propagandist for any theory of life. You will look in vain in his plays for moral or dogma. His philosophy—if philosophy you can call it—is always implicit. And nothing is plainer than that his picture of a courtroom in the beyond is neither devoutly nor satirically intended. Liliom's Heaven is the Heaven of his own imagining. And what is more natural than that it should be an irrational jumble of priest's purgatory, police magistrate's justice and his own limited conception of good deeds and evil?
For those who hold that every fine dramatic architecture must have its spire of meaning, that by the very selection of character and incident the dramatist writes his commentary on life, there is still an explanation possible. Perhaps Molnar was at the old, old task of revaluing our ideas of good and evil. Perhaps he has only shown how the difference between a bully, a wife-beater and a criminal on the one hand and a saint on the other can be very slight. If one must tag LILIOM with a moral, I prefer to read mine in Liliom's dying speech to Julie wherein he says: "Nobody's right . . . but they all think they are right. . . . A lot they know."
BENJAMIN F. GLAZER.
New York, April, 1921.
