But it may not be the pursuit of an enemy we have in mind.  It may be a spring celebration, horsemen in Arcadia, going to some happy tournament.  Where will we find our precedents for such a cavalcade?  Go to any museum.  Find the Parthenon room.  High on the wall is the copy of the famous marble frieze of the young citizens who are in the procession in praise of Athena.  Such a rhythm of bodies and heads and the feet of proud steeds, and above all the profiles of thoroughbred youths, no city has seen since that day.  The delicate composition relations, ever varying, ever refreshing, amid the seeming sameness of formula of rider behind rider, have been the delight of art students the world over, and shall so remain.  No serious observer escapes the exhilaration of this company.  Let it be studied by the author-producer though it be but an idyl in disguise that his scenario calls for:  merry young farmers hurrying to the State Fair parade, boys making all speed to the political rally.

Buy any three moving picture magazines you please.  Mark the illustrations that are massive, in high relief, with long lines in their edges.  Cut out and sort some of these.  I have done it on the table where I write.  After throwing away all but the best specimens, I have four different kinds of sculpture.  First, behold the inevitable cowboy.  He is on a ramping horse, filling the entire outlook.  The steed rears, while facing us.  The cowboy waves his hat.  There is quite such an animal by Frederick MacMonnies, wrought in bronze, set up on a gate to a park in Brooklyn.  It is not the identical color of the photoplay animal, but the bronze elasticity is the joy in both.

Here is a scene of a masked monk, carrying off a fainting girl.  The hero intercepts him.  The figures of the lady and the monk are in sufficient sculptural harmony to make a formal sculptural group for an art exhibition.  The picture of the hero, strong, with well-massed surfaces, is related to both.  The fact that he is in evening dress does not alter his monumental quality.  All three are on a stone balcony that relates itself to the general largeness of spirit in the group, and the semi-classic dress of the maiden.  No doubt the title is:  The Morning Following the Masquerade Ball.  This group could be made in unglazed clay, in four colors.

Here is an American lieutenant with two ladies.  The three are suddenly alert over the approach of the villain, who is not yet in the picture.  In costume it is an everyday group, but those three figures are related to one another, and the trees behind them, in simple sculptural terms.  The lieutenant, as is to be expected, looks forth in fierce readiness.  One girl stands with clasped hands.  The other points to the danger.  The relations of these people to one another may seem merely dramatic to the superficial observer, but the power of the group is in the fact that it is monumental.  I could imagine it done in four different kinds of rare tropical wood, carved unpolished.