Word: fascistes
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...Cabinet and Party works. "In the regime's private meetings we discuss ardently," he said, "but at a certain moment I say: 'The case has been heard!' and the discussion ceases. I then decide and everybody obeys. An oath of obedience is sworn on entering the Fascist party...
Exuberantly Mediterranean, dear to the hearts of Young Italy, are these words which open the chorus of the official Fascist anthem. But the accompanying music, though certainly no worse than that of many another patriotic song, is what Variety calls "umpa umpa stuff." It is more singable, more lively than "The Star-Spangled Banner" but immeasurably less musical than "Die Wacht Am Rhein," the Tsarist anthem, or the Haydn tune which the Austrian Empire took for its national hymn. It was natural, then, that the whole world of music should have risen in arms during the last month because...
...villa high above St. Moritz in Switzerland, a pale and haggard Toscanini was last week recovering from Fascist buffets. Soon he would go to Wahnfried ("Dream-Peace"), the villa Richard Wagner built at Bayreuth. There, as guest of Frau Winifred Wagner (widow of the late Siegfried and director of Bayreuth affairs), he was to begin rehearsals for the opening concert of the summer festival. Because his art demanded tranquillity, he wished no further discussion of the incident. But Italy was behind him; at last the world could view his case whole...
...Fascismo once became so irritated as to threaten him with its famed, ugly castor oil cure. It was no new experience for him when Leandro Arpinati. Under Secretary of the Interior, and Boss of Bologna, requested that before the Bologna concert last month he perform the Fascist tune and the ''Marcia Reale" (royal march of the house of Savoy). Though Conductor Toscanini suspected no trap, he stoutly refused. Boss Arpinati suggested that the Bologna town band be permitted to play the pieces. "Impossible !" cried the maestro. It was an evening in memory of his dead friend. "That would...
...entrance to the concert hall that night an angry crowd awaited him. "A morte! (Kill him!)" they shouted. "Is it true you refused to play the Fascist hymn?" He stood firm, his eyes flashing, his moustache bristling. "Yes, it is true!'1 Then their blows rained upon him . . . his mouth gushed blood...