The singing
stopped with the last verse.
"Now La Ravachole for our French brethren." This combination of
revolutionary lyrics--Ca Ira and Carmagnole--was chanted fervidly. Then
came for the benefit of the German the stirring measures from the
Scotch-German John Henry Mackay's Sturm:--
Das ist der Kampf, den allnaechtlich
Bevor das Dunkel zerrinnt,
Einsam und gramvoll auskaempt
Des Jahrhunderts verlorenes Kind.
Yetta waved her long and beautifully shaped hands--they were her
solitary vanity. The audience became still. She addressed them at first
in deliberate tones, and Arthur noted that the interest was genuine--he
wondered how long his fat-witted club friends could endure or
appreciate the easy manner in which Yetta Silverman quoted from great
thinkers, and sprinkled these quotations with her own biting
observations.
"Richard Wagner--who loved humanity when he wrote Siegfried and
regretted that love in Parsifal!
"Richard Wagner--who loved ice-cream more than Dresden's
freedom--Wagner: the Swiss family bell-ringer of '48!
"To Max Stirner, Ibsen, and Richard Strauss belongs the twentieth
century!
"Nietzsche--the anarch of aristocrats!
"Karl Marx--or the selfish Jew socialist!
"Lassalle--the Jew comedian of liberty!
"Bernard Shaw--the clever Celt who would sacrifice socialism for an
epigram.
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