{"numero_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-30-01", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01", "ocr_sha256": "214ce5b6ac43ea9389059994df3796b0286bcaa0edde8cebadbdc523500c84a8", "source_tei": "https://github.com/Princeton-CDH/bluemountain-transcriptions/blob/main/periodicals/bmtnaaq/issues/1915/10/30_01/bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01.tei.xml", "source_mets": "https://github.com/pulibrary/BlueMountain/blob/main/metadata/periodicals/bmtnaaq/issues/1915/10/30_01/bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01.mets.xml", "url_numero": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01", "articles": [{"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-30-01-c002", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01#c002", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[151]", "page_fin": "[151]", "image_debut": 2, "image_fin": 2, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.2.2", "titre_corps": "Ballad of an Omnibus", "titre_sommaire": "Ballad of an Omnibus", "signature_source": "Amy Levy", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 2, "page_imprimee": "[151]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.2", "debut_caractere": 138, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1045, "texte": "Ballad of an Omnibus\nAmy Levy\nCOME men to carriages aspire;\nOn some the costly hansoms wait\nSome seek a fly, on job or hire;\nSome mount the trotting steed, elate.\nI envy not the rich and great,\nA wandering minstrel, poor and free,\nI am contented with my fate—\nAn omnibus suffices me.\nIn winter days of rain and mire\nI find within a corner strait;\nThe 'busmen know me and my lyre\nFrom Brompton to the Bull-and-Gate.\nWhen summer comes, I mount instate\nThe topmost summit, whence I see\nCroesus look up, compassionate—\nAn omnibus suffices me.\nI mark, untroubled my desire,\nLucullus' phaeton and his freight.\nAnd scene whereof I cannot tire,\nThe human tale of love and hate,\nThe city pageant, early and late\nUnfolds itself, rolls by, to be\nA pleasure deep and delicate.\nAn omnibus suffices me.\nPrincess, your splendour you require,\nI my simplicity; agree\nNeither to rate lower nor higher.\nAn omnibus suffices me."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-30-01-c003", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01#c003", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[151]", "page_fin": "153", "image_debut": 2, "image_fin": 4, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.2.3", "titre_corps": "Abingdon Square", "titre_sommaire": "Abingdon Square", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 2, "page_imprimee": "[151]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.2", "debut_caractere": 1047, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1541, "texte": "Abingdon Square\nMOST New Yorkers of today are one-sided. That is, they\nare either East siders or West siders and know little of\nthe other side of the town. It is only by poking your nose\ninto out-of-the-way corners that you can discover the land-\nmarks of Old New York. A very interesting example, for in-\nstance, is Eighth Avenue and Twelfth Street. Glance at the\nlamp post and you will discover that you are at Abingdon Square.\nAnd this little triangular piece of green is all that is left of"}, {"page_pdf": 3, "page_imprimee": "152", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.3", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2670, "texte": "ancient Greenwich Village. Round about here at one time\nthere were beautiful lawns and fine country houses; the air\nwas filled with the scent of flowers, and near by Manetta (some-\ntimes spelled Minetta) brook tempted the fishermen. About\nthe year 1750, Sir Peter Warren, vice-admiral, having captured\nmany prizes on the high seas, settled down in Greenwich Village,\nbuilt a fine mansion, and married Miss Susannah De Lancey,\na member of the great De Lancey family. Here three daughters\nwere born, the oldest of whom became the wife of the Earl of\nAbingdon. After a while the Warren House and the estate\nwere sold, and this square is the only memento we now have\nof them.\nAbout 1760, Richmond Hill was built. It was used by Wash-\nington as his headquarters. Later Vice-President Adams lived in\nit; still later Aaron Burr and his gifted daughter Thedosia\noccupied it; and finally John Jacob Astor bought it. Subse-\nquently it became a theatre, then a tavern, and then it was pulled\ndown.\nThe various epedemics of cholera, smallpox and yellow fever\nthat attacked the city at the lower end of the island spared\nthe healthy neighborhood of Greenwich.\nToward the close of the century a State prison was erected\nat the foot of Tenth Street, and a part of the old wall, it is\nsaid, still stands, being now a portion of a brewery.\nIn 1816, a stage line was established connecting the city of\nNew York with the village of Greenwich, and the blowing of\nthe horn announcing the arrival of the 'bus never failed to\ncause general excitement.\nHere's a description in verse that furnishes a good picture\nof the rural charms of this favored spot:\nIn those days fair Greenwich Village\nSlept by Hudson's rural shore,\nTwo miles out from New York City,\nWith its bustle, rush and roar!\nThen great Gotham's \"eighty thousand\"\nFilled the New World with amaze,\nAnd the City Hall was building\n\"Out of town\" in those \"fast\" days!\nThen Canal Street was a tide creek,\nFamed for piscatory charms,\nAnd Broadway a country turnpike\nWinding northward through the farms.\nThen the stage from Greenwich prison\nDrove to Wall Street twice a day—\nNow the sombre \"Black Maria\"\nOftener drives the other way!\nGradually the city began to grow up to the village and then\noccurred that extraordinary tangle of streets which puzzles the\nnew arrival. Old Greenwich, however, resisted the advances\nof the town for a long while, keeping up a sort of exclusiveness\nof its own. It claimed to be cleaner, nicer and more patriotic\nthan any other part of the island. It is said, in fact, that\nnowhere else were the Fourth of July and the Twenty-second\nof February more enthusiastically celebrated. But now its"}, {"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "153", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.4", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 639, "texte": "glory back of Sixth Avenue is gone. Many of the comfortable\nlooking three-story brick houses, with wroughtiron railings and\noval windows over low doorways, are still here, but they are\nno longer clean or inviting. There is just one relic.\nWalking down Tenth Street toward the river you pass\nWeehawken Street and there behold a row of low wooden houses,\none or two with outside staircases, unlike any other buildings,\nit is safe to say, now to be seen on Manhattan Island. They\nare remnants of what was known as Upper Greenwich Village,\nand are nearly three-quarters of a century old.\nUlmann in Landmark History of New York."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-30-01-c004", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01#c004", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "153", "page_fin": "154", "image_debut": 4, "image_fin": 5, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.2.4", "titre_corps": "Matinees in Charles Edison's Little Thimble Theatre", "titre_sommaire": "Matinees in Charles Edison's Little Thimble Theatre", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "153", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.4", "debut_caractere": 641, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2794, "texte": "Matinees in Charles Edison's\nLittle Thimble Theatre\nMOT only to help the unknown composer and musician ©112\ntoday to a hearing before an audience, to encourage his\nendeavors and so to be instrumental towards his final success,\nwas the motive of Mr. Charles Edison in establishing his Little\nThimble Theatre in Greenwich Village. The unknown com-\nposer of American songs which have become the property of\nthe nation, which everybody knows, has heard sung, and perhaps\nhas sung himself many times, will find here a place of reverie,\nand his personality will be brought nearer to those who know\nhis works and who never thought who the man was who com-\nposed them. Two matinees every week are set aside for little\npilgrimages to the homes and workshops of these men whose\nnames are rarely attached to their works in our minds and\nabout whose lives we know next to nothing. An informal talk\nabout their childhood, about their fortunes in life, about their\nenvironment and what they made of it will be illustrated by\ntheir best known works, on the piano by singers and on the\nDiamond Disc.\nWho doesn't know\" My Old Kentucky Home\" or \"Old Folks\nat Home,\" or \"Way Down Upon the Swanee River,\" and who\nknows more about their composer than that his name was\nStephen Collins Foster? And very few know even that.\nMiss Lois Fox will tell on Monday, Novemebr Ist, in the\nafternoon at 3 o'clock, all that could be gathered from sources\nmostly unknown and not easily accessible about the tragic life\nof the composer of America's most popular home songs. Here\nin our midst, in a little grocery store on the Bowery, did Foster\nlive a great part of his life and composed those songs which\nwe sing whenever we feel as he did while he wrote them:\nhomesick. His longing for his home, recollections of the negroes,\nwhich were a part of his home memories, dictated those mel-\nancholy melodies of resignations to his fate. Imagine the man\nwho gave us \"Way Down Upon the Swanee River,\" meting\nout flour or sugar over the counter of a little grocery store on the\nBowery! The Bowery was in those days not what it is today.\nMansions of the rich were in the streets near by and their"}, {"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "154", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.5", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 748, "texte": "negro servants did their shopping on the business street, whick\nthe Bowery was. The daily contact with these negroes who were\nhis customers brought back to him the memories of a happy\nyouth and of a happy love.\nMiss Lois Fox, who has spent the greater part of her life\ncollecting the songs of the old plantation negroes has in\ncommon with Foster the love for the sentiment and the sad\nlonging expressed in the old negro songs of bondage. She will\ntry to win in the hearts of the audience an equally warm\nspot for the composer as the songs themselves have won. You\nare heartily invited to be present. The seating capacity of the\nLittle Thimble Theatre is very limited, and therefore, you must\nwrite and ask for a ticket of admission."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-30-01-c005", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01#c005", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "154", "page_fin": "154", "image_debut": 5, "image_fin": 5, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.2.5", "titre_corps": "Thursday, Friday and Saturday in Charles Edison's Little Thimble Theatre.", "titre_sommaire": "Thursday, Friday and Saturday in Charles Edison's Little Thimble Theatre.", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "154", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.5", "debut_caractere": 750, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2135, "texte": "Thursday, Friday and Saturday in Char-\nles Edison's Little Thimble Theatre.\nHIS first appearance before an American audience since his\nrecent return from Europe, the Polish singer, Vincent\nS. Czerwinski, made in Edison's Little Thimble Theatre. Mr.\nCzerwinski was forced by the present prevailing conditions in\nEurope to change his domicile and intends to make America\nhis home. Just at present, when Polish and Russian literature\nis being made daily accessible to English readers, it is of\ninterest to hear those often-mentioned Slavic folk songs, sung\nby one who had to leave his country. All the temperamental\nevolution of the Slavic character is pictured in the quickly-\nchanging sadness and wild joy of these songs.\nA promising young pianist, Ruth Garland, played a selection\nfrom Chopin and Liszt. Miss Garland came from her home town,\nOswego, to New York to enter upon the career of a soloist.\nAt the age of nine years she was awarded a scholarship at\nSyracuse University and she studied with the late Edward\nMcDowell. '\nMiss James, known to the visitors of the Little Thimble\nTheatre as the accompanist to the artists who make here their\nappearance, played a selection of her own compositions. Her\nimprovisations written several years ago in her home out west\ncontain inspiring motives of that part of our country which\nis designated to be the birthplace of The American Music."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-30-01-c006", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01#c006", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "154", "page_fin": "155", "image_debut": 5, "image_fin": 6, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.2.6", "titre_corps": "Greenwich Village Street Names", "titre_sommaire": "Greenwich Village Street Names", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "154", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.5", "debut_caractere": 2137, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2590, "texte": "Greenwich Village Street Names\nhas been a pleasing sound; so had the brooklet\nthus named which flowed by the Zantberg hills to the\nHudson. It came from the springy marshes round about present\nWashington Square and emptied itself in the river near what\nis now Charlton street.\nThe Dutch root \"min\" (compare with \"minute,\" \"dimin-\nish,\" &c.) implies littleness. By the addition of the favorite\npet suffix \"tje\" alluded to under Coenties, the name \"Mintj*\""}, {"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "155", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.6", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1298, "texte": "was coined, just as we would say \"the little one,\" and was\napplied to this rivulet to distinguish it from the \"Groote Kill,\"\nor large creek, a mile farther.\nIt was also and for the same motive designated \"killitje,\"\nor little creek, and \"Bestevaars Killitje,\" or Grandfather's Kill.\n\"Mintie\" or \"Mintie\" was corrupted by the English to\n\"Minetta,\" \"Minetto,\" \"Manetta,\" &c., and then somebody sug-\ngested that it must have been an Indian word.\n\"Somebody\" must never have read of Hans Breitmann's\nmental troubles anent the comparative merits of love and wine;\n•r the linguistic affinity between \"min,\" little, and \"min,\" love,\nwould have certainly impressed him:\n\"To solfe von awfool broplem\nHe was elfer shdill incline;\nIf—den vijin is beterals de min\nOr—de mun diet veel als de wijn.\"\nBleecker Street\nJJLEECKER STREET is half Dutch and half Eaglish of\ncourse; and takes us back to i658 when Jan Jansen Bleecker,\na native of Meppel in Holland, landed in New Amsterdam.\nThe most widely known of his American descendants is\ndoubtless Anthony Bleecker, a graduate of Columbia College,\nwho for a period of thirty years, contributed so largely to the\nperiodical literature of Philadelphia and New York.\nThe present street lies through the estate of his father,\nAnthony Lispenard Bleecker."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-30-01-c007", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01#c007", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "155", "page_fin": "156", "image_debut": 6, "image_fin": 7, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.2.7", "titre_corps": "When the Booze Is in the Bottle", "titre_sommaire": "When the Booze Is in the Bottle", "signature_source": "James Whitcomb Riley", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "155", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.6", "debut_caractere": 1300, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2346, "texte": "When the Booze Is in the Bottle\nBy James Whitcomb Riley\nRILEY AND LOUIS B. CHAPLIN, a Chicago newspaper\nman, were sitting twenty years ago in the smoky bar-room\nof the Dennison Hotel, Indianapolis. Riley was not the medal-\nawarded poet of to-day and Chaplin was a cub on an Indiana\nnewspaper. They were drinking and talking, they were merry\nand sentimental and they spoke about ambitions and futures\nwhich seemed so golden, and about mother and sweetheart far,\nfar away. The bottle was on the table and glasses clinked at\nthe nearby bar, drunken voices issued from the street and they\nfelt the intoxicating air of the whiskey-seller's abode.\nThe poet in Riley awoke. With the satyrical pathos as only\nhe knows it, he recited the lives inspired by the situation.\n\"Great stuff, great stuff!\" responded the newspaper instinct\n©112 his companion.\nQuick as a flash his pencil was in his hand. He could not\nfind paper and so he scribbled on his cuff in the dim gas\nlight. The poet dreamily and suddenly observed that his dicta-\ntion was being recorded."}, {"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "156", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.7", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1646, "texte": "\"Please never write that again,\" he said, impatiently. I don't\nremember what I said, but it must have been sentimental and\nsilly.\"\nHis friend promised and kept his promise for twenty years.\nIt was during a similar session some time ago with this old\nChicago newspaper man. There was the bar-room and the\nclinking of glasses and the little tables and the sentimental inter-\nmission leading to memories far away from Chicago, far away\nfrom a bar-room.\nHe was thinking of twenty years ago, of Riley, since then\ngrown to be the poet of the Hoosier State. He recollected the\nlines repeated so often since and he recited them again. He\nnever wrote them. He kept his promise.\n11/ HEN the booze is in the bottle,\nAnd the bottle's on the bar,\nAnd the seltzer is a-foamin',\nLike an early mornin' star,\nThen it is that one is happy,\nThen it is that one is gay,\nAs he mixes booze and seltzer\nIn a contemplative way.\nSome folks are never happy,\n'Less in a vicious rush,\nBut the sweetest way of livin's\nJust to be in a gentle lush.\nJust to sit and soak and sozzle,\nAs the hours are wearin' on,\nAnd to wrestle with that demon,\nTill the early mornin' dawn.\ni <\nAnd to dream in idle fancy\nOf the happy days to come,\nWhen the world shall be one bar-roota\nAnd the rivers run in rum.\nOh, how sweet it is at midnight,\nWhen the good are all in bed,\nTo get down along the levee,\nAnd to accumulate a \"head.\"\nTo talk of mother dear, and broken hearts\nAnd little eyes of blue,\nAnd finally essay:\nI'd leave my happy home for you.\nWhile through the smoke the bar-room lights\nSeem many miles afar, ?\nAnd the booze is in the bottle\nAnd the bottle's on the bar."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-30-01-c008", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01#c008", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "157", "page_fin": "158", "image_debut": 8, "image_fin": 9, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.2.8", "titre_corps": "Maxims", "titre_sommaire": "Maxims", "signature_source": "Nietzsche", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "157", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2402, "texte": "Maxims\nBy Nietzsche\nThe Conscientious\nF IS more convenient to follow one's conscience than one's\nintelligence, for at every failure, conscience finds an ex-\ncuse and an encouragement in itself. That is why there are so\nmany conscientious and so few intelligent people.\nThe man who does away with himself, performs the most\nestimable of deeds; he almost deserves to live for having done\nso. Society—nay, life itself, derives more profit from such a\ndeed than from any sort of life spent in renunciation, anaemia,\nand other virtues. At least the suicide frees others from the\nsight of him, at least he removes one objection against life.\nThe thought of suicide is a great consolation: by means of\nit one gets successfully through many a bad night.\nThe Prevention of Suicide\n\"pHERE is a certain right by which we may deprive a man\nof life, but none by which we may deprive him of death: this\nis mere cruelty.\nOne should die proudly when it is no longer possible to live\nproudly. Death should be chosen freely—death at the right\ntime, faced clearly and joyfully, and embraced while one is\nsurrounded by one's children and other witnesses.\nIt is not the strength, but the duration of great sentiments\nthat makes great men.\nLife, War, Obedience\nMANY die too late, and some die too early. Yet strange\nsoundeth the precept: \"Die at the right time!\" Die at\nthe right time: so teacheth Zarathustra.\nMy friends, I will not be mixed up and confounded with\nothers.\nThere are those who preach my doctrine of life, and are at\nthe same time preachers of quality and tarantulas.\nThat they speak in favor of life, though they sit in their den,\nthese poison-spiders, and withdraw from life—is because they\nwould thereby do injury.\nTo those would they thereby do injury who have power at\npresent: for with those the preaching of death is still most at\nhome.\nWere it otherwise, then would the tarantulas teach otherwise:\nand they themselves were formerly the best world-maligners and\nheretic-burners.\nWith these preachers of equality will I not be mixed up and\nconfounded. For thus speaketh justice unto me: \"Men are\nnot equal.\" And neither shall they become so! What would\nbe my love to the Superman, if I spake otherwise?\nResistance—that is the distinction of the slave. Let your\ndistinction be obedience. Let your commanding itself be obey-\ning !\nTo the good warrior soundeth \"thou shalt\" pleasanter than"}, {"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "158", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 361, "texte": "\"I will.\" And all that is dear unto you, ye shall first have it\ncommanded unto you by me—and it is this: man is something\nthat is to be surpassed.\nSo live your life of obedience and of war! What matter\nabout long life! What warrior wishes to be spared! I spare\nyou not. I love you from my very heart, my brethren in war 1\nThus spake Zarathustra."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-30-01-c009", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01#c009", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "158", "page_fin": "160", "image_debut": 9, "image_fin": 11, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.2.9", "titre_corps": "In Our Village", "titre_sommaire": "In Our Village", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "158", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 363, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2833, "texte": "In Our Village\nSuffragettes interrupted the sleepy drowsiness of the Square\nand the neighboring streets last Saturday. Back of the arch\nwas a ticket of would-be voters gathering into groups and\nstarting their demonstrative parade through the city. They\nwere pretty to look at. Their many-colored clothes, spotted\nwith yellow badges and ribbons like a forest with autumn leaves.\nMusic bands were playing and even the shutters of the mansions\non the north side could not resist the temptation to open\nthemselves and to permit their inhabitants to look at that pretty\nprotesting femininity.\nSome of Our Aristocrats\nThe most radical event that Washington Square North has to\nchronicle for the current months is the arrival of the Philip\nM. Lydigs, who have hitherto lived in the upper East side\nCourt end of the town. For the coming of the Lydigs, the\nwhole interior of the Serena Rhinelander homestead at Wash-\nington Square and Fifth Avenue has been modernized by her\nheirs at a cost of more than thirty thousand dollars. However,\nartistic and in accord with the prevailing fashions of the hour,\nmay be this overhauling of the Colonial interior of a venerable\nlandmark, some people would not like the house so well in\nseveral details. For instance, the combined drawing and ball-\nrooms which ran the entire length of the Fifth Avenue side of\nthe mansion have been walled up between, so as to allow\nan enclosure for a large library at the back, Fortunately,\nthe handsome marble mantels of the house have been suffered\nto remain intact. However, Mrs. Lydig, an all round cultured\nwoman like Mrs. Benjamin Guinness, her neighbor who queens\nit on the other block of Washington Square North, is a woman\nwho does things. Above all, Mrs. Lydig is an ardent suffragette\nand her staid neighbors on the Square, lovers of the old\norder of things, were much amazed to wake up last Saturday\nmorning and behold the windows of the prim and ultra-con-\nservative Serena Rhinelander home aglow with yellow suf-\nfragist slogans and banners in all its windows. _ And in the\nafternoon when the suffragist parade was passing, a couple\nof blocks farther up Fifth Avenue, the sensibilities of these\nultra-conservatives received a second jolt upon beholding young\npeople and children displaying the same revolutionary em-\nblems from the portico and balconies of that stately abode\nof one of the most hide bound families in the community—\nthe de Rham mansion, \"the house of the haunted bay window.\""}, {"page_pdf": 10, "page_imprimee": "159", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.10", "debut_caractere": 33, "fin_caractere_exclue": 675, "texte": "Sadakichi Hartmann in Bruno's Garret\nAfter an absence of several years, Sadakichi Hartmann, the\nlast of the romanciers, invaded the village for a few days and\ngave on last Monday evening, a reading in Bruno's Garret\nNo better place could he have chosen to interpret Edgar Allan\nPoe, than that little white house on the Square which Poe\npassed so often on his daily walk while he was living on\nCarmine street. The night was dark and through the windows\nthe black outline of the trees stood out ghostly, the yellow gas\nlamps here and there glimmered like will-of-the-wisps in a quiet\nchurchyard on a country road, and far away shimmered through"}, {"page_pdf": 11, "page_imprimee": "160", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.11", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1820, "texte": "the half-naked branches of the trees the two long rows of\nelectric arc lamps of Fifth avenue which seemed to meet some-\nwhere in the far far away. The candles in the garret flickered\nyellowish. And Sadakichi read the \"Tell-Tale Heart,\" that\nmasterpiece of the mystic poet. He spoke of the eight years\nhe spent with Walt Whitman and related merry and sad ancedotes\nillustrating as well his own life as that of his great fellow-\njourneyman. »\nMonday, the first of November, is set aside as a Keeler eve-\nning. Mr. Keeler returned recently to New York and gathered\n\"a basket of new fruit.\"\nA new comer to the village is F. Carlton Waugh, greatly\ninterested in insect life from a painter's standpoint. He lived for\nseveral years in the woods, disregarding the advantages of\ncivilization, and learned there to love the small life of plants\nand insects whose existence is largely unknown to the average\nhuman being. But he is not narrow-minded. After his arrival\nin the city he turned his magnifying-glass upon the insectivora\nof our streets. Our title cover shows that he turned his eyes\nto the right direction.\nThe Wardrobe announced on very handsome paper—parch-\nment finish, deckel edge and snow white—its official opening.\nIts sponsors, Mary Grott and Heloise De Forest Haynes, say\nthat they will \"design and execute\" women's clothes in their\nsewing shop. Why not rather \"designate and guillotine.\"\n\"Gay Revillon\" or \"Maid of My Dreams\" is the name of\na miniature operetta, which Charles Henry Dorr, a Villager of\nolden days, has just completed. The music for the piece is by\nAdrian Schubert, a cellist of the Metropolitan Opera Company,\nwhose first work of note \"Follies d'Amour\" made its way across\nthe sea to London. Many of the ideas in the \"Gay Revillon\"\noriginated within the confines of the Ssuare."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-30-01-c010", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01#c010", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "159", "page_fin": "159", "image_debut": 10, "image_fin": 10, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.2.10", "titre_corps": "Sarah Bernhardt", "titre_sommaire": "Sarah Bernhardt", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 10, "page_imprimee": "159", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.10", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 31, "texte": "Sarah Bernhardt"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-30-01-c011", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01#c011", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "160", "page_fin": "162", "image_debut": 11, "image_fin": 13, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.2.11", "titre_corps": "Books and Magazines of the Week", "titre_sommaire": "Books and Magazines of the Week", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 11, "page_imprimee": "160", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.11", "debut_caractere": 1822, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2656, "texte": "Books and Magazines of the Week\nEver during the last hundred years, when Russia was engaged\nin war as an ally of England, Russian literature in England\npassed through a short period of renaissance. There are certain\nRussian authors who had been for more than a hundred years\non the Russian proscription list and who in these days of a\ncloser relationishp and of increased interest with and for Russia\nin England have been rushed into print and fed to the people\nat large as a new source of information about Russia and its\nreal conditions. It is done to-day as of yore. There is a new\ntranslation of Gogol's \"Dead Souls.\" It is a wonderful tale,\nthe masterpiece of Gogol, a figure in Russian letters somewhat\nsimilar to our own Poe, but it is in no way representative of\nGogol's work. One must read his fantastic tales in the original"}, {"page_pdf": 12, "page_imprimee": "161", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.12", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2584, "texte": "to realize how poor his interpretation in the Ungnsn version\nis. I always wondered if Gogol as presented to his English\nreaders was translated directly from the Russian into English.\nIt looks more as though it had come via France, or more\nlikely via Germany. Translations of Gogol into German existed\na hundred and some years ago during the lifetime of the author.\nTranslating men like Gogol, the translator needs be a Russian\nable to talk English rather than an American university pro-\nfessor and scholar of Slavic languages. The beauty of the Rus-\nsian language, which expresses heart-winningly the melancholy\nmelody of Russian life, is mostly lost in our translations.\nThe Log\nAnother one of those magazines which cannot be bought\non the average news stand but which is interesting for the read-\ning matter it contains as well as for the direct object of its\nbeing published, is \"The Log,\" the organ of the Circumnavi-\ngators' Club. In order to be eligible to membership in this\nclub one must have made a circuit of the globe, longitudinally.\nThe magazine is chiefly composed of letters written from all\nparts of the world by its traveler members.\nThe Photo-Dramatist\nWillard Bradley, who once upon a time published a news-\npaper in Greenwich Village, issued recently a pamphlet, \"The\nPhoto-Dramatist,\" in which he tells us all about photo-plays,\nand how they are created. D. W. Griffith is represented with\na paragraph or two of good advice to those who wish to become\nphoto-play writers. It is a neat little pamphlet of twenty-two\npages, with pea-green covers.\nThe Grolier Club\nThe Grolier Club, at 29 East Thirty-second Street, New York,\nexhibits from Friday, November sth, to November 20th, an\nextensive collection of books and prints relating to pirates and\nhighwaymen. This exhibition is open to the public.\nThe Book of Repulsive Women\nThe forthcoming issue of Bruno Chap Books is Djnna Barnes'\n\"Book of Repulsive Women,\" a chant which could be sung by\nthose who are in the daily procession through the streets and\nhighways of our metropolis but which also could be sung by\nthose who are on balconies and house-tops viewing the eternal\nshow of daily life. It is illustrated with full-page plates by\nthe author.\nThe Nutshell\nMr. H. G. Heaton, renowned traveler and artist, found a\nvery satisfactory way how to keep in constant contact with a\ngreat number of his friends and casual acquaintances all over\nboth hemispheres. He publishes a little magazine called, \"The\nNutshell,\" which he sends out broadcast to everyone whom he\nwants to remind of his existence."}, {"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "162", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.13", "debut_caractere": 46, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2491, "texte": "\"The artist-author's first need of time and sight for profes-\nsional use limits his correspondence most regretfully and so\nThe Nutshell is equally intended as a means of giving\nfuller and, in many cases, more frequent personal news of\ngeneral interest to a far greater number of present and past\nintimates in evidence of constant regard, than he could do\notherwise.\"\nIn Which\nVery rarely emanates from Detroit a voice of art and\nliterature. And no other city in the United States seems\nas much created for the habitation of the artist as that beautiful\nspot in the Middle West where everybody owns his home and\ngarden, where the streets seem parkways, and business, with its\nbeauty-limiting accessories, a mere incident. Norman Geddes\nis writing, printing and binding his own monthly journal, \"In\nWhich,\" \"Being a Book in Which I Say Just What I Think.\"\nIt is a nice miscellany of animated talk about art in Detroit,\nincidents of everyday life, miniature stories, and here and there\na bit of the editor's own philosophy.\nLong before Elbert Hubbard started the \"little magazine\nvogue,\" with his Philistine, Robert Reitzel had created here in\nDetroit his \"Poor Devil\" and conducted it for fifteen years as\na one man's periodical. \"In Which\" seems to follow in his\nfoot-steps.\nThe Little Paper\nRichmond, Indiana, was the birthplace of the first journal in\nthe United States, owned, edited and published by one woman\nwho devotes the pages of her periodical to civic betterment.\nEsther Griffin White is a fighter for reforms, and how she keeps\nout of the libel court must be one of her professional secrets.\nOn the same page on which she sets down a flaming editoral\nagainst the disgraceful appointment of a certain official of her\ncity's administration, she publishes three poems, written, per-\nhaps, by the same pen out of which came her political attack.\nTheir titles are \"Lilies of the Valley,\" \"Hollyhocks\" and\n\"Peonies.\" Her social paragraphs cannot but isolate her from\nthe social set of her town. But the most interesting feature\nof \"The Little Paper\" are the discussions about cigarette smok-\ning. Miss White, as so many other literary women of the\n\"Hoosier State\"—and an endless string of has this state\nproduced—smokes cigarettes. In thirty-eight issues of her\n\"Little Paper\" she defends on considerable space the right of\na woman to smoke, in general, and her own right to smoke while\nwriting her city-reforming editorials, in particular."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-30-01-c012", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01#c012", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "162", "page_fin": "163", "image_debut": 13, "image_fin": 14, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.2.12", "titre_corps": "The Sous-Prefet Afield", "titre_sommaire": "The Sous-Prefet Afield", "signature_source": "Alphonse Daudet", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "162", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.13", "debut_caractere": 2493, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2670, "texte": "The Sous-Prefet Afield\nBy Alphonse Daudet.\nThe sous-Prefet shrugs his shoulders and tries to continue his\nspeech but the woodpecker interrupts him anew, and eails out\nfrom afar:"}, {"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "163", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.14", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1541, "texte": "\"What is the use.'\"\n\"How, what is the use!\" says the sous-Prefet, who gets quite\nred; and chasing away the impudent bird with a gesture, he\nbegins afresh:\n\"Messieurs etchers Administres—\"\n\"Messieurs etchers Administres\" begins the sous-Prefet\nafresh.\nBut lo! the little violets lift themselves up towards him on\nthe tips of their stems, and softly say:\n\"Monsieur le sous-Prefet, do you perceive how good we\nsmell ?\"\nAnd the springs make a divine music under the moss, and\nin the branches over his head many warbles come and sing\nhim their pretty tunes; and all the little wood conspires to\nprevent him from composing his speech.\nAll the little wood conspires to prevent him from composing\nhis speech. Monsieur the sous-Prefet, drunk with perfumes,\ndazed by music, attempts vainly to resist the new charm that\ninvades his being. He leans on his elbows in the grass, un-\nbuttons his fine coat, stammers again twice or thrice:\n\"Messieurs etchers Administres .... Messieurs etchers\nAdmi .... Messieurs etchers . \"\nThen he sends the administres to the devil, and the Muse of\nagricultural fairs has now but to veil her face.\nVeil thy face, O Muse of agricultural fairs! When, at the\nend of one hour, the servants of the sous-prefecture, anxious\nabout their master, entered the little wood, they saw a sight\nthat made them recoil with horror. Monsieur the sous-Prefet\nwas lying on his stomach in the grass, as untidy as a bohemian.\nHe had taken off his coat; and while chewing violets, Monsieur\nthe sous-Prefet was composing verses."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-30-01-c013", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01#c013", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "163", "page_fin": "165", "image_debut": 14, "image_fin": 16, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.2.13", "titre_corps": "The Third", "titre_sommaire": "The Third", "signature_source": "A Story from Warsaw's Latin Quarter, By Henry Sienkiewicz ; Translated by Guido Bruno", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "163", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.14", "debut_caractere": 1543, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2367, "texte": "The Third\nA Story from Warsaw's Latin Quarter,\nBy Henry Sienkiewicz\nTranslated by Guido Bruno\nfHE studio in which I jointly lived and painted with Swiatecki\nwas not paid for first because we both had among us\naltogether about five rubles, and second because we had a sincere\nrepugnance against the paying of rent.\nThey call us painters usually spendthrifts, and still I prefer\nto drink up my money rather than to squander it on the landlord\nfor rent. Referring to our landlord, he was not a bad man,\nand moreover, we knew how to look out for ourselves if he\nstarted to be insistent.\nWhenever he came up to us to remind us of our indebtedness,\nwhich happened usually early in the morning, Swiatecki raised\nhimself from his bed—a mattress upon the floor with a Turkish\nhanging as a cover, which at other times would be used as"}, {"page_pdf": 15, "page_imprimee": "164", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.15", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2894, "texte": "background to a portrait—and spoke in a sepulchral voice: \"It\ndoes me good to see you because I dreamt that you had died.\"\nThe landlord, who was superstitious and very much afraid\nof death, as it seemed, became confused; but Swiatecki threw\nhimself back on his mattress, stretched his long legs, folded\nhis hands across his breast and continued: \"That is how I\nsaw you: you had white gloves on your hande with long fingers,\nand patent leather shoes, otherwise you were not very much\nchanged.\"\nAnd I used to add: \"Once in a while such dreams do not\ncome true.\"\nThis \"once in a while\" apparently brought the landlord to\ndesparation. The scene usually finished with his becoming in-\ndignant. He banged the door and noisily and swearing, de-\nscended the stairs. But the good soul never could quite make\nup his mind to put the city marshal upon our tracks. Of\ncourse, there wasn't very much to take in our studio and the\nlandlord may have calculated that he might be just as bad\noff if he rented the studio and kitchenette to some other painter,\nor perhaps worse. But this expedient in time, lost its effect.\nThe landlord became familiar with the thought of death.\nSwiatecki intended to execute three paintings a la Wuertz, to\nbe called: \"The Death,\" \"The Funeral\" and\"The Awakening\nfrom Lethargy.\" Of course the landlord was designated to\nfigure in all of them.\nThis sort of corpse business was the specialty of Swiatecki,\nwho after his own declaration painted \"big carcasses, small\ncarcasses and middle-sized carcasses.\" Maybe that's the reason\nthat nobody buys his pictures, notwithstanding the fact he has\ntalent. Just now he had sent to\"The Salon,\" in Paris, two\n\"grand cadavers\" and I, too, submitted there, my \"The Jews\nof Jerusalem\" which the catalogue of the Salon had\nrebaptized into \"The Jews on the Rivers of Babylon.\" And\nnow we were awaiting impatiently the verdict of the jury.\nOf course, Swiatecki knew in advance that everything would\nend most disgustingly: \"The jury,\" he contended, \"was composed\nof the most complete idiots, and if this were not the case, I\nwas an idiot and he too, our pictures idiotic, and their winning\nrecognition would be the height of idiocy.\"\nHow much this fellow contributed, to my discomfort\nduring the three years I shared a studio with him, is very\nhard to describe. It is his highest ambition to be taken for a\nmoral \"grand corpse,\" so, for instance, he feigns to be an\nhabitual drunkard, and of course, he is far from being one.\nHe drinks hastily two or three glasses of brandy, and glances\naround to see if we noticed it. If he isn't sure that we did,\nhe nudges one of us with his elbow and looking at us significantly\nhe asks with his sepulchral voice:\n\"I'm pretty far down, am I not?\"\nWe answer him that he is foolish and then he starts to rave;\nbecause nothing puts him more out of temper than to have us\ndoubt his moral downfall."}, {"page_pdf": 16, "page_imprimee": "165", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.16", "debut_caractere": 44, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1758, "texte": "And he is the best scout on earth. Once on a trip in the\nmountains we had lost our way. After it had become dark and\nthe danger lay near that we would slip and break our necks,\nSwiatecki said:\n\"Listen, Wladek, you have the bigger talent therefore you\nwould be a greater loss. I'll walk ahead . . . . if I drop\ndown, you stay right here and don't move until tomorrow\nmorning, and then it will be easy for you to find your way.\"\n\"Not you will go first, but I will,\" I answered, \"because I\nhave better eyes.\"\nAnd Swiatecki:\n\"If I don't break my neck today I will end in the grave\nanyhow—l don't give a darn.\"\nAnd so we started to argue, and in the meantime it was pitch\ndark. Finally we decided to cast lots. We did. Swiatecki lost\nand walked in front of me. We were at the saddle of a\nmountain. We walked slowly and carefully. At first the path\nwas rather broad, but it became more and more narrow, and,\nas far as we could make out, there were precipices to the\nright and to the left, perhaps very deep ones.\nThe ridge of the mountain is very narrow, and what is still\nworse, pieces of the withered mountain crumbled under our\nfeet .... we have to crawl on all fours, otherwise it is\nimpossible. We walk along like two monkeys.\nBut soon we notice that we can't progress even in this manner.\nThe ridge is hardly as broad as the saddle of a horse. Swiatecki\nseats himself astride it. I follow his example. I hear his voice.\n\"Wladek?\"\n\"What is it?\"\n\"The ridge is at an end.\"\n\"And what now?\"\n\"I believe there is an abyss.\"\n\"Take a stone nad throw it down .... we will listen\nhow far it falls.\"\nI heard Swiatecki feeling in the dark after a loose stone.\nNow he says: \"Look out, I'm throwing it!\"\n(Continued in next issue)"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-30-01-c014", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01#c014", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "165", "page_fin": "166", "image_debut": 16, "image_fin": 17, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.2.14", "titre_corps": "Richard Wagner—Egoist", "titre_sommaire": "Richard Wagner—Egoist", "signature_source": "Guido Bruno", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 16, "page_imprimee": "165", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.16", "debut_caractere": 1760, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2264, "texte": "Richard Wagner—Egoist\nBy Guido Bruno\n\\X7AGNER was a self-sufficient man. He never had any\nintimates to whom he would relate the ambitions of his\nlife. He carried his thouhts and his dreams as holy secrets in\nhis heart. He planned for a long time whatever he wanted to\ndo. He guarded his thoughts as his property with the proud\nbashfulness of a virgin. But after he had convinced himself\nthat he had done what he had aimed to do—after he had had\nhis pleasure of conceiving, studying, caressing and produc-"}, {"page_pdf": 17, "page_imprimee": "166", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.17", "debut_caractere": 272, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2665, "texte": "ing, he needed someone who wouid listen to him, someone who\nwould appreciate his work as a whole, not with words but\nwith a look of admiration, and strongly affirm his own thoughts.\nHe would not enter an argument with his fellow musicians—\nwith the critics who were so sharply after him.\nHe felt that he was infallible.\nAnd so he directed his orchestra, so he wrote his dramas\nand so he composed his music.\nWagner had a mother who was his friend and patient\nlistener as long as he was at home. As a mere boy he was\nentranced by the history of the Hellenes and by their authors.\nHe read the dramas of Aeschylus and he translated Homer in\nhexameters. His boy friends were poor listeners to his classic\nsubjects. But there was a mother sitting for hours on long\nwinter evenings, mending the clothes of her children and lisen-\ning to the sympathetic voice of her youngest son. She was\nthe first to whom the ideas of a national drama were related.\nIt is more than dubious that the simple German woman, who\nhad attended to her bouse duties her life long, who had reared\neight children, had another understanding for her son's ambi-\ntions than the tactful sympathy of mother love. His wife,\nwho shared the struggles and wanderings from city to city\nof the poor, ambitious orchestra conductor, took the place\nof his mother in later years.\nIt is remarkable how the woman, living in poverty, suffering\neven hunger for periods, could keep her faith in her husband's\nfuture. She listened to his life-theories. She learned to hate\nwith him the work of men highly esteemed by critics, the pub-\nlic of her time and the corrupted managers of opera houses;\nshe learned to feel pity for the audiences which repelled her\nhusband's works, because they were misguided or were not\nable to understand.\nBut listening and confirming were the only and continuous\nperformances of these two women, who played such an important\npart in Wagner's life. They were never asked for their opinion.\nThey never suggested or corrected or tried to persuade or\nto induce.\nWhat Wagner said was the unrestricted truth, the right and\nonly view. No matter how the critics raved in daily papers,\nno matter how the audiences hissed and his managers tried\nto induce changes and repelled his works, in his own home\nWagner was the recognized master. The recognition he finally\nreceived from the world he had received years before in his\nhome."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1915-10-30-01-c015", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01#c015", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1915-10-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[167]", "page_fin": "[167]", "image_debut": 18, "image_fin": 18, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.2.15", "titre_corps": "[Publicité]", "titre_sommaire": "[Publicité]", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 18, "page_imprimee": "[167]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.18", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1024, "texte": "Charles Edison's Little Thimble Theatre, Situated\nat No.lOFifth Avenue, Greenwich Village, N.Y.C.\nGuido Bruno, Manager.\nThis Week's Performances and Concerts\nMonday,\n3 p. m.\nWednesday, 2:15 p. m.\nThursday,\nFriday,\n3 p. m.\n8:15 p. m.\n8:15 p. m.\nSaturday, 2:00 p. m.\n8:15 p. m.\nA little Pilgrimage to the home\nand workshop of Stephen\nCollins Foster.\nChildren's Hour and Disc Concert\non the Square.\nA little Pilgrimage of the home\nand workshop of Stephen\nCollins Foster.\nPerformance at the Little Thimble\nTheatre.\nPerformance at the Little Thimble\nTheatre.\nChildren's Hour and Disc Concert\non the Square.\nPerformance at the Little Thimble\nTheatre.\nAsk or write for ticket of admission to The\nLittle Thimble Theatre performances. They\nare free of charge.\nWho Wrote Our National Home Songs?\n\"Way Down upon the Swanee\nRiver,\" \"My Old Kentucky Home,\"\n\"Old Folks at Home.\" Do you\nknow that they were created and\nwritten by Stephen Collins Foster?\nIn a Dingy Bowery Grocery Store?\nCome to the Matinee on Monday or Thursday at 3 P. M."}]}], "pages_ocr_originales": [{"page_pdf": 1, "page_imprimee": "couv. 1", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.1", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\nEDITED BY GUIDO BRUNO IN HIS GARRET\nON WASHINGTON SQUARE\nFive Cents October 30th, 1915."}, {"page_pdf": 2, "page_imprimee": "[151]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.2", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\nEdited By Gindo Bruno in his Garret on Washington Square\nNo. 15\nOCTOBER 30th, MCMXV\nVoL I\nCopyright by 19/5 Gttido 3)runo\n\nBallad of an Omnibus\nAmy Levy\nCOME men to carriages aspire;\nOn some the costly hansoms wait\nSome seek a fly, on job or hire;\nSome mount the trotting steed, elate.\nI envy not the rich and great,\nA wandering minstrel, poor and free,\nI am contented with my fate—\nAn omnibus suffices me.\nIn winter days of rain and mire\nI find within a corner strait;\nThe 'busmen know me and my lyre\nFrom Brompton to the Bull-and-Gate.\nWhen summer comes, I mount instate\nThe topmost summit, whence I see\nCroesus look up, compassionate—\nAn omnibus suffices me.\nI mark, untroubled my desire,\nLucullus' phaeton and his freight.\nAnd scene whereof I cannot tire,\nThe human tale of love and hate,\nThe city pageant, early and late\nUnfolds itself, rolls by, to be\nA pleasure deep and delicate.\nAn omnibus suffices me.\nPrincess, your splendour you require,\nI my simplicity; agree\nNeither to rate lower nor higher.\nAn omnibus suffices me.\n\nAbingdon Square\nMOST New Yorkers of today are one-sided. That is, they\nare either East siders or West siders and know little of\nthe other side of the town. It is only by poking your nose\ninto out-of-the-way corners that you can discover the land-\nmarks of Old New York. A very interesting example, for in-\nstance, is Eighth Avenue and Twelfth Street. Glance at the\nlamp post and you will discover that you are at Abingdon Square.\nAnd this little triangular piece of green is all that is left of"}, {"page_pdf": 3, "page_imprimee": "152", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.3", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nancient Greenwich Village. Round about here at one time\nthere were beautiful lawns and fine country houses; the air\nwas filled with the scent of flowers, and near by Manetta (some-\ntimes spelled Minetta) brook tempted the fishermen. About\nthe year 1750, Sir Peter Warren, vice-admiral, having captured\nmany prizes on the high seas, settled down in Greenwich Village,\nbuilt a fine mansion, and married Miss Susannah De Lancey,\na member of the great De Lancey family. Here three daughters\nwere born, the oldest of whom became the wife of the Earl of\nAbingdon. After a while the Warren House and the estate\nwere sold, and this square is the only memento we now have\nof them.\nAbout 1760, Richmond Hill was built. It was used by Wash-\nington as his headquarters. Later Vice-President Adams lived in\nit; still later Aaron Burr and his gifted daughter Thedosia\noccupied it; and finally John Jacob Astor bought it. Subse-\nquently it became a theatre, then a tavern, and then it was pulled\ndown.\nThe various epedemics of cholera, smallpox and yellow fever\nthat attacked the city at the lower end of the island spared\nthe healthy neighborhood of Greenwich.\nToward the close of the century a State prison was erected\nat the foot of Tenth Street, and a part of the old wall, it is\nsaid, still stands, being now a portion of a brewery.\nIn 1816, a stage line was established connecting the city of\nNew York with the village of Greenwich, and the blowing of\nthe horn announcing the arrival of the 'bus never failed to\ncause general excitement.\nHere's a description in verse that furnishes a good picture\nof the rural charms of this favored spot:\nIn those days fair Greenwich Village\nSlept by Hudson's rural shore,\nTwo miles out from New York City,\nWith its bustle, rush and roar!\nThen great Gotham's \"eighty thousand\"\nFilled the New World with amaze,\nAnd the City Hall was building\n\"Out of town\" in those \"fast\" days!\nThen Canal Street was a tide creek,\nFamed for piscatory charms,\nAnd Broadway a country turnpike\nWinding northward through the farms.\nThen the stage from Greenwich prison\nDrove to Wall Street twice a day—\nNow the sombre \"Black Maria\"\nOftener drives the other way!\nGradually the city began to grow up to the village and then\noccurred that extraordinary tangle of streets which puzzles the\nnew arrival. Old Greenwich, however, resisted the advances\nof the town for a long while, keeping up a sort of exclusiveness\nof its own. It claimed to be cleaner, nicer and more patriotic\nthan any other part of the island. It is said, in fact, that\nnowhere else were the Fourth of July and the Twenty-second\nof February more enthusiastically celebrated. But now its"}, {"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "153", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.4", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nglory back of Sixth Avenue is gone. Many of the comfortable\nlooking three-story brick houses, with wroughtiron railings and\noval windows over low doorways, are still here, but they are\nno longer clean or inviting. There is just one relic.\nWalking down Tenth Street toward the river you pass\nWeehawken Street and there behold a row of low wooden houses,\none or two with outside staircases, unlike any other buildings,\nit is safe to say, now to be seen on Manhattan Island. They\nare remnants of what was known as Upper Greenwich Village,\nand are nearly three-quarters of a century old.\nUlmann in Landmark History of New York.\n\nMatinees in Charles Edison's\nLittle Thimble Theatre\nMOT only to help the unknown composer and musician ©112\ntoday to a hearing before an audience, to encourage his\nendeavors and so to be instrumental towards his final success,\nwas the motive of Mr. Charles Edison in establishing his Little\nThimble Theatre in Greenwich Village. The unknown com-\nposer of American songs which have become the property of\nthe nation, which everybody knows, has heard sung, and perhaps\nhas sung himself many times, will find here a place of reverie,\nand his personality will be brought nearer to those who know\nhis works and who never thought who the man was who com-\nposed them. Two matinees every week are set aside for little\npilgrimages to the homes and workshops of these men whose\nnames are rarely attached to their works in our minds and\nabout whose lives we know next to nothing. An informal talk\nabout their childhood, about their fortunes in life, about their\nenvironment and what they made of it will be illustrated by\ntheir best known works, on the piano by singers and on the\nDiamond Disc.\nWho doesn't know\" My Old Kentucky Home\" or \"Old Folks\nat Home,\" or \"Way Down Upon the Swanee River,\" and who\nknows more about their composer than that his name was\nStephen Collins Foster? And very few know even that.\nMiss Lois Fox will tell on Monday, Novemebr Ist, in the\nafternoon at 3 o'clock, all that could be gathered from sources\nmostly unknown and not easily accessible about the tragic life\nof the composer of America's most popular home songs. Here\nin our midst, in a little grocery store on the Bowery, did Foster\nlive a great part of his life and composed those songs which\nwe sing whenever we feel as he did while he wrote them:\nhomesick. His longing for his home, recollections of the negroes,\nwhich were a part of his home memories, dictated those mel-\nancholy melodies of resignations to his fate. Imagine the man\nwho gave us \"Way Down Upon the Swanee River,\" meting\nout flour or sugar over the counter of a little grocery store on the\nBowery! The Bowery was in those days not what it is today.\nMansions of the rich were in the streets near by and their"}, {"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "154", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.5", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nnegro servants did their shopping on the business street, whick\nthe Bowery was. The daily contact with these negroes who were\nhis customers brought back to him the memories of a happy\nyouth and of a happy love.\nMiss Lois Fox, who has spent the greater part of her life\ncollecting the songs of the old plantation negroes has in\ncommon with Foster the love for the sentiment and the sad\nlonging expressed in the old negro songs of bondage. She will\ntry to win in the hearts of the audience an equally warm\nspot for the composer as the songs themselves have won. You\nare heartily invited to be present. The seating capacity of the\nLittle Thimble Theatre is very limited, and therefore, you must\nwrite and ask for a ticket of admission.\n\nThursday, Friday and Saturday in Char-\nles Edison's Little Thimble Theatre.\nHIS first appearance before an American audience since his\nrecent return from Europe, the Polish singer, Vincent\nS. Czerwinski, made in Edison's Little Thimble Theatre. Mr.\nCzerwinski was forced by the present prevailing conditions in\nEurope to change his domicile and intends to make America\nhis home. Just at present, when Polish and Russian literature\nis being made daily accessible to English readers, it is of\ninterest to hear those often-mentioned Slavic folk songs, sung\nby one who had to leave his country. All the temperamental\nevolution of the Slavic character is pictured in the quickly-\nchanging sadness and wild joy of these songs.\nA promising young pianist, Ruth Garland, played a selection\nfrom Chopin and Liszt. Miss Garland came from her home town,\nOswego, to New York to enter upon the career of a soloist.\nAt the age of nine years she was awarded a scholarship at\nSyracuse University and she studied with the late Edward\nMcDowell. '\nMiss James, known to the visitors of the Little Thimble\nTheatre as the accompanist to the artists who make here their\nappearance, played a selection of her own compositions. Her\nimprovisations written several years ago in her home out west\ncontain inspiring motives of that part of our country which\nis designated to be the birthplace of The American Music.\n\nGreenwich Village Street Names\nhas been a pleasing sound; so had the brooklet\nthus named which flowed by the Zantberg hills to the\nHudson. It came from the springy marshes round about present\nWashington Square and emptied itself in the river near what\nis now Charlton street.\nThe Dutch root \"min\" (compare with \"minute,\" \"dimin-\nish,\" &c.) implies littleness. By the addition of the favorite\npet suffix \"tje\" alluded to under Coenties, the name \"Mintj*\""}, {"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "155", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.6", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nwas coined, just as we would say \"the little one,\" and was\napplied to this rivulet to distinguish it from the \"Groote Kill,\"\nor large creek, a mile farther.\nIt was also and for the same motive designated \"killitje,\"\nor little creek, and \"Bestevaars Killitje,\" or Grandfather's Kill.\n\"Mintie\" or \"Mintie\" was corrupted by the English to\n\"Minetta,\" \"Minetto,\" \"Manetta,\" &c., and then somebody sug-\ngested that it must have been an Indian word.\n\"Somebody\" must never have read of Hans Breitmann's\nmental troubles anent the comparative merits of love and wine;\n•r the linguistic affinity between \"min,\" little, and \"min,\" love,\nwould have certainly impressed him:\n\"To solfe von awfool broplem\nHe was elfer shdill incline;\nIf—den vijin is beterals de min\nOr—de mun diet veel als de wijn.\"\nBleecker Street\nJJLEECKER STREET is half Dutch and half Eaglish of\ncourse; and takes us back to i658 when Jan Jansen Bleecker,\na native of Meppel in Holland, landed in New Amsterdam.\nThe most widely known of his American descendants is\ndoubtless Anthony Bleecker, a graduate of Columbia College,\nwho for a period of thirty years, contributed so largely to the\nperiodical literature of Philadelphia and New York.\nThe present street lies through the estate of his father,\nAnthony Lispenard Bleecker.\n\nWhen the Booze Is in the Bottle\nBy James Whitcomb Riley\nRILEY AND LOUIS B. CHAPLIN, a Chicago newspaper\nman, were sitting twenty years ago in the smoky bar-room\nof the Dennison Hotel, Indianapolis. Riley was not the medal-\nawarded poet of to-day and Chaplin was a cub on an Indiana\nnewspaper. They were drinking and talking, they were merry\nand sentimental and they spoke about ambitions and futures\nwhich seemed so golden, and about mother and sweetheart far,\nfar away. The bottle was on the table and glasses clinked at\nthe nearby bar, drunken voices issued from the street and they\nfelt the intoxicating air of the whiskey-seller's abode.\nThe poet in Riley awoke. With the satyrical pathos as only\nhe knows it, he recited the lives inspired by the situation.\n\"Great stuff, great stuff!\" responded the newspaper instinct\n©112 his companion.\nQuick as a flash his pencil was in his hand. He could not\nfind paper and so he scribbled on his cuff in the dim gas\nlight. The poet dreamily and suddenly observed that his dicta-\ntion was being recorded."}, {"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "156", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.7", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\n\"Please never write that again,\" he said, impatiently. I don't\nremember what I said, but it must have been sentimental and\nsilly.\"\nHis friend promised and kept his promise for twenty years.\nIt was during a similar session some time ago with this old\nChicago newspaper man. There was the bar-room and the\nclinking of glasses and the little tables and the sentimental inter-\nmission leading to memories far away from Chicago, far away\nfrom a bar-room.\nHe was thinking of twenty years ago, of Riley, since then\ngrown to be the poet of the Hoosier State. He recollected the\nlines repeated so often since and he recited them again. He\nnever wrote them. He kept his promise.\n11/ HEN the booze is in the bottle,\nAnd the bottle's on the bar,\nAnd the seltzer is a-foamin',\nLike an early mornin' star,\nThen it is that one is happy,\nThen it is that one is gay,\nAs he mixes booze and seltzer\nIn a contemplative way.\nSome folks are never happy,\n'Less in a vicious rush,\nBut the sweetest way of livin's\nJust to be in a gentle lush.\nJust to sit and soak and sozzle,\nAs the hours are wearin' on,\nAnd to wrestle with that demon,\nTill the early mornin' dawn.\ni <\nAnd to dream in idle fancy\nOf the happy days to come,\nWhen the world shall be one bar-roota\nAnd the rivers run in rum.\nOh, how sweet it is at midnight,\nWhen the good are all in bed,\nTo get down along the levee,\nAnd to accumulate a \"head.\"\nTo talk of mother dear, and broken hearts\nAnd little eyes of blue,\nAnd finally essay:\nI'd leave my happy home for you.\nWhile through the smoke the bar-room lights\nSeem many miles afar, ?\nAnd the booze is in the bottle\nAnd the bottle's on the bar."}, {"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "157", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.8", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nMaxims\nBy Nietzsche\nThe Conscientious\nF IS more convenient to follow one's conscience than one's\nintelligence, for at every failure, conscience finds an ex-\ncuse and an encouragement in itself. That is why there are so\nmany conscientious and so few intelligent people.\nThe man who does away with himself, performs the most\nestimable of deeds; he almost deserves to live for having done\nso. Society—nay, life itself, derives more profit from such a\ndeed than from any sort of life spent in renunciation, anaemia,\nand other virtues. At least the suicide frees others from the\nsight of him, at least he removes one objection against life.\nThe thought of suicide is a great consolation: by means of\nit one gets successfully through many a bad night.\nThe Prevention of Suicide\n\"pHERE is a certain right by which we may deprive a man\nof life, but none by which we may deprive him of death: this\nis mere cruelty.\nOne should die proudly when it is no longer possible to live\nproudly. Death should be chosen freely—death at the right\ntime, faced clearly and joyfully, and embraced while one is\nsurrounded by one's children and other witnesses.\nIt is not the strength, but the duration of great sentiments\nthat makes great men.\nLife, War, Obedience\nMANY die too late, and some die too early. Yet strange\nsoundeth the precept: \"Die at the right time!\" Die at\nthe right time: so teacheth Zarathustra.\nMy friends, I will not be mixed up and confounded with\nothers.\nThere are those who preach my doctrine of life, and are at\nthe same time preachers of quality and tarantulas.\nThat they speak in favor of life, though they sit in their den,\nthese poison-spiders, and withdraw from life—is because they\nwould thereby do injury.\nTo those would they thereby do injury who have power at\npresent: for with those the preaching of death is still most at\nhome.\nWere it otherwise, then would the tarantulas teach otherwise:\nand they themselves were formerly the best world-maligners and\nheretic-burners.\nWith these preachers of equality will I not be mixed up and\nconfounded. For thus speaketh justice unto me: \"Men are\nnot equal.\" And neither shall they become so! What would\nbe my love to the Superman, if I spake otherwise?\nResistance—that is the distinction of the slave. Let your\ndistinction be obedience. Let your commanding itself be obey-\ning !\nTo the good warrior soundeth \"thou shalt\" pleasanter than"}, {"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "158", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.9", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\n\"I will.\" And all that is dear unto you, ye shall first have it\ncommanded unto you by me—and it is this: man is something\nthat is to be surpassed.\nSo live your life of obedience and of war! What matter\nabout long life! What warrior wishes to be spared! I spare\nyou not. I love you from my very heart, my brethren in war 1\nThus spake Zarathustra.\n\nIn Our Village\nSuffragettes interrupted the sleepy drowsiness of the Square\nand the neighboring streets last Saturday. Back of the arch\nwas a ticket of would-be voters gathering into groups and\nstarting their demonstrative parade through the city. They\nwere pretty to look at. Their many-colored clothes, spotted\nwith yellow badges and ribbons like a forest with autumn leaves.\nMusic bands were playing and even the shutters of the mansions\non the north side could not resist the temptation to open\nthemselves and to permit their inhabitants to look at that pretty\nprotesting femininity.\nSome of Our Aristocrats\nThe most radical event that Washington Square North has to\nchronicle for the current months is the arrival of the Philip\nM. Lydigs, who have hitherto lived in the upper East side\nCourt end of the town. For the coming of the Lydigs, the\nwhole interior of the Serena Rhinelander homestead at Wash-\nington Square and Fifth Avenue has been modernized by her\nheirs at a cost of more than thirty thousand dollars. However,\nartistic and in accord with the prevailing fashions of the hour,\nmay be this overhauling of the Colonial interior of a venerable\nlandmark, some people would not like the house so well in\nseveral details. For instance, the combined drawing and ball-\nrooms which ran the entire length of the Fifth Avenue side of\nthe mansion have been walled up between, so as to allow\nan enclosure for a large library at the back, Fortunately,\nthe handsome marble mantels of the house have been suffered\nto remain intact. However, Mrs. Lydig, an all round cultured\nwoman like Mrs. Benjamin Guinness, her neighbor who queens\nit on the other block of Washington Square North, is a woman\nwho does things. Above all, Mrs. Lydig is an ardent suffragette\nand her staid neighbors on the Square, lovers of the old\norder of things, were much amazed to wake up last Saturday\nmorning and behold the windows of the prim and ultra-con-\nservative Serena Rhinelander home aglow with yellow suf-\nfragist slogans and banners in all its windows. _ And in the\nafternoon when the suffragist parade was passing, a couple\nof blocks farther up Fifth Avenue, the sensibilities of these\nultra-conservatives received a second jolt upon beholding young\npeople and children displaying the same revolutionary em-\nblems from the portico and balconies of that stately abode\nof one of the most hide bound families in the community—\nthe de Rham mansion, \"the house of the haunted bay window.\""}, {"page_pdf": 10, "page_imprimee": "159", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.10", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nSarah Bernhardt\n\nSadakichi Hartmann in Bruno's Garret\nAfter an absence of several years, Sadakichi Hartmann, the\nlast of the romanciers, invaded the village for a few days and\ngave on last Monday evening, a reading in Bruno's Garret\nNo better place could he have chosen to interpret Edgar Allan\nPoe, than that little white house on the Square which Poe\npassed so often on his daily walk while he was living on\nCarmine street. The night was dark and through the windows\nthe black outline of the trees stood out ghostly, the yellow gas\nlamps here and there glimmered like will-of-the-wisps in a quiet\nchurchyard on a country road, and far away shimmered through"}, {"page_pdf": 11, "page_imprimee": "160", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.11", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nthe half-naked branches of the trees the two long rows of\nelectric arc lamps of Fifth avenue which seemed to meet some-\nwhere in the far far away. The candles in the garret flickered\nyellowish. And Sadakichi read the \"Tell-Tale Heart,\" that\nmasterpiece of the mystic poet. He spoke of the eight years\nhe spent with Walt Whitman and related merry and sad ancedotes\nillustrating as well his own life as that of his great fellow-\njourneyman. »\nMonday, the first of November, is set aside as a Keeler eve-\nning. Mr. Keeler returned recently to New York and gathered\n\"a basket of new fruit.\"\nA new comer to the village is F. Carlton Waugh, greatly\ninterested in insect life from a painter's standpoint. He lived for\nseveral years in the woods, disregarding the advantages of\ncivilization, and learned there to love the small life of plants\nand insects whose existence is largely unknown to the average\nhuman being. But he is not narrow-minded. After his arrival\nin the city he turned his magnifying-glass upon the insectivora\nof our streets. Our title cover shows that he turned his eyes\nto the right direction.\nThe Wardrobe announced on very handsome paper—parch-\nment finish, deckel edge and snow white—its official opening.\nIts sponsors, Mary Grott and Heloise De Forest Haynes, say\nthat they will \"design and execute\" women's clothes in their\nsewing shop. Why not rather \"designate and guillotine.\"\n\"Gay Revillon\" or \"Maid of My Dreams\" is the name of\na miniature operetta, which Charles Henry Dorr, a Villager of\nolden days, has just completed. The music for the piece is by\nAdrian Schubert, a cellist of the Metropolitan Opera Company,\nwhose first work of note \"Follies d'Amour\" made its way across\nthe sea to London. Many of the ideas in the \"Gay Revillon\"\noriginated within the confines of the Ssuare.\n\nBooks and Magazines of the Week\nEver during the last hundred years, when Russia was engaged\nin war as an ally of England, Russian literature in England\npassed through a short period of renaissance. There are certain\nRussian authors who had been for more than a hundred years\non the Russian proscription list and who in these days of a\ncloser relationishp and of increased interest with and for Russia\nin England have been rushed into print and fed to the people\nat large as a new source of information about Russia and its\nreal conditions. It is done to-day as of yore. There is a new\ntranslation of Gogol's \"Dead Souls.\" It is a wonderful tale,\nthe masterpiece of Gogol, a figure in Russian letters somewhat\nsimilar to our own Poe, but it is in no way representative of\nGogol's work. One must read his fantastic tales in the original"}, {"page_pdf": 12, "page_imprimee": "161", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.12", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nto realize how poor his interpretation in the Ungnsn version\nis. I always wondered if Gogol as presented to his English\nreaders was translated directly from the Russian into English.\nIt looks more as though it had come via France, or more\nlikely via Germany. Translations of Gogol into German existed\na hundred and some years ago during the lifetime of the author.\nTranslating men like Gogol, the translator needs be a Russian\nable to talk English rather than an American university pro-\nfessor and scholar of Slavic languages. The beauty of the Rus-\nsian language, which expresses heart-winningly the melancholy\nmelody of Russian life, is mostly lost in our translations.\nThe Log\nAnother one of those magazines which cannot be bought\non the average news stand but which is interesting for the read-\ning matter it contains as well as for the direct object of its\nbeing published, is \"The Log,\" the organ of the Circumnavi-\ngators' Club. In order to be eligible to membership in this\nclub one must have made a circuit of the globe, longitudinally.\nThe magazine is chiefly composed of letters written from all\nparts of the world by its traveler members.\nThe Photo-Dramatist\nWillard Bradley, who once upon a time published a news-\npaper in Greenwich Village, issued recently a pamphlet, \"The\nPhoto-Dramatist,\" in which he tells us all about photo-plays,\nand how they are created. D. W. Griffith is represented with\na paragraph or two of good advice to those who wish to become\nphoto-play writers. It is a neat little pamphlet of twenty-two\npages, with pea-green covers.\nThe Grolier Club\nThe Grolier Club, at 29 East Thirty-second Street, New York,\nexhibits from Friday, November sth, to November 20th, an\nextensive collection of books and prints relating to pirates and\nhighwaymen. This exhibition is open to the public.\nThe Book of Repulsive Women\nThe forthcoming issue of Bruno Chap Books is Djnna Barnes'\n\"Book of Repulsive Women,\" a chant which could be sung by\nthose who are in the daily procession through the streets and\nhighways of our metropolis but which also could be sung by\nthose who are on balconies and house-tops viewing the eternal\nshow of daily life. It is illustrated with full-page plates by\nthe author.\nThe Nutshell\nMr. H. G. Heaton, renowned traveler and artist, found a\nvery satisfactory way how to keep in constant contact with a\ngreat number of his friends and casual acquaintances all over\nboth hemispheres. He publishes a little magazine called, \"The\nNutshell,\" which he sends out broadcast to everyone whom he\nwants to remind of his existence."}, {"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "162", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.13", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\ni\n(Concluded from last issue)\n\n\"The artist-author's first need of time and sight for profes-\nsional use limits his correspondence most regretfully and so\nThe Nutshell is equally intended as a means of giving\nfuller and, in many cases, more frequent personal news of\ngeneral interest to a far greater number of present and past\nintimates in evidence of constant regard, than he could do\notherwise.\"\nIn Which\nVery rarely emanates from Detroit a voice of art and\nliterature. And no other city in the United States seems\nas much created for the habitation of the artist as that beautiful\nspot in the Middle West where everybody owns his home and\ngarden, where the streets seem parkways, and business, with its\nbeauty-limiting accessories, a mere incident. Norman Geddes\nis writing, printing and binding his own monthly journal, \"In\nWhich,\" \"Being a Book in Which I Say Just What I Think.\"\nIt is a nice miscellany of animated talk about art in Detroit,\nincidents of everyday life, miniature stories, and here and there\na bit of the editor's own philosophy.\nLong before Elbert Hubbard started the \"little magazine\nvogue,\" with his Philistine, Robert Reitzel had created here in\nDetroit his \"Poor Devil\" and conducted it for fifteen years as\na one man's periodical. \"In Which\" seems to follow in his\nfoot-steps.\nThe Little Paper\nRichmond, Indiana, was the birthplace of the first journal in\nthe United States, owned, edited and published by one woman\nwho devotes the pages of her periodical to civic betterment.\nEsther Griffin White is a fighter for reforms, and how she keeps\nout of the libel court must be one of her professional secrets.\nOn the same page on which she sets down a flaming editoral\nagainst the disgraceful appointment of a certain official of her\ncity's administration, she publishes three poems, written, per-\nhaps, by the same pen out of which came her political attack.\nTheir titles are \"Lilies of the Valley,\" \"Hollyhocks\" and\n\"Peonies.\" Her social paragraphs cannot but isolate her from\nthe social set of her town. But the most interesting feature\nof \"The Little Paper\" are the discussions about cigarette smok-\ning. Miss White, as so many other literary women of the\n\"Hoosier State\"—and an endless string of has this state\nproduced—smokes cigarettes. In thirty-eight issues of her\n\"Little Paper\" she defends on considerable space the right of\na woman to smoke, in general, and her own right to smoke while\nwriting her city-reforming editorials, in particular.\n\nThe Sous-Prefet Afield\nBy Alphonse Daudet.\nThe sous-Prefet shrugs his shoulders and tries to continue his\nspeech but the woodpecker interrupts him anew, and eails out\nfrom afar:"}, {"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "163", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.14", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\n\"What is the use.'\"\n\"How, what is the use!\" says the sous-Prefet, who gets quite\nred; and chasing away the impudent bird with a gesture, he\nbegins afresh:\n\"Messieurs etchers Administres—\"\n\"Messieurs etchers Administres\" begins the sous-Prefet\nafresh.\nBut lo! the little violets lift themselves up towards him on\nthe tips of their stems, and softly say:\n\"Monsieur le sous-Prefet, do you perceive how good we\nsmell ?\"\nAnd the springs make a divine music under the moss, and\nin the branches over his head many warbles come and sing\nhim their pretty tunes; and all the little wood conspires to\nprevent him from composing his speech.\nAll the little wood conspires to prevent him from composing\nhis speech. Monsieur the sous-Prefet, drunk with perfumes,\ndazed by music, attempts vainly to resist the new charm that\ninvades his being. He leans on his elbows in the grass, un-\nbuttons his fine coat, stammers again twice or thrice:\n\"Messieurs etchers Administres .... Messieurs etchers\nAdmi .... Messieurs etchers . \"\nThen he sends the administres to the devil, and the Muse of\nagricultural fairs has now but to veil her face.\nVeil thy face, O Muse of agricultural fairs! When, at the\nend of one hour, the servants of the sous-prefecture, anxious\nabout their master, entered the little wood, they saw a sight\nthat made them recoil with horror. Monsieur the sous-Prefet\nwas lying on his stomach in the grass, as untidy as a bohemian.\nHe had taken off his coat; and while chewing violets, Monsieur\nthe sous-Prefet was composing verses.\n\nThe Third\nA Story from Warsaw's Latin Quarter,\nBy Henry Sienkiewicz\nTranslated by Guido Bruno\nfHE studio in which I jointly lived and painted with Swiatecki\nwas not paid for first because we both had among us\naltogether about five rubles, and second because we had a sincere\nrepugnance against the paying of rent.\nThey call us painters usually spendthrifts, and still I prefer\nto drink up my money rather than to squander it on the landlord\nfor rent. Referring to our landlord, he was not a bad man,\nand moreover, we knew how to look out for ourselves if he\nstarted to be insistent.\nWhenever he came up to us to remind us of our indebtedness,\nwhich happened usually early in the morning, Swiatecki raised\nhimself from his bed—a mattress upon the floor with a Turkish\nhanging as a cover, which at other times would be used as"}, {"page_pdf": 15, "page_imprimee": "164", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.15", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nbackground to a portrait—and spoke in a sepulchral voice: \"It\ndoes me good to see you because I dreamt that you had died.\"\nThe landlord, who was superstitious and very much afraid\nof death, as it seemed, became confused; but Swiatecki threw\nhimself back on his mattress, stretched his long legs, folded\nhis hands across his breast and continued: \"That is how I\nsaw you: you had white gloves on your hande with long fingers,\nand patent leather shoes, otherwise you were not very much\nchanged.\"\nAnd I used to add: \"Once in a while such dreams do not\ncome true.\"\nThis \"once in a while\" apparently brought the landlord to\ndesparation. The scene usually finished with his becoming in-\ndignant. He banged the door and noisily and swearing, de-\nscended the stairs. But the good soul never could quite make\nup his mind to put the city marshal upon our tracks. Of\ncourse, there wasn't very much to take in our studio and the\nlandlord may have calculated that he might be just as bad\noff if he rented the studio and kitchenette to some other painter,\nor perhaps worse. But this expedient in time, lost its effect.\nThe landlord became familiar with the thought of death.\nSwiatecki intended to execute three paintings a la Wuertz, to\nbe called: \"The Death,\" \"The Funeral\" and\"The Awakening\nfrom Lethargy.\" Of course the landlord was designated to\nfigure in all of them.\nThis sort of corpse business was the specialty of Swiatecki,\nwho after his own declaration painted \"big carcasses, small\ncarcasses and middle-sized carcasses.\" Maybe that's the reason\nthat nobody buys his pictures, notwithstanding the fact he has\ntalent. Just now he had sent to\"The Salon,\" in Paris, two\n\"grand cadavers\" and I, too, submitted there, my \"The Jews\nof Jerusalem\" which the catalogue of the Salon had\nrebaptized into \"The Jews on the Rivers of Babylon.\" And\nnow we were awaiting impatiently the verdict of the jury.\nOf course, Swiatecki knew in advance that everything would\nend most disgustingly: \"The jury,\" he contended, \"was composed\nof the most complete idiots, and if this were not the case, I\nwas an idiot and he too, our pictures idiotic, and their winning\nrecognition would be the height of idiocy.\"\nHow much this fellow contributed, to my discomfort\nduring the three years I shared a studio with him, is very\nhard to describe. It is his highest ambition to be taken for a\nmoral \"grand corpse,\" so, for instance, he feigns to be an\nhabitual drunkard, and of course, he is far from being one.\nHe drinks hastily two or three glasses of brandy, and glances\naround to see if we noticed it. If he isn't sure that we did,\nhe nudges one of us with his elbow and looking at us significantly\nhe asks with his sepulchral voice:\n\"I'm pretty far down, am I not?\"\nWe answer him that he is foolish and then he starts to rave;\nbecause nothing puts him more out of temper than to have us\ndoubt his moral downfall."}, {"page_pdf": 16, "page_imprimee": "165", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.16", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n(Continued from last issue)\n\nAnd he is the best scout on earth. Once on a trip in the\nmountains we had lost our way. After it had become dark and\nthe danger lay near that we would slip and break our necks,\nSwiatecki said:\n\"Listen, Wladek, you have the bigger talent therefore you\nwould be a greater loss. I'll walk ahead . . . . if I drop\ndown, you stay right here and don't move until tomorrow\nmorning, and then it will be easy for you to find your way.\"\n\"Not you will go first, but I will,\" I answered, \"because I\nhave better eyes.\"\nAnd Swiatecki:\n\"If I don't break my neck today I will end in the grave\nanyhow—l don't give a darn.\"\nAnd so we started to argue, and in the meantime it was pitch\ndark. Finally we decided to cast lots. We did. Swiatecki lost\nand walked in front of me. We were at the saddle of a\nmountain. We walked slowly and carefully. At first the path\nwas rather broad, but it became more and more narrow, and,\nas far as we could make out, there were precipices to the\nright and to the left, perhaps very deep ones.\nThe ridge of the mountain is very narrow, and what is still\nworse, pieces of the withered mountain crumbled under our\nfeet .... we have to crawl on all fours, otherwise it is\nimpossible. We walk along like two monkeys.\nBut soon we notice that we can't progress even in this manner.\nThe ridge is hardly as broad as the saddle of a horse. Swiatecki\nseats himself astride it. I follow his example. I hear his voice.\n\"Wladek?\"\n\"What is it?\"\n\"The ridge is at an end.\"\n\"And what now?\"\n\"I believe there is an abyss.\"\n\"Take a stone nad throw it down .... we will listen\nhow far it falls.\"\nI heard Swiatecki feeling in the dark after a loose stone.\nNow he says: \"Look out, I'm throwing it!\"\n(Continued in next issue)\n\nRichard Wagner—Egoist\nBy Guido Bruno\n\\X7AGNER was a self-sufficient man. He never had any\nintimates to whom he would relate the ambitions of his\nlife. He carried his thouhts and his dreams as holy secrets in\nhis heart. He planned for a long time whatever he wanted to\ndo. He guarded his thoughts as his property with the proud\nbashfulness of a virgin. But after he had convinced himself\nthat he had done what he had aimed to do—after he had had\nhis pleasure of conceiving, studying, caressing and produc-"}, {"page_pdf": 17, "page_imprimee": "166", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.17", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n(To be continued)\nBruno's Weekly, published weekly, by Charles Edison and\nEdited and written by Guido Bruno, 58 Washington Square,\nNew York City. Subscription $1 a year.\nApplications for entry as second-class matter at the Post Office si\nNew York pending.\n\ning, he needed someone who wouid listen to him, someone who\nwould appreciate his work as a whole, not with words but\nwith a look of admiration, and strongly affirm his own thoughts.\nHe would not enter an argument with his fellow musicians—\nwith the critics who were so sharply after him.\nHe felt that he was infallible.\nAnd so he directed his orchestra, so he wrote his dramas\nand so he composed his music.\nWagner had a mother who was his friend and patient\nlistener as long as he was at home. As a mere boy he was\nentranced by the history of the Hellenes and by their authors.\nHe read the dramas of Aeschylus and he translated Homer in\nhexameters. His boy friends were poor listeners to his classic\nsubjects. But there was a mother sitting for hours on long\nwinter evenings, mending the clothes of her children and lisen-\ning to the sympathetic voice of her youngest son. She was\nthe first to whom the ideas of a national drama were related.\nIt is more than dubious that the simple German woman, who\nhad attended to her bouse duties her life long, who had reared\neight children, had another understanding for her son's ambi-\ntions than the tactful sympathy of mother love. His wife,\nwho shared the struggles and wanderings from city to city\nof the poor, ambitious orchestra conductor, took the place\nof his mother in later years.\nIt is remarkable how the woman, living in poverty, suffering\neven hunger for periods, could keep her faith in her husband's\nfuture. She listened to his life-theories. She learned to hate\nwith him the work of men highly esteemed by critics, the pub-\nlic of her time and the corrupted managers of opera houses;\nshe learned to feel pity for the audiences which repelled her\nhusband's works, because they were misguided or were not\nable to understand.\nBut listening and confirming were the only and continuous\nperformances of these two women, who played such an important\npart in Wagner's life. They were never asked for their opinion.\nThey never suggested or corrected or tried to persuade or\nto induce.\nWhat Wagner said was the unrestricted truth, the right and\nonly view. No matter how the critics raved in daily papers,\nno matter how the audiences hissed and his managers tried\nto induce changes and repelled his works, in his own home\nWagner was the recognized master. The recognition he finally\nreceived from the world he had received years before in his\nhome."}, {"page_pdf": 18, "page_imprimee": "[167]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19151030-01.1.18", "texte": "Charles Edison's Little Thimble Theatre, Situated\nat No.lOFifth Avenue, Greenwich Village, N.Y.C.\nGuido Bruno, Manager.\nThis Week's Performances and Concerts\nMonday,\n3 p. m.\nWednesday, 2:15 p. m.\nThursday,\nFriday,\n3 p. m.\n8:15 p. m.\n8:15 p. m.\nSaturday, 2:00 p. m.\n8:15 p. m.\nA little Pilgrimage to the home\nand workshop of Stephen\nCollins Foster.\nChildren's Hour and Disc Concert\non the Square.\nA little Pilgrimage of the home\nand workshop of Stephen\nCollins Foster.\nPerformance at the Little Thimble\nTheatre.\nPerformance at the Little Thimble\nTheatre.\nChildren's Hour and Disc Concert\non the Square.\nPerformance at the Little Thimble\nTheatre.\nAsk or write for ticket of admission to The\nLittle Thimble Theatre performances. They\nare free of charge.\nWho Wrote Our National Home Songs?\n\"Way Down upon the Swanee\nRiver,\" \"My Old Kentucky Home,\"\n\"Old Folks at Home.\" Do you\nknow that they were created and\nwritten by Stephen Collins Foster?\nIn a Dingy Bowery Grocery Store?\nCome to the Matinee on Monday or Thursday at 3 P. M."}]}