Maurice Maeterlinck

“ Maeterlinck gave to “The Miracle of St. Anthony.” Not the intangible Nowhere or the impalpable At any Time, but the present day, a commonplace house, and a small provincial town in the Low Countries. Instead of stately marble pillars, or primeval forest, or limitless sea, a room with leather-covered benches against the walls, two wooden stoves and an umbrella stand, on which are hats, a cape and wraps. Instead of swans and sleeping beauties, the old drudge Virginie, with her skirts turned up and her legs bare, swabbing the floor. ”

“ There, when the play opens, is being held the banquet to celebrate the betrothal of Maleine and Prince Hjalmar. The watching guards gossip of the attentions that the Prince’s father, old Hjalmar, king of another part of Holland, has been paying to the exiled Queen Ann of Jutland. A quarrel between the two kings over the table leads to war, and in an attack on the castle most of the defenders are killed and Maleine disappears. Through a hole in the wall of the tower in which Maleine and her nurse are shut up for safety, they see that the whole land has been laid waste by war and fire. ”

“ But there is hardly a moment when Madame Maeterlinck is not a part of his life and work. She plays “Macbeth” in her husband’s translation, while he smokes a pipe of peace as well as in solitude. The pipe, according to Gerard Harry, contains a denicotinised herb; for thus, by a piece of heroism discovered by his hero-worshipper, Maeterlinck circumvents his insatiable craving for tobacco in his working hours. “By wise disposition,” says Madame Maeterlinck, “he has reduced his weakness, economised his strength, balanced his faculties, multiplied his energies, disciplined his instincts.” ”

“ That is a matter as elusive as the man himself is elusive. To illustrate that elusiveness by a personal reminiscence:
It was six years ago, in the days when the world was happy with the blessedness of a peace that seemed likely to endure, and when the occasional cloud on the political horizon was regarded as nothing more than a mirage, that the writer and a friend—the latter one of the firm of M. Maeterlinck’s American publishers—made a journey to the south of France for the purpose of paying their respects to the Belgian mystic in his Nice home. ”

“ It was a wise union, a union destined for happiness. “Truly,” said Gerard Harry of it, “henceforward he looks upon life less desperately and less fearfully.” The glimpses that Mr. Edward Thomas gave of the ménage show Maeterlinck as he was in the last year or two of world peace, come to fifty years, in the full vigor of his mature powers, at the height of his popularity and material success. Nearly all his books are multiplied and repeated, by new editions and translations into many languages. Always independent, money could only add ease and opportunities for gratifying minor tastes. ”

“ He complains that he can no longer hear the nightingales, and that some one must be in the garden. The trees in the park are trembling as if some one was brushing a way through, the swans are scared, and the fishes diving in the pond, but the watch-dog does not bark. Through the glass door, that some mysterious agency has opened, the cold rushes into the room. The sound of a scythe being sharpened is heard outside. The child that has before been silent, begins to cry. There is a knock at the door. The Father partly opens it, and speaks to the servant, who answers, remaining on the outside. ”

“ Whether it is true or not that religion is dead and men blind without it, the thought is so stale that in its nakedness it could be of no value to any piece of writing. But the sight of a blind man sitting still or tapping in the street is always impressive; and to the blind company in the play are added many elements of mystery and terror which enhance this impressiveness. ”

“ As our friend won’t accept anything—and, like my brother-in-law, I understand his delicacy, of which, I am sure, we all approve; for life can’t be paid for and has no price—well, since he has shown a disinterested nature which at once makes him our equal, what I want to know is this: why should he not do us the honour of sitting down with us and helping us finish a luncheon which he has so happily interrupted!... What do you all say?... (Murmurs of restrained approval.)
Gustave
That’s it! The very thing! That settles everything! How clever of you [115] to think of it!... (To Saint Anthony.) ”

“ They have at the start little more humanity than the rocks and trees among which they sit, except [32] that they are conscious of themselves and one another. They are like creatures suddenly made out of the rocks and trees; and it is easy to picture beings of equal humanity standing in the depths of a misty wood when rain falls all through the day at autumn’s end. ”

“ Gustave
Who asked you to come? I hate saying it, but I would rather see her dead [122] than have her back in this state. It’s too cruel, too painful for those who love her. You can’t come like this, under the pretence of working a miracle, and disturb the peace of the people who have done you no harm, bringing unhappiness upon them! A nice thing. But he laughs best who laughs last!
The Doctor
Allow me. Calm yourselves. The man has done wrong, there’s no doubt of that; but we must not blame him: he is probably unaccountable for his actions. (Going up to Saint Anthony.) ”

“ They know not yet that the priest is dead, but they are conscious that something has happened to him. They offer conjectures, they dig into the past, they deplore their state. At length one of the men is led by a dog to the center, where the body of the priest is. He touches a face. The others follow and recognise by feeling the features of their protector. What are they to do? The only seeing eyes are those of a child at its mother’s breast. The child cries at a noise, and they think that it must be something and move towards the sound that has provoked the cry. ”

“ He said that no one could be more unknown than the author, but that his book was a masterpiece, “comparable—shall I dare say it? superior in beauty to the most beautiful in Shakespeare.” There were less generous critics who suggested that the play was Shakespeare, because it had been made with scraps of Shakespeare. A champion of Maeterlinck retorted that in comparison with Maleine and Hjalmar the characters of Shakespeare were marionettes. ”

“ It was not until a later period that Maeterlinck came under the influence of the American Emerson. “A Belgian Emerson,” Mr. James Huneker has said, “but an Emerson who had in him much of Edgar Allan Poe.” Surely it was not through Emerson that Maeterlinck found the author of “The Raven.” Nor is it certain that there was any direct inspiration at all. More likely it is that the same visions burned early in the brain of the Flemish mystic that had seethed in the mind of the gifted, erratic American half a century before. ”

“ In any case, all this proves nothing; and it is very unlikely that she will live long.
Achille
Meanwhile we must accept the evidence, the happy evidence, of our senses.
Virginie
Yes, yes, we must believe it! There’s not a doubt left! I told you he was a saint, a great saint! Just look at her! She’s alive and as fresh as a rose in June!
Gustave
(Going to the bed and kissing Mademoiselle Hortense.) Aunt, my dear aunt, is it really you?
Achille
(Going to the bed.) Do you know me, [107] aunt? I am Achille, your nephew, Achille. ”

“ To the general amazement, the dead woman first makes a slight movement and then opens her eyes, unfolds her hands, raises herself slowly to a sitting posture, puts her night-cap straight and looks round the room with a crabbed and discontented air. ”

“ He is early to rise and go to his garden and his bees, for which his liking is now near thirty years old. [24] Two hours, always exactly two hours, of work follow. Then he goes out again, canoeing, motoring, cycling, or walking. He reads in the evening and goes to bed in good time.” The work of these two hours is prepared easily and quietly during the pleasures and other duties of the day. Madame Maeterlinck compares him taking up his work to a child leaving its games and going on with them as soon as allowed—an innocent and ambiguous comparison. ”

“ A ray of moon-light penetrates, throwing strange gleams. The clock strikes midnight; at the last stroke there is a sound as of some one rising in haste. Cries of terror from the child’s room: quick and heavy steps. [29] Then silence. The door of the sick woman’s room slowly opens, and the Sister of Mercy appears on the threshold. ”

“ We have never seen one another. We ask one another questions, and we reply; we live together, we are always together, but we know not what we are.”
It was Maeterlinck’s very first play, “La Princesse Maleine,” that won for him the dangerous title of “The Belgian Shakespeare.” Now and then a writer of our own land has done something that has [33] caused limited or injudicious critics to speak of him as “The American Dickens” or “The American Thackeray.” As a rule he has paid a sad price for the unfortunate comparison. ”

“ You’d better take a seat. (Saint Anthony goes to the leather-covered bench and is about to sit down.) No, no, not there, you’re much too dirty! Sit on the stool. I must get on with my work. (Saint Anthony sits down on a stool; Virginie resumes her work and takes up a pail of water.) Look out! Lift up your feet; I’m going to splash the water.... No, don’t stay there; you’re in my way; and it’s not cleaned yet.... Go over there in the corner; push the stool against the wall. (Saint Anthony obediently does as she tells him.) There, now you won’t get your feet wet. Aren’t you hungry? ”

“ However in a consideration of “The Miracle of St. Anthony,” the life of the man, his place as a philosopher, and his achievements as a poet are only indirectly concerned. The little play counts first of all in its relation to “La Princesse Maleine,” “Les Sept Princesses,” and especially, “Les Aveugles,” and “L’Intruse.” Perhaps closest to it of them all is “L’Intruse.” To recall that play. It does not need the Dutch clock in the corner to fix the scene in the Lowlands. ”

“ Old Hjalmar and Queen Ann come to her door, and pretending to do her hair, the Queen twists a rope round Maleine’s neck and strangles her. The madman, who at Maleine’s previous appearance, pointing at her, had made the sign of the cross, thrusts his head in at the window but is hurled back into the moat by the king. The murderess puts the corpse to bed. In the fifth and last act the [36] same storm is raging. The castle is struck by lightning and a mass falls into the moat. Within all are asking for the king and Queen Ann. When they enter there are bloodstains in the king’s white hair. ”

“ Saint Anthony
I am Saint Anthony.
Achille
Yes, yes, you’re right. (To the others.) He sticks to it, but he’s quite harmless. (Noticing the Rector among the Guests who have crowded around Saint Anthony and giving him an artful and chaffing look.) And here’s the Rector; he knows you, and wants to pay you his respects. Saints are your business, [89] Father: I know more about ploughs and traction-engines. Here’s an emissary from heaven, Father, great Saint Anthony in person, who would like a word with you. ”

“ Well, upon my soul! He’s dangerous. [82] Be careful. He has the strength of a Hercules. Let’s try being gentle with him. (To Saint Anthony.) Listen to me, my friend. You understand, don’t you, that, on a day like this, when we’re burying my aunt, my poor dear aunt....
Saint Anthony
I have come to raise her from the dead....
Gustave
But you understand, surely, that this is not the moment.... The partridges are getting cold, the guests are waiting. Besides we are not in the mood for laughing.
Achille
(Appears at the top of the steps, napkin in hand.) What’s the matter, Gustave? What’s up? ”

“ The same writer says that, by way of contrast, the playwright keeps bees and teaches a dog to sing; he calls him a sportsman, a man always getting about, a great drinker of ale—a great boy, a Bohemian. Here also may be discerned the writer in praise of the sword, the fist, and the automobile, the friend of the bull-dog and the creator of Tylo. That was describing the Maeterlinck of the early days. ”

“ He seems never to have greatly changed. Was not almost the last picture of him that we had before the outbreak of the Great War one of poet playing with pugilist at the manly art of self-defense—the author of [18] “L’Oiseau Bleu” sparring and wrestling daily with the French champion Carpentier?
New influences began to show in Maeterlinck’s work. His Introduction to his translation from the Flemish of Ruysbroeck l’Admirable’s “L’Ornement des Noces Spirituelles” made public his interest in Plato, Plotinous, Novalis, Jacob Behman, and Coleridge. ”

“ Saint Anthony
With pleasure.
Virginie
You see, I’ll never get all this cleaning done if some one doesn’t help me. And there’s nobody to help me: they’re all losing their heads.... It’s a terrible job, a death in the house! You know that as well as I do. A good thing it doesn’t happen every day.... Monsieur Gustave will make a fuss if everything isn’t clean and shining when his guests come through here.... He’s not easy to please.... ”

“ Continuing to live in his native Oostacker, his days were divided between writing, tending his bees, and outdoor pastimes. As a member of the Civic Guard of Ghent he was as poor an amateur soldier as Balzac had been when enrolled in the National Guard of the France of his time. ”

“ He’s still at table; he’s finishing up the trout....
Gustave
(To Joseph.) Go and fetch him. (Exit Joseph.) You’re right, he’s a madman; it’s the doctor’s business. (Enter Joseph and the Doctor.)
The Doctor
(Appears with his mouth full and his napkin tucked under his chin.) What’s [95] up? Is he mad? Is he ill? Is he drunk? (Looking the Saint over.) Why, it’s a beggar! I’m of no use in his case. Well, my friend, are things going badly? Is there something we want?
Saint Anthony
I want to raise Mademoiselle Hortense from the dead. ”

“ Gustave
He won’t go away. It’s another of Virginie’s blunders. As soon as she catches sight of a beggar, she loses her head. It’s really too silly. She let this madman in; and he insists on seeing Aunt Hortense and raising her from the dead. ”

“ All go in, Saint Anthony and Gustave last.)
Gustave
Here is the body of the dear departed. As you see, she’s quite dead. Are you satisfied?... And now leave us. Let us cut short the experiment. (To Joseph.) Show the gentleman out by the garden-door.
Saint Anthony
Allow me. (He walks into the middle of the room and stands at the foot of the [102] bed. Turning to the corpse and speaking in a loud, grave voice.) Arise!
Gustave
There, that’ll do! We can’t stand by and allow a stranger to outrage our most sacred feelings ”

“ In appearance he is not as the dead woman might have expected. Bare-headed and bare-footed, his beard and hair are scrubby and tangled, and he is clothed in a soiled, sack-like, and much dirtied cowl. The story of how he was received by the relatives, the doctor, the parson, and the gathered guests may be read by those who turn to the following pages. It was first presented to American play-goers by the Washington Square Players under the direction of Mr. ”