Judge — January 1938 — page 35: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

War in Europe . . Floods drown 80,000 in China . . First transcontinental telephonic communication by Alexander Bell . . . . » Yoshibito crowned Japan's Emperor . . announces engagement to Mrs. Galt .. . William J. Bryan resigns as Secretary of State... Lusi- tania sunk... Henry Ford and his peace party sail for Europe... Booker T. Washington dies. . President Wilson THE PROMETHEAN JAZZ By Benjamin De Casseres W E have become so wise that we no longer believe in “inspiration.” The cynic will say that is because, in litera. ture, no one is nowadays inspired. The Muses have become “clever.” ““Smartness’”’ is the divine afflutus. Con- centration is the secret of “getting it over.” We do not know how the ancients got out their masterpieces. Some pre- tended to have pipe- jointed the Pierian Spring. When they wanted to write a great tragedy or an ode they put the old oaken bucket under the faucet in the back yard and drew off enough of the sacred water to last them all night. Others, they say, hung around the Delphic Oracle and soused up on his wisdom. Homer and Virgil called on the gods before opening their poetic veins. petition for the bay Beautiful witchcraft which today we no longer believe in. ‘Round about the eighteenth century the gods, the Muses, the Pierian Spring and oracles went out of fashion. How did Shakespeare (who does not belong to any century) jazz up in order to get out the Sonnets? It is cer- tain he did not do “Hamlet” on old ale. And Falstaff and Lear and Iago never came out of stout. It was the “Ladye Faire” in those days, maybe. Before entering the grand com. and the laurel, genius tossed its glove to a pair of eyes. And few returned for the glove. Theophile Gautier could not write in. spired stuff unless he wore a red vest. When Byron had something on his chest he ordered a magnum of Burgundy. Sam Johnson, they say, tapped a hitch. ing post three times, and presto!—the word-drool started. When Ibsen dried up he watched a scorpion bite into an apple, and Brand started to walk around in dithyrambic can-cans in his brain. When Shelley wanted to put a finish. ing touch on a stanza he hurled his pen in the wall. Drawing it out, the stanza appeared ready-made. William Blake had a habit of sitting perfectly naked in his garden when he wanted to ascend. The neighbors called the “bobbies,” so William took to cop- perplating. Mark Twain could only write in bed with a clean sheet over his feet. p d fe p re \- be = 3 es a — SA ae an oR oS ee Ve ee | CE0. 70 2Rovy- Se wee 3 i THE MONKEY—ExcusE ME, SIR, BUT I SUPPOSE IT 1S POSSIBLE THAT AMONG THOSE ELABORATE FACE IMPLE- MENTS YOU MAY HAVE SOMETHING THAT WOULD CRACK A NUT? January, 19358 33 comicbooks.com