BARNEY. I could talk all de time. I'm a detectuf.

BERYL. (Sobbing.) What's a detectuf? BARNEY. (Eating.) Oh, gee, girls don't know nuthin'! He's de guy dat does de woik de cop gets paid for. (He runs to window at back, stands on seat.)

BERYL. Oh? Where are we, Reginald? BARNEY. We're in de Catskills mountains. On de top floor. An' dere's no elevator, so we gotta climb down. If we'd let go, we could slide.

BERYL. What are you looking at? BARNEY. Dere's a bunch o' lights away off-down in de hole. (The shutter slams loudly and Beryl cries out.)

BERYL. Oh, I'm frightened.
BARNEY. Frightened nuthin'! (Jump-

a Kindergarten. What's the message? BERYL. (Brightening.) Are we? BARNEY. Babbing-is-on- (Turning pages again.) -case

SPIDER. Oh, hell! (Grabbing the telegram.) Twenty-four hours late!

Realizing that their only salvation is to desert the children and to race for the Canadian border, the fugitives lose no time in making their escape, leaving the two children to their own devices. After they have left, Barney immediately prepares to take Beryl back to New York. Beryl is in a panic, but the New York messenger-boy succeeds in encouraging her.

BARNEY. (Urging her to the table.) Sure! Yuh don't t'ink we're goin' to set up housekeepin' here, do yer? We got to get back to New York, an' we got to make a start. Here, feed yer face. (Giving her a piece of bread.)

BERYL. (Pushing it away, crying.) I'm not hungry.

BARNEY. (Eating.) You will be before yuh get to de nex' free lunch. We got to carry all o' dis we can inside us,

see! We won't have so much in our hands. Gee, it's great to have yer voice back. (Eating.)

ing down from seat.)

BERYL. And I'm cold.

BARNEY. (Going for her hat and coat.) You've got more troubles dan a panhandler. You'll be sweating like a mountain goat before we bump de bottom of dis hill. Here! (Crossing to her, puts on her hat, then holding up her coat.) Get into yer harness.

BERYL. (Putting arms in coat.) Are we going out in the dark?

acters.

in any case what is most important for Tom may be thrown away on Dick. Probably at present the best work the cinema does is the exhibition to masses of poor children of the habits, dress, manners and surroundings of people who can afford to live decently.

"An obvious application of the cinema to education is the reform of the Art School, with its 'life class' studying an absurdly unlifelike naked human being in a condition of painful and hideous simulated petrification and paralysis. Our art students slave for years at this abomination, and finally deprive themselves of all power of drawing or even seeing a figure

in action. The cinematograph can not only show the figure in action, but can arrest the action at any instant, and thereby not only surprise here and there a moment at which the figure is graceful and expressive, but-what is more important-prove that ninety-nine times out of a hundred the arrested action is artistically impossible, and that when the really successful draftsman or sculptor presents a figure in action he combines several successive moments in his representation, and thus arrives at an outline no model can possibly give him.

"In all athletic exercizes, and in dancing, what is called 'showing form' can be

done by the cinema. Much of the clumsiness and ugliness of our habits is simple ignorance; we have never seen anything better, and are even ashamed of pleasing our natural taste for something better, because it would make us look peculiar. The cinematograph, by familiarizing us with elegance, grace, beauty, and the rest of those immoral virtues which are so much more important than the moral ones, could easily make our ugliness look ridiculous. The moral virtues can take care of themselves only too well; it is our deficiency in the immoral ones that is keeping us back in the march of civilization."

AX

M

REINHARDT, who dreams of the Theater of the Five Thousand, and whose development has gradually led him toward the vast pageant-like spectacle, expresses his ideal of the theater of the future in the gigantic spectacle "The Miracle." "The Miracle" is the culmination of Reinhardt's art as a producer. It is an imaginative reconstruction of the Gothic Cathedral, like Victor Hugo's "Notre Dame de Paris," but in a different medium. In his search for a synthetic unity and harmony, Max Reinhardt seems to have found his inspiration in Gothic art itself. He aims for a lofty, well-balanced unity made up of the most diverse elements, each subordinated to a single great spiritual emotion.

"The Miracle" is to be presented to Americans the latter part of this year, and, if we accept Huntley Carter as an authority, we shall find in it the highest and most perfect expression of the art of "one of the greatest masters of modern stagecraft." Mr. Carter's book, "The Theater of Max Reinhardt," is shortly to be published by Mitchell Kennerley (New York). In it we find. Arthur Kahane's interpretation of the Reinhardt ideal:

Photo by Lieser, Berlin

SPECTACLE

"The first law of the new theater is utmost simplicity. Apart from the consideration that there is no time for complicated changes, the vast space demands the simplest of forms, and strong, big, severe lines. All accessories are superfluous; they cannot possibly be noticed, or, if they are, they are a source of distraction. At the most, scenic decoration can only be frame, not function. The elaboration of details, the emphasizing of nuances disappear; the actor and the actor's voice are truly essential, while lighting becomes the real source of decoration, its single aim being to bring the important

Photo by Lieser, Berlin

into light, and to leave the unimportant in the shadow.

"Thus the effects are simplified and heightened according to the need of monumentality. Under the influence of these mighty spaces, these big, severe lines, all that is small and petty disappears, and it becomes a matter of course to appeal to the hearts of great audiences with the strongest and deepest elements. The petty and unimportant-elements that are not eternal in us-cease to have effect. This theater can only express the great eternal elemental passions and the problems of humanity. In it the spectators cease to

be mere spectators; they become the people; their emotions are simple and primitive, but great and powerful, as becomes the eternal human race. The chorus arises and moves in the midst of the audiences; the characters meet each other among the spectators; from all sides the hearer is being impressed, so that gradually he becomes part of the whole, and is rapidly absorbed in the action, a member of the chorus, so to speak. This close contact (intimacy) is the chief feature of the new form of the stage. It makes the spectator a part of the action, secures his entire interest, and intensifies the effect upon him.

"Big spaces compel the unfolding of personality. It is in these that men develop their best and final power. Tho separated by great distances, men still face each other, and inevitably the conflict

ing feeling arises as to who is the stronger personality. Here strength and passion become the predominating qualities, the quintessence of tragedy, the conflict of personalities, the two dramatic elements contained in and transmitted by space. It is thus possible to rediscover a feeling which has been lost to us, but without losing that process of greater intimacy which seems to r..e the most useful result of the late naturalistic movement in the theater. For through the close contact with the spectator, who, metaphorically speaking, can feel the warm breath of dramatic art, the actor will be compelled to drav from the well of his deepest experience."

advan

searchlights. These lights were thrown down upon the players. Powerful arclights working from various points of the auditorium were focussed on the

stage. Hundreds of other lights were

used to illuminate the Gothic windows, their rays pouring down from all points, north, east, south and west. Not only were the lofty roof and the galleries and loft of the cathedral "wired" to their fullest extent, but the "crypt" was also turned into a bewildering maze of elaborate electric mechanism.

In solving the difficult problems confronting him, Reinhardt's ingenuity amounted almost to genius, says Huntley Carter. The nave of the cathedral was meant to serve not only as an interior scene but as an exterior as well.

"Thus when the Church had finished with it, the World entered by a very simple contrivance. The vast Gothic doors at one end were opened, and a huge mound crested with trees was wheeled in. By means of this and another contrivance the actors were enabled to step from actu

"The Miracle," we learn, is Reinhardt's greatest undertaking. It is meant to be the mark of an epoch. In it, Mr. Carter tells us, Max Reinhardt has sought to break away altogether from the picture stage, in order to develop the idea of drama produced in an auditorium instead of within a picture-frame. "Doors, windows, walls, roof, columns, properties, all are real; the lighting system is the completest that can be employed, every ality to actuality. The second contrivance was a huge sinking stage placed in the tage being taken of the latest advances center of the arena. The platform was made in electrical engineering." The Gothic motive was sustained in every architectural detail. The decorations and lighting effects were entrusted to Ernst Stern, Reinhardt's art director. More than ten miles of lighting cable was laid down for the special electrical installation for the spectacle. Just beneath the roof of the "nave" a bridge was constructed, having three islands of lights, each containing forty

made to sink, so that each time it rose it could bring an entire change of environment. By this means the action was carried uninterruptedly from banqueting hall to bedchamber, to inquisition chamber, and so forth. This sinking platform was indeed an example of Reinhardt's ingenuity, and appeared uncommonly like

an up-to-date variation of the Shakespearean principle of alternate staging."

The music by Humperdinck, says Mr.

Carter, greatly added to the emotional color of the play. ""By its aid alone, generally speaking, one was enabled to follow the dramatic action."

"The wonderful rhythm of the Hungarian dance, and the quaint rhythm of the grotesque old German dance in the banqueting scene, the bedroom love-music, the opening of the grim inquisition scene, announced by a fanfare, and the martial roll of drums, such outstanding features of music that sought to run and dance with the drama, made a deep impression. Another noticeable thing was that the composer had introduced a number of old English carols and other foreign material. In the concluding scene, for instance, the notes of supplication, with touches of love, followed by anguish as the Nun's child dies, were succeeded by the Sicilian Mariner's hymn as the Virgin takes the dead child, and the music scene is brought to a close with a well-known carol as the crowd enters and bears off the Madonna in triumph."

Plans for the initial American production of "The Miracle" in Madison Square Garden late this year will necessitate the conversion of the huge building into a semblance of the nave of a Gothic cathedral. The production calls for the employment of no less than two thousand players. An orchestra of two hundred players will be used, and an invisible choir of five hundred singers will be utilized in the The gigantic spectacle will later be rendering of Humperdinck's music. presented at the Panama-Pacific Exposition in San Francisco.

A

LMOST unheralded and unnoticed by the public at large, Jean Sibelius, Finland's greatest composer, visited the United States recently to attend the Norfolk Music Festival. His name has been a familiar one on New York concert programs since 1902, when his symphonic poem or "Legend for Orchestra" was played at a concert of the Philharmonic Society. Maud Powell has carried his violin concerto to the chief musical centers of the country, we are informed by H. E. Krehbiel in the New York Tribune. Perhaps nothing can better indicate the quality and the virility of the Sibelius compositions than Philip Hale's rhapsodic reaction to this violin When he first heard Maud

concerto.

Powell play this concerto, says Mr. Krehbiel, the music stirred the Boston critic into something nearer a rhapsody "than we can recall coming from his discriminating pen."

Sibelius was born in 1865 in Tavastehus, Finland. In his boyhood he took up the study of the violin. He matriculated at the university, with the intention of becoming a lawyer. In 1889 and 1890 he studied under Albert Becker in Berlin, and later in Vienna. It is said that later, aided by a stipend from the Russian Government, he made his home in Helsingfors, where he has labored industriously both as conductor and composer. Sibelius has found his chief inspiration in the treThe mendous sagas of the North. Finnish national epic, "Kalevala," furnished the poetic material for his two symphonic poems "Lemminkäinen" and

T

JEAN SIBELIUS

"The Swan of Tuonela." Other compositions which have given him his reputation as the greatest Finnish composer are "Finlandia," "Valse romantique," "Valse triste," "En Saga," and the "Karelia" overture, as well as a number of songs. His characteristic note, Mr. Krehbiel believes, is his nationalism. Sibelius' is the voice of

NOT A PEEVISH PESSIMIST The somberness of Sibelius is not an affectation. It is broad and deep and elemental. "There is something titanic about it," wrote Philip Hale, who added: "Look at the face of

this composer. Mark the determination of the expression. Would you expect genteel phrases,

sugared sensuousness, from such a man?"

Finland-strong, virile, somber-that has in him become articulate. In it one senses the immensity and power of the Northern seas and winds. Mr. Krehbiel's interpretation follows:

"The works of Sibelius are the first strong voice which Finnish music has found. It reaches our ears in a time of ferment and stands, as has been intimated, not always with the simple eloquence which might be desired. But the composer is now in the prime of his strength. From the music written for 'King Christian II.' to the best of that heard last week there is a wide step. The 'Kalevala' music is all deeper and more virile than most of that which preceded it, and the new composition (which also bears the title 'Rondo of the Waves') is fresh and vital, full of imagination and strong in climax.

"Extremists will probably deplore the fact that the composer is still a respecter of form, still a devotee of beauty, still a believer in the potency of melody; but this is rather a matter for congratulation than regret. It is only individual expression which remains within the boundaries set by esthetic beauty which is admirable. There is no excellent lawlessness in any art. Mr. Sibelius is a fine musical constructionist, an eloquent harmonist and a fine colorist despite his fondness for dark tints. He has done much but not all of which he is capable and which his vigor promises. He is an eloquent minstrel of his native land, but he may yet become more eloquent. Who knows but he may yet chant lays which shall embody the spirit of his people with a power like unto that attributed to the old epical heroes of his race? There is a thrill in his 'Finlandia,' which invites delightful speculation as to the power of his song when it shall reach its fulness of utterance."

HERE are only two types of music, declares M. D. Calvocoressi in Comadia, living music and mechanical music. If a Mozart symphony, he explains, charms us by its spontaneity, nothing charms us less than a symphony written a hundred years later by a composer who is preoccupied only in modeling his material or developing it precisely after the manner of Mozart. The essential quality of the music of Igor Stravinsky is that it is alive, declares the same critic in eulogizing the work of the young Russian who while still in his twenties, has in the sensational "Consecration of Spring," "Petrouchka," "The Fire Bird," and most recently in his balletopera "The Nightingale," introduced a Dionysian spirit into European music.

The compositions of Igor Stravinsky, Leigh Henry declares in the London Egoist, are of a necessity a revolt against the dominion of the obvious. "Confinement of creeds, religions or esthetics," says Mr. Henry, "creates certain inactivities, and from inactivity springs incapacity, resulting in disease. Hence it is continually necessary to stir the world and awaken a thirst for movement and strenuous exercise, physical and mental, to avoid decrepitude. It was the realization of this that gave birth to the Greek allegory of Apollo and Dionysos, from whence Nietzsche later evolved his conception of the vital beings whom he believed would precede the super

man.

Stravinsky's most important compositions have been ballets for perform

ance by the Russian dancers. In composing dance music he has succeeded, says Mr. Henry, "in raising the ballet to a state truly chorographic which it has never before occupied."

"In "The Bird of Fire' Stravinsky presented a marvelous conception of movement and color, with a striking symbol in the attempts to snare the elusive BirdWoman. But while creating a sumptuous

design of sounds, colors and rhythms,

which transcend even 'Scheherazade' in magnificence, the work fails to reach the level attained in his later compositions,

by reason of its over-sensuous appeal and the limitations of its depictive theme. The dance-poem 'Petrouchka' transcends it both in internal quality, in dynamism and significance. Here we have a work directly in touch with life, the vibrant and