Then came the Russian Revolution in all its stages.  Cars dashed by full of armed men, red flags appeared everywhere, the people stormed the citadel and hauled down the effigy of the Tsar.  The Kerensky Government assumed control and drove them forth to war again, but soon they returned to the charge, destroyed the Provisional Government, and hoisted all the emblems of the Russian Soviet Republic.  The Entente leaders, however, were seen preparing their troops for battle, and the pageant went on to show the formation of the Red Army under its emblem the Red Star.  White figures with golden trumpets appeared foretelling victory for the proletariat.  The last scene, the World Commune, is described in the words of the abstract, taken from a Russian newspaper, as follows:—­

Cannon shots announce the breaking of the blockade against Soviet Russia, and the victory of the World Proletariat.  The Red Army returns from the front, and passes in triumphant review before the leaders of the Revolution.  At their feet lie the crowns of kings and the gold of the bankers.  Ships draped with flags are seen carrying workers from the west.  The workers of the whole world, with the emblems of labour, gather for the celebration of the World Commune.  In the heavens luminous inscriptions in different languages appear, greeting the Congress:  “Long live the Third International!  Workers of the world, unite!  Triumph to the sounds of the hymn of the World Commune, the ’International’.”

Even so glowing an account, however, hardly does it justice.  It had the pomp and majesty of the Day of Judgment itself.  Rockets climbed the skies and peppered them with a thousand stars, fireworks blazed on all sides, garlanded and beflagged ships moved up and down the river, chariots bearing the emblems of prosperity, grapes and corn, travelled slowly along the road.  The Eastern peoples came carrying gifts and emblems.  The actors, massed upon the steps, waved triumphant hands, trumpets sounded, and the song of the International from ten thousand throats rose like a mighty wave engulfing the whole.

Though the end of this drama may have erred on the side of the grandiose, this may perhaps be forgiven the organizers in view of the occasion for which they prepared it.  Nothing, however, could detract from the beauty and dramatic power of the opening and of many of the scenes.  Moreover, the effects obtained by movement in the mass were almost intoxicating.  The first entrance of the masses gave a sense of dumb and patient force that was moving in the extreme, and the frenzied delight of the dancing crowd at the victory of the French communards stirred one to ecstasy.  The pageant lasted for five hours or more, and was as exhausting emotionally as the Passion Play is said to be.  I had the vision of a great period of Communist art, more especially of such open-air spectacles, which should have the grandeur and scope and eternal meaning of the plays of ancient Greece, the mediaeval mysteries, or the Shakespearean theatre.  In building, writing, acting, even in painting, work would be done, as it once was, by groups, not by one hand or mind, and evolution would proceed slowly until once again the individual emerged from the mass.