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* Gabriele D’Annunzio Who Promises to Surprise (he World by Committing Suicide in a Unique Way. Paris. Nov. 22. G abriele d'anndnzio, the Italian poet and dramatist, has intimated that he will leave the earth within two years. Having burnt the candle at both ends, being worn out with artistic labors and sensual enjoyments, lie feels that lie should not linger until an impotent, unproductive and un graceful old age overtakes him. Death lias always had a fascina tion for D'Annunzio. "The Triumph of Death” is his most famous work, and in every one death, following a life of passion and corruption, i- the climax. His mind is constantly busy devising novel forms of death. He ♦startles the world by announcing that be will die in a new and glor ious way, that he will volatilize him self. changing Ills mortal body into a vapor, so that it may mingle with Hie universal air. Charles Le llargy, the well known French actor, has told how d'Annun- zio expressed himself on these mat ters in a conversation. D’Annunzio began by saying that the only life he could ever lead was one intense and passionate; that before infirmity, or old age could compel him to live the dull life of ordinary mortals he should kill himself. Inasmuch as he had occasionally felt the dull hand of time depressing his tires he said he had made his plans to leave the eartli very soon. The actor smiled and told him that he could live a very happy mid dle age or old age in a little villa in the country, surrounded by his books, and that he would learn to regard the absence of the so-called pleasures of youth as a blessing. D'Annunzio then assured him earnestly that he loathed such a peaceful prospect, that he would remain a passionate pilgrim to the end. He convinced the actor that he was thoroughly in earnest. “Within two years 1 shall put an end to myself,” said D'Annunzio. “That will allow just sufficient time to establish the fame of the drama I am now completing. I shall die in a manner that will make the whole world wonder. 1 shall be D'Annun zio the superb, whom the whole Latin world has applauded, in the \ull pride of body and mind, up to the latest instant of my earthly ex istence. “I shall change into a sweet vapor and mingle with the whole universe. 1 shall be volatilized into inlinitc molecules. 1 shall never rot in a common grave. My dear sir, can you imagine Ga briele D’Annunzio buried with a lirst class Parisian funeral, with hired mourners and black feathers? Never! Believe me, i shall die in an interesting manner.” Since this conversation the friends of D’Annunzio and the artistic! pub lic of Paris have really become con viuced that the poet is planning his death. Many well-known facts tend to confirm this impression. He lias just reached his fiftieth year and. of course, one who has pursued the pleasures of life too ardently, D apt to experience a feeling of despon dency at that age. Another significant fact is that Ida Rubinstein, the most vivid and picturesque of the many women D’Annunzio has known, has grown cold toward him once more. In his earlier life D'Annunzio always caused the women he admired to suffer exposing them to shame and ridicule. Ida Rubinstein has turned the tablet- on him. D'Annunzio lirst became captivated by her when she played the title* role in his curious drama of Roman decadence and Christian martyrdom, “Saint Sebastian.” Ida Rubinstein is a Russian dancer with the grace of a lithe young panther. She fled from a millionaire Russian husband to become a dancer. At first she repulsed D’Annunzio, and it was said that both of them had turned to re ligion. While they were separated, however. D’Annunzio was exaspera ted to learn that she was enjoying the society of a millionaire brewer. Then he tried to win her back with the greatest effort of his dramatic career, "The Pisanella or the Poi soned Death.” She gained a great success in the title role. Paris saw that she smiled upon the gifted au thor for a time, but now she has turned from him again. That is why D’Annunzio’s morbid imagina tion is today fixed on his own death. The interest now centres in what kind of mysterious and dramatic death he has planned for himself. There is no known chemical proc ess by which he could change him self quickly and gracefully into a sweet vapor. He might accomplish his purpose by being consumed in a tremendous furnace, but this would be too gross and inartistic an end ing for him, and, besides, he would have difficulty in finding persons to assist him in such an unlawful un dertaking. An idea lias taken strong hold of the Parisian mind that D’Annunzio contemplates ending his life in the manner of the famous old Greek Paris Fears He Will Follow the Example of His Favorite Philos opher, Empedocles, Who Plunged into the Boiling Crater of Aetna philosopher, Empedocles, who plunged into Hie burning crater of the volcano Aetna. Empedocles was tlie mc/st fasci nating of the early Greek philoso phers. He lived in Sicily in the fifth century before Christ. He for mulated an atomic theory which is practically identical with that of modern science, and anticipated many other modern discoveries. With all his knowledge he was in tensely fond of popttlai admira tion. He was revered as a god by the people. He banished malaria front the marshes, doubled the harvests and raised people from the dead, tic expounded his teachings in the forth of beautiful poems and hymns. His followers—men and women— worshipped his august aspect as he moved among them with purple robes and golden girdle, with long hair bound by a Delphic garland and brazen sandals on his feet, and with a retinue of slaves behind him. Empedocles could not endure the thought of losiug his glorious beauty and becoming an object of pity to bis men, and especially his women fol lowers. He, therefore, gave it out that he was about to pass into another world and secretly plunged into the burning crater of Aetna, hoping that his followers, finding no trace of his body, would believe urly man and his works teem with allusions to obscure and curious classic authors. He has studied es pecially the personality of Empedo cles. He lias worn the purple robe of Empedocles. As D'Annunzio form erly lived in his beautiful Floren tine villa, surrounded by male and female admirers, he might have been taken for a reincarnation of the early philosopher. In an old letter of this Florentine period D’Annunzio wrote: “I have known what it is to be a divinity. I have received the wor ship of women. As I rose front my plunge in the glorious Mediterranean this morning, a duchess of the race ot the Medici waited for me upon the shore. She throw a purple robe over my splendid nudity. Site held my white steed by the bridle as I mounted and rode away.” Creditors disturbed this dream of divinity by seizing the villa and its artistic contents. They helped to pave the way for the despondency which now makes the poet contem plate putting a mysterious climax to his life. D'Annunzio’s allusion to the wor ship of women which he has en joyed seem? to be well founded. In early youth he married the Duchess di Gallese, a woman of noble fam ily and wealth, who w r as captivated by hi> talents, lie treated her as tiis Sem's Carica ture of D'An nunzio, Show ing the Poet in the Ancient Greek Cos tume he Loves in his miraculous translation. But, according to the favorite legend, his hopes were cheated by the volcano, which cast forth his brazen sandals and betrayed his secret. Matthew Arnold has written an interesting poem on this subject, in which he makes Empedocles speak these words just before plunging into the crater: “It hath been granted me Not to die wholly, not to be all en slaved. I feel it in this hour. The numbing cloud Mounts off iny soul: 1 feel it, I breathe free. “Is it but for a moment? Ah! boil up, ye vapors! Leap and roar, thou Sea of Fire! My soul glows to meet you. Ere it tlag, ere the mists Ot despondency and gloom Rush over it again, Receive me! Save me. (He leaps into the crater.)" Now it is known that D’Aununzio is a close student and admirer of Empedocles. He is a very schol- D’Annunzio’s Favorite Greek Philosopher Empedocles Surrounded by His Pupils arid Admirers. Painting by A. Feuerbach. Ida Rubinstein, the Fiery Young Russian Dancer, Whose Coldness to Him Has Made D’Annunzio Think Gloomy Thoughts. slave. No thought of her presence and the considera tion due to her as a wife ever pre vented him from enjoying the so ciety of his latest adorer. He simply (commanded h i s wife to bring wine and be silent. She obtained a divorce and is now noted in Paris for the beauty and splendor of her dresses. The cause of her obtaining the divorce was his friendship with Eleonora Duse, the greatest tragedienne of modern Italy. Duse he treated with remarkable cruelty. She had always main tained a great mystery about her early life and her personality. In an hour of tender intimacy she told D’Annunzio the whole story of her young life, its cruel hardships and shameful experiences. To the amazement of ordinary men, he put Duse’s whole story in his next book, entitled “Fire.” He described the actress so accurately that no one can doubt who was meant. He recognizes no morality in art or life. Morality is made to keep or dinary men under control, but to one who is infinitely above the common herd it has no application. If a thing is true art, it is worth doing, no matter how much suffering it may cause. A French critic has re marked that D’Annunzio has the virtue of practicing what he preaches. The publication of her secret made Eleonora Duse turn from D’Annunzio with hot indignation, but that was no hardship to him, for he was al ready enjoying the adoration of a Titian-haired young Marchesa from Mantua. It would be idle to attempt to catalogue how many interesting and beautiful women have been fasci nated by D’Annunzio’s talents. He may be compared with Byron in this respect. Now, with advancing years and chilling blood, he realizes that all earthly pleasures are vanity. Like his favorite philosopher, 'Empedo cles, he is wrapped in “the mists of despondency and gloom.” Tortured by the fear of becoming a poor, ridiculous, w r eak old man, he cries aloud that he will end his life in a blaze of glory. Will he have the hardihood to' carry out his rash promise? Will he not rather live on to he a quiet, re spectable, elderly man enjoying the income of his plays and poems? How Bernard Shaw Makes Fun of the British War Department in His New Play B ERNARD SHAW has written a new play called "Press Cut tings” (just published by Bren- tano), which makes fun of the War Office and the way the authorities are dealing with the suffragist move ment in England. Here is one bright scene in which General Mitchener, of the War Office is preparing to in terview Prime Minister Balsquith. Mitchener tells his orderly to send for Mrs. Farrell, the scrubwoman: MITCHENER—Mrst: Farrell: I've a very important visit to pay: 1 shall want my full dress uniform and all my medals and orders and my presentation sword. There was a time when the British army con tained men capable of discharging these duties for their commanding officer. Those days are over. The compulsorily enlisted soldier runs to a woman for everything. I m there fore reluctantly obliged to trouble you. MRS. FARRELL—Your meddles n ordhers n the crooked sword with the ivory handle n your full dress uniform is in the waxworks in the Chamber o Military Glory over in itlie place they useu to caii ure Law \P quetin Hall. 1 told you youd be sor ry for sendin them away; n you told me to mind me own business. Youre wiser now. MITCHENER—-I am. I had not at that time discovered that you were the only person in the whole mili tary establishment of this capital who could be trusted to remember where anything w'as, or to under stand an order and obey it. MRS. FARRELL—Its no good flat- thering me. lm too old. MITCHENER—Not at all, Mrs. Farrell. How is your daughter? MRS. FARRELL—Which daugh ter? MITCHENER—The one who has made such a gratifying success in the Music Halls. MRS. FARRELL Theres no music halls nowadays; they re Variety- Theatres. Sites got an offer of mar riage from a young jook. MITCHENER — is it possible? What did you do? MRS. FARRELL—I told his moth er on him. MITCHENER—Oh! what did she say? MRS. FARRELL—She was as pleased as Punch. Thank heaven, she says, hes got somebody thatll be able to keep him when the super-tax is put up to twenty shillings in the pOUUU. MITCHENER—'But your daughter herself? What did she say? MRS. FARRELL—‘Accepted him, of course. What else would a young fool like her do? He inthrojooced her to the Poet Laureate, thinking shed inspire him. MITCHENER—Did she? MRS. FARRELL—Faith I dunna. All I know- is she walked up to him as bold as brass u said “Write me a sketch, dear.” Afther all the trouble I took with that childs manners shes no more notion how to behave her self than a pig. Youll have to wear General Sandstones uniform; its the only one in the place, because he wont lend it to the shows. MITCHENER — But Sandstone’s clothes won’t fit me. MRS. FARRELL (unmoved) — Then youll have to fit them. Why shouldnt they tttcha as well as they fitted General Blake at the Mansion House? MITCHENER—They didn’t fit him. He looked a frightful guy. MRS. FARRELL -Well, you must do the best you can w-ith them. You cant exhibit your clothes aud wear them, too. MITCHENER—And the public thinks the lot of a commanding offi cer a happy one! Oh, if they could only see the seamy side of it. (He returnn to hi* table to resume work.) MRS. FARRELL—If they could Sandstones uniform, where his flask rubs agen the buckle of his braces, theyll tell him he ought to get a new one. Let alone the way he swears at me. MITCHENER—When a man has risked his life on eight battlefields, Mrs. Farrell, he has given sufficient proof of his self-control to be ex cused a little strong language. MRS. FARRELL—Would you put up with bad language from me be cause lve risked my life eight times in childbed? MITCHENER—My dear Mrs. Far rell, you surely would not compare a risk of that harmless domestic kind to the fearful risks of the battlefield? MRS. FARRELL—I wouldnt com pare risks run to bear living people into the world to risks run to blow them out of it. A mother’s risk is jooty; a soldiers nothin but divilmint. MITCHENER (nettled)—Let me tell you, Mrs. Farrell, that if the nten did not fight, the women would have to fight themselves. We spare you that, at all events. MRS FARRELL—You cant help yourselves. If three-quarters of you was killed we could replace you with the help of the other quarter. If three-quarters of us was killed, how many people would there be in Eng land in another generation? If it wasnt for that, the mendput the fightin on us just as they put all the other dhrudgery. What would you do if we was all kilt? Would you go to bed and have twins? MITCHENER—Really, Mrs Far rell, you must discuss these ques tions with a medical man. You make me blush, positively. MRS FARRELL—A good job, too. If I could have made Farrell blush I wouldnt have had to risk me life too often. You n your risks n your brav ery n your self-control indeed! “Why don’t you conthrol yourself?” I sez to Farrell. “Its agen me religion,” he sez. MITCHENER (plaintively) — Mrs. Farrell, you’re a woman of very pow erful mind. I’m not qualified to ar gue these delicate matters with you. I I ask you to spare me, and to be | good enough to take these clothes to Mr. Balsquith when the ladies leave. A Sculptor’s Design for His Own House r A, i rflHE accompanying "*■ photograph is the idea sculptor Einar Jonsson has of the kind of a house he would build for him self when he returns to his native Iceland. The estimated outlay to construct this rather weird building! is $30,000. There is no residence anywhere this side of the planet Mars which resembles sculptor Jonsson’s architectural idea. or'y see the seamy side of General Copyright, 1913. by the Star Company. Great -Y »■* v V • t-a.