INTRODUCTION

Mr. Craig is the truest revolutionist I have ever known, because he demands a return to the most ancient traditions of which we can dream. Revolution and revelation are not far each from the other, and he gives us both. His torch, destined to set on fire our pseudo-Theatres, our monstrous and barbarous play-houses, has been kindled at the sacred fires of the most ancient arts. He discovered for us that in a rope-dancer there may be

THINK

more

theatrical art than in an up-to-date actor reciting from his memory and depending on his prompter. I am sure all who are working on the stage throughout Europe, creative minds, or stagemanagers priding themselves on their being creative minds, cannot be but most grateful to Mr. Craig, and must regard all that is and shall be done in his honour to be done in the vital interest of the very Art of the Theatre.

For more than a hundred years there have been two men working on the stage, spoiling almost all that is to be called Theatrical Art. These two are the Realist and the Machinist. The men Realist offers imitation for life, and the Machinist So we have lost the tricks in place of marvels. truth and the marvel of life that is, we have lost the main thing possessed by the art. The Art of the Theatre as pure imitation is nothing but an alarming demonstration of the abundance of life and the narrowness of Art. It is like the ancient example of the child who was
trying to

sea with a shell, and, as for the wonderful tricks of the machinist, they may be marvellous, but they can never be a marvel. A flying machine is marvellous, but a bird is a marvel.

empty the

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INTRODUCTION
a marvel and Art living than True Art is always discovering the life itself. marvel in all that does not seem to be marvellous at all, because Art is not imitation, but vision. That is the great discovery of Mr. Craig on the He found the forgotten wonderland with stage. the sleeping beauty, the land of our dreams and wishes, and has fought for it with the gestures of an artist, with the soul of a child, with the knowledge of a student, and with the constancy of a He has done the greatest service to the Art lover.
true Artist
life is

To the

common

more abundant, more intense and more

in

a great happiness for us

which we are so profoundly

all

interested,

and

it is

that he comes off with

flying colours. He has his admirers and followers in our little Hungary, the whole of the new generation being under his influence, and, without any disparagement to the great merit and good luck of Prof. Reinhardt, we Hungarians, as close neighbours and

good observers, dare say that almost all that has been done in Berlin and Dusseldorf, in Munich or
in

for the last ten years is to be called the success of Mr. Craig. I am very sorry that I am not able to express all that I feel in a better style. But I am writing in a language which is not mine, and, living in a country cottage, far even from English dictionaries, I am obliged to write it as I can, and not as I would.

Manheim

my

July

10, 1911.

DR. ALEXANDER HEVESI,

Drmnaturg-Regisseur of the .State Theatre, Budapest.

xviii

GOD SAVE THE KING

meritorious to insist on forms. Religion and all else All substances clothe themclothes itself in forms. naturally selves in forms; but there are suitable true forms, and then there are untrue unsuitable. As the briefest definition one might say, Forms which GROW round a substance, if we rightly understand that, will correspond to the real Nature and purport of it, will be true, good ; forms which are consciously put round a substance, bad. I invite you to reflect on this. It distinguishes true from false in Ceremonial Form, earnest solemnity from
is

" It

empty pageant,

in all

human

things."

CARLYLE.

here as the Artist, and though all artists labour and most are poor, all are loyal, all are the worshippers of Royalty. If there is a thing in the world that I love it is a symbol. If there is a symbol of heaven that I can bend my knee to it is the sky, if there is a symbol of God, the Sun. As for the smaller things which I can touch I am not content to believe in them, as though they could ever be the thing. This I must always keep as something precious. All I ask is that I may be allowed to see it, and what I see must be superb. Therefore God save the King " All Architecture is what you do to it when look upon it." l So do we artists feel about SDU oyalty, and see it more splendid and more noble than any others can ever see it. And if my King wanted to chop off my head I think I would submit cheerfully and dance to the block for the sake of
!

SPEAK

preserving

Kings have given us everything, and we in times gone by have in return made up the splendid procession which follows in their wake. Kings have not stopped giving us everything, but we, alas, have
1

my ideal

of Kingship.

Whitman.

xix

o
We
Our

GOD SAV E THE KIN G

up forming the splendid

unimaginative reason.
It costs all this to

those wonderful servants of ours over whom we reign as king our senses have rebelled. So that it comes to this that we on our part have lost our royalty. Our senses have had the vanity and the impertinence to revolt. This is infinitely Our senses, if you please, are permitdisgusting. ting themselves the luxury of becoming tired. They want another ruler than the Soul, and expect Jupiter to send them a better. We have pampered our intellect so much of late, have searched the archives of knowledge at so great an expense, that we have bargained our senses away to our
senses
:

have lost the trick of it because we are losing the old power of our eyes and our other senses.

lately given

processions.

become

the price we pay, a pretty penny indeed. It seems that in the Garden of Paradise, the world, there are as many trees of knowledge as there are men, so that it will no longer do " " to put our continual yearly fall down to woman, and we had surely better try to support her bitter laughter than that harsher scorn of the

practical to-day

our

imagination

is

gods.

only with his eyes. He laughs on all the day, and I hear the echo of his laughter all the night. But I know how nobly all has been arranged in this Garden, for my God's laughter is as the song of Paradise in my ears, and its pale echo soothes me to sleep through She night.
peerless, laughs

And the gods

are laughing

My God,

so entirely

as surely as this bounteous laughter pours down on me by day and flows away from me by night, so will I find some way of giving thanks for

And

xx

o
it all
:

GOD

S AVE

THE KING!

thanksgiving to the joyous laughter and the Royal comfort that it brings. But to many ears this laughter of the Gods is like the shrieking of a storm, and these people raise their eyebrows, grumble, and pray that it will

not shriek in their ears until they be dead, until they have lost the sense of hearing ? Better would it be for these beings to value once more their most noble servants the senses, and attempt to perceive by their means the full meaning And when they of the voice and of the face of God. have understood that they will see the full meaning of the King. While I worship the sun I cannot listen to the talk which twaddles on about the tyranny of kings. The Sun is for me the greatest of tyrants that, in fact, is part of my reason for loving the Sun. All truth, the truth of tyranny no less than the truth of slavery, is illumined by the Sun. From the marble columns of Mount Carrara to the wrinkle on the face of my nurse, all is laid bare for me and illumined by his light nothing escapes the eye of God. He is a terrible God to those who fear to From these he will " breed be burnt by him.
will it pass ?

pass.

But

Will

it

Beautiful and the Terrible. Which is which But I am free to tell will never be put into words. myself; and, let me but preserve the senses my all eyes, my ears, my touch, and all shall be well shall seem far more beautiful than terrible. For not only do these servants of our Royalty help to idealize all things for us, but they also help to fix a limit to our vanity. By their help

maggots."

The

xxi

*>

GOD SAVE THE KING!

my God

heaven. lost the sense of sight I should be unable to see this glory, and, not seeing it, I should demand other miracles from it than Happiness may expect. I should look for it to work some practical daily miracle in vain. Whereas, seeing this daily glory, this Sun, I know that the miracle comes and goes, that the miracle is just the passage of this symbol of the Divine, this seeming motion of the Sun from
straits of
If I

as he rises like the spirit of Imagination from the East and sails across the blue
I recognize

had

east to west.

And that seeming motion of this God is enough for man to know. Mystic voices seem to cry, " " and we answer rebel Seek to know no more
liously,

"

I will

eternal curse fall

be satisfied; deny

me

this

and an

on ye."

"Show Come

his eyes and grieve his heart, like shadows, so depart."

This seeking to know more this desire of the brain threatens to rob our senses of their vitality our eyes may become dim till we shall no longer recognize the God before us, nor the King as he Our ears seem to be deaf; passes along our way. we begin not to hear the song of Paradise, we fail to pick up the chorus which follows in the wake of Royalty. Our touch, too, is growing coarse. The hem of the robes' brocade was once pleasant to our fingers' touch to touch the silken glove with our lips was once a privilege and a luxury. Now we have become the mob; ambition's aim, oh noble consummation Afraid any longer to serve like we must slave like thieves, having robbed noblemen, ourselves of our greatest possession, our fine senses.
; ;
!

xxii

<^>

GOD SAVE THE KINO!

are becoming veritable slaves chained together by circumstances, refusing daily to be released by our imagination, that only power which achieves true Freedom.

We

But

for

me,

Royalty.

Long

a free man, by the grace of live the King

1

am

E. G. C.
Florence, 1911.

XX111