the brush of
Inness, why not attempt to lead Jeanne through an Inness landscape? The
Bastien-Lepage trees are in France. But here is an American world in
which one could see visions and hear voices. Where is the inspired camera
that will record something of what Inness beheld?

Thus much for the atmosphere and trappings of our Jeanne d'Arc scenario.
Where will we get our story? It should, of course, be written from the
ground up for this production, but as good Americans we would probably
find a mass of suggestions in Mark Twain's Joan of Arc.

Quite recently a moving picture company sent its photographers to
Springfield, Illinois, and produced a story with our city for a
background, using our social set for actors. Backed by the local
commercial association for whose benefit the thing was made, the
resources of the place were at the command of routine producers.
Springfield dressed its best, and acted with fair skill. The heroine was
a charming debutante, the hero the son of Governor Dunne. The Mine
Owner's Daughter was at best a mediocre photoplay. But this type of
social-artistic event, that happened once, may be attempted a hundred
times, each time slowly improving. Which brings us to something that is
in the end very far from The Mine Owner's Daughter. By what scenario
method the following film or series of films is to be produced I will not
venture to say. No doubt the way will come if once the dream has a
sufficient hold.

I have long maintained that my home-town should have a goddess like
Athena. The legend should be forthcoming. The producer, while not
employing armies, should use many actors and the tale be told with the
same power with which the productions of Judith of Bethulia and The
Battle Hymn of the Republic were evolved. While the following story may
not be the form which Springfield civic religion will ultimately take, it
is here recorded as a second cousin of the dream that I hope will some
day be set forth.

Late in an afternoon in October, a light is seen in the zenith like a
dancing star. The clouds form round it in the approximation of a circle.
Now there becomes visible a group of heads and shoulders of presences
that are looking down through the ring of clouds, watching the star, like
giant children that peep down a well. The jewel descends by four
sparkling chains, so far away they look to be dewy threads of silk. As
the bright mystery grows larger it appears to be approaching the treeless