judgment ye give Still for the evil-doer who has gold, Though deep be his transgression as a grave, Because he fills your hands with what you crave. "Vilely ye have provoked the Lord your God; Like words of revelation seem to you The Gentiles' words; so ye bow down to Baal, Break every law, serve a strange God and new. You from your nation turn away and mock; To you God's word is grown a laughingstock! "Woe to ye, men of fraud! O men of blood! Ye think within your hearts that ye are wise, Your prophets, fools and blind; that evermore Ye shall live on, as now, in prosperous guise. E'en though ye sow injustice and speak lies, Ye think that no avenger will arise. "Make haste to wash and purify yourselves Before that day, that fearful day has birth, The day of pain, of punishment and woe, When God shall rise to fill with awe the earth, And deeds of violence to annihilate. I see it, it is near, 'tis at the gate!" The prophet walks; and now and then the wind Brings to his ears, "The prophet is insane! His words are folly all, and meaningless." Thus speak and say the scoffers, the profane-- Light-minded sinners, idly chattering still, And trampling on the people's heads at will. When day is setting and the sun goes down, And stars do glitter in the heaven's blue, He leaves the gathered scoffers, seeks his home, And with hot tear-drops doth his bed bedew, Praying, "O Lord, forgive this generation, The children of Thy sore-afflicted nation! "Behold and see how they are now disgraced Among the nations! Fugitives are they And wanderers; like shadows, lo, they roam, And at each step of their unending way They find but thorn and thistle 'neath their feet! If Thou wouldst have them serve Thee as is meet, "Hurl down the hostile throne! Oppression's power Scatter like chaff!" And he forgetteth quite The day of punishment, the day of wrath, And sweet he finds the stillness of the night. There hovers on his lips a lovely smile, And peace divine rests on his head the while. Sept. 1906.112 THE MACCABAEAN. THE WORKS OF MORITZ STEINSCHNEIDER By Dr. Henry Malter (Translated from the German by Leon A. Kohn.) Men of intellect and science fall naturally into two groups, the subjectively creative and the objectively reproductive. The first group comprises those thinkers who, after a thorough research of a definite field in all its details, free themselves, as it were, from their material, giving their ideas and often even their fantasies free play, and constructing systems of thought which they invariably present according to their individual disposition and ability. The goal at which they aim in their labors is chiefly to establish the subjectively conceived coherence, the unity amidst the complexity of things, and in this way to convince the reader of the logic and truth of their ideas. The scientific measure of values for such productions is always the degree of objectivity that comes to light in them, regardless of their subjective tone. The highest type of this bent of mind is exemplified by the genuine philosopher, who tries to work up the inner and outer experiences into a self-evident portrayal that is in keeping with reality. On the lowest rung of the ladder, in this respect, is the gushing Euphuist, who, because he is wanting in power and thought and analysis, fails to see clearly the subject to be treated, and therefore lacks objectivity. To the second class of investigators belong those who do not separate themselves perceptibly from their material in order to examine it subjectively, but who rather let it speak for itself, critically classified and arranged. They do not set out to state and solve philosophic problems, so much as to bring the manifold objects of knowledge from obscurity into light. The scientific measure for the valuation of their performances is here exactly reversed. It is the degree of individuality which expresses itself, despite all objectivity in the manner of their arrangement and treatment of the subject. The highest type of this class is the universal scholar, who, despite the rich profusion of his material, makes everything luminous through his critical genius, and knows how to make that which is seemingly most insignificant, fruitful for science. His antipode is the scientific small-dealer, the quibler, the collector of old manuscripts, who, because he is without genius or individuality, must content himself with the roll of dull statistician. In antiquity, both classes which we have here delineated, had already attained to their highest manifestation in Plato and Aristotle. The decision as to which of these two types should be esteemed the more highly for its advancement of knowledge will always depend on the individual bent of the judge, according as he is more inclined to view things in the abstract or the concrete. Both parties must, after all, supplement each other in the endeavor to discover truth. Moritz Steinschneider is indisputably, representative of the highest type of the objective investigator. He is the most universal Jewish scholar that the present day can show. In the many-sidedness of his scientific researches, in the multifairousness of his literary interests, in the mastery of foreign languages, he stands incomparable. In wealth of knowledge and creative power he overtops all other Jewish scholars of the Nineteenth Century. For even the most eniment among them applied themselves to a more or less narrowly limited field of research in Jewish literature or even in the literature of thePepper Seeks to Free Politicals Of Sacramento Pennsylvania Senator's Plea for Amnesty Now Includes California Wobblies. By MILDRED MORRIS. WASHINGTON, June 17. - Senator George Wharton Pepper of Pennsylvania, conservative Republican and friend of President Harding, who is already on record for the immediate and unconditional release of all the remaining Chicago I.W.W. political prisoners, has broadened his recommendation to include all the Sacramento cases. It is at the request of President Harding, he states, that he has submitted his findings - the result of seven months' exhaustive study - to Assistent Attorney General Seymour. As in the Chicago cases, he gives as his conclusion that there is doubt to say the least "whether the men sentenced at Sacramento should have been found guilty on the counts on which they were convicted" and that "even if the evidence justified conviction, they already have served superabundant sentences. Change to Legal Profession. "The presence of these men in jail is a challenge to an American lawyer's lowalty to his profession," said Senator Pepper. "I went into their cases not as a senator, but as an American citizen and a lawyer. No lawyer can afford to be indifferent to cases affecting human liberty, the maintenance of which must depend on the regularity of our criminal procedure." The Federated Press has learned definitely from the Department of Justice that the President has only 20 political prisoners' cases before him with favorable recommendations. These (Continued on page 3.)MY CURSE! By EZEKIEL LEAVITT. Translated from the Hebrew by ADAM ROSENBERG, A.B.L.L.B. In Christendom's churches the multitudes crowd, To Mary the Virgin their hymns ring aloud; Their thoughts full of villainy deeply priests hide, And preach to their flocks of religion's high pride. To Christendom's churches the worshippers stream, It's Easter they hallow - Ascension they dream - The Sun's glittering beam makes their faces aglow, And the atmosphere warm with their radiant flow. Spread out over infinite space is her light, Of gold is her canopy, her rays shining bright; While numberless strollers come forward in herds, Enjoying the town-park, a cot full of birds. Enjoying the town-park with singing and glee, Nearby, from afar, joyous notes loud resound; Mild zephyrs across the balm air gently flee, The ether on high as a carpet unwound. The trees play in frolick, they greet the spring-tide And loving the blossom caresses the bud; The butterfly dances about close and wide And chirping the larks on the twigs to all nod. But, suddenly tumult and screams, with wild might, Are filling the markets in growing turmoil Lo! hordes of mean ruffians there, grown o'er night. Cry out in mad frenzy: "Strike down and despoil!" "Ah! destructon and death to the Jews, the accurst! So ordered the Czar, 'tis his solemn behest, Let us gather in bands, let our hands do their worst, And plentiful loot from our victims we'll wrest." Thus sally they forth, all that devilish breed, The great and the small, out of hell they all spout; They murder, they ravish, no prayers they heed, Babes' brains do bespatter the blood-reddened knout. The houses of Israel in wrecks high they pile, The aged, the young, neither pitied nor spared They outrage the maiden, the virgin defile, As refuse in streets, alas! numbers' uncared. Smitten and tortured! - O Lord of the world! Where wert thou while savages fiendishly wrought? Why were not thy thunders quick mightily hurled To stay the mad tyrants' ferocious onslaught? How long yet shall sway us this infamous reign, Romanoff's black sceptre, a lasting disgrace! To accept our strong plea may O, Jehovah now deign, Of Czardom wipe out every visible trace. - Over Russia pour Thou Almighty Thy wrath! She knoweth not mercy, blind force, is her law; Reveal to all nations thy vengeance' just path And Russia's dire doom may Thy hands, pray near draw.Plain Talk No. 4 CZAR NICHOLAS BECOMES A JEW OR JESUS DEMANDS HIS CHRISTIANITY BACK A STORY BY PLATON BROUNOFF PUBLISHED BY THE LIBERAL ART SOCIETY 251 E. B'WAY, NEW YORK PRICE, 25 CENTS Copyright 1906 by Platon BroanoffFeb 16-1910 THE MUSICAL COURIER 23 a composer tries to exploit his own art works the more crazy he is considered. Let the composer write; let the manager produce. We need in America good managers as well as we need good composers. We have the composers who are good composers-who are masters- but I am not so sure we have the managers. We need an American opera company for American operas. Let some one call in the operas that are written and are being written to rove it to himself. If he is sincere, and can prove it, he will be surprised and delighted. The composers are doing their duty, rest assured, and if the managers will do their duty the whole matter is settled about the American composer coming into his own. The manager will be doing as much for himself as he will American art. For he will not lose. Who can prove he will?I am working on my second grand opera, others are doing the same, and will continue to do so until finally the time comes when American opera by Americans is no longer a speculation. The composer of conviction, of centered thought, of long ago self settled assurance, need not fear, nor does he, that the time will come to him when he will and shall be heard. He knows and writes on and on, unmindful of the click, not as yet for him, or the clang of the useless babble against him. Encourage the managers; the composers are taking care of themselves. Encourage the people; the composers are wedded to the muse. The American composer ha come into his own -into his kingdom; the trouble is the people have not yet found it out. In time it will be found out, then there will go up a great cry. But then, what have we to do with their cry? Managers are letting opportunities slip through their fingers, but never mind, they are the losers. They are more interested in baseball scores than they are in opera scores. Are there those who doubt what I have said? Then call in the operas written and being written, and it be will proven. Produce them and be convinced. While we who compose lock ourselves in the halls of sound, those chambers sacred and secure, let those who live in the outward self ask for and receive our messages spoken in the soul's language. Respectfully, Charles F. Carlson. American Indian Subject. This leads directly to a matter affecting the whole operatic situation. Opera in English on a foreign or alien subject cannot be considered as typical in the sense of American opera, just as little as opera in English on mythological, classical or European romantic subjects can be considered, strictly speaking, American opera, if composed by an American. The subject, the topic must be American. Platon Brounoff has composed a grand opera- romantic- in three acts, and the subject is Indian-American, and not remote, but modern. It is called "Ramona," and is drafted from the legend of the battle of the Little Big Horn, the battle made famous by Custer. There are five characters, soprano, alto, tenor, baritone and basso, chorus and dancers. Mr. Brounoff has for some years been studying Indian music, the Indian intervals, rhythms and melodic forms. He is a Russian by birth, but is an American citizen, and during the past sixteen years has been doing musical work in the East Side settlements. Mr. Brounoff graduated from the Imperial Conservatory of Music, St. Petersburg, in 1891, receiving the Anton Rubinstein medal. He was also a student under the scholarly direction of Rimsky-Korsakoff in composition. Seidl conducted an "Intermezzo" of his at a Metropolitan Opera House concert in 1894. In 1896 a cantata of his, "Angel," for two voices, chorus and orchestra, was successfully produced by the New York Manuscript Society at Chickering Hall. His symphonic overture, "Russia," was given at Carnegie Music Hall, May 20, 1896, and repeated in 1897 by the Seidl Orchestra. A suite for piano and cello was heard at Mendelssohn Glee Club Hall the same year. There are many other compositions from the pen of Mr. Brounoff, but, unfortunately, the prejudice against our own composers and our unjust copyright laws are constantly the intervening powers that prevent the works of our own people from even a temporary audition, much less a chance performance. In the national sense, American music, music founded on our indigenous idiom, is represented by Dvorak, who lived here for a time in the negro song; by MacDonell in the Indian song; by Cadman in the same tenor, and by Brounoff now with this Indian opera, Indian in atmosphere and in artistic relief. The subject appeals to the intensity of the national feeling itself, being associated with an American hero and with the last significant stand taken by the aborigine's remnant, and the whole country has a deep sympathy for the Indian legend, as it is now known to us in literary and also historical sense. Brounoff has attacked the musical subject with musical confidence; that is with the confidence of a composer sure of his subject and the handling of its material. The Indian music is directly infused without any disguise of purpose. Rhythmically, harmonically and melodically the solos, the choruses, the marches and dances appeal to us as distinctively Indian and the work is immeasurably superior to many opera that have been produced here at enormous expense. Although I have heard parts of it with piano accompaniment only, yet the score and what was heard create the impression that a worthy effort has been made successfully to launch a work that contains the elements of success if produced properly. The time is auspicious and an enterprising manager may here find the solution for a new and novel appeal to the people on the basis of grand opera. Blumenberg SHIRTWAISTS AND MOZART. Mozart is the most inspiring name for a musical club, but even the hallowed influence of such a title was not enough to preserve peace in the new Mozart Society, which was organized in New York a few months ago by a number of ladies who retired -or were forced to retire- from the Rubinstein Club. From what can be gleaned by the rumors, the trouble within the ranks of the Mozart Society was started by an ill advised remark by one of the officers to a sister officer living in Brooklyn. The Brooklyn member induced many of her good friends in that highly respectable borough of Greater New York to join the club when she did. They joined, and being simple Brooklynites they had not yet found the courage to attend afternoon receptions in Decollete gowns and diamonds. Books of etiquette have branded such things as unfit for afternoon functions, and in Brooklyn they are very conventional, living up to etiquette and religion to the very letter of the law. But the officer who lives in Manhattan, and who, according to rumor, possesses a rather grewsome sense of humor, turned to her sister officer living in Brooklyn and remarked airily: "I see your Brooklyn friends are all here; I know them by their shirtwaists." Prestissimo! The Brooklyn officer waxed angry and she resigned and will form another club. That is right. There are not nearly enough clubs. There should be at least a thousand more in New York. But why should any woman criticise women who wear shirtwaists? There never was a neater fashion. So long as shirtwaists are beautifully laundered they are appropriate to wear at club meetings. It is really none of our business to touch upon things sartorial, but if we may be allowed the privilege, we should say that clean shirtwaists are more becoming to the average woman than cheap laces and tawdry silks, and by no means consort illy with the music of the classic masters. Some day grand opera will be sung in English here, and then no prudish person need fear that the immoral texts will be understood. Variations Ferrucio Busoni is a remarkable man in many ways. I remember him well ten years or so ago in Berlin. when he used to play billiards at the old Cafe Austria against the lamented Novacek, and fill out the pauses between shots with deeply impressive discourse on art and aesthetics. Novacek was a soul to delight one. He had the speech of a cynic, but the heart of him throbbed to every human appeal. The poor fellow died quite suddenly and his friends wept in love and pity, for Novacek was just beginning to develop into a composer of strongly marked individuality. Among his earlier works he counted a "Concerto Eroico" for piano, an extremely difficult but admittedly "ungrateful" piece. The Nikisch Philharmonic series one day announced Busoni as the soloist of its next regular pair of concerts. The student world was on the qui vive to find out what Busoni would play, for even at that time he was recognized by the piano sharps as an interpreter of unquestioned authority, and his readings of the concertos usually settled for us all controversies that arose after the performances of the other well known keyboard kings. The Billboards spread the information that Busoni had selected Novacek's "Concerto Eroico" as his number at the Nikisch Philharmonic. There was a great scurrying to get hold of the score of the work, and those of us who looked it over before the concert could not understand why Busoni should risk his customary success by preferring the abstruse Novacek concerto to the "sure winners" represented in the regular Beethoven, Chopin, List and Schumann repertory of compositions for piano with orchestra. The Novacek concerto fell flat, in spite of Busoni's brilliant and sympathetic exposition. I met Novacek next day and said to him: "That was an admirable act of friendship on the part of Busoni." Novacek replied rather hotly: "If you think that he played my concerto because he is a friend of mine you are mistaken. He put it on the program because he believes in it as a work of art." The comment of the cafe was jeering. Somebody snickered at Novacek's speech. Not long afterward, however, there was another demonstration of Busoni's sincerity where his artistic convictions were concerned. He decided that he would give a series of orchestral concerts at which he would conduct exclusively such compositions of living musicians as had enjoyed no previous performance in public. The group at the Austria shook its wise heads. "Nobody will pay to hear such concerts" made up the consensus of cafe opinion. (You must know that the true musical criticism of Berlin grows only in the cafes- or, at least, it did in those days.) Again Novacek came to the rescue of his friend. "He does not expect the concerts to pay," he declared. "Who'll make up the deficit?" we asked. "He will," was the positive dictum. And Busoni did. Some few years later, the strangely unmodern Busoni settled for the summer in Weimar, and, in the manner of Liszt, gathered about him a class of student disciples. "Has he enough pupils to makeExclusive Armenian Brothers in Venezuela Give Aluminum to U. S. (Copyright, 1942, by Boston Globe and Overseas New Agency, Inc.) CARACAS, Venezuela, June 24 (ONA)--Three Armenian brothers who fled from starvation and persecution in the Old World 20 years go to find their fortune in the New, announced today a concrete demonstration of their gratitude. The brothers, Raul, Steve and Hiram Zarikian, fled from Armenia to the Argentine 20 years ago with their aged mother. They came to Caracas a few years later, opened a small dry-goods business and prospered. This week, from a defunct cutlery plant, the brother purchased about six tons of aluminum worth at current Venezuelan prices, about $30,000. They are sending it as a gift to the United States with the expressed hope that it will not only aid the United Nations but will go into planes that will help defend their native land from the Nazis. [*Address :- Messrs Raul Zarikian, Steve Zarikian, Hiram Zarikian Caracas, Venezuela Care Overseas News Agency, Inc. Please forward. If not delivered, return postage guaranteed.*] [*[Haireuli?] May [14] 1934*] UnreadableUnreadable[*Rev [?Grathe] dug this out.*] [*Hurrah! He! He!*] THE NEW YORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW, August 8, 1937. [*SPANISH AMERICAN POETS*] [*Otherwise*] New Editions, Fine & By EDWARD LAROQUE TINKER DURING the days of the Mexican revolution three true descendants of medieval troubadours used to travel on Pancho Villa's troop trains. There was a tall, sad, cadaverous Don Quixote, a short, merry Sancho Panzo, and a "betwixt and between" with a repulsive harelip. They always dressed in oddments of cast-off uniforms and were armed with a battered mandolin and a guitar. By grace of the gift of poetical improvisation, inherited from their Spanish peasant ancestors, they fathered folksongs with spontaneous ease. After every battle they'd celebrate Villa's invincible leadership, the deeds of his generals and the courage of his troops in interminable ballads that droned on and on to haunting minor accompaniments. These sagas of their own composition were interspersed with gayer bits--"La Cucaracha" and "Adelita," Villa's favorite. No sooner did they begin than ragged soldiers and slattern soldaderas deserted their camp-fires, crawled down from the roofs of freight cars and out from the rods underneath to gather around them and listen for hours to their songs. Poetry and music move even the poorest, most illiterate pelados, and they have a deep and real affection for them. Alice Stone Blackwell, in the introduction to her book "Some Spanish-American Poets" (University of Pennsylvania Press, $1.50), tells a story that further illustrates this. During a skirmish in the Mexican revolution a defeated fugitive took refuge in a tree, but his pursuers discovered him and were aiming their guns when he called out, "Don't shoot, I'm a poet!" They immediately lowered their weapons, so great was their veneration for the Muse, and spared his life. * * * WHAT is true of Mexico is true of other Hispanic republics, and where the roots of appreciation extend so deep in to the hearts of the people a fine flowering of poetry is bound to occur. The bar of a different language prevented any general realization of the beauty of the poems of our Latin-American neighbors until Miss Blackwell made sensitive and sympathetic translations of some of the finest verses written by the singers south of the Rio Grande. She has included, and her only gauge was her personal taste, 207 poems by 89 authors of 19 different countries. Most of the verses have been translated into English . for the first time, and Miss Blackwell's versions have lost none of the subtle beauty and melodic rhythm of their original tongue-- an achievement of distinction, especially if one thinks that Spanish is as gorgeously sonorous as Bonifacio Byrne believes it to be when he says: It holds the harmonies of music tones, The storm's fierce cry, the echo of the sea, Day's glory, and the firmness grand and fair Of granite rocks, that steadfast be-- The sacred poetry of cloistered aisles. And the broad scope of all infinity! The Hispano-American temperament, with the warmth of its imagination, the heat of its passion and the spontaneity of its expression, is a particularly fruitful soil for poetry, and poetry of a wide range of variety. Miss Blackwell in her anthology includes all kinds: love verses of exquisite daintiness, like Amado Nervo's "To Leonora"; poems of universality of appeal, like Reuben Dario's splendid compositions; and autochthonous chants, like Manuel Acufia's "Last of the Aztecs," or the gaucho poet Raphael Obligato's "Santos Vega." There is no mention, however, of JACK LONDON [*Jack London*] Jack London's Bookplate. From "Historic California in Bookplates." Jose Hernandez's virile and picturesque saga, "Martin Fierro." Miss Blackwell, who is the daughter of the indomitable individualist about whom it was said, "Lucy Stone gathers no boss," has not only released a rich new world of poetic expression to those who read no Spanish, but she has also forged a strong link between North and Spanish America. Admiration for the same poet is a very real bond and reading their verses makes us respect their artistry and understand their quick and sensitive pride. "Some Spanish - American Poets," first published in 1920, is most conveniently arranged with the English translation on one page and the Spanish original on the opposite. In addition to its other virtues, this makes it a superlative reading text for those studying languages, because their vocabularies would be enriched only by beautiful and expressive words, chosen by poets, best equipped of all classes to recognize their values. Dr. Isaac Goldberg has contributed an introduction and concise biographical notes. For further light upon the literature to the south of us Dr. Goldberg's "Studies in Spanish-American Literature" and Frederick Starr's "Readings From Modern Mexican Authors" may be recommended. * * *Your Money's Worth: Worker Stockholders Hundreds of Concerns Adopt Employe Stock Buying Plans By SYLVIA PORTER In 1950, the Sun Oil Co. offered for the 25th time a plan under which its employes could order up to 10 percent of their pay deducted to buy Sun Oil stock on the installment plan. By June 30, the average employe of Sun Oil had invested $452.83 of his wages in this stock purchase plan. But on that date he received not $452.83 of Sun Oil stock. Instead he received Sun Oil shares valued at $1,320.90. Part of the gain represented an outright contribution of $226 by the company which put 50 cents into the plan for every $1 invested by the employe. The rest represented dividends in cash and tically directed its appeal to big investors. Now, America's corporations are regularly raising millions of dollars month after month through issuing new stock to their own employes. Stock purchase plans for employes are not new. Actually, they flourished in the '20s--but