Do read the delightful and vivid description which Constantin Stanislavsky gives of his boyish experiences with marionettes in his autobiography, _My Life in Art_. “We had decided to exchange the living actors for actors made of pasteboard and to begin the construction of a marionette theater with scenery, effects, and a full line of theatrical necessities. The marionette theater demanded expenditures. We needed a large table to put in the large doorway. While above and beneath it, that is above and beneath the marionette stage, the openings were covered with sheets. In this manner, the public sat in one room, the auditorium and the other room, which was united to the first, was the stage and all its accessories. It was there that we worked, we the artists, the designers, the stage managers, and the inventors of all sorts of scenic effects. My oldest brother also joined us. He was an excellent draftsman, and a fine inventor of stage effects. His help was important because he had a little money, and we needed capital for our work. “We began to paint scenery. At first we painted on wrapping paper which tore and crumpled, but we did not lose heart for we thought that with time, as soon as we became rich (for we were to charge ten kopeks as admission), we would buy pasteboard and glue the painted wrapping paper to it. From the moment that we began to feel ourselves managers and directors of the new theater, that was being built according to our plans, our lives became full. There was something to think about every minute. There was a great deal to do. In the drawer of the table there always lay hidden some piece of theatrical work, the figure of a marionette which was to be painted and dressed, a piece of scenery, a bush, a tree, or the plan and sketches for a new production. In the margins of my books and copy books there were always sketches of scenery or a geometric drawing. We always chose moments of catastrophic character. For instance, an act from _The Corsair_, which called for a sea quiet in the daylight but stormy all night with a wrecked ship, with heroes swimming for their lives, with the appearance of a lighthouse, an escape from a watery grave, the rising of the moon, prayer, and dawn. “These performances were always sold out, notwithstanding the high price of admission. Many people came to see them, some to encourage us, others to amuse themselves. Our promenades between lessons took on a very deep meaning. Before that we went to the Kugnetsky Bridge to buy the photographs of circus artists. But with the appearance of our theater, there appeared a need for all sorts of material for scenery and marionettes. Now we were no longer too lazy to take a walk. We bought all sorts of pictures, books with landscapes and costumes which served as material for the scenery and the dramatic personæ of our theater. These were the first volume of a rapidly increasing library.”