ing, of purpose, thoughts, fragments of consciousness, which are shaken out and impelled upward by one knows not what longing or premonition. As they reach the rim and seem about to shape themselves to some sort of orderly life, a rush of air, sweeping across the plateau, bears down on them and scatters and tosses them to nothingness. The gust comes no one knows whence, and is the mere fragmentary presence of a power whose extent and whose destructiveness no one can measure. This picture visualizes, I think, the intensive and extensive fragmentariness which marks so sharply Maeterlinck's interpretation of consciousness and of the universe.

The later world-view is quite different, but shows the sense of the fragmentary just as strongly. The outer mystery, the universe, has been reinterpreted; it is no longer thought of as an abode of terror or a malevolent, clumsy force bursting in on human happiness. This change in Maeterlinck is generally attributed to the influence of evolutionism and Stoicism; and they have in fact had much to do with it. But a man does not change a world-attitude as he would a suit of clothes-it is not so external a thing; and so I should be inclined to assign the larger share in this change, striking as it is, to something much more intimate and subtle-the gradual ripening and mellowing and settling of Maeterlinck's artistic personality. It is well to remember that evolutionism, as a philosophy and a faith, lends itself readily to

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either the gospel of hope or the gospel of despair. Not enough has been made of such personal dramatizations of scientific and philosophical theories. The old dramatization of evolution is familiar: it is the "claw and talon " theory. We were asked to observe the cruelty and wastefulness of Nature, to watch her snuffing out lives or scattering pain throughout her realm. So strongly was the thing dramatized that one could almost hear the panting and the groans of the creatures caught in the deadly struggle for existence" and the thud of those that were to be "eliminated." That old melodrama, reeking with blood and noisy with strife, has now gone out of fashion. Instead of it there is often a very suave, very confident evolutionism, which looks upon "elimination" as one would on discarding in a game of cards, and on nature as a system of stepping stones," nicely blocked out and leading to some sort of a palace of the future-all light and no lines. The scientist smiles at both pictures; he is not given to personal reactions. What Maeterlinck the riper artist offers, is a dramatization of hope, as contrasted with his earlier dramatization of fear; and in it two ideas are constantly staged: that of a more and more rational universe and that of a progressive mastery of nature. Either will break the point of evil. But when I ask myself, What is the exact nature of this new universe of Maeterlinck's? I find in Wisdom and Destiny, The

Leaf of Olive and other essays certain hints: such as its probable non-moral character; its creative fashioning of new situations and new laws; its orderliness; its surprises; and its complexity. But when I try to piece these hints together, with simile after simile, image after image, crowding in on me, I find it impossible to shape them to a well-outlined, well-built City of Light; just as I found it impossible, in Maeterlinck's earlier plays, to trace the complete Ineaments of a City of Darkness. Everywhere the stress is not on finality, but on the incomplete, the fragmentary. Here is Maeterlinck's way of dramatizing this "background of light":

"It seems as though we heard those movements: the sound of superhuman footsteps, an enormous door opening, a breath caressing us, or light coming; we do not know; but expectation at this pitch is an ardent and marvellous state of life, the fairest period of happiness, its youth, its childhood."

This is a very effective companion picture to that of the sudden forays of a stealthily moving, malevolent Fate.

This later conception of the universe suggests in some ways a transformation scene in a spectacle, in which curtain after curtain is lifted, each filmier and more transparent, until, with the last bit of gauze withdrawn, the scene stands out sharply in all its details. But-and this is an all-important difference -one never feels in Maeterlinck that the last bit of

gauze has been withdrawn or that there is a last bit of gauze or a sharp and final scene; one is conscious of an endless succession of luminous veils.

But what of Maeterlinck's reinterpretation of consciousness, the inner mystery? And how does his sense of the fragmentary show itself in that? The later work reveals an increasing interest in consciousness and a growing disposition-for which Stoicism must receive part credit-of relating intimately character and destiny, universe and attitude. Certain earlier notions persist: that of the abysmal nature of consciousness, that of the subconscious, that of instinct and premonition as things deeper than reason or purpose, that of slight, expressive gestures. But consciousness, instead of faltering and flickering in the darkness, radiates a strong, even light of confidence and happiness. Happiness is now the key-note. Maeterlinck is fond of the image of "inner treasure" crystallizing in the subterranean regions of the soul and brought to light now and then in a moment of exceptional strength, in an experience of exceptional nobility or beauty. This is a good companion picture to that of bits of consciousness floating upward in an abyss. Here as well as there, one gets the impression of intensive fragmentariness, for how much soul there is no one knows, and how much treasure there is no one knows; what we are aware of are bits of treasure flung up from depths not to be measured.

Further pursuit of this tenuous Artist and somewhat shadowy Thinker would yield, among much that was new, many additional instances of his sense of decorative beauty, of his atmospheric method, of his irradiating imagination and of his sense of the fragmentary.

NOTE: In quoting from Maeterlinck I have made use of the translations of Sutro, Teixeira de Mattos, and Coleman, and wish to acknowledge such use.