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
mediæval 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.