Maurice Maeterlinck - The Miracle of Saint Anthony (1918)

7/30/2019 Maurice Maeterlinck - The Miracle of Saint Anthony (1918)

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SOUTHERN BRANCH,UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA,LIBRARY,

(LOS ANGELES, CALIF.


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THE MIRACLEOF SAINT ANTHONY


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THE WORKS OF MAURICE MAETERLINCKESSAYS

THE TREASURE OF THE HUMBLEWISDOM AND DESTINYTHE LIFE or THE BEXTHE BURIED TEMPLETHE DOUBLE GARDENTHE MEASURE OF THE HOURSON EMERSON, AND OTHER ESSAYSOUR ETERNITYTHE UNKNOWN GUESTTHE WRACK OF THE STORICMOUNTAIN PATHS

PLAYSSISTER BEATRICE, AND ARDIANE AND BARBE BLEUEJOYZELLE, AND MONNA VANNATHE BLUE BIRD, A FAIRY PLAYMARY MAGDALENEPLLEAS AND MELISANDE, AND OTHER PLAYSPRINCESS MALEINETHE INTRUDER, AND OTHER PLAYSAGLAVAINE AND SELYSETTETHE MIRACLE OF SAINT ANTHONYTHE BETROTHAL; A SEQUEL TO THE BLUE BIRDPOEMS

HOLIDAY EDITIONSOUR FRIEND THE DOGTHE SWARMDEATHTHOUGHTS FROM MAETERLINCKTHE BLUE BIRDTHE LIKE OF THE BEENEWS OF SPRING AND OTHER NATURE STUDIESTHE LIGHT BEYOND


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COPYRIGHT, 1918BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC.All Rights Reserved


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A 5

.

/TRANSLATOR'S NOTEThis play was written some ten or

* twelve years ago, but has never been pub-lished or performed in the original. Atranslation in two acts was printed in

N). Germany a few years before the war; butthe present is the only authorized version,in its final, one-act form, that has hitherto

y appeared in any language.ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS.

CHELSEA, 27 February, 1918.


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CHARACTERSSAINT ANTHONYGUSTAVEACHILLETHE DOCTORTHE RECTOR ,JOSEPHTHE COMMISSARY OF POLICEA POLICE-SERGEANTA POLICEMANMADEMOISELLE HORTENSEVIRGINIELEONTINE, an old ladyVALENTINE, a young girlOTHER RELATIONS AND GUESTS

The action takes place in the presentcentury, in a small Flemish provincialtown.

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INTRODUCTION" The Miracle of St. Anthony " what-

ever the exact date of its writing, and thatis a point which the author himself hasprobably forgotten, belongs in flavourand spirit, to that early period of the ca-reer of the Belgian seer and mystic towhich Mr. James Huneker referred whenhe wrote " There is no denying the factthat at one time Maeterlinck meant formost people a crazy crow, masqueradingin tail feathers plucked from the Swan ofAvon." For it was to Shakespeare thathe was first compared, though the title" the Belgian Shakespeare " was appliedironically by some, just as later mani-

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Introductionfestations of his genius won for him theappellation of " the Belgian Emerson."But " The Miracle of St. Anthony " dif-fers from the other plays of what may becalled " the early Maeterlinck." Most ofthem, to quote Mr. Edward Thomas, havea melancholy, a romance of unreality, amorbidity, combined with innocence, whichpiques our indulgence. He has no ironyto put us on the defensive. But irony isthe very essence of " The Miracle of St.Anthony." Nor does the scene of thelittle play belong to that land of illusion,that mystic border country, half twilightand half mirage, in which so many of theearly plays were laid. The St. Anthonyfrom whom the satire takes its title maybe the blessed St. Anthony of Padua, butthe atmosphere is unmistakably the gray,sombre Flemish atmosphere that Maeter-linck knew in his early youth, while the

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IntroductionMarionettes who speak the lines weredrawn, not from Fairy-land, but fromsome town of the Low-Countries.

Maeterlinck's nationality was not amere chance of birth, but a heritage ofmany generations. The Flemish familyof which he was born in Ghent on August29, 1862, had for six centuries been settledin the neighborhood. His childhood waspassed at Oostacker, in a house on thebank of a canal connecting Ghent withTerneuzen. So near was the water thatthe ships seemed to be sliding through thegarden itself. The seven years spent atthe Jesuit college of St. Barbe were nothappy years, but there were developed hisfirst literary aspirations, and there heformed certain friendships that lasted intolater life. At the University, where hestudied for the Bar, he met mile Ver-haeren, who was destined to stand out with

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IntroductionKing Albert, Cardinal Mercier, andMaeterlinck, as one of the great figures ofthe land when Belgium came to experienceher agony.

But it was not in Maeterlinck to settledown to a lawyer's work and a bourgeoislife. "Like Rodenbach," said M. Ed-ouard Schure, " he had dreamed along-side the sleeping waters of Belgium and inthe dead cities, and, though his dream didnot become a paralysing reverie, thanks tohis vigorous and healthy body, he wasalready troubled in such a way that he wasunlikely to accept the conditions of a legalcareer." So, when at twenty four, hemade his first trip to Paris, though thevisit was professedly in the interests of hisstudies, it was with the result that heplunged definitely and whole heartedly intoliterature. To Villiers de 1'Isle Adam,and others of the ultra modern school, he

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Introductionwas introduced by an old co-pain of theJesuit college, Gregoire Le Roy. Le Royread to the group Maeterlinck's " TheMassacre of the Innocents," a perfectlyFlemish piece of objective realism. Itwas applauded, and soon after appearedin " La Plei'de," a short-lived review whichalso printed some of the poems collected in" Serres Chaudes."That first stay in Paris was one of about

six months. Returning to Ghent, he con-formed to the wishes of his family to theextent of dabbling a little at the Bar. Buthis heart was with

"La Jeune Belgique,"to which he had been introduced by Roden-

bach, author of " Bruges la Morte," andfor which he was writing his poems. Thenin 1889, when he was twenty-seven yearsof age, " Serres Chaudes " was published,and with it went the last tie binding him tothe law.

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IntroductionContinuing to live in his native Oos-

tacker, his days were divided between writ-ing, tending his bees, and outdoor pastimes.As a member of the Civic Guard of Ghenthe was as poor an amateur soldier as Bal-zac had been when enrolled in the NationalGuard of the France of his time. Hismusket was allowed to rust until the nightbefore an inspection. Material surround-ings meant little to him. As with Barrie,the four walls were enough. He couldpeople the homely room to suit his fancy.In imagination a table became a mountainrange, a chair the nave of a superb cathe-dral, a side-board a limitless expanse ofsurging ocean. Through the window hecould look out over a country suggestingthe scene of his early play, " Les SeptPrincesses," " A dark land of marshes, ofpools, and of oak and pine forests. Be-tween enormous willows a straight and

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Introductiongloomy canal, on which a great ship of waradvances."

" La Princesse Maleine," which also ap-peared in 1889, had been first privatelyprinted by the author himself, on a handpress. With it Maeterlinck was launchedinto the fierce light of fame. Octave Mir-beau wrote of it in the Figaro of Paris.He said that no one could be more un-known than the author, but that his bookwas a masterpiece, " comparable shall Idare say it? superior in beauty to the mostbeautiful in Shakespeare. *' There wereless generous critics who suggested that theplay was Shakespeare, because it had beenmade with scraps of Shakespeare. Achampion of Maeterlinck retorted that incomparison with Maleine and Hjalmar thecharacters of Shakespeare were marion-ettes. So the storm raged, to the author'sinfinite disgust. Finally in a spirit of

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Introductionmodesty and frank acknowledgment hecalled the play " Shakespearterie." Therewas no pose in that assumption ofhumility. From all testimony he has everbeen the same. Invited to a dinner hisacceptance has been conditional on abso-lute simplicity. " After all, I am a peas-ant." It was Gerard Harry who quotedthat. Again, at the end of a first night ofone of his plays, he has been described as" modest, simple, altogether without dis-play in dress or manner. His gestureswere gentle with reflection, his voice lowand rarely heard. He had no pride of suc-cess, but an air at once uneasy and de-tached, as if tired of being there. Hisdeep blue eye was cold and mournful, likea mirror that retains the images of in-definite and impalpable things, as Barbeyd'Aurevilly says the eyes always are ofthose who look more within than without.

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IntroductionHis brow was deep and square and shonepale. He made the observer think of hisown untranslatable words :

Sous 1'eau du songe qui s'eleveMon ame a peur, mon ame a peur.The same writer says that, by way of

contrast, the playwright keeps bees andteaches a dog to sing; he calls him a sports-man, a man always getting about, a greatdrinker of ale a great boy, a Bohemian.Here also may be discerned the writer inpraise of the sword, the fist, and the auto-mobile, the friend of the bull-dog and thecreator of Tylo. That was describing theMaeterlinck of the early days. He seemsnever to have greatly changed. Was notalmost the last picture of him that we hadbefore the outbreak of the Great War oneof poet playing with pugilist at the manlyart of self-defense the author of

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Introduction" L'Oiseau Bleu " sparring and wrestlingdaily, with the French champion Carpen-tier? *New influences began to show in Maeter-

linck's work. His Introduction to histranslation from the Flemish of Ruys-broeck 1'Admirable's " L'Ornement desNoces Spirituelles " made public his inter-est in Plato, Plotinous, Novalis, JacobBehman, and Coleridge. He published atranslation of NovahYs " Disciples etSais." His feeling for Emerson had be-come such that he wrote an Introduction tothe Essays of the American that had beentranslated into French by I. Will. Tothat period of his career as a playwrightbelong " Les Sept Princesses," the littleplays, " L'Intruse," and " Les Aveugles,"" Pelleas et Melisande," " Alladine etPalomides," " Interieur," and " La Mortde Tintagiles." Then, in 1896, he left

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Introductiondu Pare, all were invited there for supper.Maeterlinck, who still lived in Flanders,had left his bees, and was there, grave,silent, dreaming, a little out of his element,as he always was in the city. He wastruly himself only in the country, his pipein his coarse peasant fingers, filling its blackbowl with a fresh pinch of tobacco fromtime to time. I had known him at thehouse of the painter, Claus, at whose doorhe sometimes leaped from his wheel, bare-necked, muscular, broad of shoulders andloins, a regular country boy from the vil-lage. This great, silent, contemplativespirit little knew that he was about to seeappear, under the guise of the charmingGeorgette Blanc, the very visage of hisdestiny. A great silence spread from thefar end of the hall, and suddenly she en-tered, stately and slow, with the jewel ofher ferroniere on her forehead, like a sign

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Introductionof the empire, in the long swishing of hertrain. Picard presented them ; she gave alittle cry; and he looked at her, embar-rassed, with his deep-set peasant eyes,bowing awkwardly, while, with a deepreverence like a rite, the beautiful actress,with the ceremonious grace of a littlequeen of Byzantium, dedicated to him,without a word, the homage of her ar-tist's worship. Maeterlinck looked at hera great deal, but scarcely spoke to her dur-ing supper.

But if his tongue was backward, therewere other ways of wooing.

"Le Tresordes Humbles " was dedicated to her.

" La Sagesse et la Destinee " was dedi-cated to her, " as the result of her col-laboration in thought and example : he hadonly to listen to her words and follow herlife with his eyes when he wrote the book;for to do so was to follow the words, the

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Introductionmovements, the habits of wisdom itself."At any rate the woman understood. Per-haps she helped matters along a little.Perhaps her poise served to put the shypeasant at his ease. It was a wise union,a union destined for happiness. " Truly,"said Gerard Harry of it, " henceforwardhe looks upon life less desperately and lessfearfully." The glimpses that Mr. Ed-ward Thomas gave of the menage showMaeterlinck as he was in the last year ortwo of world peace, come to fifty years, inthe full vigor of his mature powers, at theheight of his popularity and material suc-cess. Nearly all his books are multipliedand repeated, by new editions and trans-lations into many languages. Always in-dependent, money could only add ease andopportunities for gratifying minor tastes.He spends the winter at Quatre Cheminsnear Grasse, in the south of France, the

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Introductionsummer at the ancient Benedictine Abbeyof St. Wandrille, in the Department ofSeine-Inferieure. But there is hardly amoment when Madame Maeterlinck is nota part of his life and work. She plays" Macbeth " in her husband's translation,while he smokes a pipe of peace as well asin solitude. The pipe, according toGerard Harry, contains a denicotinisedherb; for thus, by a piece of heroism dis-covered by his hero-worshipper, Maeter-linck circumvents his insatiable craving fortobacco in his working hours. " By wisedisposition," says Madame Maeterlinck," he has reduced his weakness, economisedhis strength, balanced his faculties, multi-plied his energies, disciplined his instincts."" Yet," says Mr. Thomas, " he con-tinues to write. He is early to rise andgo to his garden and his bees, for whichhis liking is now near thirty years old.

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Introduction >

Two hours, always exactly two hours, ofwork follow. Then he goes out again,canoeing, motoring, cycling, or walking.He reads in the evening and goes to bedin good time." The work of these twohours is prepared easily and quietly duringthe pleasures and other duties of the day.Madame Maeterlinck compares him takingup his work to a child leaving its gamesand going on with them as soon as allowed

an innocent and ambiguous comparison.She implies that his work is sub-con-sciously matured and methodically put onpaper, and that his natural tranquillity andthe surroundings and conditions of his lifehave long been felicitously combined; andshe says it might seem that the mysteriouspowers have woven between him and theworld a veil which allows him a clearvision whilst yet himself invisible, as theyhave favored him by the gift of a home

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Introduction

not less wonderful than the castles he im-agined for Alladine and Selysette andMeleine.However in a consideration of " The

Miracle of St. Anthony," the life of theman, his place as a philosopher, and hisachievements as a poet are only indirectlyconcerned. The little play counts first ofall in its relation to " La Princesse Ma-liene,"

" Les Sept Princesses," and espe-cially, " Les Aveugles," and " L'Intruse."Perhaps closest to it of them all is " L'In-truse." To recall that play. It does notneed the Dutch clock in the corner to fixthe scene in the Lowlands. In a dimlylighted room In an old country house thegrandfather, the father, the uncle, thethree daughters are sitting about a table.It has rained the whole week and thenight without is damp and cold. In thenext room lies the sick mother. The

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Introduction

father is hopeful, relying on the assurancesof the doctors. But not the grandfather.They are expecting some one. Theyspeak in low voices, at random. Besidesthe woman in the other room there is ayoung child.THE UNCLE The little one would

cause me more anxiety than your wife.It is now several weeks since he wasborn, and he has scarcely stirred. Hehas not cried once all the time! Heis like a wax doll.THE GRANDFATHER I think he

will be deaf dumb, too, perhapsthe usual result of marriages betweencousins. (A reproving silence.}THE FATHER I could almost wishhim ill for the suffering he has causedhis mother.THE UNCLE Be reasonable. It is

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Introductionnot the poor little thing's fault. He isquite alone in the room.More and more is the old man troubled.

He complains that he can no longer hearthe

nightingales, and that some one mustbe in the garden. The trees in the parkare trembling as if some one was brushinga way through, the swans are scared, andthe fishes diving in the pond, but the watch-dog does not bark. Through the glassdoor, that some mysterious agency hasopened, the cold rushes into the room.The sound of a scythe being sharpened isheard outside. The child that has beforebeen silent, begins to cry. There is aknock at the door. The Father partlyopens it, and speaks to the servant, whoanswers, remaining on the outside.THE GRANDFATHER Your sister is

at the door ?27


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IntroductionTHE UNCLE I can see only the

servant.THE FATHER It was only the serv-

ant. (To the servant) Who was that,that came into the house ?A note is struck similar to one used later

by Lord Dunsany in " A Night at an Inn."Some invisible force is pushing open thedoor. The servant protests that it is notshe, as she is standing three yards awayfrom the door. The Grandfather is con-scious of a new presence. " And who isthat sitting there?" he asks. " But thereis no one there," he is told. But he willnot believe them, maintaining that in pitythey are deceiving him. A ray of moon-light penetrates, throwing strange gleams.The clock strikes midnight; at the laststroke there is a sound as of some one ris-ing in haste. Cries of terror from thechild's room: quick and heavy steps.

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IntroductionThen silence. The door of the sickwoman's room slowly opens, and the Sisterof Mercy appears on the threshold. Shebows as she makes the sign of the Cross.

In"Les Aveugles

"Maeterlinck turnedfrom a typically Flemish setting to a forest

on a small island " a very ancient north-ern forest, eternal of aspect, beneath a skyprofoundly starred." Six old blind menare on the right, and six old blind womenon the left. They are from a Home forthe Blind and they are in the charge of apriest a very old priest, wrapped in awide black cloak, and whose eyes, " dumband fixed, no longer gaze at the visible sideof eternity, and seem bleeding beneath amultitude of immemorial sorrows and oftears." Fear is in the hearts of thepriest's charges. They are startled by theflutter of wings, by the touch of the fallingsnow, by the barking of dogs. They un-

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Introductionderstand nothing save the sound of the seaand they do not know how near that is.In the priest's company they have been ex-ploring their island, which has " a moun-tain that no one has climbed, valleys withno one to go down to, and caves that havenot been entered to this day." They knownot yet that the priest is dead, but they areconscious that something has happened tohim. They offer conjectures, they dig intothe past, they deplore their state. Atlength one of the men is led by a dog tothe center, where the body of the priest is.He touches a face. The others follow andrecognise by feeling the features of theirprotector. What are they to do? Theonly seeing eyes are those of a child at itsmother's breast. The child cries at anoise, and they think that it must be some-thing and move towards the sound that hasprovoked the cry. Their hope is that the

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Introductionmen from the light-house will see them.At last the footsteps stop. " Who areyou? " asks the child's mother. But onlysilence. " Have pity on us," cries theoldest blind woman." It is not necessary to the effectivenessof this piece," Mr. Thomas has written," that we should believe the blind to repre-sent mankind bewildered after the loss ofreligion, their old guide. Whether it istrue or not that religion is dead and menblind without it, the thought is so stalethat in its nakedness it could be of novalue to any piece of writing. But thesight of a blind man sitting still or tappingin the street is always impressive; and tothe blind company in the play are addedmany elements of mystery and terror whichenhance this impressiveness. They haveat the start little more humanity than therocks and trees among which they sit, ex-

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Introductioncept that they are conscious of themselvesand one another. They are like creaturessuddenly made out of the rocks and trees ;and it is easy to picture beings of equalhumanity standing in the depths of amisty wood when rain falls all through theday at autumn's end. Or they are like per-sonifications, so that we feel no curiositywith the name of any but that one whosays for Maeterlinck:

We have never seen one another. Weask 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 himthe dangerous title of " The BelgianShakespeare." Now and then a writer ofour own land has done something that has

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Introductioncaused limited or injudicious critics to speakof him as " The American Dickens " or" The American Thackeray." As a rulehe has paid a sad price for the unfortunatecomparison. No matter how innocent theman himself has been, the chorus of mock-ing, unthinking laughter has been in-evitable. In the case of Maeterlinck ridi-cule was only momentary. The rush ofsubsequent achievement was so swift.The world had had hardly time to gasp atOctave Mirbeau's " The Belgian Shakes-peare " before some one else was referringto Maeterlinck as " The Belgian Emer-son." But it did not need the acute mindof a Mirbeau to find the first comparison.That was obvious. How obvious a fewreferences to " La Princesse Maleine " willshow. To Maleine herself there is aflavor of Ophelia. The castle of Marcel-los, her father, king of a part of Holland,

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Introductionmight be the Castle of Elsinore. There,when the play opens, is being held the ban-quet to celebrate the betrothal of Maleineand Prince Hjalmar. The watchingguards gossip of the attentions that thePrince's father, old Hjalmar, king of an-other part of Holland, has been paying tothe exiled Queen Ann of Jutland. A quar-rel between the two kings over the tableleads to war, and in an attack on the castlemost of the defenders are killed andMaleine disappears. Through a hole inthe wall of the tower in which Maleineand her nurse are shut up for safety, theysee that the whole land has been laid wasteby war and fire.

In the course of subsequent adventuresMaleine becomes the attendant of Ug-lyane, the daughter of the wicked QueenAnn, whom Hjalmar is now to marry. Inthat capacity she carries to her mistress a

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Introductionfalse message saying that Hjalmar is notgoing to keep a tryst, and instead goesherself. Later there is a knocking at adoor, and Maleine enters in the white robesof a bride. Queen Ann tells old Hjalmarthat he must choose between herself andthe returned Princess, and plans to makeuse of a poison, which the physician deter-mines to make harmless. Then there isanother storm, and Maleine is alone in thenight with a large black dog quivering in acorner of the room. Old Hjalmar andQueen Ann come to her door, and pretend-ing to do her hair, the Queen twists a roperound Maleine's neck and strangles her.The madman, who at Maleine's previousappearance, pointing at her, had made thesign of the cross, thrusts his head in at thewindow but is hurled back into the moatby the king. The murderess puts thecorpse to bed. In the fifth and last act the

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Introductionsame storm is raging. The castle is struckby lightning and a mass falls into the moat.Within all are asking for the king andQueen Ann. When they enter there arebloodstains in the king's white hair.Maleine's dead body is discovered, and theking drags in Ann, proclaiming her guiltand his own. Hjalmar stabs the mur-deress and then kills himself.

In " Les Sept Princesses " there is a vasthall of marble with seven white marblesteps covered by seven pale silken cushionson which the seven princesses are sleeping.The sun is setting, and in its fading lightmay be seen a black marshy country andoak and pine forests. Along the canalbetween dark willows, a great warship ad-vances. On the terrace the old king andqueen and a messenger watch the approach-ing vessel. The king's vision fails him andit is the queen who describes the full spread

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Introductionof sail touching the willows, and the oarslike a thousand legs. From the ship,when the anchor drops, the prince de-scends. He is shown the seven sleepers,who are not to be awakened, as the doctorhas forbidden it. " How white they are,all seven ! Oh, how beautiful they are, allseven ! How pale, how strange they are,all seven! But why are they asleep, allseven? " says the prince. He indicates hispreference for one of the seven. " That,"says the queen, " is Ursula, who has waitedseven years for her lover." The othersare Genevieve, Helen, Cristabel, Made-leine, Claire, and Claribella. Why wasMarcellus so long in coming? Night andday they have been watching along thecanal. The sailors turn the ship to a mo-notonous song with the burden, " We shallreturn no more, we shall return no more."

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IntroductionThe sisters still sleep. The queen isfrightened at the plight of her grand-daughters and sobs against the window,the watchers seek to enter, but neither doornor window can be opened. The king andMarcellus make their way in through asubterranean passage. All the sleepersbut Ursula awake. " She is not asleep,"says the queen. " Pour water on her.. . . Open the door. ... It is too late.. . . Shut! shut!" All cry, shaking thedoor, and knocking at the window:" Open, open ! " A black curtain falls." Nobody," says Mr. Thomas, " whohas read ' Les Aveugles ' and * L'Intruse 'could doubt the authorship of * Les SeptPrincesses.' Here are the same agitated,helpless people speaking in abrupt, simple,and oft-repeated phrases. Here againsomething is going on which they do notunderstand, and are impotent to arrest orchange. But the matter of both earlier

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plays was a not improbable incident whichwas developed, it may be extravagantly,but in a manner that touched human beings.If ' Les Aveugles ' was extraordinary,while * L'Intruse ' was not extraordinary inany way, both were easy to understand.But ' Les Sept Princesses ' is a picturedrawn for its own sake. It has its logic,but the elements in it seem chosen, likethose of ' La Princesse Maleine,' becausethey are attractive in themselves themarble hall and stairs, the terrace, the darkland of marshes and forests, the canal andthe warship, the seven princesses in whitesleeping on the stairs, the swans, the princearriving to claim one of them and findingher at last dead, the old king and queenshut outside the hall and knocking vainlyat the windows; only, these elements arecombined without any of the unwieldinessof ' La Princesse Maleine,' without inter-

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Introductionfaring with themselves or with anythingelse. It is simply a picture in Maet-erlinck's manner, and this manner has theeffect of creating a feeling of helplessnessand smallness in the presence of fate andthe earth."

It was not until a later period thatMaeterlinck came under the influence ofthe American Emerson. " A BelgianEmerson," Mr. James Huneker has said," but an Emerson who had in him much ofEdgar Allan Poe." Surely it was notthrough Emerson that Maeterlinck foundthe author of

" The Raven." Nor is itcertain that there was any direct inspira-tion at all. More likely it is that the samevisions burned early in the brain of theFlemish mystic that had seethed in themind of the gifted, erratic American half acentury before. There was no need forhim to know " The House of Usher " of

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Introductionthe Poe tale. Was there not a House ofUsher perched on every Flemish hill, atthe bottom of every Flemish valley ? Wasnot the man a forerunner of Maeterlinckwho wrote this?

" Now there are fine tales in the volumesof the Magi in the iron-bound melan-choly volumes of the Magi. Therein, Isay, are glorious histories of the heavenand of the earth, and of the mighty seaand of the genius that over-ruled the sea,and the earth, and the lofty heaven.There was much lore, too, in the sayingsthat were said by the Sybils, and holy, holythings were heard of old by the dim leaveswhich trembled round Dodona, but asAllah liveth, that fable which the Demontold me as he sat by my side in the shadowof the tomb, I hold to be the most won-derful of all."Or this?

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Introduction" And then did we, the seven, start fromour seats in horror and stand trembling

and aghast, for the tones in the voice ofthe shadow were not the tones of any onebeing, but of a multitude of beings, and,varying in their cadences from syllable tosyllable, fell duskily upon our ears in thewell-remembered and familiar accents ofmany thousand departed friends."The landscape of most of those early

Maeterlinck plays is the landscape of"Ulalume":

The skies they were ashen and sober,The leaves they were crisped and sear,It was night in the lonesome OctoberIn my most immemorial year.It was hard by the dim lake of AuberIn the misty mid-region of Weir,It was down by the dark tarn of AuberIn the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

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IntroductionMaeterlinck gave to " The Miracle of St.Anthony." Not the intangible Nowhereor the impalpable At any Time, but thepresent day, a commonplace house, and asmall provincial town in the Low Coun-tries. Instead of stately marble pillars, orprimeval forest, or limitless sea, a roomwith leather-covered benches against thewalls, two wooden stoves and an umbrellastand, on which are hats, a cape and wraps.Instead of swans and sleeping beauties, theold drudge Virginie, with her skirts turnedup and her legs bare, swabbing the floor.In the next room is lying the body of theMaiden Lady Hortensia, who in her life-time had been exceedingly generous in herdonations to the church, and especiallydevoted to the memory of the blessed St.Anthony of Padua. It is the Saint him-self, come to restore her to life as a rewardfor her piety, who presents himself at the

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Introductiondoor-sill as the curtain rises. In appear-ance he is not as the dead woman mighthave expected. Bare-headed and bare-footed, his beard and hair are scrubby andtangled, and he is clothed in a soiled, sack-like, and much dirtied cowl. The storyof how he was received by the relatives, thedoctor, the parson, and the gathered guestsmay be read by those who turn to the fol-lowing pages. It was first presented toAmerican play-goers by the WashingtonSquare Players under the direction of Mr.Edward Goodman at the Bandbox Theatrein New York, the evening of May yth,1915. It had the quality of novelty, for itwas one of the least known of all the plays.There was a story current at the time thatit was produced from the manuscript.What Maeterlinck himself thinks of it,what place in his mind it has in his wholescheme of literary production, the writer

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Introductioncannot say. That is a matter as elusiveas the man himself is elusive. To illus-trate that elusiveness by a personal remin-iscence :

It was six years ago, in the days whenthe world was happy with the blessednessof a peace that seemed likely to endure, andwhen the occasional cloud on the politicalhorizon was regarded as nothing morethan a mirage, that the writer and afriend the latter one of the firm ofM. Maeterlinck's American publishersmade a journey to the south of Francefor the purpose of paying their respectsto the Belgian mystic in his Nice home.In London we had been advised by Mr.Alexander Teixeira de Mattos, whoseadmirable translations have done so muchto make Maeterlinck's name a householdname to English-speaking readers." Here is his latest letter," said Mr.

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IntroductionTeixeira. "It is dated from his villa inthe Quartier des Beaumettes, which is therising ground at the western end of thetown. You will find him there; that is, ifyou succeed in finding him at all. For heis a very difficult man to find. That is oneof his peculiarities."

It was the night before the departurefrom Nice. Our time was limited. At itsmole in the swarming harbor of Mar-seilles, the Sant Anna, which was to carryus on its roundabout, five thousand milejourney, with New York as the ultimatedestination, was preparing for its leavingof the next day. We started on the quest.At the hotel they could tell us nothing.The driver of the fiacre engaged was nobetter informed.

Surprised but un-daunted we were soon winding slowlybetween high stone walls, up the beautifulBeaumettes slope. From villa to villa we

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Introductiontravelled, to be met everywhere by puz-zled, negative headshakes. " M. Maet-erlinck? We do not know him. Wehave never heard of him. We do notthink that he is of the Quartier. Perhapsif you enquire at the villa beyond you willlearn something." For two hours in thedarkness sweet scented by the breath of thesemi-tropical plants and flowers, we keptup the search. But it was in vain. Hereindeed was a prophet unknown in his owncountry. What was the reason for themystery? Was there a vast conspiracy ofsilence and pretended ignorance on the partof his neighbors? Were solitude andfreedom from interruption so necessary tohis being that the great man had swornthem to secrecy? Or had he draped him-self in some mysterious veil, some figur-ative coat of invisible green, throughwhich the eyes of those who dwelt in the

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IntroductionQuartier des Beaumettes had never beenable to see? We never found out.There was about the enigma somethingweird, something almost uncanny. Wehad been told to seek him in a mansion bythe sea. We could hear the waves of theMediterranean beating against the rocksbelow. But was it another ocean anocean of the Never, Never Land that hadbeen meant?

It was many and many a year agoIn a kingdom by the sea,That a maiden lived, whom you all may knowBy the name of Annabel Lee ;And this maiden she lived with no other thoughtThan to love and be loved by me.

Is there a real Maeterlinck house? weasked ourselves. Or is his habitation ofsuch dream stuff as the House of Usher?Is the land of Maeterlinck a material land,

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Introductionor is it somewhere " hard by the dim lakeof Auber, in the misty mid-region of Weir :down by the dark tarn of Auber, in theGhoul-haunted woodland of Weir? "


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THE MIRACLE OF SAINTANTHONYThe entrance-hall of a large old-fashioned

house. Front-door on the left. Atthe back, a few steps with on the lefta glass door with lace curtains, lead-ing to the dining-room, and on theright a pair of folding glass doors,also with lace curtains, leading to thedrawing-room. Against the wall, aleather-covered bench, one or twowooden stools and an umbrella-standwith hats and coats on it.

The curtain rises on VIRGINIE, the oldservant. Her skirts are pinned up,showing her bare legs and sabots; sheis surrounded with brass pails, swab-bing-cloths, brooms and scrubbing-brushes and is busily washing the

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The Miracle of Saint Anthonyflagstones composing the floor. Shestops working from time to time,blows her nose noisily and wipes awaya big tear.

There is a ring at the front-door. VIR-GINIE half opens it, revealing on thethreshold a long lean old man, bare-foot, bareheaded, with tangled hairand beard, and clad in a sort of friezehabit of faded brown, muddy, out ofshape and patched.

VlRGINIE(Holding the door ajar.) This is the

thirty-sixth time that I've been to thedoor. . . . Another beggar! Well,what is it?

SAINT ANTHONYLet me in.

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The Miracle of Saint AnthonyVIRGINIE

No, you're all over mud. Stay there.What do you want?

SAINT ANTHONYI want to come in.

VIRGINIEWhat for?

SAINT ANTHONYTo bring Mademoiselle Hortense back

to life.VIRGINIE

Bring Mademoiselle Hortense back tolife ? Get out ! Who are you ?

SAINT ANTHONYSaint Anthony.

VIRGINIEOf Padua?

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The Miracle of Saint AnthonySAINT ANTHONY

The same. (His halo lights up andshines.)

VlRGINIELord bless me, it's true! (She opens

the door wide, falls on her knees and mut-ters a prayer, with her hands folded overthe handle of her broom, after which shekisses the hem of the SAINT'S habit andcontinues, in a mechanical and bewilderedsing-song.} Saint Anthony, pray for us IBlessed Saint Anthony, look down uponus! Saint Anthony, pray for us!

SAINT ANTHONYShut the door.

VlRGINIE(Gets up crossly.) Wipe your feet on

the mat. (SAINT ANTHONY wipes themer/56


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The Miracle of Saint Anthonyawkwardly.} No, that won't do: rubthem hard, rub them hard. (She closesthe front door.)

SAINT ANTHONY(Pointing to the folding-doors.) She

is laid out in there.

VlRGINIE(In an astonished voice of delight.)

Yes, but how did you know ? It's wonder-ful! She's there, in the drawing-room

. . . The poor dear lady ! She was onlyseventy-seven. That's no age at all, is it?. . . She was a very pious and deservinglady, you know. She suffered a greatdeal. . . . And she was very rich. Theysay she's left two million francs. That'sa lot of money.

SAINT ANTHONYYes.

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It all goes to her two nephews, Mon-sieur Gustave and Monsieur Achille. Andshe's left legacies to the Rector, to thechurch, to the beadle, to the sacristan, tothe poor, to the Curate, to fourteen Jes-uits and to all the servants, according tothe length of time that they were with her.I get most. I've been in her service forthirty-three years, so I shall have threethousand three hundred francs. That's agood sum.

SAINT ANTHONYIt is.

VIRGINIEShe owed me nothing; she always paid

me my wages regularly. You can saywhat you like, you won't find many mis-tresses who would do as much, after they

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The Miracle of Saint Anthonywere dead and gone. She was one of thebest of women. And we're burying herto-day. . . . Everybody has sent flowers.You ought to see the drawing-room. It'sa glorious sight. There are flowers on thebed, on the table, on the chairs, on thepiano. And nothing but white flowers:it's perfectly beautiful. We simply don'tknow where to put the wreaths. (A ringat the door. She opens it and returnswith two wreaths.} Here are two more.(Examines the wreaths and weighs themin her hands.} Aren't these lovely?Just hold them a minute till I finish mywork. (She gives the wreaths to SAINTANTHONY, who takes one in each handobligingly.} They're taking her to thecemetery this afternoon. Everything hasto be nice and clean; and I've only timeto .

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Take me to the corpse.VIRGINIE

Take you to the corpse? Now?SAINT ANTHONY

Yes.VIRGINIE

No, it can't be done. You must wait abit; they are still at lunch.

SAINT ANTHONYGod bids me hurry; there is no time

to lose.VIRGINIE

What do you want with her?SAINT ANTHONY

I've told you: I want to bring her backto life.

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You want to bring her back to life ? Se-riously, do you want to raise her from thedead?

SAINT ANTHONYYes.

VIRGINIEBut she's been dead three days.

SAINT ANTHONYThat's why I wish to raise her from the

dead.VIRGINIE

For her to live again as before?SAINT ANTHONY

Yes.VIRGINIE

But then there won't be any heirs?SAINT ANTHONY

Of course not.61


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But what will Monsieur Gustave say?SAINT ANTHONY

I don't know.VIRGINIE

And will she take back the three thou-sand three hundred francs which she gaveme because she was dead?

SAINT ANTHONYYes, of course.

VIRGINIEThat's a nuisance.

SAINT ANTHONYHave you no other money, no savings?

VIRGINIENot a farthing. I have an invalid sister

who takes every penny I earn.62


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Well, if you are afraid of losing yourthree thousand francs ... .

VIRGINIEThree thousand three hundred

francs . . .

SAINT ANTHONYIf you're afraid of losing the money,

then I won't raise her from the dead.VIRGINIE

Couldn't I keep the money and youbring her back to life just the same?

SAINT ANTHONYNo, you must take it or leave it. I

came down in answer to your prayers:it's for you to choose.

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(After a moment's reflection.} Well,then, bring her back to life all the same.(The SAINT'S halo lights up and shines.)What's the matter with you now?

SAINT ANTHONYYou have pleased me.

VIRGINIEAnd then does that lantern thing light

up?SAINT ANTHONY

Yes, of itself.

VIRGINIEThat's funny. . . . But don't stand so

near the lace curtains, or you'll set themon fire.

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There's no danger: it's celestial flame.. . . Take me to the body.

VIRGINIEI've told you: you must wait. I can't

disturb them now. They're still at lunch.

SAINT ANTHONYWho?

VIRGINIEWhy, my masters, of course ! The

whole family! First her two nephews,Monsieur Gustave and Monsieur Achille,with their wives and children, MonsieurGeorges, Monsieur Alberic, MonsieurAlphonse and Monsieur Desire. . . .And cousins, male and female, and theRector and the Doctor and I don't knowwho besides: friends and relatives from a

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The Miracle of Saint Anthonydistance, whom Yd never seen. They'revery rich people.

SAINT ANTHONYReally?

VlRGINIEDid you notice the street?

SAINT ANTHONYWhat street?

VlRGINIEWhy, ours, of course! The one in

which our house stands.SAINT ANTHONY

Yes.

VlRGINIEIt's a handsome street. Well, all the

houses on the left-hand side of the street,66


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The Miracle of Saint Anthonyexcept the little one at the end, the baker'sshop, belong to Mademoiselle Hortense.Those on the right-hand side are Mon-sieur Gustave's. There are twentyhouses. That means money.

SAINT ANTHONYNo doubt.

VIRGINIE(Pointing to the halo.} Look, your

lantern thing is going out.

SAINT ANTHONY(Feeling his halo.} Yes, I'mafraid . . .

VIRGINIEDoesn't it keep burning very long?

SAINT ANTHONYIt all depends upon the thoughts that

feed it.67


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Yes, they own woods . . . and farms. . . and houses galore ! Monsieur Gus-tave has a starch-factory: Gustave'sStarch, you've heard of it, I expect ! Oh,they're an amazingly well-off family.There are four of them who live on theirincomes and do no business at all. That'ssplendid, that is! . . . And such friendsand acquaintances and tenants! . . .Well, they've all come to the funeral, someof them from ever so far. There's one,I'm told, who travelled two days and twonights to get here in time. I'll show himto you : he has a lovely beard. . . .They're lunching here. They haven'tfinished yet. We can't disturb them.It's a great lunch: there are twenty-fourof them sitting down to it. And I've seenthe bill of fare : there's oysters, two soups,three entrees, crayfish in jelly, and trout

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The Miracle of Saint Anthonya la Schubert. Do you know what thatis?

SAINT ANTHONYNo.

VlRGINIENo more do I. They say it's very

good; but it's not for you and me.There's no champagne, because of themourning; but there's every other kindof wine. Mademoiselle Hortense hadthe best cellar in the town. I'll try andget you a good big glass, if they leave any;then you'll see the sort of thing. . . .Wait, I'll go and look what they're doing.(She goes up the steps, draws back thecurtains and peeps through the glass dooron the left.) I think they're beginningthe trout, the trout a la Schubert. Oh,there's Joseph moving the pine-apple.They've a good two hours before them.

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The Miracle of Saint AnthonyYou'd better take a seat. (SAINTANTHONY goes to the leather-coveredbench and is about to sit down.} No, no,not there, you're much too dirty! Sit onthe stool. I must get on with my work.(SAINT ANTHONY sits down on a stool;VIRGINIE resumes her work and takes upa pail of water.} Look out! Lift upyour feet; I'm going to splash the water.. . . No, don't stay there; you're in myway; and it's not cleaned yet. ... Goover there in the corner; push the stoolagainst the wall. (SAINT ANTHONYobediently does as she tells him.} There,now you won't get your feet wet. Aren'tyou hungry?

SAINT ANTHONYNo, thank you, but I'm rather in a

hurry; so go and tell your masters.70


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You're in a hurry? What have you gotto do?

SAINT ANTHONYTwo or three miracles.

VIRGINIEI can't tell them anything while they're

at lunch. We must wait till they've hadtheir coffee. Monsieur Gustave might bevery angry. ... I don't know what sortof reception he'll give you; he doesn't likehaving poor people in the house. Youdon't look over-prosperous.

SAINT ANTHONYNo, saints are never prosperous.

VIRGINIEThey have money given them, though.

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Yes, but not everything that's given tothe saints reaches heaven.

VlRGINIEYou don't mean it? Then do the

priests take what we give? I've heardit said; but I wouldn't believe . . . Therenow, I've got no water left! ... I sayl

SAINT ANTHONYYes?

VlRGINIEDo you see a brass tap on your right?

SAINT ANTHONYYes.

VlRGINIEThere's an empty pail beside it.

Would you mind filling it for me?72


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The Miracle of Saint AnthonySAINT ANTHONYWith pleasure.

VIRGINIEYou see, I'll never get all this cleaning

done if some one doesn't help me. Andthere's nobody to help me: they're alllosing their heads. . . . It's a terriblejob, a death in the house ! You know thatas well as I do. A good thing it doesn'thappen every day. . . . Monsieur Gus-tave will make a fuss if everything isn'tclean and shining when his guests comethrough, here. . . . He's not easy toplease. . . . And I still have all the brassto do. ... There, turn the tap; that'sright. . . . Bring me the pail. . . .Aren't your feet cold? Tuck up yourgown or it'll get wet. . . . Mind thewreaths; put them on the stool. . . .That's right, that's capital. (SAINT

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The Miracle of Saint AnthonyANTHONY brings her the pail.} Thanks,you're very kind. ... I want one more.(A sound of voices and of chairs beingpushed back.) Listen! What's that?I'll go and see. (She goes to the glassdoor.) Hallo, the master has got up!What can it be? Have they quarrelled?. . . No, the others are eating. . . .Joseph is filling up the Rector's glass.. . . They are finishing the trout. . . .The master is coming to the door. . . .Why, I might speak to him as he comesout and tell him that you . . .

SAINT ANTHONYYes, do, please; tell him at once.

VIRGINIEVery well. Put down the pail; I don't

want it. Here, take this broom. Notlike that! You'd better sit down again.

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The Miracle of Saint Anthony(SAINT ANTHONY obeys and sits on thetwo wreaths lying on the stool.} Hi,what are you doing? You're sitting onthe wreaths !

SAINT ANTHONYI beg your pardon. I'm a little short-

sighted.VlRGINIE

Clumsy! They're a pretty sight nowlAnd what Monsieur Gustave will say whenhe sees those two wreaths! . . . Thankgoodness, they're not so bad after all!We can put them right. Sit down overthere ; take them on your knees ; and keepquite quiet. (She goes down on her kneesbefore the SAINT.) I have a favour toask you.

SAINT ANTHONYSpeak, don't be afraid.

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Give me your blessing, while we are byourselves. When the company comes out,I shall be sent away; and I shaVt see youany more. Give me your blessing for my-self alone. I am old and need it badly.

SAINT ANTHONY(Rises and blesses her. His halo lights

up.} I bless you, my daughter, for youare good, simple of heart and mind, fault-less, fearless, guileless in the presence ofthe great mysteries and faithful in theperformance of your little duties. Go inpeace, my child. Go and tell yourmasters. . . .

(Exit VIRGINIE. SAINT ANTHONYsits down again on the stool. Pre-sently the glass door opens andGUSTAVE enters, followed byVIRGINIE.)

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The Miracle of Saint AnthonyGUSTAVE

(In a harsh and angry -voice.} What'sall this? Who are you? What do youwant?

SAINT ANTHONY(Rising humbly.} I am Saint Anthony.

GUSTAVEAre you mad?

SAINT ANTHONYOf Padua.

GUSTAVEWhat sort of joke is this? I am in no

mood for laughing. Have you beendrinking? Come, what are you here for?What do you want? . . .

SAINT ANTHONYI want to raise your aunt from the dead.

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The Miracle of Saint AnthonyGUSTAVEWhat? Raise my aunt from the dead?

(To VIRGINIE.) He's drunk. Why didyou let him in? (To SAINT ANTHONY.)Look here, my man, be sensible: we haveno time for jesting. My aunt is to beburied to-day; you can call again to-morrow. Here. Here's a trifle for you.

SAINT ANTHONY(With gentle persistence.} I must

raise her from the dead to-day.

GUSTAVEAll right, presently, after the ceremony!

Come, here's the door.

SAINT ANTHONYI shall not leave until I have brought

her back to life.78


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(Blazing out.} Look here, I've hadenough of this! You're getting tiresome!My guests are waiting for me. (Heopens the front-door.} Here's the door.Look sharp, please!

SAINT ANTHONYI shall not leave until I have brought

her back to life.GUSTAVE

Oh, won't you? We'll see about that.(Opens the glass door and calls out.}Joseph!

JOSEPH(Appears in the doorway, with a large

steaming dish in his hands.) Yes, sir?

GUSTAVE(Glancing at the dish.} What's that?

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The Miracle of Saint AnthonyJOSEPH

The partridges, sir.GUSTAVE

Give the dish to Virginie and turn thisdrunken fellow out of doors. And bequick about it.

JOSEPH(Handing VIRGINIE the dish.) Very

good, sir. (Going up to the SAINT.)Come on, old fellow, didn't you hear?It's all very well getting tight ; you've gotto pull yourself together now. Come on 1Get out of this! You'd better comequietly, or you'll regret it : I can be prettyrough when I like. You won't? Youjust wait! Open the door, Virginie. . . .

GUSTAVEWait, I'll open it. (Opens the street-

door.}80


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The Miracle of Saint AnthonyJOSEPH

That's it; we'll soon get rid of him now.( Turning up his sleeves and spitting in hishands.) I'm going to show you what'swhat. (He grasps SAINT ANTHONY-firmly, with the intention of flinging himinto the street. The SAINT stands rootedto the spot, JOSEPH looks nonplussed.)Sir!

GUSTAVEWhat's the matter?

JOSEPHI don't know, sir. He seems fixed. I

can't get him to budge.GUSTAVE

I'll help you. (Both of them try topush SAINT ANTHONY out, but he remainsimmovable. GUSTAVE, in an undertone.)Well, upon my soul! He's dangerous.

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The Miracle of Saint AnthonyBe careful. He has the strength of aHercules. Let's try being gentle withhim. (To SAINT ANTHONY.) Listen tome, my friend. You understand, don'tyou, that, on a day like this, when we'reburying my aunt, my poor dear aunt . . .

SAINT ANTHONYI have come to raise her from the

dead . . .GUSTAVE

But you understand, surely, that this isnot the moment. . . . The partridges aregetting cold, the guests are waiting. Be-sides 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? We're waiting for thepartridges.

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Our friend here refuses to go away.ACHILLE

Is he boozed?GUSTAVE

Well, of course.

ACHILLEKick him out and have done with it. I

don't see why our good luncheon shouldbe spoilt for the sake of a dirty drunkard.

GUSTAVEHe won't go.ACHILLE

What's that? Won't go? We'll soonsee about that! . . .

GUSTAV,All right, you try.

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The Miracle of Saint AnthonyACHILLE

I'm not going to tackle a dirty tramplike him. But there's Joseph, there's thecoachman.

GUSTAVEWe have tried; it's no use; and, shortof employing absolute violence . . .

(More GUESTS appear at the door,most of them with their mouthsfull, some with their napkins undertheir arms, others with them tuckedunder their chins.}

A GUESTWhat's it all about?ANOTHER

What are you doing, Gustave?ANOTHER

What does the fellow want?84


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The Miracle of Saint AnthonyANOTHER

Where has he sprung from?GUSTAVE

He won't go away. It's another ofVirginie's blunders. As soon as shecatches sight of a beggar, she loses herhead. It's really too silly. She let thismadman in; and he insists on seeing AuntHortense and raising her from the dead.

A GUESTYou should send for the police. Why

don't you?GUSTAVE

No, no; no scandal! I don't want thepolice in the house on a day like this.

ACHILLE(Changing his tone.} Gustave.

GUSTAVEWell?

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Have you noticed that two or three ofthe flags are cracked, over there on theleft, at the end of the hall?

GUSTAVEYes, I know. It doesn't matter; I'm

going to have a mosaic floor to take theplace of the flags.

ACHILLEThat'll look more cheerful . . .

GUSTAVEAnd, better still, more modern. In-stead of that door, with the lace curtains,

I thought of having a painted windowillustrating Hunting, Industry andProgress, with a garland of fruitand game.

ACHILLEYes, that will be very nice.

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As for my office, I intend to have it inthere (pointing to the folding-doors), withthe clerks' office opposite.

ACHILLEWhen shall you move in ?

GUSTAVEA few days after the funeral. It would

not do to come in the very next day.ACHILLE

No. But meanwhile we must get ridof this chap.

GUSTAVEHe's made himself quite at home.

ACHILLE(To SAINT ANTHONY.) Won't you

have a chair?87


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(Naively.) No, thank you. I'm nottired.

ACHILLELeave him to me. I'll soon dispose of

him. (Approaching the SAINT, in afriendly tone.) Come, my friend, tell uswho you are.

SAINT ANTHONYI am Saint Anthony.

ACHILLEYes, yes, you're right. (To theothers.) He sticks to it, but he's quite

harmless. (Noticing the RECTOR amongthe GUESTS who have crowded aroundSAINT ANTHONY and giving him an artfuland chaffing look.) And here's theRector; he knows you, and wants to payyou his respects. Saints are your business,


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The Miracle of Saint AnthonyFather: I know more about ploughs andtraction-engines. Here's an emissaryfrom heaven, Father, great Saint Anthonyin person, who would like a word withyou. (Under his breath to the RECTOR.)We want to get him quietly to the door,without letting him know. Once he is out-side, good-bye.

THE RECTOR(In an unctuously paternal tone.)

Great Saint Anthony, your humble servantbids you welcome to this world, which youhave deigned to honour with your celestialpresence. What does your Holinesswish ?

SAINT ANTHONYTo raise Mademoiselle Hortense from

the dead.THE RECTOR

It's true that she's dead, poor ladyl89


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The Miracle of Saint AnthonyWell, the miracle should present nodifficulty to/y^the greatest of our saints.The dear departed had a particular de-votion to you. I will take you to her, ifyour Holiness will be good enough tocome with me. (He goes to the street-door and beckons to SAINT ANTHONY.)This way, please.

SAINT ANTHONY(Pointing to the folding-doors.} No,

that way, in there. . . .

THE RECTOR(Still more unctuously.} Your Holi-

ness will pardon me if I venture to contra-dict you, but the corpse, because of theinflux of visitors, has been removed to thehouse opposite, which, I may mention, alsobelonged to the dear departed.

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(Pointing to the folding-doors.} Sheis in there.

THE RECTOR(More and more unctuously.) Let me

beg your Holiness, in order to convinceyourself to the contrary, to accompany mefor a moment into the street, where youwill see the candles and the black hang-ings . . .

SAINT ANTHONY(Imperturbably, still pointing to the

folding-doors.) That is where I shallgo-

A GUESTDid you ever hear any one like him?

GUSTAVEHe's going a trifle too far.

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The Miracle of Saint AnthonyA GUEST

Let us open the door and all of us pushhim out together.

GUSTAVENo, no; no scene! He might lose his

temper. He's very dangerous; he'senormously strong. Keep your handsoff him. Joseph and I, who are no weak-lings, either of us, couldn't make him movean inch. It's funny, but he seems rootedto the soil.

ACHILLEBut who told him that the corpse was in

there?GUSTAVE

Virginie, of course; she's been babblingfor all she's worth.

VIRGINIEMe, sir? Excuse me, sir, not me; I was

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The Miracle of Saint Anthonyattending to my work. I answered yesand no, nothing else. . . . Didn't I, SaintAnthony? (The SAINT makes no reply.)Well, can't you answer when you're askeda civil question?

SAINT ANTHONYShe did not tell me.

VIRGINIEThere, you see ! He's a saint; he knewit all beforehand. I tell you, there's no-thing he doesn't know.

ACHILLE(Going to the SAINT and tapping him

amicably on the shoulder.} Now then,my fine fellow, come on ; put your best footforward, what I

THE GUESTSWill he go, or won't he?

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I have an idea.GuSTAVE

What's that?ACHILLE

Where's the doctor?A GUEST

He's still at table; he's finishing up thetrout. . . .

GUSTAVE

(To JOSEPH.) Go and fetch him.'(Exit JOSEPH.) You're right, he's amadman; 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's94


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The Miracle of Saint Anthonyup? Is he mad? Is he ill? Is hedrunk? (Looking the SAINT over.)Why, it's a beggar! I'm of no use inhis case. Well, my friend, are thingsgoing badly? Is there something wewant?

SAINT ANTHONYI want to raise Mademoiselle Hortense

from the dead.THE DOCTOR

Ah, I see you're not a medical man!May I have your hand? (Feels theSAINT'S pulse.) Any pain?

SAINT ANTHONYNo.

THE DOCTOR(Feeling his head and forehead.}And here? Does it hurt when I press my

finger?95


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No.THE DOCTOR

Excellent, excellent! Do you ever feelgiddy ?SAINT ANTHONY

Never.

THE DOCTORAnd in the past ... no accident, atany time? Let's have a look at yourchest. Say "Ah!" That's right. Oncemore; deep breath. Deeper, deeper.That's right. . . . And what is it youwant, my man?

/

SAINT ANTHONYTo go into that room.

THE DOCTORWhat for?

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To raise Mademoiselle Hortense fromthe dead.

THE DOCTORShe's not there.

SAINT ANTHONYShe is there. I see her.

GUSTAVEHe sticks to it.

ACHILLECouldn't you give him a hypodermic in-

jection?THE DOCTOR

What for?ACHILLE

To send him to sleep. Then we wouldput him in the street.

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The Miracle of Saint AnthonyTHE DOCTOR

No, no; no nonsense. Besides, it'sdangerous.

ACHILLEThat's his look out, not ours. We're

not paid to take care of madmen, trampsor drunkards.

THE DOCTORShall I give you my opinion?

GUSTAVEI wish you would.

THE DOCTORWe have to do with a madman, a ratherfeeble-minded and quite harmless mono-maniac, who may become dangerous, how-ever, if we thwart him. I know the type.. . . We are among ourselves; moreover,strange though the experiment which heproposes may seem, it involves no lack of

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The Miracle of Saint Anthonyrespect for the dear departed. . . . Thatbeing so, I don't see why, in order toavoid any scandal and since he's askingsuch a simple thing, we shouldn't allow himto go into the room for a moment.

GUSTAVENever! What's the world coming to,

if the first person that comes along canforce his way like this into a respectablehousehold, under the ridiculous pretext ofbringing back to life a dead woman whohas never done him any harm?

THE DOCTORAs you please; it's for you to decide.On the one hand, you have an inevitable

scandal, for nothing will make him giveup his idea; on the other, a small con-cession which costs you nothing.

ACIIILLEThe doctor's right. . . .

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The Miracle of Saint AnthonyTHE DOCTOR

There's nothing to be afraid of. I'lltake the whole responsibility. Besides, weshall all be there and we shall go in withhim.

GUSTAVEVery well, then, let's have done with it.

. . . But, whatever happens, don't let thisludicrous incident get about, will you?

ACHILLEAunt Hortense's jewels are put out on

the mantelpiece. . . .GUSTAVE

I know. I'll keep an eye on them, forI confess that I don't trust him. (ToSAINT ANTHONY.) It's this way, comein. But be quick about it; we haven'tlunched yet.

(GusTAVE opens the folding-doors,100


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The Miracle of Saint Anthonyrevealing the drawing-room, inwhich is a large four-poster, withMADEMOISELLE HORTENSE'S bodylaid out upon it. Two lightedcandles, a crucifix, a branch ofpalm, wreaths. At the back, aglass door leading to the garden.ALL go in, SAINT ANTHONY andGUSTAVE last.)

GUSTAVEHere is the body of the dear departed.

As you see, she's quite dead. Are yousatisfied? . . . And now leave us. Letus cut short the experiment. (ToJOSEPH.) Show the gentleman out by thegarden-door.

SAINT ANTHONYAllow me. (He walks into the middle

of the room and stands at the foot of the101


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The Miracle of Saint Anthonybed. Turning to the corpse and speakingin a loud, grave voice.) Arise 1

GUSTAVEThere, that'll do! We can't stand by

and allow a stranger to outrage our mostsacred feelings; and I ask you once more,for the last time . . .

SAINT ANTHONYAllow me, please! (He goes nearer

the bed and raises his voice more authori-tatively.) Arise!

GUSTAVE(Losing his patience.) That's enough!

We'll end by quarrelling. . . . Come, thisway: the door's over here.

SAINT ANTHONYAllow me! ... She is very far away.(In a deeper and more commanding tone.)

Mademoiselle Hortense, return and arisefrom the dead.

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The Miracle of Saint Anthony(To the general amazement, the deadwoman first makes a slight move-ment and then opens her eyes, un-folds her hands, raises herselfslowly to a sitting posture, puts hernight-cap straight and looks roundthe room with a crabbed and dis-contented air. Next she beginsquietly to scratch at a bit of candle-grease which she has discovered onthe sleeve of her night-gown.There is a moment of overpower-ing silence; then VIRGINIE startsfrom the bewildered group, runs upto the bed and flings herself intothe arms of the woman restored tolife.}

VIRGINIEMademoiselle Hortense ! She's alive!

Look, she's scratching at a bit of candle-103


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The Miracle of Saint Anthonygrease; she's feeling for her glasses. . . .Here they are 1 Here they are ! . . .Saint Anthony! Saint Anthony! . . .A miracle! A miracle! ... On yourknees ! On your knees !

GUSTAVECome, come, be still! . . . Don't talk

nonsense ! . . . This is no time for . . .

ACHILLEThere's no denying it, she's alive.

A GUESTBut it's not possible! What has he

done to her?GUSTAVE

You can't take it seriously. She'll havea relapse.

ACHILLENo, no, I assure you. Just see how

she's staring at us.104


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I don't believe it yet. What are wecoming to? Where are the laws ofnature? Doctor, what do you say?

THE DOCTOR(Embarrassed.} What do I say?

What would you have me say? It doesn'tconcern me, it's not my business. It'sabsurd and, at the same time, quite simple.If she's alive, then she was never dead.There's no reason to be amazed and pro-claim a miracle.

GUSTAVEBut you yourself said . . .

THE DOCTORI said, I said ... To begin with, I

said nothing positive; and I would haveyou observe that I have not signed thedeath-certificate. I even had very serious

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The Miracle of Saint Anthonydoubts, but I would not tell you of them,lest I should raise false hopes. ... Inany case, all this proves nothing; and it isvery unlikely that she will live long.

ACHILLEMeanwhile we must accept the evidence,

the happy evidence, of our senses.VIRGINIE

Yes, yes, we must believe it! There'snot a doubt left! I told you he was asaint, 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 MADE-

MOISELLE HORTENSE.) Aunt, my dearaunt, is it really you?

ACHILLE(Going to the bed.) Do you know me,

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The Miracle of Saint Anthonyaunt? I am Achilla, your nephew,Achille.

LEONTINEAnd me, auntie? I am your old niece

Leontine.VALENTINE

And me, my dear godmother, do youknow me ? I am little Valentine, to whomyou left all your silver.

GUSTAVEShe's smiling.

ACHILLENot at all, she looks displeased.

GUSTAVEBut she recognizes us all.

ACHILLE(Seeing MADEMOISELLE HORTENSE

open her mouth and move her lips.) Lis-ten! She's going to speak.

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Heavenly Father I . . . And she hasseen God! . . . She'll tell us about thedelights of Paradise ! . . . On your knees 1On your knees!

ACHILLEListen ! Listen !

MADEMOISELLE HORTENSE(Eyeing SAINT ANTHONY with scornand disgust. In a shrill and angry voice.}Who is this person? Who has dared tolet a bare-footed tramp into my drawing-room? He's dirtied all the carpets as itis! ... Put him out at once! . . . Vir-ginie, how often have I told you not to letbeggars . . .

SAINT ANTHONY(Raising his hand imperiously.} Si-

lence 1108


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The Miracle of Saint Anthony( The AUNT stops suddenly in themiddle of her sentence, and sits upopen-mouthed, unable to utter asound.}

GUSTAVEYou must forgive her, she does not yet

know how much she owes you. But we,we know. There's no question but thatwhat you have done was more than mostpeople could have done. It may havebeen an accident or ... something else;upon my word, I don't know. But whatI do know is that I am proud and happyto shake you by the hand.

SAINT ANTHONYI should like to go, please. I have

work to do.GUSTAVE

Oh, don't be in such a hurry! Wecan't let you go like this. You shall not

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The Miracle of Saint Anthonyleave empty-handed. I don't know whatmy aunt will give you: that's her affair: Icannot promise anything in her name.But, for my part, I will consult my brother-in-law; and, whether it be a coincidence or. . . something else, we will pay for thecoincidence without quibbling about theamount; and you shall have no reason toregret what you have done. That's so,Achille, isn't it?

ACHILLECertainly, you will not regret it, on the

contrary.GUSTAVEWe are not tremendously well off; we

have wives and children and we have hadour disappointments; but, after all, weknow how to recognize a kindness; and, ifit were only for the honour of the family,it would never do to have it said that a

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The Miracle of Saint Anthonystranger, however poor, came and did usa service without receiving a reward, adecent reward, the best reward that in uslies, a reward in proportion to our means,which, I repeat, are limited. . . . Oh, Iknow, there are services which nothingcan repay and which are not paid for: youneed not tell me that! I know it, I knowit: don't interrupt me. But that's noreason why we should not do something.. . . Come, what do you think we oweyou ? Name your own figure. Of course,you must not ask for anything excessive;we couldn't give it you; but whateverseems reasonable you shall have.

ACHILLEMy brother-in-law is right: but, while

the matter is arranging, I propose to makea little collection among ourselves. That

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The Miracle of Saint Anthonywon't prejudice you in any way and willkeep you going for a time.

SAINT ANTHONYI want to go away, please. I have

other work to do.GUSTAVE

Other work to do! Other work to do!What work can you have to do? . . .No, I can't have that; and it's not nice ofyou to suggest it. What would people sayif they heard that we let you go like thisafter restoring the dear departed to us?If you won't take money and I under-stand your delicacy of feeling and approveof it at least you will do us the pleasureof accepting a little keepsake? Oh, don'tbe afraid: just a trifle, a cigar-holder, ora tie-pin, or a meerschaum pipe. I couldhave your name and address and the dateengraved on it.

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No, thank you. I can accept nothing.GuSTAVE

Do you mean that?SAINT ANTHONY

I do.ACHILLE

(Taking out his cigar-case.) At anyrate, you will do us the pleasure of smokinga cigar with us. You can't refuse that.

SAINT ANTHONYThank you, I do not smoke.

GUSTAVEYou're most discouraging. Still, what

would you like? You must have a wishof some sort. You have only to speak,for everything is yours in this house, whichyou have filled with gladness. It's allyours. I can't say more than that. At

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The Miracle of Saint Anthonyleast, all that one can honestly part with.. . . Why, it's an insult to leave us likethis!

ACHILLELook here, I have an idea that's not

half bad. As our friend won't accept any-thing and, like my brother-in-law, Iunderstand his delicacy, of which, I amsure, we all approve; for life can't be paidfor and has no price well, since he hasshown a disinterested nature which at oncemakes him our equal, what I want to knowis this: why should he not do us the hon-our of sitting down with us and helping usfinish a luncheon which he has so happilyinterrupted! . . . What do you all say?. . . (Murmurs of restrained approval.)

GUSTAVEThat's it! The very thing! That

settles everything! How clever of you114


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The Miracle of Saint Anthonyto think of it! ... (To SAINT AN-THONY.) Well, what do you say? ...By squeezing a bit, we can easily makeroom for you. You shall have the seatof honour. The partridges will be cold,but no matter: you have a good appetite,I feel sure! . . . Well, that's arranged,eh? There will be no ceremony: we'redecent people and easy-going, as yousee. . . .

SAINT ANTHONYNo, really. You must excuse me. I'm

sorry, I can't. I'm expected elsewhere.GUSTAVE

Oh, come, you can't refuse us this!Besides, who's expecting you?

SAINT ANTHONYAnother corpse.

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The Miracle of Saint AnthonyGUSTAVEA corpse! Another corpse! It won't

run away! Surely you're not going to puta corpse before us! To throw us overfor a corpse !

ACHILLENo, I see what it is. You would rather

go down to the kitchen, wouldn't you?You'd feel more comfortable there.

GUSTAVEThen he can come up afterwards for

coffee.

ACHILLEAh, he's not refusing! He prefersthat! I understand. Virginie, leave yourmistress she doesn't need you nowand take the gentleman down to yourkitchen. Give him some of everything.(He taps the SAINT familiarly on thestomach.) Ha, ha! You and Virginie

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The Miracle of Saint Anthonyare going to have a jolly good timetogether! I guessed right, didn't I, youold rogue you! You old sly-boots 1

VIRGINIE(In a voice of alarm.} Sir!

GUSTAVEWhat is it?

VIRGINIEI don't know, but Mademoiselle Hor-

tense has lost her speech again.GuSTAVE

What? She's lost her speech?VIRGINIE

Yes, sir, look. . . . She's opening hermouth and moving her lips and workingher hands but her voice has gone.

GuSTAVEWhat is it, aunt? Is there something

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The Miracle of Saint Anthonyyou want to tell us? (She nods assent.)And you can't? There, there, make aneffort; it's a temporary paralysis, that'sall. It will soon pass. (She makes asign that she can no longer speak.}What's the matter with you? What dowant? (To SAINT ANTHONY.) What'sthe meaning of this?

SAINT ANTHONYShe will never speak again.GUSTAVE

She will never speak again? But shehas been speaking. You heard her. Sheeven gave you a piece of her mind.

SAINT ANTHONYIt was an oversight on my part. She

won't have her voice again.GUSTAVE

Can't you restore it to her?118


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No.GUSTAVE

And when will it come back?SAINT ANTHONY

Never.GUSTAVE

What! Will she remain dumb to theend of her days?

SAINT ANTHONYYes.

GUSTAVEWhy?SAINT ANTHONY

She has beheld mysteries which she maynot reveal.

GUSTAVEMysteries? What mysteries?

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The mysteries of the dead.GuSTAVE

The mysteries of the dead? This isa fresh joke. What do you take us for?No, no, my lad, this won't do ! Shespoke; we all heard her; we have wit-nesses. You have, of malice prepense,deprived her of her power of speech, withan ohject which I am beginning to seethrough. You'll just restore it at once,or ...

ACHILLEIt was really not worth while bringingher back to life, to give her to us in this

condition.

GUSTAVEIf you could not give her back to us as

she was before your stupid and clumsy


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The Miracle of Saint Anthonyinterference, you would have done betternot to have meddled.

ACHILLEIt was a bad action.

GUSTAVEAn abuse of confidence.

ACHILLEAn abuse of confidence: that's what it

was. There is no excuse for it.GUSTAVE

You're expecting to blackmail us, per-haps?

ACHILLEI suppose you think you're dealing with

a pack of fools?

GUSTAVEWho asked you to come? I hate say-ing it, but I would rather see her dead

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The Miracle of Saint Anthonythan have her back in this state. It'stoo cruel, too painful for those who loveher. You can't come like this, under thepretence of working a miracle, and disturbthe peace of the people who have done youno harm, bringing unhappiness upon them!A nice thing. But he laughs best wholaughs last!

THE DOCTORAllow me. Calm yourselves. The

man has done wrong, there's no doubt ofthat; but we must not blame him: he isprobably unaccountable for his actions.(Going up to SAINT ANTHONY.) Just letme examine your eyes, my friend. That'sit: I knew it! I would not interfere whileeverybody was thanking him, much toocordially, for the miraculous resurrectionwhich he had wrought. I did not wish toappear to meddle with what does not con-

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The Miracle of Saint Anthonycern me. 1 knew what was what; andyou see, as I do, that she was not dead atall. There is nothing supernatural ormysterious about all this. It simply meansthat the fellow possesses rather unusualhypnotic powers; and he has abused them,in order to indulge in a hoax which maybe self-interested and which, in any case,is out of place. He came at the right;moment, that is all; and it is highlyprobable that, had he not been here, youand I would have worked the miracle, ifmiracle there be.

GUSTAVEWell, what are we to do?

THE DOCTORWhy, prevent him from doing further

mischief by having him locked up! Theman's dangerous!

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You're right; we must put a stop to this;besides, I've had enough of it. . . .Joseph !

JOSEPHSir? GUSTAVERun to the police-station at the corner;

fetch two policemen; tell them to bring apair of handcuffs with them. He's a dan-gerous fellow and capable of everything,as he has shown us only too plainly.

JOSEPHVery well, sir. (He runs out.)

SAINT ANTHONYI beg leave to withdraw.

GUSTAVEThat's right, old chap, play the innocent.

It's time you did. Yes, you can withdraw;124


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The Miracle of Saint Anthonyand with a first-class escort. You justwait and see.

(Enter JOSEPH, followed by a SER-GEANT or POLICE and a POLICE-MAN.)

THE SERGEANT(Pointing to SAINT ANTHONY.) Is

this the criminal?

GUSTAVEThat's the man.

THE SERGEANT(Touching SAINT ANTHONY on the

shoulder.) Where are your papers?SAINT ANTHONY

What papers?POLICEMAN

You haven't any? I knew it. What'syour name?

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Saint Anthony.

THE SERGEANTSaint what? Saint Anthony? That'sno name for a Christian. I want the

other, your real name.

SAINT ANTHONY(Fery gently.} I have

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Maurice Maeterlinck - The Miracle of Saint Anthony (1918)

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