Night's Dream,' all the romance of Boccaccio and the 'Nibelungen Lied,' have been lavished on the walls of this theatre."

Since the new art despises all tricks and shams, it follows that there are no veneered woods, no stucco-work facings, no false marble stairways in the building. The panelling is of true wood with the natural grain developed to its fullest beauty. The stairways are real stone to their foundations, and the fruit and flower modelling of the balustrades still shows the marks of the sculptor's fingers in the clay, for it is considered very bad taste to have "smoothed away" such evidences of his personal touch after the pieces come back from the kiln.

The large group of statues over the main entrance of the theatre exemplifies the general theme of the decorations within and without. The group is by George Gray Barnard, one of the greatest of American sculptors, and a pioneer of L'Art Nouveau idea. The subject is The Stage. Drama is represented by a heroic size figure in the centre of the group, a mask in one hand, a mirror in the other. The face of the figure is absolutely expressionless. The idea meant to be conveyed is that the actor is but the vehicle of the emotions called up by the part he plays. His own personality is repressed. A draped baldachin above Drama represents the stage, and from the feet of the figure stretch entwined garlands of flowers and fruit, among which may be seen disporting the dim creatures of folk-lore and fairy-tale. Pierrot, on one hand, kneels before the goddess, violin in hand, ready to do her bidding; Cupid, on the other, glides through the air, a tambourine at his feet, a warrior's helmet in his arms. A harp hangs in the foliage by his side, and thus he represents the gay and happy spirit of comedy. To the right and left of the com

position stand a knight and his lady. The knight's sword is entwined with flowers, and a falcon is perched upon it. Cupid has his helmet. In his hand is a lily. The maiden holds a scroll and a distaff, and is a finely conceived figure.

Beneath this group is the key-stone of the building in bold relief. Garlands of oak, ivy, and laurel surround a Florentine shield, on which is carved the escutcheon of the theatre. To the right and left of the portal are columns of yellow Sicilian marble foliated in gray and white and belted with bronze. The caps are also bronze, modelled by Miss Enid Yandell. They support heads typifying the several ages of the drama.

The

Higher up on the façade are three groups representing the Dance, Declamation, and Song. Song. The façade rises 150 feet and is treated as a tower, in vertical lines. color of the building is warm gray. The roof is peaked, tiled in red, and surmounted by two figures, Drama and Music, holding a shield silhouetted against the sky.

The color scheme of the auditorium is delicate green relieved by shades of motherof-pearl and mauve. There are lobbies, promenades, staircases, reception and retiring rooms, in each of which the scheme of decoration is individual, and yet in harmony with that of the theatre as a whole. This followed naturally upon the general desire to be guided by the central principle. Thus, what Herts and Tallant sought to accomplish in architectural construction, Barnard has sought in sculpture, Blum and Peixotto in mural decoration, St. John Issing in electrolier design, Richard Anderson in draperies and furniture. Under such conditions, the richest effects have been obtained without once marring the general proportion. As

far as possible, American subjects, material, and workmanship have been used.

The foyer is surmounted by a leaded glass dome, the design representing "The Song of the Flowers." Here are three remarkable panels in relief. Those entitled "New Amsterdam" and "New York" are by R. H. Perry. That entitled "Progress" is by Hugh Tallant. They depict ancient and modern New York. In the New Amsterdam panel the houses are low, the burghers slow-moving, the smoke from the chimneys sluggish. There is the sleepy old town as depicted in history. In the New York panel the buildings are all very tall, the cars and the cabs and the people are all hurrying, somewhere. Even the smoke is ascending swiftly. There is New York as we know it to-day. The Progress panel is an allegory of the city's growth.

Friezes and panels everywhere record historical fact or demonstrate poetical suggestion. The long frieze in the lobby illustrates the Shakespearian and Wagnerian drama. Panels illustrate the Greek, Roman, and even the so-called Prehistoric Drama. The reception-room is done in green below the frieze, which is in gold and deeptoned colors to harmonize with Peixotto's decorations. The New Amsterdam room has columns, frieze, and fire-place of Caen stone, floor of Welsh quarry tiling, wainscot of nut-brown English oak, and furniture especially designed to accord with the motif of the apartment. The frieze decorations by Peixotto depict the historical development of the city of New York. The ladies' retiring-room is in tones of the tea-rose, with decorations and carvings of conventionalized roses with leaves and stems entwined. The staircases leading from the Amsterdam and retiring-rooms are of delicate cream-colored Maryland marble

veined with green. The balustrades, modelled in the round, present masses of vines and flowers with mythical animals passing between the rails. On the way to the auditorium one reluctantly leaves the work of Robert Blum for that of Wenzel, Wenzel for Peixotto, Peixotto for Perry, for Barnard, for Tallant, for Yandell, for Ostertag, or for Anderson. Each turn of the passage reveals additional possibilities of the New Art idea. In the auditorium one may scrutinize the New Art chairs near at hand, or determine from afar the harmonizing quality of the velour draperies trimmed with cloth of gold which hang round about.

The interest this superb auditorium inspires is not confined to the value and beauty of its coloring. An engineering principle is embodied which seems to aid and abet the artistic principle in that it provides extraordinary means for presenting the latter in its most favorable aspect. Too often the full effect of decoration is lost on an audience because of structural interference with the lines of sight. This is the case in European houses which are built on the horseshoe principle. Modern auditoriums in New York at least are made to form an ellipse, and the lines of sight are thereby made clearer. Yet gallery-posts still remain to obstruct the view. In the New Amsterdam Theatre the posts have been excluded. The galleries are held up by great cantilevers which extend under the flooring, and thus there is not an interrupted sight-line in the house.

This arrangement gives the lower auditorium the aspect of an immense shell. Yet there is another auditorium on the roof of this shell planned upon similar lines. In order to give sufficient support to the upper theatre, there was constructed a remarkable steel girder made up of laminated plates.

This girder is ninety feet long, two feet thick, and fourteen feet high. It is the largest ever made, and extends across under the upper auditorium and over the lower one, forming the backbone of the double structure.

The building laws governing theatres in New York are most strict, and the problem of erecting one theatre on top of another, and at the same time to conform to the letter and the spirit of those laws, was a formidable one. So, while everything in the structure has been fire-proofed, and while the elevators for the removal of the audience are numerous, the additional precaution was taken to surround the auditoriums with two walls, with a space of fifteen feet between, carrying fire-galleries. The interior of this house within a house might be blazing fiercely, yet the audience would be able to pass down safely between the walls.

The comfort of the audiences is safeguarded by systems of ventilation, remarkable in that the air of the theatres is completely changed every two minutes. It is drawn in from the outside to a large airchamber, where it is strained through silk and washed with fountain sprays of water, gently warmed by steam-coils, and projected through ducts to all parts of the theatres. In warm weather the air is cooled by a similar process. After being used in the theatre

the air is sucked out and expelled from the building, so that none of the audience breathes the same air twice. Dirt and dust in the theatre are absorbed and expelled through the agency of compressed air.

On the stage everything is operated at the touch of an electric button. The scenery is heavier, and consequently more unwieldy than that of the old-fashioned theatre. It is manipulated by electric motors, which the stage manager may control from his station in the wings. And thus the waits between the acts will be shortened. The stage itself is really a succession of elevators, any one of which can be raised or lowered at a moment's notice. Thus a whole scene can be disposed of instantly.

There are many engineering contrivances which will appeal to the mechanical turn of mind, but it is upon the score of its art pretensions that the structure will attract most notice. As the first substantial outcome of the New Art movement, it is a basis whereby the truth or the absurdity of that movement may be judged. If the verdict is unfavorable it cannot be excused on the ground of lack of resource, for no expense has been spared to achieve the New Art ideal. If, on the other hand, the verdict be favorable, then the New Amsterdam Theatre will mark an epoch in the history of art.

T is the master of bold strokes whose work has been most heartily appreciated by American magazine readers. Mr. Vernon Howe Bailey's vigorous pencil is making his name prominent among the younger American illustrators. Mr. Bailey has had some years of experience as a newspaper illustrator in this country, and has but recently returned from London, where his street sketches have made him known to art critics and read

The accompanying London sketches, give an impression of architectural detail and exactness of perspective, conveyed without a laborious or unnecessary line. His knack of catching the outdoor color of the teeming metropolitan thoroughfares and the musty atmosphere of Old London is shown in the sketches of Staple Inn and the Church of St. Mary-leStrand, where he has cleverly contrasted these venerable remnants of Merrie England

ers through the pages of the Studio and the Daily Graphic.

and the present-day street life which tides about them.