the stage that once was so
full of knockabout is now so full of stand-still; variety that was
once a joy is now a bore. Just some uninteresting songs at the piano
before a giddy drop is not enough these days; and there are too many
of such. There is need of a greater activity for the eye. The return
of the acrobat in a more modern dress would be the appropriate
acquisition, for we still have appreciation for all those charming
geometrics of the trapeze, the bar, and the wire.

It is to be hoped that these men will return to us, stimulating anew
their delightful kind of poetry of the body and saving our variety
performances from the prevailing plague of monotone.

VAUDEVILLE

I have but recently returned from the vaudeville of the centuries.
Watching the kick and the glide of very ancient performers. I have
spent a year and a half down in the wonderful desert country of the
Southwest. I have wearied, however, of the ancient caprice, and turn
with great delight to my old passion, vaudeville. I return with glee
to the ladies and gentlemen and pet animals of the stage, including
the acrobats. Is there one who cares for these artists and for their
rhythmical gesture more than myself? I cannot think so. I have wished
with a real desire to create new sets for them, to establish an
altogether new tradition as regards the background of these charming
artists. If that were the chosen field for my esthetic activities, I
should be famous by now for the creation of sets and drops by which
these exceptional artists might make a far more significant impression
upon the type of public they essay to interest and amuse.

I would begin first of all by severing them from the frayed traditions
of worn plush and sequin, rid them of the so inadequate back drop such
as is given them, the scene of Vesuvius in eruption, or the walk in
the park at Versailles. They need first of all large plain spaces upon
which to perform, and enjoy their own remarkably devised patterns of
body. I speak of the acrobats, the animals, the single and double
dancers who perform "down in one" more especially. The so called
headliners have their plush parlours with the inevitable purple or
rose lamp, and the very much worn property piano just barely in tune.
Only the dressmaker and the interior decorator can do things for them,
as we see in the case of Kitty Gordon. It is to be hoped that a
Beardsley of the stage will one day appear and really do something