The plot of “L’Oiseau de Feu” is based upon a folk tale. At least, if precisely such a story is not to be found in any known folklore, it is obvious whence its inventor has derived inspiration. To watch a performance of this ballet is to see one of Grimm’s Tales come to life before one’s eyes--an experience as agreeably thrilling in these later (but let us hope not entirely sophisticated) years, as was formerly a perusal of pages in that immortal book. In some respects, perhaps, it is an experience _more_ thrilling, for the story of the Fire Bird has the advantage of being unfolded to the accompaniment of Stravinsky’s music--an enhancement of its dramatic value which it would be difficult to over-rate. Stravinsky’s orchestral methods, it may be remarked in passing, have a special interest of their own, but it is enough here to comment on the descriptive quality of his music for this ballet, which is great. The fantastic note is sounded at the very outset by the overture. Strange mutterings and uncouth, unexpected harmonies attune the hearer to an atmosphere of mystery and enchantment; he is ripe, when at length the curtain rises, for adventure in the gloomy forest whose midnight depths are disclosed. For the moment the eye takes in but little detail of the darkened stage. Gradually an open space within the forest depths is perceived, at the back of which stand high gates, giving upon a flight of stone steps. Whither the steps lead, what lies beyond, is hidden by the gloomy shadows. No friendly lamp surmounts the gates to light and welcome the belated traveller. If not the disused portals of some derelict demesne swallowed up by the encroaching forest, they must surely guard the secret lair of sorcerer or ogre. Dimly the wall in which the gates are set can be descried, but nothing else is visible save a low tree upon which a pale moonbeam falls slantingly. Nought is stirring in the forest, but the midnight stillness is pregnant with mystery. Magic influences are abroad, there is a sense of something untoward about to happen. Suddenly a queer little _motif_, already heard in the overture, assails the ear; the music glows (if the image be allowed) like an ember fanned; and shedding a golden effulgence all around, the Fire Bird floats downward through the trees. The radiant object vanishes almost as soon as it is seen; but hardly has it gone when a stir among the trees attracts attention, and a young man is seen looking over a low wall that adjoins the mysterious gates. He peers eagerly in the direction taken by the Fire Bird, then vaults the wall and dashes impetuously in pursuit. Such wondrous quarry was never seen before by mortal hunter, and lured by its splendour Ivan Tsarevitch has ventured far from beaten tracks, heedless in his infatuated quest of the danger into which his careless steps have strayed.