can bring back the smiles to Douce-coeur's lips, the sunshine to her
face, whoso can win her from the Gray Woman's side, on him shall half
the kingdom be bestowed and Douce-coeur's hand in marriage. The
Heralds have gone crying this abroad, and we have word three suitors
are traveling here post-haste.
POETRY.
I know not who these suitors chance to be
But not by them may Sorrow be cast out.
One only holds a mightier spell than hers,
And I will send my constant messenger
To seek him to the ends of all the Earth.
Come to me, Child, who holdst Eternal Youth.
[_Enter HOPE._]
HOPE. Didst call me, Poetry?
POETRY. Yea, child of my Heart,
Go out into the wilderness for me.
Find me the Stranger in a Pilgrim's garb
Around whose head the song birds pipe their lays,
Beneath whose feet the withered flowers revive.
Say, "In the Court of Youth Queen Sorrow reigns
And shadows lie like night on Douce-coeur's heart."
HOPE.
In the great Court of Youth, Queen Sorrow reigns
And shadows lie like night on Douce-coeur's heart.
POETRY.
Bid him come hither. Haste thee on thy way.
[_Exit HOPE. Trumpet music. Herald heard off. "Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!"_]
SERVICE. Here comes the Herald!
[_Enter HERALD repeating "Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!"_]
HERALD [_facing audience_]. Know all whom it may concern throughout
this realm, that as One has come and brought darkness on the Land, to
all good people is this Proclamation made. Whoso can drive the Gray
Woman forth, whoso can free the Princess Douce-coeur from her spell,
whoso can bring back the sunshine to the Land, unto him will be given
the half of the kingdom, and the Hand of the Princess Douce-coeur in
marriage. Given on this day of June. "Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!"
[_Exit HERALD. "Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!" dies away in the distance._]
[_Music. Enter JOY, LAUGHTER, SONG and DANCE, followed by PRINCESS
DOUCE-COEUR and SORROW._]
SORROW.
Ye children of the Court, your hour has struck.
Your doom of banishment has been pronounced,
For where I am there can ye never be.
SONG.
Douce-coeur, I pray thee hear me. Let me sing
One of the old songs that we loved--may be
The memory of those happy days will rise
And lift the weight of sadness from thy face.
POETRY.
Douce-coeur, I charge thee, listen. All the past
Of Childhood calls thee in the voice of Song.
DOUCE-COEUR.
Sing if thou wilt. Those days were long ago.
SONG.
_I stood beside the lilac bush
While all its blossoms rained on me,
I watched the white wraith of a moon
Turn to pale gold above the sea._
_I held a wand of almond bough
And waved it three times circlewise,
I whispered words of faery lore
With beating heart and close shut eyes._
_I oped them on a forest scene
Of summer-land; the open glade
Lay shining like a tourmaline
Set in a ring of duller jade._
_I saw three queens with shining crowns
Go riding by on palfreys gray;
I saw three knights that followed close,
And dreams were in their eyes that day._
_I saw a minstrel with his harp,
His cloak was green and patched and torn;
I saw a hunter with his bow,
I heard the winding of his horn._
_I saw a bush of lavender
With clouds of fluttering butterflies,
Then I looked backward to the earth
And broke my faery spell with sighs._
DOUCE-COEUR.
I cannot bear thy music. In my heart
No answering chords respond. The past is dead.
I hear the tears of thousands in thy voice.
When Sorrow speaks--I hear no tones but hers.
SORROW.
No, thou art mine, Princess. I hold thee fast.
POETRY.
Douce-coeur, I bid thee raise thy heavy eyes.
Dance is the eldest daughter of my heart.
Born when the rhythm of the stars was voiced,
The past and future meet alike in her.
Let her bring back the sunshine to thy face.
DANCE.
With flying feet we chased the hours away.
I used to make thee clap thy hands in glee
And thought to go with thee along the years.
DOUCE-COEUR.
My feet are lead, but dance on if thou wilt,
What can the future hold for me and thee?
[_As the Dance ends, she cries:_]
Ah, Sorrow, bid them cease and drive them hence.
Send Joy and Laughter, Song and Dance away.
Call Silence here who is thy foster-child.
I am afraid of all this mocking world
And fain would live alone, alone with thee.
SORROW.
Go forth, go forth into the wilderness. Here is no room for ye.
Go forth into the void that lies beyond. Here I in majesty
Henceforth shall reign, veiling the sun and stars to all eternity.
Go forth. Let wide-eyed Silence take the place ye occupied before
Where flowers ye scattered he henceforth shall strew ashes upon the floor.
Twilight shall fall upon this Court of Youth now and for evermore.
[_Exeunt SONG, DANCE, JOY, and LAUGHTER._]
POETRY.
Douce-coeur, thine eyes are bound. Thou dost but see
With vision warped by her who holds thy hand.
I, who have watched the web of Life unfold
And hold the secrets of a million lives,
Can tell thee from the heights whereon I dwell,
It is not thus that thou wilt help the world.
Thou canst not right the wrong with further wrong.
But now thine ears are dulled; thou wilt not hear
What I might teach thee.
[_During this speech enter HERALD who speaks to SERVICE. Exit
HERALD._]
SERVICE. Three suitors, Fame, Riches, and Power are at the gate,
Princess, and claim an audience. They have banished the Gray Woman
from the side of others and seek to do this for thee. With them they
bring charms that have before broken the spells of Sorrow; these are
beyond price but each asks in exchange thy hand in marriage as
promised in the proclamation cried by the heralds.
DOUCE-COEUR [_turning to SORROW_].
What must I do?
SORROW. Bid them approach, my child;
It may be their rich gifts will pleasure thee.
[_Enter HERALD followed by FAME._]
HERALD. Fame, Lord of the Marches of the East, salutes thee.
[_Exit HERALD._]
FAME.
Fame am I called, Princess. I bring thee this
Crown of Unfading Leaves for which men pray
And toil throughout their lives--unsatisfied.
It shall be thine unsought. Grant me thy hand,
And thou shalt live in glamour of high destiny.
Thy name shall sound in honor through the world;
Thy words shall set the hearts of men aflame.
Let me but place the wreath about thy head,
Thus shalt thou strike this lyre with deathless notes
Which shall, vibrating through the fields of space,
Ring on, and on, nor ever find a goal.
SORROW.
Deaf are the ears on which thy phrases fall.
With one so young what are thy spells to mine?
DOUCE-COEUR.
I see thy wreath of leaves, entwined with asps
Whose forked tongues whisper "jealousy and hate."
Thy harp is out of tune with Sorrow's voice.
POETRY.
She is too tender for thine upward way.
The solitude of those who follow thee
Is not for her. Pass on, my lord, pass on.
[_Enter HERALD, followed by RICHES._]
[Illustration: Costumes for _The Masque of the Two Strangers_ designed
at the Washington Irving High School.]
HERALD.
Riches, Lord of the Marches of the West, salutes thee.
[_Exit HERALD._]
RICHES.
My name is Riches, and I offer thee
A store of wealth exhaustless as the sand.
This is the symbol of my opulence,
A casket in whose depths gold never fails.
Grant me thy hand, and thou, Princess, shalt gain
All that the world contains of happiness.
Thy palace shall be built of precious stones,
And thou shalt walk on rose-leaves every day.
Sorrow shall be forgotten in my arms,
Nothing shall be denied thee wealth can buy.
All things--all men yield to the touch of gold.
SORROW.
Blind are the eyes on which thy visions rise.
My spells have turned thy glories into dust.
DOUCE-COEUR.
The gold thou offerest me is stained with blood;
Thy precious stones were won with tears and toil;
The sum of all thy wealth could not reflower
The arid wastes that Sorrow has laid bare.
POETRY.
She is too simple for thy promises;
To one who knows not Sister Poverty
Thy lures, my lord, appear as idle words.
[_Enter HERALD, followed by POWER._]
HERALD.
Power, Lord of the Marches North and South, salutes thee.
[_Exit HERALD._]
POWER.
My name, Princess, is Power and this my gift.
My brothers brought thee fair renown and gold
With freedom from the spells that Sorrow weaves.
All these I offer thee. If thou accept,
Together we will sway men's destinies,
Together we may rule their hearts--their souls--
Together turn the very universe.
Our throne shall rise a monument of might,
Its steps shall mount from the green land of earth,
Its canopy shall scrape the stars of Heaven.
SORROW.
I have set that about her like a net
Thou canst not deal with. Never yet, O Power,
Hast thou been known to cut through cords of fear.
DOUCE-COEUR.
I would not wield thy scepter for an hour.
The burden of its weight would bear me down.
POETRY.
She is too young, too gentle for the heights
Where thou wouldst raise her. Be content, my lords;
What ye have done is well, but One alone
Can break the spell, and he is at the gates.
Already Hope returns. He comes, he comes.
[_Enter HOPE running._]
HOPE.
The stranger comes; he whom I went to seek.
FAME.
The Stranger comes whose music fills the world.
RICHES.
The Stranger comes, whose treasure gilds the world.
POWER.
The Stranger comes, whose scepter rules the world.
POETRY [_to SORROW_].
Now shall thy spell be broken. Dost thou hear
The measured footsteps of approaching Fate?
The one who comes clad in a Pilgrim's garb
Has ever proved thy silent conqueror.
SORROW.
I yield to him who is the greatest here,
But those who have not met me by the way
Can never know him as he may be known.
They only who have trod the dark abyss
May dare to stand upon the topmost height.
For they whose eyes were blindfold for awhile
Alone can bear that blaze of brilliant light.
Thus have I brought thee more than all thy Court.
Learn from his lips to see the world anew.
I drew that gray veil all about thy head
Thinking perchance to keep thee for my own,
But thou wert made for sunlight, not for gloom.
Thus do I leave thee. Fare thee well, Princess!
[_Enter LOVE._]
DOUCE-COEUR [_starts up and tries to hold SORROW back_].
Ah, stay with me, thou art my only friend!
[_LOVE and SORROW look at each other, she draws her veil across her
face and exit._]
DOUCE-COEUR.
Who art thou, Stranger, in a pilgrim's guise
Who comest unattended, unannounced?
LOVE.
I may not tell thee that. Thou first must learn
Out of thine own heart to recall my name.
DOUCE-COEUR.
Fame, Power, and Riches brought me costly gifts
Which I refused.
LOVE. I come with empty hands.
DOUCE-COEUR.
Thy coming caused Queen Sorrow to depart;
What right hast thou to drive my friends from me?
LOVE.
I came to bring thee swift deliverance,
She laid a spell upon thee which in time
Had turned thy heart to unresponsive stone.
DOUCE-COEUR.
She brought me peace and sure oblivion
Of all this dark and weary world around.
LOVE.
Art thou so sure, Princess, the world is dark?
DOUCE-COEUR.
So sure? Have I not heard the children weep?
Is not my heart torn with their piteous cries?
We live, and round us lies their sea of tears,
A mighty sea that could engulf a realm.
LOVE.
I met a Child outside thy Palace once.
His dress was ragged, but he smiled at me,
And in his hand he held a purple flower.
I knew it for the magic flower of Dream.
I asked him "Art thou happy?" and he said
"I'm mostly hungry; sometimes I am cold;
And there are stones and thorns that hurt my feet,
But while my Flower lives I am quite content.
And I have friends too, in the Palace there;
Laughter and Dance they come and play with me."
I met that Child to-day, Princess. His face
Was white and pinched, and down his baby cheeks
The tears were running, "See, my Flower has died,
And Dance and Laughter have been sent away.
Joy too is gone. Queen Sorrow reigns at Court."
Even the children now can play no more.
He never knew before the world was dark.
Art thou so sure, Princess, the Child was wrong?
DOUCE-COEUR.
Have I not heard bereaved mothers weep?
LOVE.
There thou dost touch a chord in ignorance.
Thou canst not guess the strength of Motherhood,
The hopes, the joys, the passionate regrets.
She who has borne her child close to her heart
Has lit a star in Heaven that lights her way.
I kneel by them in their Gethsemane
And teach them how to weave immortal wreaths
Out of the sweetest flowers of Memory;
For them the sun still shines behind the clouds,
Art thou so sure the world is wholly dark?
DOUCE-COEUR.
There echo in my ears the groans of Toil,
Of those who labor on from year to year
Until they sink beneath their weary lot.
LOVE.
Toil is the destiny of man, Princess,
And none may question the Supreme Decree.
Perchance through toil alone man may redeem
A past that is forgotten. Who can tell?
And there is still some aftermath of joy
In labor well achieved, some dignity
In toil accomplished. If the way is hard
And seeming endless, those who seek for me
Will often find me singing at their side.
Mine is the Brotherhood of Sympathy.
But thou hast banished Song, in silence now
The toilers have to go upon their way.
Art thou so sure, it was all dark before?
DOUCE-COEUR.
What light is there for those who strive and fail?
LOVE.
One only fails. He whom some term Success,
He who gives heart and soul and youth and strength
To an unworthy cause. Failure is he
Who sacrifices me before the world,
Who prostitutes the God in him for what
Will turn to dust and ashes in his hand.
'Tis he alone is outcast though he thinks
Himself the sun of all the universe.
To those, Princess, who striving seem to fail,
It is not failure, for none see the end,
And they who sigh are only those who seek
An earlier consummation than is just;
If they cling fast to me they still behold
The white star-flowers Hope plants about the world.
Who knows to what fair land rough seas may lead?
DOUCE-COEUR.
Lo! over all I see the cruel hand
Of Death outstretched, certain and pitiless.
LOVE.
The hand of Death is full of tenderness.
He leads men through that dark mysterious gate--
That all must pass into another life--
To other lives that through the cycles bring
The souls of men upward from step to step,
Uniting those for ever who are one.
Death hushes them like children on his breast.
Setting his own smile on their silent lips--
That tender smile of strange triumphant peace.
Death is my Brother, and I say to thee,
Learn to know me, thou wilt not fear his hand.
DOUCE-COEUR.
Another hand is knocking at my heart
Whose touch I know not, and I feel afraid--
Afraid to listen. Yet I long to hear.
Stranger, who art thou? Let me see thy face.
LOVE.
Learn to know me and thou shalt nothing fear.
DOUCE-COEUR.
Who art thou? Let me look into thine eyes.
LOVE.
Learn to know me and thou wilt find the Light.
DOUCE-COEUR.
Pilgrim, who art thou? Let me know thy name.
LOVE.
Dost thou not know me, Douce-coeur?
DOUCE-COEUR [_slowly_].
Thou art Love!
LOVE.
And dost thou know the meaning of my name?
Tell me thou art not fearful any more.
DOUCE-COEUR.
The darkness that was bound about mine eyes
Is falling from me. In the growing light
The answer to Life's riddle is made clear.
I seem to stand upon a height, caught up
In ecstasy of rapture near the sun.
The day is dawning; far before my eyes
I see the earth spread out there like a map.
Shadow and sunshine traveling on the road
O'ertake each other, mingle--and are one.
FAME.
O Love, all hail! What is my crown to thine?
Thy music is the song of all the stars
Which rings through every heart attune to thine.
RICHES.
O Love, all hail! What is my wealth to thine?
Thy treasures are the moons of happiness,
Thy boundless gold the sunshine of the world.
POWER.
O Love, all hail! Thine is the greater rule,
The force predominating. Thou alone
Art the unvanquished King who conquers all.
POETRY.
O Love, whose face is sought by all the world,
Bid her go forth out of her Palace gates
Into her kingdom that lies all around,
Teach her what means to use to right the wrong
And ease the burden man has laid on man.
My voice that once could rouse men's sleeping souls
Grows weary, and men often heed me not,
Turning deaf ears that will not hear my words;
'Tis thou alone canst wind that mystic horn
Which wakes alike the sleeping and the dead.
DOUCE-COEUR.
O Love, I pray thee call the children back,
I am ashamed to think I drove them forth,
I erred in ignorance. Forgive me, lord.
[_Enter JOY, LAUGHTER, SONG and DANCE._]
LOVE.
All ye who came to battle Sorrow's spell,
Be with her now. And ye who hold in fee
Her happy days, go with her through the years.
I all unseen will guide her destiny.
And when, Princess, I come again to thee,
A worshiper will follow in my train.
From other lips than mine thou then shalt learn
The sweetest and the tenderest tale of all.
MUSIC.
Now let us join with Song. In merry mirth
Draw to a fitting close our Interlude.
SONG.
Sorrow reigned her little day
Love has driven her far away
Brought the sunshine back to Court
Thus we end in merry sport.
[_Exeunt ALL._]
_EPILOGUE_
[_Enter JESTER._]
The Tale is over and their parts are done,
And Love again has proved the strongest one.
I wonder has it pleased you now to see
The oldest tale told thus in phantasy.
And let your answer be whate'er it may,
Whether your thumbs be up or down to-day
Will hurt not me. I did not write the play.
[THE CURTAIN.]
THE INTRUDER
By MAURICE MAETERLINCK
Maurice Polydore Marie Bernard Maeterlinck, to give him his full
baptismal name, was born in Ghent on August 29, 1862. He was sent to
the Jesuit College de Sainte-Barbe, the institution which another
great Belgian, Emile Verhaeren, also attended. In 1885, Maeterlinck
entered the University of Ghent to study law, but his practice of this
profession was confined to a scant year or two. Maeterlinck's chief
interest in his college years seems to have been the modern movement
in Belgian literature. But the frequency of his visits to Paris
increased in the years between 1886 and 1896, and finally in the
latter year he settled there.
The following word picture supplements the photographs of Maeterlinck
that are so frequently reproduced in our magazines and newspapers:
"Maeterlinck is easily described: a man of about five feet nine in
height, inclined to be stout; silver hair lends distinction to the
large round head and boyish fresh complexion; blue-gray eyes, now
thoughtful, now merry, and an unaffected off-hand manner. The features
are not cut, left rather 'in the rough,' as sculptors say, even the
heavy jaw and chin are drowned in fat; the forehead bulges and the
eyes lose color in the light and seem hard; still, an interesting and
attractive personality."
Maeterlinck's fame rests on his poetry and his essays no less than on
his plays. _L'Intruse_, _The Intruder_, reprinted here, belongs to the
early years of his activity as a playwright. It was printed in 1890 in
a Belgian periodical, _La Wallonie_, and was acted for the first time
a year later at Paul Fort's Theatre d'Art in Paris, at a performance
given for the benefit of the poet, Paul Verlaine, and the painter,
Paul Gauguin. Maeterlinck, though publishing volumes of essays from
time to time, continues to write for the theatre.[52] In 1908 _The
Blue Bird_, dramatizing the quest for Truth, one of the most popular
of modern plays, was given for the first time in Moscow, to be
followed ten years later by the premiere in New York of a sequel,
_The Betrothal_, similarly dramatizing the search for Beauty. In 1910
came his translation of _Macbeth_ into French. A year later he was
awarded the Nobel prize for literature.
[Footnote 52: For bibliography, see Jethro Bithell, _Life and
Writings of Maurice Maeterlinck_, London and New York, 1913.]
_The Intruder_, the theme of which is the mysterious coming of death,
is an illustration of one of Maeterlinck's pet theories in regard to
the subject matter of the drama. He expresses it in this way in his
famous essay on _The Tragic in Daily Life_: "An old man, seated in his
armchair, waiting patiently with his lamp beside him--submitting with
bent head to the presence of his soul and his destiny--motionless as
he is, does yet live in reality a deeper, more human, more universal
life than ... the captain who conquers in battle." To plays based on
this theory has been given the name "static drama." _The Intruder_
illustrates also Maeterlinck's use of symbols. The Grandfather in the
play is blind, for instance; blind characters in Maeterlinck's plays
are symbols of the spiritual blindness of the human race; the gardener
sharpening his scythe stands for death; the mysterious quenching of
the lamp--it may have gone out because there was no oil in
it--signifies the going out of life.
The problem in the staging of this play is the "creation of a mood or
atmosphere, rather than the unfolding of an action." One of the
settings used in this country is here reproduced. It was designed for
the Arts & Crafts Theatre of Detroit. Sheldon Cheney, whose
description of Sam Hume's plastic units for the stage of this Little
Theatre is given in the Introduction on page xxxi, has described the
rearrangement of this equipment and the additions that can be made to
it for the production of this play as follows: "For Maeterlinck's _The
Intruder_, which demanded a room in an old chateau, one important
addition was made, a flat with a door. At the left was the arch, then
a pylon and curtain, and then the Gothic window with practicable
casements added. The rest of the back wall was made up of the new
door-piece flanked by curtains, while the third wall consisted of two
pylons and curtains. Stairs and platforms were utilized before the
window and under the arch. A small two-stair unit was added, leading
to the new door. This arrangement afforded exactly that suggestion of
spaciousness and mystery for which the play calls." When the play was
given at the Independent Theatre in London in 1895, it was played
behind a blue gauze curtain.
On one of Maeterlinck's visits to London, he was taken by Alfred
Sutro, the dramatist, to call on Barrie in his flat at the Adelphi.
Maeterlinck was asked to write his name on the whitewashed wall of
Barrie's studio. He did so and added above the signature: "_Au pere de
Peter Pan, et au grandpere de L'Oiseau Bleu._"
THE INTRUDER
CHARACTERS
THE THREE DAUGHTERS.
THE GRANDFATHER.
THE FATHER.
THE UNCLE.
THE SERVANT.
_A dimly lighted room in an old country-house. A door on the right, a
door on the left, and a small concealed door in a corner. At the back,
stained-glass windows, in which the color green predominates, and a
glass door opening on to a terrace. A Dutch clock in one corner. A
lamp lighted._
THE THREE DAUGHTERS. Come here, grandfather. Sit down under the lamp.
THE GRANDFATHER. There does not seem to me to be much light here.
THE FATHER. Shall we go on to the terrace, or stay in this room?
THE UNCLE. Would it not be better to stay here? It has rained the
whole week, and the nights are damp and cold.
THE ELDEST DAUGHTER. Still the stars are shining.
THE UNCLE. Ah! stars--that's nothing.
THE GRANDFATHER. We had better stay here. One never knows what may
happen.
THE FATHER. There is no longer any cause for anxiety. The danger is
past, and she is saved....
THE GRANDFATHER. I fancy she is not going on well....
THE FATHER. Why do you say that?
THE GRANDFATHER. I have heard her speak.
THE FATHER. But the doctors assure us we may be easy....
THE UNCLE. You know quite well that your father-in-law likes to alarm
us needlessly.
[Illustration: _Courtesy of Theatre Arts Magazine_
Setting for _The Intruder_ composed of plastic units designed by Sam
Hume.]
THE GRANDFATHER. I don't look at these things as you others do.
THE UNCLE. You ought to rely on us, then, who can see. She looked very
well this afternoon. She is sleeping quietly now; and we are not going
to spoil, without any reason, the first comfortable evening that luck
has thrown in our way.... It seems to me we have a perfect right to be
easy, and even to laugh a little, this evening, without apprehension.
THE FATHER. That's true; this is the first time I have felt at home
with my family since this terrible confinement.
THE UNCLE. When once illness has come into a house, it is as though a
stranger had forced himself into the family circle.
THE FATHER. And then you understood, too, that you should count on no
one outside the family.
THE UNCLE. You are quite right.
THE GRANDFATHER. Why could I not see my poor daughter to-day?
THE UNCLE. You know quite well--the doctor forbade it.
THE GRANDFATHER. I do not know what to think....
THE UNCLE. It is absurd to worry.
THE GRANDFATHER [_pointing to the door on the left_]. She cannot hear
us?
THE FATHER. We shall not talk too loud; besides, the door is very
thick, and the Sister of Mercy is with her, and she is sure to warn us
if we are making too much noise.
THE GRANDFATHER [_pointing to the door on the right_]. He cannot hear
us?