{"numero_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-12-30-01", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01", "ocr_sha256": "beae90de5d1fdea51644a226f8ec25fa0ba93e511e9e8c939f72b81d3e2a98b1", "source_tei": "https://github.com/Princeton-CDH/bluemountain-transcriptions/blob/main/periodicals/bmtnaaq/issues/1916/12/30_01/bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01.tei.xml", "source_mets": "https://github.com/pulibrary/BlueMountain/blob/main/metadata/periodicals/bmtnaaq/issues/1916/12/30_01/bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01.mets.xml", "url_numero": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01", "articles": [{"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-12-30-01-c002", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01#c002", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[1228]", "page_fin": "[1228]", "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=bmtnaaq19161230-01.2.2", "titre_corps": "Love.", "titre_sommaire": "Love.", "signature_source": "Guido Bruno", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 2, "page_imprimee": "[1228]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.2", "debut_caractere": 133, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1215, "texte": "Love.\nGuido Bruno.\nSnow was falling.\nRed bells and evergreen in the shopwindows.\nEverybody seemed happy.\nAnd Jesus Christ passed down the avenue where street girls\nwalk and smile.\n\"Shall we be damned, O Lord?\" asked a slender woman in a\nfrightened voice, with her head bowed down. She had recog-\nnized the Man and had stopped him on the street.\n\"Must we be damned?\" she repeated in a voice that only He\ncould hear. Her heart beat in her throat, her knees shook and\nshe felt her sin all over her body.\nJesus stepped nearer to her. He lifted her head gently. He\nlooked into her eyes.\nHe kissed her.\n\"He that seeks love even if he seeks it on the avenue of\nshame, he shall find love .\"\nHis voice sounded like a revelation of something that always\nwas, only we have not heard it.\nChildren whispered secrets in the ears of a decorated, white-\nwhiskered Santa Claus in front of a department store.\n\"And next Christmas, dear . ...\" a man said, passing by\nwith a handsome girl.\nEverybody seemed happy. Snow was falling. Christ\npassed down the avenue where street girls walk and smile.\n• I n"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-12-30-01-c003", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01#c003", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[1228]", "page_fin": "[1228]", "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=bmtnaaq19161230-01.2.3", "titre_corps": "Merry Christmas, Merry Commerce!", "titre_sommaire": "Merry Christmas, Merry Commerce!", "signature_source": "Guido Bruno", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 2, "page_imprimee": "[1228]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.2", "debut_caractere": 1217, "fin_caractere_exclue": 6235, "texte": "Merry Christmas, Merry Commerce!\nGuido Bruno.\nand women feign happiness. They adorn windows with\nevergreens, with holly, with red ribbons and with symboli-\ncal bells. The downtown, maelstrom, shopping mart is a mag-\nnet for all.\nStores, great and small, have their varied attractions. At\nevery counter, in every aisle, Christmas is in the Placards\nsuggest to prospective purchasers—hosts of last-minute, be-\nwildered shoppers, intoxicated with the mock Yuletide spirit—\nmethods of bringing happiness to father, mother, sister, brother,\nsweetheart, friend and acquaintance. Christmas trees, gaudily\ndecked and laden with things to delight children, create a vision\nof real home happiness. Holly wreaths, garlands and pme\nboughs transform everyday wares on store counter and in dis-\nplay cases into real Christmas offerings.\nThe children are the customers, every saleable article is a\ngift, and the obsequious store proprietors the Santa Clauses. And\nall for the sake of dollars and cents—for the money which\nthe spurious spirit of Christmas meant for their own purses.\nOutside the stores, grotesquely garbed Santa Clauses hold\ncourt. \"Suffer the little children to come unto me,\" is their\ncommercially prostituted, biblical motto; but only as long as\nthe tall man in red clothes with white whiskers and with the\nmask which makes his features look beaming and kindly, is\nfurnished his uniform and paid two dollars a day.\nAnd the children come and whisper into the ear of the man\nwith the whiskey-stained breath. They pour out the innocent\nsecrets of their childish desires, and then persuade their parents,\nwho will not banish the baby, Santa Claus belief, to enter the\nstores and purchase the coveted wares from the merchant who\nuses Christ's name to get the money.\nGrimacing, hawking street fakirs, blocking sidewalks and di-\nrecting the meanderings of their worthless last-over-niecht toys\namid the feet of hurrying pedestrians, come in for their share\nof the Christmas tribute—the money that leaves the purse buyer\nwith the silly abandon which a commerce-conjured Christmas\nspirit fosters. Vendors of floral offerings, holly and evergreen,\nwhich are stolen from Nature and transported cityward in profit-\nable cargoes, are similarly active.\nThoussands of men and women deny themselves luncheons at\nluncheon time and dinners at dinner time that they may have\ndollars to buy some unwelcomed gift for someone who will\nthen pretend appreciation. Many a doctor, tailor, bootmaker,\nlaundryman, grocer and butcher (if they are lenient) will have\nto wait for the money owed them by fools who think it neces-\nsary to give luxurious gifts to their friends to keep up annual\nappearances.\n\"Christmas Money\" is advertised in the salary loan columns\nof newspapers by the bloodsuckers who should rightly fear\nto speak, write or even think the name of Christ. Glitteiing\njewelry, worth nothing and purchased for an amount a thousand\ntimes greater than the manufacturing price, is accepted with\navidity and delight by women. Their husbands, friends sweet-\nhearts and sons have signed away their names, income, in fact,\neverything they possess, ever possessed or will possess in this\nworld, to the bland-faced, friendly benefactor behind his sheep-\nclothes counter in the Quick Loan, Thousand Per Cent banking\nbusiness den.\nThen these make-believe, Christmas celebrants exchange\nfriendly visits to wish happiness for the New Year—to manifest\nlove and brotherly feeling. The presents are on exhibition. They\nfind them beautiful. But the yellow Devil of Envy smirks out of\ntheir eyes, while the muscles of their faces twitch mechanically\nthe conventional grimace to show joy which does not exist.\nDown in their self-pitying hearts they are jealous and mur-\nmur sincere wishes for happiness and good luck to those whom\nthey damn.\nMerry Christmas! Merry Commerce!\nIt is another huge year-end Lie!\nAnd so is celebrated the anniversary of Christ's birth.\nIf He Himself should appear on Earth again, would they wel-\ncome Him in the same way? Would the pious sway the incense\nburner until He would stagger dizzily to the more wordly? And\nwould these smile and shout a joyful welcome? Would He read\nwith His knowing eyes their great question? \"Are you the\nsolution of the social problem? Will you distribute money and\nall those things we are seeking?\"\nWould He not clasp about Him His biblical mantle and\"\nfail to understand the thoughts of men, so complexly and elab-\norately distorted from His teachings in the coursse of twenty\ncenturies? And would He go?\nWould He come again in evening dress, with a chrysanthemum\nin His button-hole, with white gloves in His hands and a\nchapeau claque under His arm?\nOr would He remain without where snow-laden pine trees\nsend out their long, dark shadows over silvery, glistening snow-\nfields, where white-winged crows with raucous voices remind\nthe dark night of its shortness? Would He gaze upward again\nin the cold dawn into the deep blue sky?\nAnd would He desire again to be the Saviour of the World?"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-12-30-01-c004", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01#c004", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[1228]", "page_fin": "1229", "image_debut": 2, "image_fin": 3, "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=bmtnaaq19161230-01.2.4", "titre_corps": "On Going to Church", "titre_sommaire": "On Going to Church", "signature_source": "George Bernard Shaw", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 2, "page_imprimee": "[1228]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.2", "debut_caractere": 6237, "fin_caractere_exclue": 7238, "texte": "On Going to Church\nBy George Bernard Shaw\nIII\nIt will not be disputed, I presume, that an unstimulated saint\ncan work as hard, as long, as finely and on occasion, as fiercely,\nas a stimulated sinner. Recuperatoin, recreation, inspiration\nseem to come to the saint far more surely than to the man who\ngrows coarser and fatter with every additional hundred a year,\nand who calls the saint an ascetic. A comparison of the works\nof our carnivorous drunkard poets with those of Shelley, or of\nDr. Johnson's dictionary with that of the vegetarian Littre, is\nsufficient to show that the secret of attaining the highest emi-\nnence either in poetry or in dictionary compiling (and all fine\nliterature lies between the two), is to be found neither in alcohol\nnor in our monstrous habit of bringing millions of useless and\ndisagreeable animals into existence for the express purpose of\nbarbarously slaughtering them, roasting their corpses and eat-\ning them. I have myself tried the experiment of not eating meat"}, {"page_pdf": 3, "page_imprimee": "1229", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.3", "debut_caractere": 36, "fin_caractere_exclue": 8992, "texte": "or drinking tea, coffee or spirits for more than a dozen years\npast, without, as far as I can discover, placing myself at more\nthan my natural disadvantages relatively to those colleagues of\nmine who patronize the slaughter house and the distillery.\nBut then I go to church. If you should chance to see, in a\ncountry church-yard, a bicycle leaning against a tombstone, you\nare not unlikely to find me inside the church if it is old enough\nto be fit for its purpose. There I find rest without languor and\nrecreation without excitement, both of a quality unknown to the\ntraveller who turns from the village church to the village inn\nand seeks to renew himself with shandy-gaff. Any place where\nmen dwell, village or city, is a reflection of the consciousness\nof every single man. In my consciousness there is a market, a\ngarden, a dwelling, a workshop, a lover's walk—above all, a\ncathedral.\nMy appeal to the master-builder is: Mirror this cathedral\nfor me in enduring stone; make it with hands; let it direct its\nsure and clear appeal to my senses, so that when my spirit is\nvaguely groping after an elusive mood my eye shall be caught\nby the skyward tower, showing me where, within the cathedral,\nI may find my way to the cathedral within me. With a right\nknowledge of this great function of the cathedral builder, and\ncraft enough to set an arch on a couple of pillars, make\ndoors and windows in a good wall and put a roof over them,\nany modern man might, it seems to me, build churches as they\nbuilt them in the middle ages; if only the pious founders and\nthe parson would let him.\nFor want of that knowledge, gentlemen of Mr. Pecksniff's pro-\nfession make fashionable pencil drawings, presenting what Mr.\nPecksniff's creator elsewhere calls an architectooralooral ap-\npearance, with which, having delighted the darkened eyes of the\ncommittee and the clerics, they have them translated into bricks\nand masonry and take a shilling in the pound on the bill, with\nthe result that the bishop may consecrate the finished building\nuntil he is black in the face without making a real church of it.\nCan it be doubted by the pious that babies baptized in such\nplaces go to limbo if they die before qualifying themselves for\nother regions; that prayers said there do not count; nav, that\nsuch purposeless, respectable-looking interiors are irreconcilable\nwith the doctrine of Omnipresence, since the bishop's blessing\nis no spell of black magic to imprison Omnipotence in a place\nthat must needs be intolerable to Omniscience?\nAt all events, the godhead in me, certified by the tenth chapter\nof St. John's Gospel to those who will admit no other authority,\nrefuses to enter these barren places. This is perhaps fortunate,\nsince they are generally kept locked; and even when they are\nopen, they are jealously guarded in the spirit of that Westminster\nAbbey verger who, not long ago, had a stranger arrested for\nkneeling down, and explained, when remonstrated with, that if\nthat sort of thing were tolerated, they would soon have people\npraying all over the place. Happily, it is not so everywhere.\nYou may now ride or tramp into a village with a fair chance of\nfinding the church-door open and a manuscript placard in the\nporch, whereby the parson, speaking no less as a man and a\nbrother than as a porter of the House Beautiful gives you to\nunderstand that the church is open always for those who have\nany use for it.\nInside such churches you will often find not only carefully\ncherished work from the ages of faith, which you expect to find\nnoble and lovely, but sometimes a quite modern furnishing of\nthe interior and draping of the altar, evidently done, not by\ncontract with a firm celebrated for its illustrated catalogues, but\nby someone who loved and understood the church, and when\nbaffled in the search for beautiful things, had at least succeeded\nin avoiding indecently commercial and incongruous ones. And\nthen the search for beauty is not always baffled. When the\ndean and chapter of a cathedral want not merely an ugly but a\npositively beastly pulpit to preach from—something like the\nAlbert Memorial canopy, only much worse—they always get it,\nimprobable and unnatural as the enterprise is. Similarly, when\nan enlightened country parson wants an unpretending tub to\nthump, with a few pretty panels in it and a pleasant shape gen-\nerally, he will, with a little perseverance, soon enough find a\ncraftsman who has picked up the thread of the tradition of his\ncraft from the time when that craft was a fine art—as may be\ndone nowadays more easily than was possible before we had\ncheap trips and cheap photographs—and who is only too glad\nto be allowed to try his hand at something in the line of that\ntradition.\nDuring a bicycle tour, some months ago, I came upon a little\nchurch, built long before the sense of beauty and devotion had\nbeen supplanted by the sense of respectability and talent, in\nwhich some neat panels left by a modern carver had been\npainted with a few saints on gold backgrounds, evidently by\nsome woman who had tried to learn what she could from the\nearly Florentine masters and had done the work in the true\nvotive spirit, without any taint of the amateur exhibiting his\nirritating and futile imitations of the celebrated artist business.\nFrom such humble but quite acceptable efforts, up to the master-\npiece in stained glass by William Morris and Burne-Jones which\noccasionally astonisiies you in places far more remote and un-\nlikely than Birmingham or Oxford, convincing evidence may be\npicked up here and there that the decay of religions from the\nsixteenth to the nineteenth century was not caused by any atrophy\nof the artistic faculty, but was an eclipse of religion and com-\nmerce.\nIt is an odd period to look back on from the churchgoer's\npoint of view—those eclipsed centuries calling their predecessors\n\"the dark ages,\" and trying to prove their own piety by raising,\nat huge expense, gigantic monuments in enduring stone (not very\nenduring tiiougii, sometimes) of their infedility. Go to Milan,\nand join the rush of tourists to its petrified christening-cake of\na cathedral. The projectors of that costly ornament spared no\nexpense to prove that their devotion was ten times greater than\nthat of the builders of San Ambrogio. But every pound they\nspent only recorded in marble that their devotion was a hundred\ntimes less. Go on to Florence and try San Lorenzo, a really\nnoble church (which the Milan Cathedral is not,) Brunelleschi's\nmasterpiece. You cannot but admire its intellectual command\nof form, its unaffected dignity, its power and accomplishment, its\nmasterly combination of simplicity and homogeneity of plan\nwith elegance and variety of detail: you are even touched by\nthe retention of that part of the beauty of the older time which\nwas perceptible to the Renascent intellect before its weaning\nfrom heavenly food had been followed by starvation. You\nunderstand the deep and serious respect which Michael Angelo\nhad for Brunelleschi—why he said \"I can do different work,\nbut not better.\" But a few minutes walk to Santa Maria\nNovella or Santa Croce, or a turn in the steam tram to San\nMiniato, will bring you to churches built a century or two\nearlier; and you have only to cross their thresholds to feel,\nalmost before you have smelt the incense, the difference between\na church built to the pride and glory of God (not to mention\nthe Medici) and one built as a sanctuary shielded by God's\npresence from pride and glory and all the other burdens of life.\nIn San Lorzeno up goes your head—every isolating advantage\nyou have of talent, power or rank asserts itself with thrilling\npoignancy.\nIn the old churches you forget yourself, and are the equal\nof the begger at the door, standing on ground made holy by\nthat labor in which we have discovered the reality of prayer.\nYou may also hit on a church like the Santissima Annunziata,\ncarefully and expensively brought up-to-date, quite in our\nmodern church-restoring manner, by generations of princes\nchewing the cud of the Renascence; and there you will see the\nworship of glory and the self-sufficiency of intellect giving way\nto the display of wealth and elegance as a guarantee of social\nimportance—in another word, snobbery.\nIn later edifices you see how intellect, finding its worshippers\ngrowing colder, had to abandon its dignity and cut capers to\nattract attention, giving the grotesque, the eccentric, the baroque,\neven the profane and blasphemous, until, finally, it is thoroughly\nsnubbed out of its vulgar attempts at self-assertion, and mopes\nconventionally in our modern churches of St. Nicholas Without\nand St. Walker Within, locked up, except at service time, from\nweek's end without ever provoking the smallest protest from a\npublic only too glad to have an excuse for not going into them.\nYou may read the same history of the human soul in any art you\nlike to select; but he who runs may read it in the streets by\nlooking at the churches."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-12-30-01-c005", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01#c005", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "1229", "page_fin": "1229", "image_debut": 3, "image_fin": 3, "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=bmtnaaq19161230-01.2.5", "titre_corps": "It is impossible to uplift people all the time. Once", "titre_sommaire": "It is impossible to uplift people all the time. Once", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 3, "page_imprimee": "1229", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.3", "debut_caractere": 8994, "fin_caractere_exclue": 9146, "texte": "It is impossible to uplift people all the time. Once\nin a while you have to lower yourself down to their\nlevel in order to make them happier and better."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-12-30-01-c006", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01#c006", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "1230", "page_fin": "1231", "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=bmtnaaq19161230-01.2.6", "titre_corps": "Sumner, the Vice-Secretary, versus Edna, the Girl of the Street", "titre_sommaire": "Sumner, the Vice-Secretary, versus Edna, the Girl of the Street", "signature_source": "Guido Bruno", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "1230", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.4", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 8002, "texte": "Sumner, the Vice-Secretary, versus Edna, the Girl of the Street\n\nJOHN S. SUMNER, secretary of the Society for the Prevention\nof Vice, caused my arrest on Wednesday, December 13th,\nfor selling one of his agents a copy of Alfred Kreymborg's\n\"Edna, the Girl of the Street,\" published two and one half\nyears ago and sold during this period in every reputable book\nstore in the United States, in England, in France and in Ger-\nmany. I was held by the magistrate in the City Court for trial\nin Special Sessions in $500 bail until my case shall be decided.\nThe charge preferred against me is that of selling indecent\nliterature.\nWho is John S. Sumner?\nA person vested with the power of discriminating between\ndecency and indecency in the tangible expressions of writers,\nand artists, endowed with the right to seize property of citi-\nzens after it had been declared indecent by him, to swear out\nwarrants and have citizens arrested to prevent millions of\nother citizens from reading or viewing works of art condemned\nby him:most certainly he must be an extraordinary man endowed\nwith natural gifts which lift him above millions; a scholar\nof extraordinary learning; a man who knows life in all its\nphases; a man who can easily follow the thoughts and reason-\ning power of the average human mind.\nVerily an extraordinary mind is needed to pass judgment on\nordinary minds.\n\"Who is John S. Sumner?\" I asked two score of men of\nvarious callings and professions in New York. They shrugged\ntheir shoulders. *'A sort of a lawyer, but now he is the succes-\nsor of Anthony Comstock.\"\nThe official \"Who's Who\" does not mention his name.\nHe is about five feet nine inches. He dresses like the average\nman we meet on the street. His shoes are well polished. His\ncranium is flat in the black, not the slightest indication of\nimagination. His forehead is in no proportion to his chin. His\nmouth is very small, his lips sensual, no characteristic line in\nhis features. If he laughs he looks uncanny, his eyes are\nscrewed up, his mouth awry, he seems pleased with something\nunpleasant to someone else.\nI can imagine such a personality as a successful shipping\nclerk painstakingly counting packages and parcels and registering\nthem in his book. We meet such mediocrities in the offices of\nloan sharks.\nNo ordinary mind, no ordinary soul has such eyes for windows.\n''Extraordinary\" has a double meaning. It is beneath the\naverage ordinary or above the average ordinary. Mr. Sumner's\nmine undoubtedly is beneath the ordinary average.\nMy impression of Mr. Sumner is that his mind is not healthy\nenough to discriminate between the beautiful and the ugly,\nthat his judgment of works of art as decent or as indecent is\neverything but competent. I believe that Mr. Sumner is a\nmenace to the creative artist in America, an ill-directing power\nfor every American citizen. He is the grand inquisitor of an\nobscure age who could have flourished five hundred years ago\nbut who is entirely out of place in our era of a free America.\nA man can never help acting otherwise than according to\nhis real self. If you look at Mr. Sumner you know his views of\nlife. The Boston witch trials of the 17th Century cannot be\nrepeated in the New York Courts of the 20th Century.\nA society for the prevention of vice, supported by the best of\nour citizens could be a most estimable institution. In endowing\none man with the powers of this society a grave danger pres-\nents itself. The choice might fall upon a man like Mr. Sumner or\nMr. Comstock. Can he state one real tangible case in which he\never prevented vice? Did Mr. Comstock during his activities ex-\ntending over a period of thirty odd years, suppress vice in one\nsingle instance?\nMr. Sumner is accuser and judge in his own person. He is\npaid for finding vice. He must fill his card indexes and he must\nhave something to complain of in order to send off his reports.\nWhy should the citizens of this State permit a man without suit-\nable qualifications to go about and declare works of art as in-\ndecent, to arrest persons who are trying to lift up humanity?\nHas a man a right to exist if his chief purpose in life is to drag\ndown his fellow man? To accuse them; to condemn them upon\nno evidence but that furnished by his own mind, a mind that\nhas proven to be void of all discriminating qualities?\nI believe I voice the sentiment of everybody whoever met Mr.\nSumner; whoever heard his arguments and whoever read the\nevidences of his endeavors, if I say that Mr. Sumner is the\nlast man on earth to fill the position he occupies. Furthermore\nI believe that the position itself should be abolished for ever.\nBut if we must have a censorship let the government of the\nUnited States establish an official censor, qualified for his posi-\ntion, governed by a humanitarian and broad program of\nrules; an extraordinary position for an extraordinary man to\njudge and pass upon the work of extraordinary people for the\nbenefit of the average ordinary mind.\nA censor must not be one who's constant motive it is to find\nviciousness, in order to bolster up his own position and to draw\nhis salary.\nWho is Edna the Girl of the Streets?\nDEFORE she became one of the thousands of unfortunate\nwomen she was her mother's only daughter. She had to\nearn a living. The Department Store came—and then the street.\nAmos Lane met her on the street. He had supper with her\nand she told him the story of her life.\nAmos Lane very soon realized that there was not much of\nthe adventuress in the companion of his ''night out.\" The lack\nof romance disgusted him. Her only desire—money—shocked\nhim.\nHe paid her for her time—for nothing else; and he went\nhome, pondering upon downtrodden women, despising the De-\npartment Store and its dangers, disgusted with himself.\nNever again! is his moral.\nThink of it! If every man on one of these nights, would return\nhome and avow his \"Never again \"\nIf there is no demand, there is very soon no offer. The market\nwould close forever.\nWhere is the indecency dangerous to readers?\nHow They Do It.\nJ7 VERYBODY who knows me or my work in Greenwich Vil-\nlage knows that I have never had commercial ambitions.\nI have published twenty Chap Books and lost more money than\nI had. I had to become indebted to all sorts of tradespeople. I\nstarted my work without capital and I own nothing to-day.\nThe Garret was beneficial to those who had exhibitions there,\nto those who read their own poetry and whose books I published\n—never to myself.\nWith the last cents I could scrape together I rented a place\non Fourth Avenue to continue my work; to edit my Weekly and\nto dispose of the books I published.\nThree days after my removal to my new premises a man\ncame in whose profession was stamped on his face. He did not\ntry to interest me in some scheme or other and he did not ask\nfor his carfare to Jersey. But he asked for ''Edna: The Girl of\nthe Street.\" I knew then that he was a man from Mr. Sumner's\noffice. I had nothing to hide or to be afraid of and I sold him\nthe book. He inquired if I had some \"naked pictures,\" etc.\nHe came in the next day and bought another copy. He spoke\nt;> me—l don't remember what, and then he went out and called\nin a detective who arrested me. He then searched my place.\nThe Judge Murphy\nwas taken down to the City Court on Second Avenue and\nFirst Street. Judge Murphy, who did not find it necessary\nto grant me the \"Mr.\" but called me \"Bruno,\" said:\n4'l read that book before I signed the warrant for Mr. Sumner.\nIt is a violation of such and such a paragraph of the law.\"\nI demanded a postponement and asked him to excuse my ap-\npearance on any Monday or Tuesday, as these days are taken\nup with my work.\n\"Writing the —?\" asked Judge Murphy.\n\"Editing that Weekly of yours or the Chap Books?\" I\nanswered affirmatively.\n\"You might just as well mention that you have to burglarise\na home and ask to be excused from this Court\" replied the\nJudge.\nA judge who is firmly convinced of your guilt before he has\neven heard your case.\nHe fixed my bail at $500."}, {"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "1231", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.5", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1239, "texte": "Friends Who Restore Your Shaken Belief in Humanity.\nman who does not wish to have his name mentioned had\nheard of my arrest. While I was waiting for the Judge\nhe went from Pontius to Pilate to secure bail for me. But\nFrank Harris appeared all at once like the deux et machina in\nthe Court room. Words never can express my gratitude for all\nhe did for me. Money the magnanimous man of means can easily\ngive, but time, precious time, while one is busy with one's own\naffiairs;—kindness in spirit; a man's intercession for man; all\nthat cannot be bought with money. It is the manifestation of\na great soul. Frank Harris appeared for me as witness after he\nhad cancelled his trip to Havanna.\nHis testimony was a brilliant, most fascinating condemnation\nof Mr. Sumner's office in general and, in the case of \"Edna,\"\nespecially.\nJudge Frothingham, quite a different type of judge from\nJudge Murphy, a dignified gentleman with even kind and human\ninclinations, declined to strike out Mr. Harris' testimony on a\nmotion by Sumner's counsel, because Frank Harris admitted\nthat his *'is not ordinary.\"\nFrank Harris and Sumner! Two extraordinary minds! The\none as high above the average as the other is below the average.\n\nGuido Bruno."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-12-30-01-c007", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01#c007", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "1231", "page_fin": "1231", "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=bmtnaaq19161230-01.2.7", "titre_corps": "The Author of Edna, The Girl of the Street", "titre_sommaire": "The Author of Edna, The Girl of the Street", "signature_source": "Alfred Kreymborg", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "1231", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.5", "debut_caractere": 1241, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3940, "texte": "The Author of Edna, The Girl of\nthe Street\nAlfred Kreymborg.\nremember the author of ''Edna\"—the story for the printing\nof which Mr. Bruno was arrested by the Society for the Sup-\npression of Vice—l remember him quite distinctly at the tender\nage of his composition of it, twenty-three. He was a 110 pound,\nnear-sighted, gloomy, taciturn hermit domiciled in a top floor\nhall room, rented at six dollars per month, and eating his meals\nin a bakery on the proceeds derived from chess instruction. He\nwas, in fact, as you will agree, a mortal who does not com-\nmend himself to our admiration even in retrospect—except, and\nthis only doubtfully, for his romantic idealism. I remember this\nlast particularly, because his ''friends\" used to laugh at him\nfor it. Like so many folk of the tender age ascribed to him, he\nhad a \"mission to perform\"—he imagined so, at least. This\nmission, naturally enough, was the old Tolstoyan one of regen-\nerating the world through art. A novel or two, some stories, a\nplay, essays and tentative poems were passionately, arduously,\nawkwardly, silently and secretly committed to paper. \"Edna\"\nwas one of these. It was the lad's own experience, \"Amos Lane\"\nhis nom-de-guerre in the telling of it.\nThe story was presented to Mr. Bruno and published by him\nabout two years ago. Yesterday, I received a hurry-call from\ntiis ex-mayor of garrets along with an invitation, which was\naccepted, to participate in the demolition of a roast duck. He\nimparted to me the news of the pleasant adventure which faces\nhim for having housed in book form the work of the creature of\ntwenty-three. Incidentally, he asked me to read, or re-read as\nthe case might be, the 'dangerous\" story, and send him a screed\nsetting forth my reactions. I have done so, and offer herewith\nthe following paragraph:\n\"Edna\" is not a story one would choose for reading aloud\nto a seminary of young ladies. But it was evidently not intended\nfor that benign purpose. Nor can it be termed an immortal\nachievement, in the light of what artistry it does not contain.\nIt is, however, so clean and so honest a transcription of one\nphase of a theme which will always be timely, as to have held\nmy attention by its sheer humanity. Not the least interesting\ntrait is the outright self-condemnation of the author. In a\nphrase, the really poignant sincerity of the effort moves me to\nconfess that I am proud of my close affiliation with the author.\nI may even go so far as to say that I am ashamed of all those\ncompositions since perpetrated on my part in which I may have\nfallen short of the ideal of truthfulness so frankly championed in\nEdna.\" The reading of the work has been a deeply moving\nand valuable ''lesson\" to me."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-12-30-01-c008", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01#c008", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "1231", "page_fin": "1231", "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=bmtnaaq19161230-01.2.8", "titre_corps": "Scars are more painful than words.", "titre_sommaire": "Scars are more painful than words.", "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": "1231", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.5", "debut_caractere": 3942, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3976, "texte": "Scars are more painful than words."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-12-30-01-c009", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01#c009", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "1231", "page_fin": "1231", "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=bmtnaaq19161230-01.2.9", "titre_corps": "Quo Vadis?", "titre_sommaire": "Quo Vadis?", "signature_source": "Signed) CHARLES EDISON", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "1231", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.5", "debut_caractere": 3978, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5251, "texte": "Quo Vadis?\n(Signed) CHARLES EDISON.\nWE have to say farewell in this last issue of our third volume\nto a dear friend and staunch standby: Charles Edison\nhas resigned from the Board of Directors of Bruno's Weekly.\nMore and more absorbed with the problems of the gigantic\nworks of his father, he cannot devote himself for the time being\nto the secret calling of his heart: which brought him down to\nGreenwich Village and made him for eighteen months the centre\nof his renowned Greenwich Village activities.\nFarewell— not for ever.\nAu Revoir.\nThis is his Letter:\nDecember 26, 1916.\n''My dear Mr. Bruno.\n\"It is with a great deal of regret that I am severing my\nconnnections with Bruno's Weekly. But what can I do? The\nmultiplication of duties at the factory make it impossible for me\nto give even the smallest amount of time to an outside ven-\nture, no matter how much I believe in it. Antf I do believe in\nthis one.\nYou have produced something unusual that has solid merit,\nand such a combination is bound to succeed.\nAnd now that I am neither officer, director nor stockholder,\nthere is no privilege left for me but that of becoming a sub-\nscriber, so you will find my two dollars enclosed. Trusting that\nthe Weekly will meet with the success it deserves, I remain,\nSincerely,"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-12-30-01-c010", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01#c010", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "1231", "page_fin": "1231", "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=bmtnaaq19161230-01.2.10", "titre_corps": "Two Poems By Tom Sleeper", "titre_sommaire": "Two Poems By Tom Sleeper", "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": "1231", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.5", "debut_caractere": 5253, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5883, "texte": "Two Poems By Tom Sleeper\nJones\nQUI TARS are playing\nIn the hush of Samoan sunsets\nAnd softly the music dies away\nOver a phantom sea.\nA bit of laughter rings clear.\nGently the air moves among the palms\nThen comes the blessed night,\nThe night with its million mysteries.\n* * * *\nA jangling alarm clock\nBreaks distorted slumber\nAnd from a cheap iron bed\nI arise,\nTo butt my way to the office\nThru the January slush\nAnd the chill dinginess of a New York morning.\nFifth Avenue\nQJTRUTTING cimeons\nOf a barbaric age\nSunless monstrosities\nOf paint and style\nMince and smirk\nYour way along\nNodding to those who are\nAs doubly damned as you."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-12-30-01-c011", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01#c011", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "1231", "page_fin": "1231", "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=bmtnaaq19161230-01.2.11", "titre_corps": "A Reverie", "titre_sommaire": "A Reverie", "signature_source": "Walter", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "1231", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.5", "debut_caractere": 5885, "fin_caractere_exclue": 6511, "texte": "A Reverie\nWalter.\npUFFING monotonously before the dying fire,\nThe last embers deftly struggling to live;\nMy mind lightly flits past the vale of years\nAnd glances far behind the curtain of manhood\nRevealing the one radiant jewel of my empty existence,\nThe companion of my youth, my one true friend;\nHe who understood, sympathized, cared,\nBecause the germ of love was in his soul,\nThe spark of altruism in his very ego.\nI see him smile upon me, all is light,\nA golden incandescence floods my room\nFor he is with me.\nThe embers die .... darkness.\nHis spirit evanesces, perhaps forever,\nAnd there sit I, puffing .... monotonously."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-12-30-01-c012", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01#c012", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "1232", "page_fin": "1233", "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=bmtnaaq19161230-01.2.12", "titre_corps": "The One hundred and fifty contemporary newspaper interviews collected by Guido Bruno", "titre_sommaire": "The One hundred and fifty contemporary newspaper interviews collected by Guido Bruno", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "1232", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.6", "debut_caractere": 16, "fin_caractere_exclue": 8551, "texte": "The Trail of Oscar Wilde in America\nOne hundred and fifty contemporary newspaper interviews\ncollected by Guido Bruno\nThe Apostle of Beauty in Nova Scotia\nOscar Wilde at Amherst.\n'J'HE afternoon train from St. John on Friday, brought beauty's\nlatest evangel to our province. He came, not surrounded by\na halo of blue and purple glory, not in a carved car, nor in a\nGreek urn. He rode on the engine. He saw the little hills re-\njoicing merrilly. He saw Moncton, and notice.d the irredecent\nwonder of the \"Transcript\" editor. He t<r>bk in the pre-\nRaphaelism of Dorchester. He rejoiced at the preciousness of\nWestcock, and was enraptured at the gaudy leonine beauty of\nthe Tantramar. Oscar praised the railroad and liked the ap-\npointment of the cars. He smoked the cigar of peace as he\ncrossed the Missequash, but he took no interest in Fort Cum-\nberland, as the battles fought there were not fought for love\nof beauty, but for love of territory.\nAt Amherst he shook hands with the engine driver, gaily\nwished him a good-day, gave him a strong cigar and leaped\nlightly to the platform, declining the proffered help of the\nhand kindly outstretched to assist him. The station platform\nwas crowded with citizens, trying to get a glimpse of \"wild\nOscar,\" as they called him, and these were anxiously watching\nthe door of the car where the Evangelist might be supposed to\nbe, while he was quietly getting into a carriage and getting\nunder way for Lamy's. The first impression on looking at Oscar\nis that he looks like his pictures. You have seen that picture\nbefore and are ready to turn over a leaf.\nA Herald representative called upon Mr. Wilde in his room\nat Lamy's. He was received with a polite friendliness that was\nwinning. The Apostle had no lily nor yet a sun flower. He wore\na velvet jacket which seemed to be a good jacket. He had an\nordinary neck-tie and wore a linen collar about number eigh-\nteen on a neck half a dozen sizes smaller. His legs were in\ntrousers such as Greenfield might have made, and his boots\nwere apparently the product of New York art, judging by their\npointed toes. He wore a ring with a seal of great size. A con-\nsensus of the opinions of Amherst people decides that Oscar's\nhair is not good. It is the color of straw, slightly leonime, and\nstraight as an Indian's. It is faded and bleached looking, and\nwhen not looked after goes climbing all over his features. Mr.\nWilde was communicative and genial. He said that he found\nCanada pleasant. He liked the scenery of New Brunswick, as\nit lent itself readily to art. There were no towering mountains,\nand deep gulches such as he had seen in the West. There were\nno large rivers, but the scenery was always changing as one\npassed through. Every turn in the road brought a small surprise.\nThe streams wound attractively through the land, and there\nwere innumerable hills and valleys of all conceivable forms.\nHad our autumn forests finer colors than those in England?\nWell, he would not say that. Our timber was finer, but it's\nbeauty was of a different sort. ,\nMr. Wilde uses the word ''timber\" in a sense that he thinks\nAmerican. He talks about the leaves on our timber, etc.\nThe conversation turned on newspapers.\n\"The editor of a paper,\" said Oscar, \"has an advantage over\nall other writers. He never waits for his audience, and he is\nsure that what he writes will be read.\"\n(Oscar sighed here, doubtless thinking of his poems.)\n''American journals are in many respects better than the\nEnglish. I think the American newspaper is the journal of the\nfuture. It is filled with news. The reader of the large New\nYork papers knows everything that goes on in the world that is\nworth knowing, and much more. Still there is a want of dignity,\nand an amount of scurrility in the American newspaper which\none gets in smaller towns that is terrible.\"\n\"Did they not discuss your appearance and your lectures in a\nsomewhat unsatisfactory way?\"\nOscar at this stage had brought into him a cup of tea and\nhaving asked your representative to partake with him he laughed\nquietly and pushed his hair behind his ears, as he replied: \"They\ntalk in an incredible obtuse manner about my message and my\nwork. I think nothing whatever about the criticisms now. It\ndoes not interest me as it did at first. I understand the people\nwho say those things about me and I cannot bring myself to care\nwhat they say. I cannot possibly do it At first it surprised me.\nI came out here, never having spoken in public, in earnest about\nmy message, strongly feeling what I was saying, and I talked\nseriously to those people. They heard me and went away and\ntalked about my necktie and the way I wore my hair. I could\nnet understand how people could do such a thing. I thought it\ninexpressibly stupid.\"\nThis last with a sigh and a look of half wearied pity at the\nthought of these critics. He said \"stupid\" with a strong accentu-\nation on the last syllable.\n''The English Journals,\" he went on, \"are much more serious\nand earnest in their tone than yours. But a man who has a name\nthat is valuable will not be an English journalist. English news-\npaper articles are written anonymously. A good writer can get\nno credit for good work, and so will not write for an English\npeper. The proprietor is everything, the writer nothing there.\nIn France, where the writers sign their names, better men be-\ncome journalists.\"\n''But as a matter of fact you can tell who writes many articles\nin England.\"\n\"Yes, in some cases you can. There is George Augusta Sala.\n(This name was uttered with a weary look as if the physical\neffort of articulating it was nearly too much and the last syllable\nof Sala was clearly accented.) You can always tell what Sala\nwrites. No other human being can write such intolerable\nEnglish.\"\nOscar made enquiries about the institutions of Amherst.\n\"Do you tell me that it has only three thousand inhabitants?\nWhy (lying back luxuriously on his bear skin rug and sipping\nhis tea,) I never spoke in a town so small as that, Mr. Towns-\nhend has driven me about the village and I consider it a beauti-\nful little place.\"\nHe spoke of our style of Government, of democracies gener-\nally, of sociology, of Herbert Spencer, whom he had read and\nadmired greatly. He found nothing in his work or in any other\nwork on evolution which differed from Plato and Aristotle.\"\nThere is nothing in art or philosophy in which we are as wise\nas the Greeks. Spencer has prosecuted enquiries which have led\nhim to verify the Greek philosopher. No, we should not go back\nto the Greek, we should try to get up to the Greek. All that\nremains for us anywhere is to corroborate the Greeks in every-\nthing. They reached a level, the summit of which we cannot\nyet see. True, they had simpler problems. Their common\npeople were less stupid. It is a wonder we do not have twice\nthe trouble we do have, with the elements that go to make up\nthe countries we now live in. Our conceptions of beauty may\nreach the Greek conception some time. There is nothing higher\nto hope for.\"\n\"Yes, I found America pleasant. Out in the West, delightful.\nAt Denver I met the most interesting people I have ever seen.\"\n''Rough and ready I suppose?\"\n''Ready, but not rough. They were polished and refined com-\npared with the people I met in large cities farther East. Yes, I\ndid see the common people. I spent a night in a silver mine. I\ndined with the men down there. They were great, strong, well\nformed men, of graceful attitude and free motion. Poems every\none of them. A complete democracy under ground. I find people\nless rough and coarse in such places. There is no chance for\nroughness. The revolver is their book of etiquette. This teaches\nlessons that are not forgotten. I wish I could have gone to\nWinnipeg. I like free people without the resources of civiliza-\ntion. They are freer and more artistic in their surroundings\nbecause they follow nature.\"\n\"Speaking of the ladies (he had spoken of them) do you con-\nsider American or European ladies the finest looking?\"\n\"That I cannot answer here. I shall wait till I get in mid-\nocean, out of sight of both countries. If I were to answer you I\nshould find it to my advantage to be anything but candid.\"\nYour reporter intimated that the last remark was a sufficient\nanswer.\nOscar, smiling and drinking more tea, proceeded: \"Young\nwomen are pretty. I never saw so many pretty women as I\nhave seen here, especially in the South, but the prettiness is in\ncolor and freshness and bloom. A truly beautiful woman never\ngrows old. The most of your pretty ladies will not be pretty in"}, {"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "1233", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.7", "debut_caractere": 33, "fin_caractere_exclue": 7018, "texte": "ten years.\"\n\"I believe you discovered Mrs. Langtry?\"\nA look of rapture came to Oscar's face. He flung his locks\nfrom where they clustered around his nose, and with a gesture,\nthe first of the interview, he said:\n4'l would rather have discovered Mrs. Langtry than have\ndiscovered America. Her beauty is in outline perfectly moulded.\nShe will be a beauty at eighty-five.\"\n\"Yes, it was for such ladies that Troy was destroyed, and\nwell might Troy be destroyed for such a woman. Perhaps it\nmay be true—they say it is—that the seige of Troy was brought\nabout by a quarrel about a harbor, but they thought they fought\nfor a woman; they had the conception that it was for beauty,\nand that is the same as if it was. It would be a fine thing if\nnations went to war with each other now over such questions\nas to which had the most beautiful women. How much better\nthat than the senseless dispute about getting Egypt and possessing\nArabi. Now that we have caught Arabi we do not know what\nto do with him. When I was young I thought the wars of the\nroses were to decide whether a red or a white rose was the\nmost beautiful. I learned afterward that it was a vulgar dis-\npute. The right of one of two men to a crown or something of\nthat kind.\"\nThis last was spoken in a tone of injured susceptibility, as\nthough York had thrown soup on Oscar's coat, or Lancaster had\nsmoked a black pipe over Oscar's dinner.\n\"What do I think of your American Literature: I think you\nhave had a great poet in Poe. He is your greatest poet. His\nsense of form and exquisitiveness of touch are intense. His\ngold is not to be gilt and his lilies are unpaintable. Joaquin\nMiller is also a beautiful poet. 'Arizonian' is a poem of great\nartistic excellence. Fawcet, a new poet, whom we had not heard\nof when I left England, has written some of the most perfect\npoetry which I have seen. Walt Whitman if not a poet is a\nman who sounds a strong note. He writes neither prose nor\npoetry, but something of his own that is unique. He is one\nof your greatest men.\"\n\"No I do not care for the Commemoration ode of Lowell. It\nhas no harmony in its conception. It is oratory of the strongest\nkind, and is eloquent, but does not meet my idea of poetry.\nLowell has written a poem on dedication which is delicate\npoetry. You must like it. You have poets with you. In New\nBrunswick a young man, Mr. Roberts has published a little\nbook. You have heard of it.\"\nThe reporter had read Robert's published poems and was\ndelighted to find that Mr. Wilde met and liked them.\nAnd Mulcany, of Toronto, a countryman of my own, a man\nonce well known at Trinity College. He is a man of taste.\nFrechette, I believe is however your best poet.\"\n\"Wordsworth was undoubtedly a poet. I do not read the\npoems he liked best of his. I do not care for his *'Idiot Boy,\"\n\"The Excursion,\" is nothing to me.\"\nYour correspondent intimated that the poem was too long\nfor what poetry it contained which reduced the average too\nlow.\nSaid Mr. Wilde, \"I do not like to hear poems spoken of as\ntoo long. 'The Excursion' is shorter than the Iliad I would not\nhave one line less in the Iliad. But I like Wordsworth's Son-\nnets. That beginning:\n'Milton thou should'st be living at this hour,' is fine, as is\nthat which commences:\n'The world is too much with us.' \"\nAs your representative rose to go, having declined a cup of\ntea, which was again politely offered, he was asked about\nHalifax, the nature of the people and the style of the town.\nMr. Wilde had met Sir John Mac Donald and his lady. \"Sir\nJohn (and Mr. Wilde sighed as he said it) was a man of the\nworld, but his lady was charming and so was he.\"\nAnd your correspondent left. There was other talk about\nthe classics, about the French idea of the Dramatic Unities, about\nShakespere and Wordsworth and Keats and Rossetti, but this\nwas of a nature too confidential to be communicated to every-\nbody. It will be remembered that Mr. Wilde begins one of his\nsonnets with this line;\n*'I stood by the unvintageable sea.\"\nYour correspondent thought of this as he was leaving, and\nremembering that the Tantramar was very muddy as the aesthete\npassed over it, he asked, *'Do you consider the Tantramar vin-\ntageable to any extent?\" The apostle laughed gaily at this\nproof of the presence of a Philistine, but contented himself\nwith praising other streams of less leonine beauty.\nIt may be said here that Mr. Bigelow deserves the greatest\ncredit for his enterprise and daring in bringing so high priced\na man to a small town like Amherst. Mr. Wilde had never\nspoken in so small a place before. He had a good house and\na good hearing.\ni Amherst Herald, May 19, 1882\nOscar Wilde in Toronto\nZOOMING up krom the Capitol yesterday, when seated at\nbreakfast, i|\\ a far from aesthetic mood, who should be\nseated next to rf|e but the renowned apostle of the beautiful,\nMr. Oscar Wilde. Trusting to the free-masonry of sympathetic\nideas, I introduced myself as the friend of the late M ,\none of the most gifted art critics of this generation, and the\njoint author with him of certain sketches of the Old Masters.\nWe are at once en rapport, and I found that I had by this\nallusion, as the prophet in the wilderness by his rod, made\nthe waters to touched a copious spring of highly cul-\ntured intelligence, philosophical reflection, and acute criticism,\nboth humorous and eloquent. Mr. Wilde is a brilliant con-\nversationalist, \"IT \"ppy one in senses, for he can listen as\nwell as he canlgjhlk, and he can talk so that listening to his\ntongue, eventhe garrulous, becomes more pleasant than to\nlisten to their Avn. Well, although I am not garrulous I can\nprevent talk frjopping into silence, and I listened yesterday\nmorning to | only conversation worthy the name which I\nhave had th' privilege to share in since leaving England many\nyears ago, 112 here we cannot find anything to chat\nover save the virtues of our party and the wickedness of the\nopposite one, wnich is not a sufficiently varied theme to monopo-\nlize all one's lingual social capacity or mental sympathies. To\nmy mind, one of the greatest disadvantages of life in Canada\nis the blank, the utter blank, of the charm of intellectual gossip,\nmy talk with Mr. Wilde took me out of the dust and smoke and\nclatter of a noky monotonous street into the heart of the country,\nrich in woodland beauty, redolent of floral sweetness, and\nsoothing to the tired brain as a mother's lullaby to her child.\nWe talked of art, of its present aspects here and at home, of\nart culture, of art schools, and their work and failures and\nneeds. I told Mr. Wilde that years ago I had ventured to lay\ndown as the glaring defect of all Canadian pictures that they\nshowed an entire want of the power of drawing with exactitude\nany living forms, trees or animals. This he earnestly and almost\npassionately approved. \"Art,\" said he, \"is not looked upon as\nan exact science, as it should be; there can be no art without\ntruth of form, and no beauty can exist where is falsehood in\ndrawing or color.\""}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-12-30-01-c013", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01#c013", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "1233", "page_fin": "1233", "image_debut": 7, "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=bmtnaaq19161230-01.2.13", "titre_corps": "Two Poems", "titre_sommaire": "Two Poems", "signature_source": "Marianne Moore", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "1233", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.7", "debut_caractere": 7020, "fin_caractere_exclue": 7748, "texte": "Two Poems\nby Marianne Moore\nThe Just Man And\nHI? pie. \"I would be\nRepossessed of all the\nSuperlatives that I have squandered,\nThat I might use them in praise of it.\"\nThe four and twenty\nBirds were singing while he\nApportioned it off casually\nAnd found in it nothing for himself.\nIn \"Designing a Cloak to Cloak his Designs,\" you Wrested\nfrom Oblivion, a Coat of Immortality for your own Use.\nby his uningenious will\nOf dragon-like demeanor, till\nIt left them orphans.\nHis foibles clustered underneath\nHim, dominated by a wreath\nOf upright half notes.\nEncumbered as he was with pride,\nBut for that coat he might have died\nSo despicably\nThat kindness might have seemed unkind\nHad not the garment been designed\nTo serve two masters."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-12-30-01-c014", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01#c014", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "1234", "page_fin": "1234", "image_debut": 8, "image_fin": 8, "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=bmtnaaq19161230-01.2.14", "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": 8, "page_imprimee": "1234", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 259, "fin_caractere_exclue": 3688, "texte": "STATEMENT OF THE OWNERSHIP, MANAGEMENT, CIRCULA-\nTION, ETC., REQUIRED BY THE ACT OF CONGRESS\nOF AUGUST 24, 1912,\nOf Guido Bruno, Inc., published weekly at New York, N. Y., for\nOct. 1, 1916.\nState of New York.\nCounty of New York.-—ss:\nBefore me, a Notary Public in and for the State and county\naforesaid, personally appeared Guido Bruno, who, having been duly\nsworn according to law, deposes and says that he is the.' Editor of\nBruno's Weekly Incorporated, and that the following\" is, to the\nbest of his knowledge and belief, a true statement, if the ownership,\nmanagement (and if a daily paper, the circulate m), etc., of the\naforesaid publication for the date shown in the *T>ove caption, re-\nquired by the Act of August 24, 19.12, embodied in action 443, Postal\nLaws and Regulations, printed on the reverse of =iis form, to wit:\n1. That the names and addresses of the publi ler, editor, man-\naging editor, and business managers are:\nPublisher, Bruno's Weekly IncM 10 Fifth Avenue; Editor, Guido\nBruno, 10 Fifth Avenue; Managing Editor, none; Business Man-\nager, Guido Bruno.\n2. That the owners are: (Give names and addresses of indi-\nvidual owners, or, if a corporation, give its name and the names and\naddresses of stockholders owning or holding 1 per cent or more of\nthe total amount of stock.)\nCharles Edison, Llewellyn Park, Orange, Ncv Jersey; Guido\nBruno, 10 Fifth Avenue, N. Y.; Walter Ec|fori., oro Edison Works,\nOrange, New Jersey.\n3. That the known bondholders, mortgagees, arj.d security\nholders owning or holding 1 per cent, or m \"e of Lot. amount of\nbonds, mortgages, or other securities are: (If t.hjire re none, so\nstate.)\nCharles Edison, Llewellyn Park, Orange, New . ;• y.\n4. That the two paragraphs next above, giving tJ - names of\nthe owners, stockholders, and security holders, if ny, contain not\nonly the list of stockholders and security holders,, .s they appear\nupon the books of the company, but also, in cases ,'Viere the stock-\nholder or security holder appears upon the books ol ! le company as\ntrustee or in any other fiduciary relation, the name1\"the person or\ncorporation for whom such trustee is acting, is give ; \\lso that the\nsaid two paragraphs contain statements embracii. : affiant's full\nknowledge and belief as to the circumstances and < onditions under\nwhich stockholders and security holders who do llot appear upon\nthe books of the company as trustees, hold stock and securities in a\ncapacity other than that of a bona fide owner; and this affiant has\nno reason to believe that any other person, association or corpora-\ntion has any interest direct or indirect in the said tock, bonds, or\nother securities than as so stated by him.\n5. That the average number of copies of each issue of this\npublication sold and distributed, through the mails dr otherwise, to\npaid subscribers during the six months preceding the date shown\nabove, is . . (This information is required from daily publica-\ntions only.)\nSworn to and subscribed before me this 26th day of December,\n1916.\nA. MEYERHOFF,\nNotary Public, Bronx County; Bronx County Clerks,\n(SEAL.) No. 18; Bronx County Registers, No. 727; Certificate\nfiled in N. Y. County; New York County Clerks, No.\n69; New York Registers, No. 7089.\n6340 SPRING 80 WASHINGTON SQUARE\nNEWTON MERRILL\nEXPERT IN INTERIOR DECORATIONS\nR. EDERHEIMER\nPRINT CABINET\n366 FIFTH AVE., NEW YORK\nOriginal Drawings by Old Masters\nALL APPRECIATIVE VISITORS CORDIALLY INVITED"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-12-30-01-c015", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01#c015", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "1234", "page_fin": "1234", "image_debut": 8, "image_fin": 8, "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=bmtnaaq19161230-01.2.15", "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": 8, "page_imprimee": "1234", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 3690, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5185, "texte": "TUESDAY, the 2nd of JANUARY\nMr. Daniel Kennedy, Auctioneer,\nwill sell at public auction in No. 105\nFourth Ave., BOOKS, DRAWINGS,\nVALUABLE AUTOGRAPHS,\nPAINTINGS and Original MANU,\nSCRIPTS, being part of Guido\nBruno's Collection, removed recently\nfrom his Garret on Washington Sq.\nCatalogues will be sent, and seats\nreserved on application.\nTHE GARRET SHOP\n105 Fourth Avenue New York\nAt THE NEW ROMA RESTAURANT of health where\nj'ou eat first class and qualiity of Italian and American cook-\ning at moderate prices, a la Carte, run by the well known\nPETER ROMA, nothing will be neglected with the bedt\nattention to everybody. Everything is brand new and sani-\ntary. Dancing every Saturday and Sunday. Grand Hall for\nBanquets, Weddings, etc.\nP. ROMA, Manager\n87-89 Macdougal St., cor. Bleecker St., first floor\nTelephone Spring 1324\nOSCAR WILDE'S\nImpressions of America\nedited with an introduction by Stuart Mason.\nOne of the original 500 copies printed.\nThis book, written by Oscar Wilde upon his return from\nthat memorable lecture tour through America, contains\nsome of the finest characterizations of America, as Wilde\nsaw it. He hits mercilessly and he praises effusively. In\nthe appendix is an interesting collection of newspaper\ninterviews with Wilde.\nIt is a rare Wilde item, published by one of Wilde's oldest\nfriends and his bibliographer.\nOnly a few copies left which will be sent to those whose orders\nreach us at first for $1.00 postpaid.\nSCHULTE'S BOOK STORE\n132 E. 23rd Street\nNew York"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaaq-1916-12-30-01-c016", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01#c016", "volume": "bmtnaaq_1916-12-30_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "1234", "page_fin": "1234", "image_debut": 8, "image_fin": 8, "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=bmtnaaq19161230-01.2.16", "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": 8, "page_imprimee": "1234", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 5187, "fin_caractere_exclue": 5597, "texte": "Bruno Chap Books.\nTwenty-eight booklets containing the most interesting work of the most unique writers of the past twenty-\nfive years.\nPrices ranging from fifteen cents to fifty cents.\nWrite for catalgoue and send one-cent stamp. It contains the story of Bruno's Garrett from a public grave\ndigger's tool house to the exhibition gallery of modern artists' work.\nBruno's Weekly, 10 Fifth Avenue, New York City."}]}], "pages_ocr_originales": [{"page_pdf": 1, "page_imprimee": "couv. 1", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.1", "texte": "Bruno's Weekly\nTen Cents\nDecember 30th, 1916"}, {"page_pdf": 2, "page_imprimee": "[1228]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.2", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\nEdited by Guido Bruno\nNo. 26\nDECEMBER 30th, MCMXVI\nVol. 11l\nCopyright 1916 by Guido Bruno\n(Continued from last week)\n\nLove.\nGuido Bruno.\nSnow was falling.\nRed bells and evergreen in the shopwindows.\nEverybody seemed happy.\nAnd Jesus Christ passed down the avenue where street girls\nwalk and smile.\n\"Shall we be damned, O Lord?\" asked a slender woman in a\nfrightened voice, with her head bowed down. She had recog-\nnized the Man and had stopped him on the street.\n\"Must we be damned?\" she repeated in a voice that only He\ncould hear. Her heart beat in her throat, her knees shook and\nshe felt her sin all over her body.\nJesus stepped nearer to her. He lifted her head gently. He\nlooked into her eyes.\nHe kissed her.\n\"He that seeks love even if he seeks it on the avenue of\nshame, he shall find love .\"\nHis voice sounded like a revelation of something that always\nwas, only we have not heard it.\nChildren whispered secrets in the ears of a decorated, white-\nwhiskered Santa Claus in front of a department store.\n\"And next Christmas, dear . ...\" a man said, passing by\nwith a handsome girl.\nEverybody seemed happy. Snow was falling. Christ\npassed down the avenue where street girls walk and smile.\n• I n\n\nMerry Christmas, Merry Commerce!\nGuido Bruno.\nand women feign happiness. They adorn windows with\nevergreens, with holly, with red ribbons and with symboli-\ncal bells. The downtown, maelstrom, shopping mart is a mag-\nnet for all.\nStores, great and small, have their varied attractions. At\nevery counter, in every aisle, Christmas is in the Placards\nsuggest to prospective purchasers—hosts of last-minute, be-\nwildered shoppers, intoxicated with the mock Yuletide spirit—\nmethods of bringing happiness to father, mother, sister, brother,\nsweetheart, friend and acquaintance. Christmas trees, gaudily\ndecked and laden with things to delight children, create a vision\nof real home happiness. Holly wreaths, garlands and pme\nboughs transform everyday wares on store counter and in dis-\nplay cases into real Christmas offerings.\nThe children are the customers, every saleable article is a\ngift, and the obsequious store proprietors the Santa Clauses. And\nall for the sake of dollars and cents—for the money which\nthe spurious spirit of Christmas meant for their own purses.\nOutside the stores, grotesquely garbed Santa Clauses hold\ncourt. \"Suffer the little children to come unto me,\" is their\ncommercially prostituted, biblical motto; but only as long as\nthe tall man in red clothes with white whiskers and with the\nmask which makes his features look beaming and kindly, is\nfurnished his uniform and paid two dollars a day.\nAnd the children come and whisper into the ear of the man\nwith the whiskey-stained breath. They pour out the innocent\nsecrets of their childish desires, and then persuade their parents,\nwho will not banish the baby, Santa Claus belief, to enter the\nstores and purchase the coveted wares from the merchant who\nuses Christ's name to get the money.\nGrimacing, hawking street fakirs, blocking sidewalks and di-\nrecting the meanderings of their worthless last-over-niecht toys\namid the feet of hurrying pedestrians, come in for their share\nof the Christmas tribute—the money that leaves the purse buyer\nwith the silly abandon which a commerce-conjured Christmas\nspirit fosters. Vendors of floral offerings, holly and evergreen,\nwhich are stolen from Nature and transported cityward in profit-\nable cargoes, are similarly active.\nThoussands of men and women deny themselves luncheons at\nluncheon time and dinners at dinner time that they may have\ndollars to buy some unwelcomed gift for someone who will\nthen pretend appreciation. Many a doctor, tailor, bootmaker,\nlaundryman, grocer and butcher (if they are lenient) will have\nto wait for the money owed them by fools who think it neces-\nsary to give luxurious gifts to their friends to keep up annual\nappearances.\n\"Christmas Money\" is advertised in the salary loan columns\nof newspapers by the bloodsuckers who should rightly fear\nto speak, write or even think the name of Christ. Glitteiing\njewelry, worth nothing and purchased for an amount a thousand\ntimes greater than the manufacturing price, is accepted with\navidity and delight by women. Their husbands, friends sweet-\nhearts and sons have signed away their names, income, in fact,\neverything they possess, ever possessed or will possess in this\nworld, to the bland-faced, friendly benefactor behind his sheep-\nclothes counter in the Quick Loan, Thousand Per Cent banking\nbusiness den.\nThen these make-believe, Christmas celebrants exchange\nfriendly visits to wish happiness for the New Year—to manifest\nlove and brotherly feeling. The presents are on exhibition. They\nfind them beautiful. But the yellow Devil of Envy smirks out of\ntheir eyes, while the muscles of their faces twitch mechanically\nthe conventional grimace to show joy which does not exist.\nDown in their self-pitying hearts they are jealous and mur-\nmur sincere wishes for happiness and good luck to those whom\nthey damn.\nMerry Christmas! Merry Commerce!\nIt is another huge year-end Lie!\nAnd so is celebrated the anniversary of Christ's birth.\nIf He Himself should appear on Earth again, would they wel-\ncome Him in the same way? Would the pious sway the incense\nburner until He would stagger dizzily to the more wordly? And\nwould these smile and shout a joyful welcome? Would He read\nwith His knowing eyes their great question? \"Are you the\nsolution of the social problem? Will you distribute money and\nall those things we are seeking?\"\nWould He not clasp about Him His biblical mantle and\"\nfail to understand the thoughts of men, so complexly and elab-\norately distorted from His teachings in the coursse of twenty\ncenturies? And would He go?\nWould He come again in evening dress, with a chrysanthemum\nin His button-hole, with white gloves in His hands and a\nchapeau claque under His arm?\nOr would He remain without where snow-laden pine trees\nsend out their long, dark shadows over silvery, glistening snow-\nfields, where white-winged crows with raucous voices remind\nthe dark night of its shortness? Would He gaze upward again\nin the cold dawn into the deep blue sky?\nAnd would He desire again to be the Saviour of the World?\n\nOn Going to Church\nBy George Bernard Shaw\nIII\nIt will not be disputed, I presume, that an unstimulated saint\ncan work as hard, as long, as finely and on occasion, as fiercely,\nas a stimulated sinner. Recuperatoin, recreation, inspiration\nseem to come to the saint far more surely than to the man who\ngrows coarser and fatter with every additional hundred a year,\nand who calls the saint an ascetic. A comparison of the works\nof our carnivorous drunkard poets with those of Shelley, or of\nDr. Johnson's dictionary with that of the vegetarian Littre, is\nsufficient to show that the secret of attaining the highest emi-\nnence either in poetry or in dictionary compiling (and all fine\nliterature lies between the two), is to be found neither in alcohol\nnor in our monstrous habit of bringing millions of useless and\ndisagreeable animals into existence for the express purpose of\nbarbarously slaughtering them, roasting their corpses and eat-\ning them. I have myself tried the experiment of not eating meat"}, {"page_pdf": 3, "page_imprimee": "1229", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.3", "texte": "BRUNO'S JVEEKLY\n(To Be Continued.)\n\nor drinking tea, coffee or spirits for more than a dozen years\npast, without, as far as I can discover, placing myself at more\nthan my natural disadvantages relatively to those colleagues of\nmine who patronize the slaughter house and the distillery.\nBut then I go to church. If you should chance to see, in a\ncountry church-yard, a bicycle leaning against a tombstone, you\nare not unlikely to find me inside the church if it is old enough\nto be fit for its purpose. There I find rest without languor and\nrecreation without excitement, both of a quality unknown to the\ntraveller who turns from the village church to the village inn\nand seeks to renew himself with shandy-gaff. Any place where\nmen dwell, village or city, is a reflection of the consciousness\nof every single man. In my consciousness there is a market, a\ngarden, a dwelling, a workshop, a lover's walk—above all, a\ncathedral.\nMy appeal to the master-builder is: Mirror this cathedral\nfor me in enduring stone; make it with hands; let it direct its\nsure and clear appeal to my senses, so that when my spirit is\nvaguely groping after an elusive mood my eye shall be caught\nby the skyward tower, showing me where, within the cathedral,\nI may find my way to the cathedral within me. With a right\nknowledge of this great function of the cathedral builder, and\ncraft enough to set an arch on a couple of pillars, make\ndoors and windows in a good wall and put a roof over them,\nany modern man might, it seems to me, build churches as they\nbuilt them in the middle ages; if only the pious founders and\nthe parson would let him.\nFor want of that knowledge, gentlemen of Mr. Pecksniff's pro-\nfession make fashionable pencil drawings, presenting what Mr.\nPecksniff's creator elsewhere calls an architectooralooral ap-\npearance, with which, having delighted the darkened eyes of the\ncommittee and the clerics, they have them translated into bricks\nand masonry and take a shilling in the pound on the bill, with\nthe result that the bishop may consecrate the finished building\nuntil he is black in the face without making a real church of it.\nCan it be doubted by the pious that babies baptized in such\nplaces go to limbo if they die before qualifying themselves for\nother regions; that prayers said there do not count; nav, that\nsuch purposeless, respectable-looking interiors are irreconcilable\nwith the doctrine of Omnipresence, since the bishop's blessing\nis no spell of black magic to imprison Omnipotence in a place\nthat must needs be intolerable to Omniscience?\nAt all events, the godhead in me, certified by the tenth chapter\nof St. John's Gospel to those who will admit no other authority,\nrefuses to enter these barren places. This is perhaps fortunate,\nsince they are generally kept locked; and even when they are\nopen, they are jealously guarded in the spirit of that Westminster\nAbbey verger who, not long ago, had a stranger arrested for\nkneeling down, and explained, when remonstrated with, that if\nthat sort of thing were tolerated, they would soon have people\npraying all over the place. Happily, it is not so everywhere.\nYou may now ride or tramp into a village with a fair chance of\nfinding the church-door open and a manuscript placard in the\nporch, whereby the parson, speaking no less as a man and a\nbrother than as a porter of the House Beautiful gives you to\nunderstand that the church is open always for those who have\nany use for it.\nInside such churches you will often find not only carefully\ncherished work from the ages of faith, which you expect to find\nnoble and lovely, but sometimes a quite modern furnishing of\nthe interior and draping of the altar, evidently done, not by\ncontract with a firm celebrated for its illustrated catalogues, but\nby someone who loved and understood the church, and when\nbaffled in the search for beautiful things, had at least succeeded\nin avoiding indecently commercial and incongruous ones. And\nthen the search for beauty is not always baffled. When the\ndean and chapter of a cathedral want not merely an ugly but a\npositively beastly pulpit to preach from—something like the\nAlbert Memorial canopy, only much worse—they always get it,\nimprobable and unnatural as the enterprise is. Similarly, when\nan enlightened country parson wants an unpretending tub to\nthump, with a few pretty panels in it and a pleasant shape gen-\nerally, he will, with a little perseverance, soon enough find a\ncraftsman who has picked up the thread of the tradition of his\ncraft from the time when that craft was a fine art—as may be\ndone nowadays more easily than was possible before we had\ncheap trips and cheap photographs—and who is only too glad\nto be allowed to try his hand at something in the line of that\ntradition.\nDuring a bicycle tour, some months ago, I came upon a little\nchurch, built long before the sense of beauty and devotion had\nbeen supplanted by the sense of respectability and talent, in\nwhich some neat panels left by a modern carver had been\npainted with a few saints on gold backgrounds, evidently by\nsome woman who had tried to learn what she could from the\nearly Florentine masters and had done the work in the true\nvotive spirit, without any taint of the amateur exhibiting his\nirritating and futile imitations of the celebrated artist business.\nFrom such humble but quite acceptable efforts, up to the master-\npiece in stained glass by William Morris and Burne-Jones which\noccasionally astonisiies you in places far more remote and un-\nlikely than Birmingham or Oxford, convincing evidence may be\npicked up here and there that the decay of religions from the\nsixteenth to the nineteenth century was not caused by any atrophy\nof the artistic faculty, but was an eclipse of religion and com-\nmerce.\nIt is an odd period to look back on from the churchgoer's\npoint of view—those eclipsed centuries calling their predecessors\n\"the dark ages,\" and trying to prove their own piety by raising,\nat huge expense, gigantic monuments in enduring stone (not very\nenduring tiiougii, sometimes) of their infedility. Go to Milan,\nand join the rush of tourists to its petrified christening-cake of\na cathedral. The projectors of that costly ornament spared no\nexpense to prove that their devotion was ten times greater than\nthat of the builders of San Ambrogio. But every pound they\nspent only recorded in marble that their devotion was a hundred\ntimes less. Go on to Florence and try San Lorenzo, a really\nnoble church (which the Milan Cathedral is not,) Brunelleschi's\nmasterpiece. You cannot but admire its intellectual command\nof form, its unaffected dignity, its power and accomplishment, its\nmasterly combination of simplicity and homogeneity of plan\nwith elegance and variety of detail: you are even touched by\nthe retention of that part of the beauty of the older time which\nwas perceptible to the Renascent intellect before its weaning\nfrom heavenly food had been followed by starvation. You\nunderstand the deep and serious respect which Michael Angelo\nhad for Brunelleschi—why he said \"I can do different work,\nbut not better.\" But a few minutes walk to Santa Maria\nNovella or Santa Croce, or a turn in the steam tram to San\nMiniato, will bring you to churches built a century or two\nearlier; and you have only to cross their thresholds to feel,\nalmost before you have smelt the incense, the difference between\na church built to the pride and glory of God (not to mention\nthe Medici) and one built as a sanctuary shielded by God's\npresence from pride and glory and all the other burdens of life.\nIn San Lorzeno up goes your head—every isolating advantage\nyou have of talent, power or rank asserts itself with thrilling\npoignancy.\nIn the old churches you forget yourself, and are the equal\nof the begger at the door, standing on ground made holy by\nthat labor in which we have discovered the reality of prayer.\nYou may also hit on a church like the Santissima Annunziata,\ncarefully and expensively brought up-to-date, quite in our\nmodern church-restoring manner, by generations of princes\nchewing the cud of the Renascence; and there you will see the\nworship of glory and the self-sufficiency of intellect giving way\nto the display of wealth and elegance as a guarantee of social\nimportance—in another word, snobbery.\nIn later edifices you see how intellect, finding its worshippers\ngrowing colder, had to abandon its dignity and cut capers to\nattract attention, giving the grotesque, the eccentric, the baroque,\neven the profane and blasphemous, until, finally, it is thoroughly\nsnubbed out of its vulgar attempts at self-assertion, and mopes\nconventionally in our modern churches of St. Nicholas Without\nand St. Walker Within, locked up, except at service time, from\nweek's end without ever provoking the smallest protest from a\npublic only too glad to have an excuse for not going into them.\nYou may read the same history of the human soul in any art you\nlike to select; but he who runs may read it in the streets by\nlooking at the churches.\n\nIt is impossible to uplift people all the time. Once\nin a while you have to lower yourself down to their\nlevel in order to make them happier and better."}, {"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "1230", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.4", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nSumner, the Vice-Secretary, versus Edna, the Girl of the Street\n\nJOHN S. SUMNER, secretary of the Society for the Prevention\nof Vice, caused my arrest on Wednesday, December 13th,\nfor selling one of his agents a copy of Alfred Kreymborg's\n\"Edna, the Girl of the Street,\" published two and one half\nyears ago and sold during this period in every reputable book\nstore in the United States, in England, in France and in Ger-\nmany. I was held by the magistrate in the City Court for trial\nin Special Sessions in $500 bail until my case shall be decided.\nThe charge preferred against me is that of selling indecent\nliterature.\nWho is John S. Sumner?\nA person vested with the power of discriminating between\ndecency and indecency in the tangible expressions of writers,\nand artists, endowed with the right to seize property of citi-\nzens after it had been declared indecent by him, to swear out\nwarrants and have citizens arrested to prevent millions of\nother citizens from reading or viewing works of art condemned\nby him:most certainly he must be an extraordinary man endowed\nwith natural gifts which lift him above millions; a scholar\nof extraordinary learning; a man who knows life in all its\nphases; a man who can easily follow the thoughts and reason-\ning power of the average human mind.\nVerily an extraordinary mind is needed to pass judgment on\nordinary minds.\n\"Who is John S. Sumner?\" I asked two score of men of\nvarious callings and professions in New York. They shrugged\ntheir shoulders. *'A sort of a lawyer, but now he is the succes-\nsor of Anthony Comstock.\"\nThe official \"Who's Who\" does not mention his name.\nHe is about five feet nine inches. He dresses like the average\nman we meet on the street. His shoes are well polished. His\ncranium is flat in the black, not the slightest indication of\nimagination. His forehead is in no proportion to his chin. His\nmouth is very small, his lips sensual, no characteristic line in\nhis features. If he laughs he looks uncanny, his eyes are\nscrewed up, his mouth awry, he seems pleased with something\nunpleasant to someone else.\nI can imagine such a personality as a successful shipping\nclerk painstakingly counting packages and parcels and registering\nthem in his book. We meet such mediocrities in the offices of\nloan sharks.\nNo ordinary mind, no ordinary soul has such eyes for windows.\n''Extraordinary\" has a double meaning. It is beneath the\naverage ordinary or above the average ordinary. Mr. Sumner's\nmine undoubtedly is beneath the ordinary average.\nMy impression of Mr. Sumner is that his mind is not healthy\nenough to discriminate between the beautiful and the ugly,\nthat his judgment of works of art as decent or as indecent is\neverything but competent. I believe that Mr. Sumner is a\nmenace to the creative artist in America, an ill-directing power\nfor every American citizen. He is the grand inquisitor of an\nobscure age who could have flourished five hundred years ago\nbut who is entirely out of place in our era of a free America.\nA man can never help acting otherwise than according to\nhis real self. If you look at Mr. Sumner you know his views of\nlife. The Boston witch trials of the 17th Century cannot be\nrepeated in the New York Courts of the 20th Century.\nA society for the prevention of vice, supported by the best of\nour citizens could be a most estimable institution. In endowing\none man with the powers of this society a grave danger pres-\nents itself. The choice might fall upon a man like Mr. Sumner or\nMr. Comstock. Can he state one real tangible case in which he\never prevented vice? Did Mr. Comstock during his activities ex-\ntending over a period of thirty odd years, suppress vice in one\nsingle instance?\nMr. Sumner is accuser and judge in his own person. He is\npaid for finding vice. He must fill his card indexes and he must\nhave something to complain of in order to send off his reports.\nWhy should the citizens of this State permit a man without suit-\nable qualifications to go about and declare works of art as in-\ndecent, to arrest persons who are trying to lift up humanity?\nHas a man a right to exist if his chief purpose in life is to drag\ndown his fellow man? To accuse them; to condemn them upon\nno evidence but that furnished by his own mind, a mind that\nhas proven to be void of all discriminating qualities?\nI believe I voice the sentiment of everybody whoever met Mr.\nSumner; whoever heard his arguments and whoever read the\nevidences of his endeavors, if I say that Mr. Sumner is the\nlast man on earth to fill the position he occupies. Furthermore\nI believe that the position itself should be abolished for ever.\nBut if we must have a censorship let the government of the\nUnited States establish an official censor, qualified for his posi-\ntion, governed by a humanitarian and broad program of\nrules; an extraordinary position for an extraordinary man to\njudge and pass upon the work of extraordinary people for the\nbenefit of the average ordinary mind.\nA censor must not be one who's constant motive it is to find\nviciousness, in order to bolster up his own position and to draw\nhis salary.\nWho is Edna the Girl of the Streets?\nDEFORE she became one of the thousands of unfortunate\nwomen she was her mother's only daughter. She had to\nearn a living. The Department Store came—and then the street.\nAmos Lane met her on the street. He had supper with her\nand she told him the story of her life.\nAmos Lane very soon realized that there was not much of\nthe adventuress in the companion of his ''night out.\" The lack\nof romance disgusted him. Her only desire—money—shocked\nhim.\nHe paid her for her time—for nothing else; and he went\nhome, pondering upon downtrodden women, despising the De-\npartment Store and its dangers, disgusted with himself.\nNever again! is his moral.\nThink of it! If every man on one of these nights, would return\nhome and avow his \"Never again \"\nIf there is no demand, there is very soon no offer. The market\nwould close forever.\nWhere is the indecency dangerous to readers?\nHow They Do It.\nJ7 VERYBODY who knows me or my work in Greenwich Vil-\nlage knows that I have never had commercial ambitions.\nI have published twenty Chap Books and lost more money than\nI had. I had to become indebted to all sorts of tradespeople. I\nstarted my work without capital and I own nothing to-day.\nThe Garret was beneficial to those who had exhibitions there,\nto those who read their own poetry and whose books I published\n—never to myself.\nWith the last cents I could scrape together I rented a place\non Fourth Avenue to continue my work; to edit my Weekly and\nto dispose of the books I published.\nThree days after my removal to my new premises a man\ncame in whose profession was stamped on his face. He did not\ntry to interest me in some scheme or other and he did not ask\nfor his carfare to Jersey. But he asked for ''Edna: The Girl of\nthe Street.\" I knew then that he was a man from Mr. Sumner's\noffice. I had nothing to hide or to be afraid of and I sold him\nthe book. He inquired if I had some \"naked pictures,\" etc.\nHe came in the next day and bought another copy. He spoke\nt;> me—l don't remember what, and then he went out and called\nin a detective who arrested me. He then searched my place.\nThe Judge Murphy\nwas taken down to the City Court on Second Avenue and\nFirst Street. Judge Murphy, who did not find it necessary\nto grant me the \"Mr.\" but called me \"Bruno,\" said:\n4'l read that book before I signed the warrant for Mr. Sumner.\nIt is a violation of such and such a paragraph of the law.\"\nI demanded a postponement and asked him to excuse my ap-\npearance on any Monday or Tuesday, as these days are taken\nup with my work.\n\"Writing the —?\" asked Judge Murphy.\n\"Editing that Weekly of yours or the Chap Books?\" I\nanswered affirmatively.\n\"You might just as well mention that you have to burglarise\na home and ask to be excused from this Court\" replied the\nJudge.\nA judge who is firmly convinced of your guilt before he has\neven heard your case.\nHe fixed my bail at $500."}, {"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "1231", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.5", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nFriends Who Restore Your Shaken Belief in Humanity.\nman who does not wish to have his name mentioned had\nheard of my arrest. While I was waiting for the Judge\nhe went from Pontius to Pilate to secure bail for me. But\nFrank Harris appeared all at once like the deux et machina in\nthe Court room. Words never can express my gratitude for all\nhe did for me. Money the magnanimous man of means can easily\ngive, but time, precious time, while one is busy with one's own\naffiairs;—kindness in spirit; a man's intercession for man; all\nthat cannot be bought with money. It is the manifestation of\na great soul. Frank Harris appeared for me as witness after he\nhad cancelled his trip to Havanna.\nHis testimony was a brilliant, most fascinating condemnation\nof Mr. Sumner's office in general and, in the case of \"Edna,\"\nespecially.\nJudge Frothingham, quite a different type of judge from\nJudge Murphy, a dignified gentleman with even kind and human\ninclinations, declined to strike out Mr. Harris' testimony on a\nmotion by Sumner's counsel, because Frank Harris admitted\nthat his *'is not ordinary.\"\nFrank Harris and Sumner! Two extraordinary minds! The\none as high above the average as the other is below the average.\n\nGuido Bruno.\n\nThe Author of Edna, The Girl of\nthe Street\nAlfred Kreymborg.\nremember the author of ''Edna\"—the story for the printing\nof which Mr. Bruno was arrested by the Society for the Sup-\npression of Vice—l remember him quite distinctly at the tender\nage of his composition of it, twenty-three. He was a 110 pound,\nnear-sighted, gloomy, taciturn hermit domiciled in a top floor\nhall room, rented at six dollars per month, and eating his meals\nin a bakery on the proceeds derived from chess instruction. He\nwas, in fact, as you will agree, a mortal who does not com-\nmend himself to our admiration even in retrospect—except, and\nthis only doubtfully, for his romantic idealism. I remember this\nlast particularly, because his ''friends\" used to laugh at him\nfor it. Like so many folk of the tender age ascribed to him, he\nhad a \"mission to perform\"—he imagined so, at least. This\nmission, naturally enough, was the old Tolstoyan one of regen-\nerating the world through art. A novel or two, some stories, a\nplay, essays and tentative poems were passionately, arduously,\nawkwardly, silently and secretly committed to paper. \"Edna\"\nwas one of these. It was the lad's own experience, \"Amos Lane\"\nhis nom-de-guerre in the telling of it.\nThe story was presented to Mr. Bruno and published by him\nabout two years ago. Yesterday, I received a hurry-call from\ntiis ex-mayor of garrets along with an invitation, which was\naccepted, to participate in the demolition of a roast duck. He\nimparted to me the news of the pleasant adventure which faces\nhim for having housed in book form the work of the creature of\ntwenty-three. Incidentally, he asked me to read, or re-read as\nthe case might be, the 'dangerous\" story, and send him a screed\nsetting forth my reactions. I have done so, and offer herewith\nthe following paragraph:\n\"Edna\" is not a story one would choose for reading aloud\nto a seminary of young ladies. But it was evidently not intended\nfor that benign purpose. Nor can it be termed an immortal\nachievement, in the light of what artistry it does not contain.\nIt is, however, so clean and so honest a transcription of one\nphase of a theme which will always be timely, as to have held\nmy attention by its sheer humanity. Not the least interesting\ntrait is the outright self-condemnation of the author. In a\nphrase, the really poignant sincerity of the effort moves me to\nconfess that I am proud of my close affiliation with the author.\nI may even go so far as to say that I am ashamed of all those\ncompositions since perpetrated on my part in which I may have\nfallen short of the ideal of truthfulness so frankly championed in\nEdna.\" The reading of the work has been a deeply moving\nand valuable ''lesson\" to me.\n\nScars are more painful than words.\n\nQuo Vadis?\n(Signed) CHARLES EDISON.\nWE have to say farewell in this last issue of our third volume\nto a dear friend and staunch standby: Charles Edison\nhas resigned from the Board of Directors of Bruno's Weekly.\nMore and more absorbed with the problems of the gigantic\nworks of his father, he cannot devote himself for the time being\nto the secret calling of his heart: which brought him down to\nGreenwich Village and made him for eighteen months the centre\nof his renowned Greenwich Village activities.\nFarewell— not for ever.\nAu Revoir.\nThis is his Letter:\nDecember 26, 1916.\n''My dear Mr. Bruno.\n\"It is with a great deal of regret that I am severing my\nconnnections with Bruno's Weekly. But what can I do? The\nmultiplication of duties at the factory make it impossible for me\nto give even the smallest amount of time to an outside ven-\nture, no matter how much I believe in it. Antf I do believe in\nthis one.\nYou have produced something unusual that has solid merit,\nand such a combination is bound to succeed.\nAnd now that I am neither officer, director nor stockholder,\nthere is no privilege left for me but that of becoming a sub-\nscriber, so you will find my two dollars enclosed. Trusting that\nthe Weekly will meet with the success it deserves, I remain,\nSincerely,\n\nTwo Poems By Tom Sleeper\nJones\nQUI TARS are playing\nIn the hush of Samoan sunsets\nAnd softly the music dies away\nOver a phantom sea.\nA bit of laughter rings clear.\nGently the air moves among the palms\nThen comes the blessed night,\nThe night with its million mysteries.\n* * * *\nA jangling alarm clock\nBreaks distorted slumber\nAnd from a cheap iron bed\nI arise,\nTo butt my way to the office\nThru the January slush\nAnd the chill dinginess of a New York morning.\nFifth Avenue\nQJTRUTTING cimeons\nOf a barbaric age\nSunless monstrosities\nOf paint and style\nMince and smirk\nYour way along\nNodding to those who are\nAs doubly damned as you.\n\nA Reverie\nWalter.\npUFFING monotonously before the dying fire,\nThe last embers deftly struggling to live;\nMy mind lightly flits past the vale of years\nAnd glances far behind the curtain of manhood\nRevealing the one radiant jewel of my empty existence,\nThe companion of my youth, my one true friend;\nHe who understood, sympathized, cared,\nBecause the germ of love was in his soul,\nThe spark of altruism in his very ego.\nI see him smile upon me, all is light,\nA golden incandescence floods my room\nFor he is with me.\nThe embers die .... darkness.\nHis spirit evanesces, perhaps forever,\nAnd there sit I, puffing .... monotonously."}, {"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "1232", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.6", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\n\nThe Trail of Oscar Wilde in America\nOne hundred and fifty contemporary newspaper interviews\ncollected by Guido Bruno\nThe Apostle of Beauty in Nova Scotia\nOscar Wilde at Amherst.\n'J'HE afternoon train from St. John on Friday, brought beauty's\nlatest evangel to our province. He came, not surrounded by\na halo of blue and purple glory, not in a carved car, nor in a\nGreek urn. He rode on the engine. He saw the little hills re-\njoicing merrilly. He saw Moncton, and notice.d the irredecent\nwonder of the \"Transcript\" editor. He t<r>bk in the pre-\nRaphaelism of Dorchester. He rejoiced at the preciousness of\nWestcock, and was enraptured at the gaudy leonine beauty of\nthe Tantramar. Oscar praised the railroad and liked the ap-\npointment of the cars. He smoked the cigar of peace as he\ncrossed the Missequash, but he took no interest in Fort Cum-\nberland, as the battles fought there were not fought for love\nof beauty, but for love of territory.\nAt Amherst he shook hands with the engine driver, gaily\nwished him a good-day, gave him a strong cigar and leaped\nlightly to the platform, declining the proffered help of the\nhand kindly outstretched to assist him. The station platform\nwas crowded with citizens, trying to get a glimpse of \"wild\nOscar,\" as they called him, and these were anxiously watching\nthe door of the car where the Evangelist might be supposed to\nbe, while he was quietly getting into a carriage and getting\nunder way for Lamy's. The first impression on looking at Oscar\nis that he looks like his pictures. You have seen that picture\nbefore and are ready to turn over a leaf.\nA Herald representative called upon Mr. Wilde in his room\nat Lamy's. He was received with a polite friendliness that was\nwinning. The Apostle had no lily nor yet a sun flower. He wore\na velvet jacket which seemed to be a good jacket. He had an\nordinary neck-tie and wore a linen collar about number eigh-\nteen on a neck half a dozen sizes smaller. His legs were in\ntrousers such as Greenfield might have made, and his boots\nwere apparently the product of New York art, judging by their\npointed toes. He wore a ring with a seal of great size. A con-\nsensus of the opinions of Amherst people decides that Oscar's\nhair is not good. It is the color of straw, slightly leonime, and\nstraight as an Indian's. It is faded and bleached looking, and\nwhen not looked after goes climbing all over his features. Mr.\nWilde was communicative and genial. He said that he found\nCanada pleasant. He liked the scenery of New Brunswick, as\nit lent itself readily to art. There were no towering mountains,\nand deep gulches such as he had seen in the West. There were\nno large rivers, but the scenery was always changing as one\npassed through. Every turn in the road brought a small surprise.\nThe streams wound attractively through the land, and there\nwere innumerable hills and valleys of all conceivable forms.\nHad our autumn forests finer colors than those in England?\nWell, he would not say that. Our timber was finer, but it's\nbeauty was of a different sort. ,\nMr. Wilde uses the word ''timber\" in a sense that he thinks\nAmerican. He talks about the leaves on our timber, etc.\nThe conversation turned on newspapers.\n\"The editor of a paper,\" said Oscar, \"has an advantage over\nall other writers. He never waits for his audience, and he is\nsure that what he writes will be read.\"\n(Oscar sighed here, doubtless thinking of his poems.)\n''American journals are in many respects better than the\nEnglish. I think the American newspaper is the journal of the\nfuture. It is filled with news. The reader of the large New\nYork papers knows everything that goes on in the world that is\nworth knowing, and much more. Still there is a want of dignity,\nand an amount of scurrility in the American newspaper which\none gets in smaller towns that is terrible.\"\n\"Did they not discuss your appearance and your lectures in a\nsomewhat unsatisfactory way?\"\nOscar at this stage had brought into him a cup of tea and\nhaving asked your representative to partake with him he laughed\nquietly and pushed his hair behind his ears, as he replied: \"They\ntalk in an incredible obtuse manner about my message and my\nwork. I think nothing whatever about the criticisms now. It\ndoes not interest me as it did at first. I understand the people\nwho say those things about me and I cannot bring myself to care\nwhat they say. I cannot possibly do it At first it surprised me.\nI came out here, never having spoken in public, in earnest about\nmy message, strongly feeling what I was saying, and I talked\nseriously to those people. They heard me and went away and\ntalked about my necktie and the way I wore my hair. I could\nnet understand how people could do such a thing. I thought it\ninexpressibly stupid.\"\nThis last with a sigh and a look of half wearied pity at the\nthought of these critics. He said \"stupid\" with a strong accentu-\nation on the last syllable.\n''The English Journals,\" he went on, \"are much more serious\nand earnest in their tone than yours. But a man who has a name\nthat is valuable will not be an English journalist. English news-\npaper articles are written anonymously. A good writer can get\nno credit for good work, and so will not write for an English\npeper. The proprietor is everything, the writer nothing there.\nIn France, where the writers sign their names, better men be-\ncome journalists.\"\n''But as a matter of fact you can tell who writes many articles\nin England.\"\n\"Yes, in some cases you can. There is George Augusta Sala.\n(This name was uttered with a weary look as if the physical\neffort of articulating it was nearly too much and the last syllable\nof Sala was clearly accented.) You can always tell what Sala\nwrites. No other human being can write such intolerable\nEnglish.\"\nOscar made enquiries about the institutions of Amherst.\n\"Do you tell me that it has only three thousand inhabitants?\nWhy (lying back luxuriously on his bear skin rug and sipping\nhis tea,) I never spoke in a town so small as that, Mr. Towns-\nhend has driven me about the village and I consider it a beauti-\nful little place.\"\nHe spoke of our style of Government, of democracies gener-\nally, of sociology, of Herbert Spencer, whom he had read and\nadmired greatly. He found nothing in his work or in any other\nwork on evolution which differed from Plato and Aristotle.\"\nThere is nothing in art or philosophy in which we are as wise\nas the Greeks. Spencer has prosecuted enquiries which have led\nhim to verify the Greek philosopher. No, we should not go back\nto the Greek, we should try to get up to the Greek. All that\nremains for us anywhere is to corroborate the Greeks in every-\nthing. They reached a level, the summit of which we cannot\nyet see. True, they had simpler problems. Their common\npeople were less stupid. It is a wonder we do not have twice\nthe trouble we do have, with the elements that go to make up\nthe countries we now live in. Our conceptions of beauty may\nreach the Greek conception some time. There is nothing higher\nto hope for.\"\n\"Yes, I found America pleasant. Out in the West, delightful.\nAt Denver I met the most interesting people I have ever seen.\"\n''Rough and ready I suppose?\"\n''Ready, but not rough. They were polished and refined com-\npared with the people I met in large cities farther East. Yes, I\ndid see the common people. I spent a night in a silver mine. I\ndined with the men down there. They were great, strong, well\nformed men, of graceful attitude and free motion. Poems every\none of them. A complete democracy under ground. I find people\nless rough and coarse in such places. There is no chance for\nroughness. The revolver is their book of etiquette. This teaches\nlessons that are not forgotten. I wish I could have gone to\nWinnipeg. I like free people without the resources of civiliza-\ntion. They are freer and more artistic in their surroundings\nbecause they follow nature.\"\n\"Speaking of the ladies (he had spoken of them) do you con-\nsider American or European ladies the finest looking?\"\n\"That I cannot answer here. I shall wait till I get in mid-\nocean, out of sight of both countries. If I were to answer you I\nshould find it to my advantage to be anything but candid.\"\nYour reporter intimated that the last remark was a sufficient\nanswer.\nOscar, smiling and drinking more tea, proceeded: \"Young\nwomen are pretty. I never saw so many pretty women as I\nhave seen here, especially in the South, but the prettiness is in\ncolor and freshness and bloom. A truly beautiful woman never\ngrows old. The most of your pretty ladies will not be pretty in"}, {"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "1233", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.7", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\nTo Be Continued.\n\nten years.\"\n\"I believe you discovered Mrs. Langtry?\"\nA look of rapture came to Oscar's face. He flung his locks\nfrom where they clustered around his nose, and with a gesture,\nthe first of the interview, he said:\n4'l would rather have discovered Mrs. Langtry than have\ndiscovered America. Her beauty is in outline perfectly moulded.\nShe will be a beauty at eighty-five.\"\n\"Yes, it was for such ladies that Troy was destroyed, and\nwell might Troy be destroyed for such a woman. Perhaps it\nmay be true—they say it is—that the seige of Troy was brought\nabout by a quarrel about a harbor, but they thought they fought\nfor a woman; they had the conception that it was for beauty,\nand that is the same as if it was. It would be a fine thing if\nnations went to war with each other now over such questions\nas to which had the most beautiful women. How much better\nthat than the senseless dispute about getting Egypt and possessing\nArabi. Now that we have caught Arabi we do not know what\nto do with him. When I was young I thought the wars of the\nroses were to decide whether a red or a white rose was the\nmost beautiful. I learned afterward that it was a vulgar dis-\npute. The right of one of two men to a crown or something of\nthat kind.\"\nThis last was spoken in a tone of injured susceptibility, as\nthough York had thrown soup on Oscar's coat, or Lancaster had\nsmoked a black pipe over Oscar's dinner.\n\"What do I think of your American Literature: I think you\nhave had a great poet in Poe. He is your greatest poet. His\nsense of form and exquisitiveness of touch are intense. His\ngold is not to be gilt and his lilies are unpaintable. Joaquin\nMiller is also a beautiful poet. 'Arizonian' is a poem of great\nartistic excellence. Fawcet, a new poet, whom we had not heard\nof when I left England, has written some of the most perfect\npoetry which I have seen. Walt Whitman if not a poet is a\nman who sounds a strong note. He writes neither prose nor\npoetry, but something of his own that is unique. He is one\nof your greatest men.\"\n\"No I do not care for the Commemoration ode of Lowell. It\nhas no harmony in its conception. It is oratory of the strongest\nkind, and is eloquent, but does not meet my idea of poetry.\nLowell has written a poem on dedication which is delicate\npoetry. You must like it. You have poets with you. In New\nBrunswick a young man, Mr. Roberts has published a little\nbook. You have heard of it.\"\nThe reporter had read Robert's published poems and was\ndelighted to find that Mr. Wilde met and liked them.\nAnd Mulcany, of Toronto, a countryman of my own, a man\nonce well known at Trinity College. He is a man of taste.\nFrechette, I believe is however your best poet.\"\n\"Wordsworth was undoubtedly a poet. I do not read the\npoems he liked best of his. I do not care for his *'Idiot Boy,\"\n\"The Excursion,\" is nothing to me.\"\nYour correspondent intimated that the poem was too long\nfor what poetry it contained which reduced the average too\nlow.\nSaid Mr. Wilde, \"I do not like to hear poems spoken of as\ntoo long. 'The Excursion' is shorter than the Iliad I would not\nhave one line less in the Iliad. But I like Wordsworth's Son-\nnets. That beginning:\n'Milton thou should'st be living at this hour,' is fine, as is\nthat which commences:\n'The world is too much with us.' \"\nAs your representative rose to go, having declined a cup of\ntea, which was again politely offered, he was asked about\nHalifax, the nature of the people and the style of the town.\nMr. Wilde had met Sir John Mac Donald and his lady. \"Sir\nJohn (and Mr. Wilde sighed as he said it) was a man of the\nworld, but his lady was charming and so was he.\"\nAnd your correspondent left. There was other talk about\nthe classics, about the French idea of the Dramatic Unities, about\nShakespere and Wordsworth and Keats and Rossetti, but this\nwas of a nature too confidential to be communicated to every-\nbody. It will be remembered that Mr. Wilde begins one of his\nsonnets with this line;\n*'I stood by the unvintageable sea.\"\nYour correspondent thought of this as he was leaving, and\nremembering that the Tantramar was very muddy as the aesthete\npassed over it, he asked, *'Do you consider the Tantramar vin-\ntageable to any extent?\" The apostle laughed gaily at this\nproof of the presence of a Philistine, but contented himself\nwith praising other streams of less leonine beauty.\nIt may be said here that Mr. Bigelow deserves the greatest\ncredit for his enterprise and daring in bringing so high priced\na man to a small town like Amherst. Mr. Wilde had never\nspoken in so small a place before. He had a good house and\na good hearing.\ni Amherst Herald, May 19, 1882\nOscar Wilde in Toronto\nZOOMING up krom the Capitol yesterday, when seated at\nbreakfast, i|\\ a far from aesthetic mood, who should be\nseated next to rf|e but the renowned apostle of the beautiful,\nMr. Oscar Wilde. Trusting to the free-masonry of sympathetic\nideas, I introduced myself as the friend of the late M ,\none of the most gifted art critics of this generation, and the\njoint author with him of certain sketches of the Old Masters.\nWe are at once en rapport, and I found that I had by this\nallusion, as the prophet in the wilderness by his rod, made\nthe waters to touched a copious spring of highly cul-\ntured intelligence, philosophical reflection, and acute criticism,\nboth humorous and eloquent. Mr. Wilde is a brilliant con-\nversationalist, \"IT \"ppy one in senses, for he can listen as\nwell as he canlgjhlk, and he can talk so that listening to his\ntongue, eventhe garrulous, becomes more pleasant than to\nlisten to their Avn. Well, although I am not garrulous I can\nprevent talk frjopping into silence, and I listened yesterday\nmorning to | only conversation worthy the name which I\nhave had th' privilege to share in since leaving England many\nyears ago, 112 here we cannot find anything to chat\nover save the virtues of our party and the wickedness of the\nopposite one, wnich is not a sufficiently varied theme to monopo-\nlize all one's lingual social capacity or mental sympathies. To\nmy mind, one of the greatest disadvantages of life in Canada\nis the blank, the utter blank, of the charm of intellectual gossip,\nmy talk with Mr. Wilde took me out of the dust and smoke and\nclatter of a noky monotonous street into the heart of the country,\nrich in woodland beauty, redolent of floral sweetness, and\nsoothing to the tired brain as a mother's lullaby to her child.\nWe talked of art, of its present aspects here and at home, of\nart culture, of art schools, and their work and failures and\nneeds. I told Mr. Wilde that years ago I had ventured to lay\ndown as the glaring defect of all Canadian pictures that they\nshowed an entire want of the power of drawing with exactitude\nany living forms, trees or animals. This he earnestly and almost\npassionately approved. \"Art,\" said he, \"is not looked upon as\nan exact science, as it should be; there can be no art without\ntruth of form, and no beauty can exist where is falsehood in\ndrawing or color.\"\n\nTwo Poems\nby Marianne Moore\nThe Just Man And\nHI? pie. \"I would be\nRepossessed of all the\nSuperlatives that I have squandered,\nThat I might use them in praise of it.\"\nThe four and twenty\nBirds were singing while he\nApportioned it off casually\nAnd found in it nothing for himself.\nIn \"Designing a Cloak to Cloak his Designs,\" you Wrested\nfrom Oblivion, a Coat of Immortality for your own Use.\nby his uningenious will\nOf dragon-like demeanor, till\nIt left them orphans.\nHis foibles clustered underneath\nHim, dominated by a wreath\nOf upright half notes.\nEncumbered as he was with pride,\nBut for that coat he might have died\nSo despicably\nThat kindness might have seemed unkind\nHad not the garment been designed\nTo serve two masters."}, {"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "1234", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaaq19161230-01.1.8", "texte": "BRUNO'S WEEKLY\nBruno's Weekly, published weekly by Bruno's Weekly, Inc., at No. 10 Fitf th Avenue, New York City. Edited\nand written by Guido Bruno. Subscription $2 a year.\nApplication for entry as second-class matter at the Post Office of New York pending.\n\nSTATEMENT OF THE OWNERSHIP, MANAGEMENT, CIRCULA-\nTION, ETC., REQUIRED BY THE ACT OF CONGRESS\nOF AUGUST 24, 1912,\nOf Guido Bruno, Inc., published weekly at New York, N. Y., for\nOct. 1, 1916.\nState of New York.\nCounty of New York.-—ss:\nBefore me, a Notary Public in and for the State and county\naforesaid, personally appeared Guido Bruno, who, having been duly\nsworn according to law, deposes and says that he is the.' Editor of\nBruno's Weekly Incorporated, and that the following\" is, to the\nbest of his knowledge and belief, a true statement, if the ownership,\nmanagement (and if a daily paper, the circulate m), etc., of the\naforesaid publication for the date shown in the *T>ove caption, re-\nquired by the Act of August 24, 19.12, embodied in action 443, Postal\nLaws and Regulations, printed on the reverse of =iis form, to wit:\n1. That the names and addresses of the publi ler, editor, man-\naging editor, and business managers are:\nPublisher, Bruno's Weekly IncM 10 Fifth Avenue; Editor, Guido\nBruno, 10 Fifth Avenue; Managing Editor, none; Business Man-\nager, Guido Bruno.\n2. That the owners are: (Give names and addresses of indi-\nvidual owners, or, if a corporation, give its name and the names and\naddresses of stockholders owning or holding 1 per cent or more of\nthe total amount of stock.)\nCharles Edison, Llewellyn Park, Orange, Ncv Jersey; Guido\nBruno, 10 Fifth Avenue, N. Y.; Walter Ec|fori., oro Edison Works,\nOrange, New Jersey.\n3. That the known bondholders, mortgagees, arj.d security\nholders owning or holding 1 per cent, or m \"e of Lot. amount of\nbonds, mortgages, or other securities are: (If t.hjire re none, so\nstate.)\nCharles Edison, Llewellyn Park, Orange, New . ;• y.\n4. That the two paragraphs next above, giving tJ - names of\nthe owners, stockholders, and security holders, if ny, contain not\nonly the list of stockholders and security holders,, .s they appear\nupon the books of the company, but also, in cases ,'Viere the stock-\nholder or security holder appears upon the books ol ! le company as\ntrustee or in any other fiduciary relation, the name1\"the person or\ncorporation for whom such trustee is acting, is give ; \\lso that the\nsaid two paragraphs contain statements embracii. : affiant's full\nknowledge and belief as to the circumstances and < onditions under\nwhich stockholders and security holders who do llot appear upon\nthe books of the company as trustees, hold stock and securities in a\ncapacity other than that of a bona fide owner; and this affiant has\nno reason to believe that any other person, association or corpora-\ntion has any interest direct or indirect in the said tock, bonds, or\nother securities than as so stated by him.\n5. That the average number of copies of each issue of this\npublication sold and distributed, through the mails dr otherwise, to\npaid subscribers during the six months preceding the date shown\nabove, is . . (This information is required from daily publica-\ntions only.)\nSworn to and subscribed before me this 26th day of December,\n1916.\nA. MEYERHOFF,\nNotary Public, Bronx County; Bronx County Clerks,\n(SEAL.) No. 18; Bronx County Registers, No. 727; Certificate\nfiled in N. Y. County; New York County Clerks, No.\n69; New York Registers, No. 7089.\n6340 SPRING 80 WASHINGTON SQUARE\nNEWTON MERRILL\nEXPERT IN INTERIOR DECORATIONS\nR. EDERHEIMER\nPRINT CABINET\n366 FIFTH AVE., NEW YORK\nOriginal Drawings by Old Masters\nALL APPRECIATIVE VISITORS CORDIALLY INVITED\n\nTUESDAY, the 2nd of JANUARY\nMr. Daniel Kennedy, Auctioneer,\nwill sell at public auction in No. 105\nFourth Ave., BOOKS, DRAWINGS,\nVALUABLE AUTOGRAPHS,\nPAINTINGS and Original MANU,\nSCRIPTS, being part of Guido\nBruno's Collection, removed recently\nfrom his Garret on Washington Sq.\nCatalogues will be sent, and seats\nreserved on application.\nTHE GARRET SHOP\n105 Fourth Avenue New York\nAt THE NEW ROMA RESTAURANT of health where\nj'ou eat first class and qualiity of Italian and American cook-\ning at moderate prices, a la Carte, run by the well known\nPETER ROMA, nothing will be neglected with the bedt\nattention to everybody. Everything is brand new and sani-\ntary. Dancing every Saturday and Sunday. Grand Hall for\nBanquets, Weddings, etc.\nP. ROMA, Manager\n87-89 Macdougal St., cor. Bleecker St., first floor\nTelephone Spring 1324\nOSCAR WILDE'S\nImpressions of America\nedited with an introduction by Stuart Mason.\nOne of the original 500 copies printed.\nThis book, written by Oscar Wilde upon his return from\nthat memorable lecture tour through America, contains\nsome of the finest characterizations of America, as Wilde\nsaw it. He hits mercilessly and he praises effusively. In\nthe appendix is an interesting collection of newspaper\ninterviews with Wilde.\nIt is a rare Wilde item, published by one of Wilde's oldest\nfriends and his bibliographer.\nOnly a few copies left which will be sent to those whose orders\nreach us at first for $1.00 postpaid.\nSCHULTE'S BOOK STORE\n132 E. 23rd Street\nNew York\n\nBruno Chap Books.\nTwenty-eight booklets containing the most interesting work of the most unique writers of the past twenty-\nfive years.\nPrices ranging from fifteen cents to fifty cents.\nWrite for catalgoue and send one-cent stamp. It contains the story of Bruno's Garrett from a public grave\ndigger's tool house to the exhibition gallery of modern artists' work.\nBruno's Weekly, 10 Fifth Avenue, New York City."}]}