"Not even not wrong" Email to: michaelpeverett@live.co.uk
Tuesday, March 18, 2025
The pearl of Orisa
I
The sun has disappeared behind the peaks of Jabwi, and the shadow of this mountain envelops with a veil of crape the pearl of Orisa's cities, the gentle Kattak, who sleeps at its feet among the forests of cinnamon and sycamore, like a dove resting on a nest of flowers.
II
The day that is dying and the night that is being born contend for a moment, while the blueish mist of twilight spreads its diaphanous wings over the valleys, robbing colour and form from objects that seem to waver, disturbed by the breath of a spirit.
III
The confused murmurs of the city, which disperse trembling; the melancholy sighs of the night, swelling from echo to echo repeated by the birds; the thousand mysterious sounds that, like a hymn to the divinity, creation offers at the birth and death of the star that gives it life, unite with the murmur of the Jawkior, whose waves are kissed by the evening breeze, producing a song, sweet, vague, and lost like the final notes of an improvisation by a temple dancer.
.....
I
Ha desaparecido el sol tras las cimas del Jabwi, y la sombra de esta montaña envuelve con un velo de crespón a la perla de las ciudades de Orisa, a la gentil Kattak, que duerme a sus pies, entre los bosques de canela y sicómoros, semejante a una paloma que descansa sobre un nido de flores.
II
El día que muere y la noche que nace luchan un momento, mientras la azulada niebla del crepúsculo tiende sus alas diáfanas sobre los valles, robando el color y las formas a los objetos, que parecen vacilar agitados por el soplo de un espíritu.
III
Los confusos rumores de la ciudad, que se evaporan temblando; los melancólicos suspiros de la noche, que se dilatan de eco en eco repetidos por las aves; los mil ruidos misteriosos, que como un himno a la divinidad levanta la creación, al nacer y al morir el astro que la vivifica, se unen al murmullo del Jawkior, cuyas ondas besa la brisa de la tarde, produciendo un canto dulce, vago y perdido como las últimas notas de la improvisación de una bayadera.
.....
These are the opening paragraphs from Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer's "The Chieftain of the Red Hands" ("El caudillo de las manos rojas"), published in 1858.
The startling, perfumed style of Bécquer's Indian tale is said to have had great influence on modernismo.
This rapt scene of twilight beyond the city walls will be shattered by violence. Pulo is attacked by his elder brother and kills him, thus acquiring both his brother's kingdom and Siannah, the woman he loves, but he will be racked by guilt. The story concerns his stupendous labours to win redemption; twice almost achieving it, but each time let down by his own warm nature. We see that this everyman's passionate commitment to doing things the right way is all of a piece with the over-eagerness that defeats him.
*
The young, sickly Bécquer had no acquaintance with India; this legend was dreamt out of deep reading in orientalist texts in French and German.
The city that Bécquer called Kattak is now known internationally as Cuttack (Odia: Kataka). The state that he called Orisa is now transliterated as Odisha.
Cuttack is in fact on the river Mahanadi, at the head of its delta; Bécquer invented the river Jawkior. He also invented the mountain Jabwi; there are some low hills around Cuttack but no peaks.
What he didn't invent was the city's reputation for beauty. It is a historic city (e.g. the 10th-century Barabati fort). It is given the traditional honorific "Kataka Nagara Dhabala Tagara", which means "Cuttack, White City of Tagara". Tagara is the common and beautiful shrub Pinwheel Jasmine (Tabernaemontana divaricata).
Leyendas was put together after Bécquer's death and both its contents and sequence vary from one edition to another. At its core are 17 stories, but others are often added.
Given the fame of Leyendas in the Spanish-speaking world I was astonished that I couldn't track down an English translation of "El caudillo de las manos rojas".
Most of the stories were translated by Cornelia Frances Bates and her daughter Katharine Lee Bates as Romantic Legends of Spain (1909), but they left out the two Indian stories:
I think I had better steer Google Translate through a few more paragraphs...
IV
Night conquers; the sky is crowned with stars, and the towers of Kattak, to rival it, wear diadems of torches. Who is this chieftain who appears at the foot of its walls, at the same time that the moon rises among light clouds beyond the mountains, at whose feet the Ganges runs like an immense blue serpent with silver scales?
V
It is he. What other warrior, of those who fly like an arrow to combat and to death at the standard of Shiva, meteor of glory, with his hair adorned with the red tail-feather of the bird of the Indian gods, the gold tortoise pendant, the agate-handled dagger hanging from his yellow cashmere shawl: who but Pulo-Dheli, Rajah of Dakka, lightning-bolt of battles and brother of Tippot-Dheli, magnificent king of Orisa, lord of lords, shadow of God and son of the luminous stars?
VI
It is he: no other knows thus to lend his eyes either the melancholy glow of the morning star, or the sinister gleam of a tiger's pupil: imparting to his dark features the splendor of a serene night, or the terrible aspect of a storm on the lofty peaks of Davalaguiri. It is he; but what is he waiting for?
VII
Do you hear the leaves sigh beneath the light foot of a maiden? Do you see the ends of her diaphanous shawl and the hems of her white gown floating among the shadows? Do you perceive the fragrance that precedes her like the messenger of a genie? Wait, and you will behold her in the first ray of the solitary traveler of the night; wait, and you will meet Siannah, the betrothed of the mighty Tippot-Dheli, the lover of his brother, the maiden whom the poets of his nation compare to the smile of Bermach, which shone upon the world when it came from his hands; a heavenly smile, the first dawn of the orbs.
VIII
Pulo hears the sound of her footsteps; his face lights up like a peak touched by the first ray of the sun, and he comes out to meet her. His heart, which has not throbbed in the fire of the fight, nor in the presence of the tiger, beats violently under the hand that reaches out for him, fearing that the happiness it can no longer contain will overflow. "Pulo!" "Siannah!" they exclaim upon seeing each other, and they fall into each other's arms. Meanwhile, the Jawkior, splashing the wings of the zephyr with its waves, flees to die in the Ganges, and the Ganges to the Bay of Bengal, and the Gulf to the Ocean. Everything flees: with the waters, the hours; with the hours, happiness; with happiness, life. Everything flees to merge in the head of Shiva, whose brain is chaos, whose eyes are destruction, and whose essence is nothingness.
IX
The morning star already announces the day; the moon fades like a dissipating illusion, and dreams, those children of darkness, flee with her in fantastic groups. The two lovers still remain under the green fan of a palm tree, silent witness to their love and their vows, when a dull noise rises behind them.
Pulo turns his head, utters a shrill, light cry like that of a jackal, and springs back ten paces in a single leap, simultaneously flashing the blade of his sharp Damascus dagger.
X
What has struck terror into the soul of the brave chieftain? Are the two eyes shining in the darkness those of the striped tiger or the terrible serpent? No. Pulo fears neither the king of the forests nor the king of reptiles; those flame-breathing pupils belong to a man, and that man is his brother.
His brother, whose only love he has stolen; his brother, who has banished him from Orisa; and who, finally, has vowed his death if he ever returns to Kattak, placing his hand on the altar of his God.
XI
Siannah sees him too, feels her blood freeze in her veins, and she stands transfixed, as if Death's hand had grasped her by the hair. The two rivals gaze for a moment at each other from head to toe; they contend with their stares, and then, uttering a hoarse, savage cry, they rush at each other like two leopards vying for prey... Let us draw a veil over the crimes of our ancestors; let us draw a veil over the scenes of mourning and horror caused by the passions of those who are already in the bosom of the Great Spirit.
XII
The sun rises in the East; you would say, seeing it, that the genius of light, the conqueror of shadows, heady with pride and majesty, is launching himself in triumph on his diamond chariot, leaving behind him, like the wake of a ship, the gold dust his steeds raise on the pavement of the heavens. The waters, the forests, the birds, space, and the worlds have but one voice, and this voice intones the hymn of the day. Who does not feel their heart leap with joy at the echoes of this solemn canticle?
XIII
Only one mortal; see him there. His wide eyes are fixed with a stupefied gaze on the blood staining his hands. In vain, emerging from his immobility and seized by a terrible frenzy, he runs to wash them. He runs to the banks of the Jawkior; beneath the crystalline waves, the stains disappear; but no sooner does he withdraw his hands than the blood, steaming and red, stains them again. And he returns to the waves, and the stain reappears, until at last he exclaims in a tone of terrible despair: "Siannah! Siannah! The curse of heaven has fallen upon our heads."
Do you know that wretch, at whose feet lies a corpse and whose knees a woman embraces? He is Pulo-Dheli, king of Orisa, magnificent lord of lords, shadow of God and son of the luminous stars, through the death of his brother and predecessor...
[End of Chapter 1]
*
Ganges: Bécquer seems to locate Cuttack much closer to the Ganges and the Himalayas than it really is (in fact, it is over 400 miles to the south).
Davalaguiri: i.e. Daulaghiri in Nepal, the world's seventh highest mountain.
Bermach: apparently the creator-god Brahma. (But Bécquer names him "Brahma" in his other Indian tale, "La Creación".)
Maurice Maeterlinck's Pelléas and Mélisande (1892)
[Image source: https://sibeliusone.com/music-for-the-theatre/pelleas-et-melisande/ . Photo: The Society of Swedish Literature in Finland (SLS). It shows a still from the 1905 production of Pelléas och Mélisande at the Swedish Theatre in Helsinki (translation by Bertel Gripenberg with incidental music by Sibelius). Mélisande was played by Gabrielle Tavastjerna and Pelléas by Gunnar Wingård.]
*
Scene 3: The vaults of the castle
Scène 3: Les souterrains du château
Enter GOLAUD and PÉLLÉAS.
Entrent GOLAUD et PÉLLÉAS.
GOLAUD.
Take care; this way, this way.—You have never penetrated into these vaults?
Prenez garde ; par ici, par ici. – Vous n’avez jamais pénétré dans ces souterrains ?
PÉLLÉAS.
Yes; once, of old; but it was long ago….
Si, une fois, dans le temps ; mais il y a longtemps…
GOLAUD.
They are prodigious great; it is a succession of enormous crypts that end, God knows where. The whole castle is builded on these crypts. Do you smell the deathly odor that reigns here?—That is what I wished to show you. In my opinion, it comes from the little underground lake I am going to have you see. Take care; walk before me, in the light of my lantern. I will warn you when we are there. (They continue to walk in silence.) Hey! hey! Pélléas! stop! stop!— (He seizes him by the arm.) For God's sake!… Do you not see?—One step more, and you had been in the gulf!…
Ils sont prodigieusement grands; c’est une suite de grottes énormes qui aboutissent, Dieu sait où. Tout le château est bâti sur ces grottes. Sentez-vous l’odeur mortelle qui règne ici ? – C’est ce que je voulais vous faire remarquer. Selon moi, elle provient du petit lac souterrain que je vais vous faire voir. Prenez garde; marchez devant moi, dans la clarté de ma lanterne. Je vous avertirai lorsque nous y serons. (Ils continuent à marcher en silence.) Hé ! Hé ! Pelléas ! arrêtez ! arrêtez ! (Il le saisit par le bras.) Pour Dieu !… Mais ne voyez-vous pas ? – Un pas de plus et vous étiez dans le gouffre !…
PÉLLÉAS
But I did not see it!… The lantern no longer lighted me….
Mais je n’y voyais pas !… La lanterne ne m’éclairait plus…
GOLAUD.
I made a misstep…. but if I had not held you by the arm…. Well, this is the stagnant water that I spoke of to you…. Do you perceive the smell of death that rises?—Let us go to the end of this overhanging rock, and do you lean over a little. It will strike you in the face.
J’ai fait un faux pas… mais si je ne vous avais pas retenu le bras… Eh bien, voici l’eau stagnante dont je vous parlais… Sentez-vous l’odeur de mort qui monte ? – Allons jusqu’au bout de ce rocher qui surplombe et penchez-vous un peu. Elle viendra vous frapper au visage.
PÉLLÉAS.
I smell it already;… you would say a smell of the tomb.
Je la sens déjà… On dirait une odeur de tombeau.
GOLAUD.
Further, further…. It is this that on certain days has poisoned the castle. The King will not believe it comes from here.—The crypt should be walled up in which this standing water is found. It is time, besides, to examine these vaults a little. Have you noticed those lizards on the walls and pillars of the vaults?—There is a labor hidden here you would not suspect; and the whole castle will be swallowed up one of these nights, if it is not looked out for. But what will you have? nobody likes to come down this far…. There are strange lizards in many of the walls…. Oh! here … do you perceive the smell of death that rises?
Plus loin, plus loin… C’est elle qui, certains jours, empoisonne le château. Le roi ne veut pas croire qu’elle vient d’ici. – il faudrait faire murer la grotte où se trouve cette eau morte. Il serait temps d’ailleurs d’examiner ces souterrains. Avez-vous remarqué ces lézardes dans les murs et les piliers de voûtes ? – Il y a ici un travail caché qu’on ne soupçonne pas ; et tout le château s’engloutira une de ces nuits, si l’on n’y prend pas garde. Mais que voulez-vous ? personne n’aime à descendre jusqu’ici… Il y a d’étranges lézardes dans bien des murs… Oh ! voici… sentez-vous l’odeur de mort qui s’élève?
PÉLLÉAS.
Yes; there is a smell of death rising about us….
Oui, il y a une odeur de mort qui monte autour de nous…
GOLAUD.
Lean over; have no fear…. I will hold you … give me … no, no, not your hand … it might slip … your arm, your arm!… Do you see the gulf? (Moved.)—Pélléas? Pélléas?…
Penchez-vous ; n’ayez pas peur… Je vous tiendrai… donnez-moi… non, non, pas la main… elle pourrait glisser… le bras, le bras… Voyez-vous le gouffre ? (Troublé.) – Pelléas ? Pelléas ?…
PÉLLÉAS.
Yes; I think I see the bottom of the gulf…. Is it the light that trembles so?… You … (He straightens up, turns, and looks at GOLAUD.)
Oui ; je crois que je vois le fond du gouffre… Est-ce la lumière qui tremble ainsi?… Vous… (Il se redresse, se retourne et regarde GOLAUD.)
GOLAUD (with a trembling voice).
Yes; it is the lantern…. See, I shook it to lighten the walls….
(d’une voix tremblante). Oui ; c’est la lanterne… Voyez, je l’agitais pour éclairer les parois…
Being more familiar with even older plays than Pelléas and Mélisande I couldn't help being reminded of the scene in Middleton and Rowley's The Changeling where Deflores takes Alonzo for a tour of the "full strength" of the castle in Alicante.
Unlike Alonzo, Pelléas gets out alive. Late the previous night Golaud ran across his half-brother messing around with Golaud's young wife Mélisande (III.2). He's thoroughly disturbed, but he isn't sure.
During the visit to the vaults Golaud tries to behave as the protective elder brother who talks seriously about serious things, with an underlying message to Pelléas about the need to grow up -- which means, taking care ("si l’on n’y prend pas garde") --, but his own feelings aren't entirely in control, and he twice feints at causing a fatal accident. Maybe he's trying out what it would be like to kill Pelléas. When Pelléas seems about to confront the signs of Golaud's inner disturbance (with the single word "Vous.."), Golaud goes into retreat, and allows Pelléas to lead them out of the vaults.
The half-brothers are doubles to some extent, their actions often shadowing each other. Golaud says (in his letter) that he loves Pelléas "more than a brother". (And he asks Pelléas to place the light to signal his welcome; thus unwittingly preventing his brother from leaving the castle; at least in Arkël's view.) Perhaps Golaud especially wants to show off his new wife to Pelléas.
It's Pelléas who keeps saying "Prenez garde" in the ring scene, and it's he who offers to hold Mélisande's hand when she leans over, he who acts as guide to the underworld in the grotto scene. When Golaud drags Mélisande around by the hair, we remember Pelléas playfully tying her hair to the willow.
*
In the dream-like world of the play, characters can merge. So can times; what is happening has already happened, what is going to happen is already happening now. So can places, for instance the play's two springs and this stagnant lake and the two lakes in the grotto. Over-definite interpretations are sure to fall short. But in the notes that follow I'll probably make some over-definite interpretations of my own.
Act I Scene 1: opening the castle gate. The servants.
At the castle gate, which for a wonder is actually opened. It signals something new: the start of a story, the arrival of a new and unexpected character (Mélisande). The maidservants (cf. V.1) recognize her as one of their own, simply because she's a stranger to the castle's ruling family.
Act I Scene 2: Golaud finds Mélisande in a forest.
Golaud is an unfulfilled hunter, prominent actor or non-actor in the sad fossilised world of this castle family: activity without change.
Mélisande's past. It basically mirrors her future relationship with Golaud; someone makes her into a princess, she is hurt, she escapes. That's her story. Golaud, appointing himself her rescuer, risks simply repeating the hurt.
Act I Scene 3. Arkël, Genevieve, Pelléas. Golaud's letter, announcing his marriage.
Arkël is nearly blind. He is wise so doesn't learn: he uses his feeble remaining authority to stop Pelléas leaving. Families cling.
Genevieve is the mother of Golaud and Pelléas, the daughter of Arkël, the wife of Pelléas' father who is supposedly on his deathbed somewhere in the castle. Despite all these connections Genevieve plays a very minor role in the action, disappearing after the next scene (except for offstage glimpses of her with Mélisande (III.4) and her husband (IV.1)).
Act I Scene 4. Looking at the sea; Pelléas and Mélisande beginning to converse.
Genevieve treats Mélisande as a mirror of herself, forty years on. -- But Golaud, making his second marriage (which he realizes may be called folly), does not seem to want just another steadfast castle wife. He gets his wish.
The ship that they see leaving (perhaps to be wrecked) is the ship that Golaud and Mélisande arrived on. Mélisande's anxiety registers her sense of being irrevocably here in the castle, now and forever.
Act II Scene 1. Pelléas and Mélisande at the spring: dropping the ring.
It would be over-literalistic to say that Mélisande lies to Pelléas when she says that Golaud "voulait m’embrasser…"; it's true that the text of I.2 doesn't suggest that he tried to kiss her, but she might well understand that he wanted to.
The spring water is deep. We are in a life where we cannot see to the bottom of things.
Act II Scene 2. Golaud injured; Mélisande's unhappiness. Golaud's agitation over the loss of the ring.
One finds blood in Golaud's vicinity, often his own (as here).
Mélisande makes her own vain request to leave the castle.
Act II Scene 3: Pelléas and Mélisande at the grotto at night.
We will find out later (IV.2) that Mélisande revisits the grotto in the day.
There is a famine in the land (but not the ruling family). It is acknowledged but there's an assumption that nothing can be done. Like the bottomless waters or the insufficient light, it images the conditions of everyone's life.
Act II Scene 4. Pelléas reiterates his plea to leave.
Pelléas has once more asked Arkël if he can leave the castle. The difference (compared to I.3) is that he has now met Mélisande. His request now (like Mélisande's in II.2) is about fleeing temptation; something that neither of them can say.
Arkël continues to argue against it. He says that meaningful activity consists not in undertaking "useless" journeys but in seizing opportunities here on one's own threshold. It seems to be just a debating point as none of the castle residents seem to seize such opportunities. (This, by the way, is the same Arkël who said that "there are perhaps no useless events"... (I.3)).
Act III Scene 1. Mélisande spinning, Pelléas, then Yniold, then Golaud.
Mélisande "file sa quenouille", that is, plies her distaff. Productions infer the presence of a spinning-wheel. The visual image suggests her domestic future, and also the threads of destiny.
The scene is outwardly peaceful, but both Pelléas and Mélisande are agitated: sexual tension, thinking that Golaud won't return tonight?
Pelléas's agitation comes out in his jumpy response to Yniold knocking at the door. Mélisande's agitation comes out in her less than honest denial when Yniold says she's going away. Yniold evidently caught some of her conversation with Golaud (II.2).
Yniold seems to intuit that the pair are already lovers. (i.e when he doesn't want to go to bed before Pelléas does.)
Pelléas and Mélisande weeping: frustration, when Golaud unexpectedly returns?
Act III Scene 2. Mélisande brushing her hair at the tower window: Pelléas, then Golaud.
For her song, see note on versions below. You could suppose that it's late on the same evening as the previous scene, since Mélisande is singing the same song (in the original text).
Pelléas, playing with her hair, entangling her. This evening both are courting an accident, like the earlier loss of the ring.
Alleging that her hair is more affectionate than Mélisande herself; maybe he refers to her refusal to give him her hand if he is going away. In the folded time of the play Pelléas is always going away, but never does.
Is the rose in the shadows that Mélisande sees actually the approach of Golaud, the man of blood?
Act III Scene 3 (text above). Golaud and Pelléas.
The castle vaults. Is the castle really diseased, tainted, accursed, as scenes like this one suggest? Yes, but not especially. As "Allemonde" the castle represents the life we all experience, with its questionable and unplumbable foundations, its absence of illumination, etc.
There are two opposed interpretations that depend on seeing Mélisande as coming from outside the castle; is she an innocent victim who is overcome by an accursed place, or is she a femme fatale who brings destruction to a tranquil family? Both interpretations are far too simplistic; neither can be entirely dismissed. But also, Mélisande represents the fairytale insight that we all feel like strangers to the wildernesses and dungeons of our own lives.
Act III Scene 4: Outside the vaults. Golaud and Pelléas.
A briefly mundane conversation, as if Pelléas is trying to bury the tainted vaults in oblivion and to recover a belief in safe normality.
Golaud gives his warning to Pelléas. Mélisande, Golaud says, is delicate, possibly pregnant. Golaud does not expect a response from Pelléas: his authority is enough. And if not... the threat is palpable.
Golaud characteristically notes the herds going to slaughter. Compare the sheep in IV.3.
Act III Scene 5. Golaud and Yniold.
Golaud is active now. First the diktat of authority, but also information gathering; he is insecure.
As in the vaults scene, he uses the excuse of stumbling this time when he hurts Yniold.
Yniold was already upset (III.1). Sensing Golaud's emotions, he doesn't want to say all that he fears himself. Even so, his answers wouldn't calm a jealous person. Pelléas and Mélisande quarrelling could be interpreted as Yniold overhearing impassioned conversation or even sexual ecstasy. When do they quarrel? When the door is closed (he says they quarrel about the door that won't stay open), when it's dark (he says they quarrel about the light), when Yniold is absent (he says they are afraid when he isn't there)....
In the last part of the scene Yniold says that Pelléas and Mélisande are standing apart looking at the light and waiting. Whatever this means, and whether or not Yniold is reporting truly, Pelléas is not following Golaud's instruction to avoid Mélisande (III.4).
Act IV Scene 1. Pelléas asks to meet Mélisande "tonight".
He reports his father's recovery and the advice to travel; he is leaving. Pelléas appears thrilled. Mélisande remarks "I no longer understand what you say" and she isn't the only one.
Pelléas mentions that there are now strangers in the castle. Their function is baffling, but it adds to a general sense of alienation: that the time of Pelléas and Mélisande being mournfully together is now over. And because it's over, it can and must become something else.
Act IV Scene 2. Arkël and Mélisande, then Golaud.
Arkël quite astray, and feebly replicating his grandsons' possessive attraction to beauty.
Golaud's violent abuse of Mélisande.
Golaud says he is not a spy (untruly), but his comment about "it is the custom" shows that he has an Othello-like honour killing in mind.
Mélisande begins the scene by saying she has not been unhappy, and ends it by saying she is not happy.
Act IV Scene 3. Yniold.
Yniold and the boulder, and the flock of sheep. The latter presumably going to slaughter (compare III.4).
Act IV Scene 4. A spring in the park: the same setting as II.1. Pelléas, then Mélisande, then Golaud.
Pelléas continues to show intermittent signs of joy: his jarring laughter. But the lovers' declarations, their passionate embraces, are hedged around with sadness, weeping and the imminence of death. They accept everything.
Act V Scene 1. The servants talk, and assemble for Mélisande's death.
The fifth servant's wise comment: "You would think they had all done it together". Golaud has tried to kill himself, unsuccessfully. Mélisande has been slightly wounded and three days ago gave premature birth to a tiny daughter. The servants understand that Mélisande will die.
Act V Scene 2. Mélisande's deathbed. Arkël, Golaud, the Physician, Mélisande, the servants.
Golaud's guilt. Golaud wants a certainty that Mélisande can't give him. He wants to know whether or not he was justified, but who can ever tell you that?
Mélisande is far away, halfway to another world. She appears not to know that Pelléas is dead.
Arkël says that it isn't Golaud's fault. By any usual assessment it surely is his fault. I can't help thinking that Arkël is mainly concerned with damage limitation. If preserving appearances means the family colluding in a lie, so be it. Make his one remaining grandson an outcast or a suicide, and then they really have nothing left.
(Golaud tells Mélisande that he's dying, but my impression -- like the Old Servant's in V.1 -- is that he's not in serious danger. Compare II.2: "I am made of iron and blood... These are not the little bones of a child...".)
Mélisande, 1895-98 painting by Marianne Stokes.
[Image source: Wikipedia . The painting is in the Ateneum Art Museum in Helsinki. Marianne Stokes (1855 - 1927) was an Austrian by birth, married to fellow artist Adrian Scott Stokes. ]
The names are broadly medieval and suggestive of a Franco-German sphere (e.g. Allemonde, the kingdom, which also suggests "the whole world"). When the play was premiered in 1893, Maeterlinck asked for the costumes to be in the style of Memling (German-Flemish painter, c. 1430 - 1494).
Pelléas or Pellès was one of the names of the fisher king (Amfortas in Wagner's Parsival). Another Pellias was a knight of the round table in the post-Vulgate cycle and in Malory.
Mélisande was an Old French name with Germanic roots (it became Millicent in English). E.g. Melisende the Queen of Jerusalem from 1131 to 1143. In Maeterlinck's 1899 play Ariane and Bluebeard (turned into an opera by Paul Dukas), the names of Bluebeard's other wives are taken from earlier Maeterlinck plays, and they include Mélisande: at the end of the play these wives (unlike Ariane) choose to remain with Bluebeard. (You would have to be extremely literal-minded to describe Ariane and Bluebeard as a "prequel" or to infer that at the start of Pelléas and Mélisande she has just escaped from Bluebeard -- who certainly didn't give his wives crowns to wear!)
Golaud is Golo in German. Golo was also the name of the villainous majordomo in the legend of Genevieve of Brabant (modern readers will most likely have encountered it via the opening pages of Proust). The (ultimately medieval) legend was apparently a popular subject for performance by puppet companies in the 18th century, which might be relevant to Maeterlink wanting his plays to be performed by marionettes.
*
Links to online texts (I can't vouch for their accuracy, but they'll give you an idea) and a simplified account of their relationship.
Pélléas et Mélisande (1892)
First published edition (1892).
Mélisande's song at the start of Act III Sc 2 is "Mes longs cheveux".
This was Maeterlinck's second revision since the original 1892 text.
Most significantly, Mélisande's song at the start of Act III Sc 2 is now "Les trois sœurs aveugles" (as it had been ever since the 1893 stage premier). (This song formed part of the play's English, German, Swedish and Finnish acting texts; hence Fauré's incidental music for an English production in 1898 -- translation by J.W. Mackail --, and Sibelius' incidental music for a Swedish-language production in 1905. -- translation by Bertel Gripenberg.)
Note that the first "e" in "Pelléas" no longer has an accent.
The French text as used in Debussy's opera, drafted in 1893-1895, with full orchestral score in 1898 and first performance on 30 April 1902.
He basically composed direct from Maeterlinck's 1892 text (no librettist), but he omitted four scenes entirely: As originally numbered, they were Act I Sc 1 (at the castle gate), Act II Sc 4 (Pelléas once more conceding to Arkël's wish for him to stay), Act III Sc 1 (Mélisande spins from her distaff; Pelléas, Yniold, Golaud), and Act V Sc 1 (The servants). There are also cuts from the other scenes, e.g. from Golaud's letter, Arkël's subsequent dialogue with Pelléas, the brothers' visit to the castle vaults and their emergence, Golaud's scene with his son, Yniold's scene at the rock...
Mélisande's song is "Mes longs cheveux". (As in the original 1892 edition, but not in any stage performances.) Maeterlinck complained bitterly, though rather unreasonably, about Debussy's failure to incorporate his later revisions.
The omission of V.1 means that the audience doesn't know about Golaud wounding himself, which must make his subsequent claim to be dying rather mysterious.
Maeterlinck's play was very successfully produced by Max Reinhardt in Berlin in 1903-04 (there were 57 performances). The incidental music was by Friedrich Bermann; apparently it does not survive. I can't find out anything about Friedrich Bermann, except that he wrote music for several of Reinhardt's productions.
Eija Kurki's very informative article on Sibelius's incidental music and on Scandinavian performances of Maeterlinck's play:
There was also a prelude to Act IV scene 2 (The scene that begins with Arkël sympathising with Mélisande, and ends with Golaud dragging her around by her hair.):
Maeterlinck's play also made it to Russia, in a translation by Valery Bryusov (1873 - 1924). However the 1907 production in St Petersburg, directed by Vsevolod Meyerhold with Vera Komissarzhevskaya as Mélisande, was considered a disaster.
An excellent production by Benjamin Lazar of Debussy's Pelléas et Mélisande (1902). Malmö Opera Choir and Orchestra, conducted by Maxime Pascal. English subtitles. (Pelléas: Marc Mauillon. Mélisande: Jenny Daviet. Golaud: Laurent Alvaro.
Arnold Schönberg's symphonic poem Pelleas und Melisande (1903), in a thrilling performance by the hr-Sinfonieorchester, conductor David Afkham:
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Golaud and Mélisande
[Image source: https://www.theatre-odeon.eu/en/pelleas-et-melisandre . From a 2020 production of Maeterlink's play by Julie Duclos for the Odéon Théâtre de l'Europe. Golaud was played by Vincent Dissez and Mélisande by Alix Riemer. Photo by Simon Gosselin.]
