When the asbestos curtain rises and reveals the Seventy-third Congress in regular session, the chief theme of the play will be, according to the expectations of most of the spectators, a heroic struggle between the inflationists and the sound-moneyites. We hope the audience will be disappointed, because such a melodrama, however heated and exciting, would be far removed from reality—a romantic revival of the moustached-villain, lily-white heroine, save-the-child school.
We have never before had anything like the Roosevelt administration. Except perhaps for early assemblies of the Founding Fathers, there has never been a government in this country which has acted so rapidly, and imprinted its influence on so many varied areas of our national life. It is not enough to say that Mr. Roosevelt has been faced with a great emergency. So was Mr. Hoover, and he was as immobile as a lump of mud. Nor, unless you are a hero worshiper, can you explain it by Mr. Roosevelt's superior personal virtue. What is it that makes the Roosevelt administration tick?
There appears to be a very generally entertained notion among both liberals and conservatives, that if the Supreme Court of the United States upholds the recent recovery legislation it will be compelled to invent a complete new set of legal terminology, to tear up familiar constitutional landmarks and to graft new doctrine on an ancient document. It is popularly supposed to require a sort of dialectic earthquake, which will leave huge fissures in constitutional logic. It threatens even to create an unconstitutional habit of thought about constitutional issues.
The Race's Splendor The race's splendor lifts her lip, exposes Amid her scarlet smile her little teeth; The years are sand the wind plays with; beneath The prisoned music of her deathless roses. Within frostbitten rock she's fixed and glassed; Now man may look upon her without fear. But her contemptuous eyes back through him stare And shear his fatuous sheep when he has passed. Lilith she is dead and safely tombed And man may plant and prune with naught to bruit Hie heired and ancient lot to which he's doomed, For quiet drowse the flocks when wolf is mute— Ay, Lilith she is dead, and she is
A recent article in The New Republic was entitled "Hoover's Tragedy." Some of us thought at the time that the tragedy was rather that of the people who had believed Mr.
Herbert Hoover’s defense of his administration at Des Moines is like the climax of a Greek tragedy. It represents, as in Aristotle’s definition, the struggle against inexorable fate of a good but not wholly guiltless man. Elected four years ago on the flood tide of success and fame, he now faces certain and probably overwhelming rejection because of the misfortunes which have overtaken both him and his people. Though he still thinks of these misfortunes as being undeserved, their origins are inextricably interwoven with his own past.