C o urtesy o f M ltch ell K enn erley

L ORD DU NS ANY I N HI S SERVI CE U NIFORM DUNSANY THE DRAMATIST

EDWARD HALE BIERSTADT

N EW AN D R EVI SED ED I T I O N

WI TH I LL US TRA TI ONS

i ’ B c) s T O N

MP LITTLE , BRO WN , AN D CO AN Y 1 9 2 0 ri h 1 Cop y g t, 9 1 7, 1 9 19 ,

B Y L I T T L E B R O W N , , A N D C O MPA NY .

A ll rights reserved

Published O ct b er , o , 19 19

N orinootfi iflftés,

Set u and l tr t ed b S ushm d Mass . S. p e ec o yp y ! C g Co Norwoo , U A. TO L O U I S E

THIS B O O K I S DEDICATED ; F O R I T W A S HER HAND THAT FIR ST U NL OCKED FOR ME THE G OLDEN GATES OF

UN R AM CI Y OF W O N R AN I THE D E ED T DE , D T WA S SHE W H O FI RST L ED ME TH ROUGH THE W ONDR OU S STREETS T O THE

L ORD OF THAT CITY DUNSANY.

PREFACE

TO THE REVISED EDITION

’ AT the time this study Of Lord Dunsany s

r n m wo k was bei g written , com unication with Great Britain through the ordinary channels

and n n was so slow , Ofte so uncertai , as to be

m m r A e al ost prohibitive for y pu poses . dd d n m n to this , Lord Du sany was with his regi e t, and those to whom I should otherwise have written were so scattered that it was hardly in m I n feasible to get touch with the . this eventuality I fell back on the notes I had been ’ n making for several years on Dunsa y s work, and w s: or un te n I : a f t a also in findi g several members O f the original:gAbbey Theater Com

n re in as pa y who we America , as well others who kn ew Dunsany professionally and per

sonall r om es s s and m m e y. F th e ource , fro so n which need not be mentio ed here , I drew the scanty material for the sketch Of The

Vll P R E F A C E T O R E V I S E D E D I T I O N

Man m n in , knowing that it ust be pai fully n complete, but hopi g that it might be sufficiently accurate to convey some idea O f the personality n T n behind the plays a d tales . O assist i doing ’ this I included such O f Lord Dunsany s letters m as seemed to me ost pertinent, and in this edition I have added to these several others n n which also bear o the plays , and o the play ’ wright s method O f work . n The book having bee published , I asked Lord Dunsany to take a copy and make notes at his leisure O f any errors O f fact that he might n an n fi nd , and to comment upo y poi ts, as seemed advisable to him . At last the book ’ came back to m e with Lord Dunsany s mar m ginal notes , thus enabling me to ake full n corrections . I the Appendix I have changed n the text to correspo d with the notes, but in the body O f the book I have thought it would n 1: the be more interesti g ; £9 least , eif I le and not less valuabl stand , and simply included the ns in the in Preface , Lord ne I n this way all the notes havegone in , in o con manner or another, so that hereafter if I fess to error it must be that Of theory rather P R E F A C E T O R E V I S E D E D I T I O N than O f fact and in theory we are all fallible twice over . ‘ More than two years have passed since the

n O f k n h s s publicatio this boo , a d much a pa sed in m I n with them that ti e . the early Fall Of 1917 the writer sailed for France where his m f E . O A . im duties as a me ber the F . kept h well

an n occupied for the next year d a half . I spite O f being brigaded with the British it was ’ not the writer s good fortune to meet with n f Lord Du sany , although e forts were made as n m n opportu ities see ed to arise , o ly to fade

n n O W n i to nothingness agai . N we are o ce more at the beginning O f a new theatrical n n season , but under what different co ditio s .

The war is over , and it is expected that Lord Dunsany will make his long delayed visit to

m mn m s n A erica this autu . Under the circu ta ces it seems not unfi tting that a word Of intro duc

n n n s tio be added to this ew , a d revi ed edition O m k n n f y boo which , however u worthy , a d no one is more keenly aware Of both its sins O f

m ss n an O m n n o i io d f co missio tha the author , has at least survived long enough to welcome the subject Of its pages to the shores Of what he has excellent reason to regard as a friendly ix P R E F A C E T O R E V I S E D E D I T I O N

n n and an allied atio . With apologies for this

a n m apologi , which u der the circu stances seemed n advisable, I will turn to the otes themselves .

On page ten Lord Dunsany says

’ as at m Mo h r s a D n a It w y t e pl ce, u st ll Priory, hor ham K n ha s n m ar s o S e , e t , t t I pe t y e lie t y uth. It is h nk a mor a a han m n , I t i , e be utiful pl ce t y place i M a h and the nd o m n rs r a e t , wi w Of y u e y f ced the sun n on h s a s h n set. I me ti t i bec u e I t i k that O f those hills and s ns s m h the o in m e is u et uc Of p et compounded . As for n s a rs h nk was s h ew p pe , I t i it ju t t at they were “ ” considered m ore suitable for grown -up s than for Th n for a on m sm all boys . e l g ti e I never to ok to h n as ro reading them w e I w g wn up . B ut I thank ’ H a n d dn and so s a h r s e ve I i t , e c ped t ei tyle . I t was at Cheam School that I g ot most Of the Th B and ot to kno r . ible, g w it p etty well ere also I n E n was taught Greek before I we t to to .

Then as to the facsimile Of the letter which faces page twelve

I think that this letter must have been d one with a en h a mad m s as n do u f p t at I h d e y elf , I Ofte , o t o the feather Of some large bird I have shot ; and it looks m Bu h as if it was not one Of y successes . t t ere is r m k n an h n and n a pleasu e in a i g yt i g , eve certain rom ance in writing with a p en that has sailed on who knows what mysterio us j ourneys anywhere between the Equator and the Arctic . P R E F A C E T O R E V I S E D E D I T I O N

I said that Lord Dunsany was quite six ” feet two , and to this he replies :

N O six o r r s n , feet f u eve i ce I left Eton . I used to ’ s nd r o dn a m be le e , but I w ul t c ll yself so now . B efore this , however, in reference to his

working at night , he says

ha r s dom r n at n I ve ve y el w itte ight . Even if I e in a ro m h n n and g t l te f u ti g , that in the winter is o a o od d a T about six . I wr te g e l Of he Go ds Of the Mo n a n a sh one n h in L ond on ha u t i l ti ig t , but t t was M m for r n has n ar a a an exception . y ti e w iti g e ly lw ys n n tea and d nn r ha is nn n at bee betwee i e , t t , begi i g

o r om m s o n on as on as h . f u , and s eti e g i g l g eig t I n an for d as and o a r always fou d tea a stimul t i e , wr te fte tea for ha r n I n r sh d the ho r for t t easo , but eve ifte u ea ar h n h nk n s m an s to bad t e lier t a four, t i i g ti ul t be

out d e n n ho h on tea . Of u seaso , eve t ug ly

The remark that he was rather poor for a peer (I repel any accusation Of deliberate n alliteration in the phrasi g , but the thought n en is a bit nai ve I confess) o page thirte , Lord He Dunsany cannot subscribe to . says

o I sha h n n N ot yet . B ut no d ubt ll be w e we begi “ ” paying for breakages caused by The Kaiser while at large .

O n page fifteen the statement that Dunsany went with his regiment to Gallipoli was cor xi P R E F A C E T O R E V I S E D E D I T I O N rected in the Second Edition which he did not he m have at t ti e he wrote .

I as not at a o n k or rha s k w G llip li , u luc ily, pe p luc ily . “ I spoke O f the Dublin riots and Lord Dunsany makes the whimsical comment

’ o dn ha sa d ha h r s d r n I w ul t ve i t t eit e i e was ioti g . — However A rose by any other name would smell as

s . HAKE SPEARE weet S .

Of the lines quoted from his Intro duction ’ r n s L edwi e s to F a ci dg book Of verse, on page e n s n sixt e , Dun a y says

I am glad to rem ember that the lines you have o d ha as d S h n h s a r o no qu te ve ple e tep e P illip t ue p et , w d ead .

Many months ago the news came that n w e n Fra cis Led idge had b e killed in battle .

He n - s was twe ty six year Old . 1 O n page one hun dred and twenty-fi v e I made the comment : There is always one scene in King Argimenes and the Unkn own Warrior ’ for which we look from the very s an d n e T is out et, which ev r comes . his . me n O f n s Ar im enes n the eti g the two ki g , g a d ” ’ Darniak . Lord Dunsany s statement in refer n e is m n e c to this ost i teresting .

1 P 1 1 f age 5 O this edition. P R E F A C E T O R E V I S E D E D I T I O N

I had h s s a on o r na t i itu ti igi lly . Darniak co mes o n “ and nd s Ar im enes h H r . e r s o ut fi g t e e c ie , Another ” d s m hr n I ll hol y t o e . uriel has turned against me ! B ut when staged (after a fashio n) at the Abbey Theater the ensuing fight lo o ked so like a badly run fo otball ma h ha I a r d tc t t lte e it .

I hope that it will not seem out O f place to

dd m m an a to y criticis here , d to say that this

s s ne d aire scene , which I characterized a a ce f , demands that the two kings hold the stage

n n n s n alo e . It is a co test and co tra t betwee m n n n the perso ally, a d the very stre gth Of the

n s sce e lies in this . The addition Of the oppo ing armies , whether they are there all the

en mu time or whether they enter at the d , st to a very great extent nullify the value Of the scene itself. n I n the programme Of the English productio , and in that Of the first American production “ ” f n n O The Gods O f the Mountain , Lord Du sa y “ ” called the seven gods The Others so as not I n to give away the secret to the audience . n the Portmanteau Theater productio , all refer ence to the gods seems to have been omitted . n n n It is an unimportant poi t , but as Du sa y m m n . e tions it, it is included Fro the stand xiii P R E F A C E T O R E V I S E D E D I T I O N

n n m poi t of acti g , the gods have s all parts, and the players would doubtless not feel their omission from the printed cast ; on the other “ ” hand the phrase The Others seems calcu lated to arouse interest and anticipation by m its very ystery . Lord Dun sany mentions that he was present “ at the original production of The Tents Of the ” in and Arabs Paris , he includes the interesting “ information that both The Tents of the ” Arabs and The Golden Doom were refused

for T by Yeats the Abbey heater . An d that after “ ” having produced The Glittering Gate and ” King Argimenes and the Unkn own Warrior Finally Dunsany gives a list of his plays in

the order in which he values them .

Alexander The Laughter Of the Gods The Gods o f the Mountain The King of the Golden Isles ’ The Old King s Tale ’ The Queen s Enemies The Golden Doom A Night at an Inn

Cheezo

IUV P R E F A C E T O R E V I S E D E D I T I O N

The Ginger Cat Fame and the Poet Argimenes The Tents of the Arabs The Lost Silk Hat

' The Glittering Gate The Murderers

It is a strong temptation to hesitate here

mm n on n long enough to co e t this list, a d it is probable that some Of us might be disposed

’ to take issue with the author s valuation o f

T an ns his work . Only ime c give the true a wer , and Time is very busy these days in making

s history , which seems a rather futile pur uit m n after all . But it ay be questio ed whether “ “ The Laughter of the Gods is as fi ne as The ” Gods O f the Mountain ; and whether The ’ ” “ Queen s Enemies is a better play than A “ Night at an I nn and even whether Argi “ menes is to be rated over The Tents of the m Arabs . Such a list will always provoke uch argument , and we all cannot hope to agree

e either with the author or with each oth r . Such a valuation usually has no importance in itself , but only through the person who XV P R E F A C E T O R E V I S E D E D I T I O N

in n n gives it, but this i sta ce it is O f real sig in n nifi cance both itself, and i the deductions to which it gives rise . Just a little more as to the material that has The been added . schedule showing Lord Dun ’ sany s work for the year 1912 is of peculiar n n in i terest, especially whe considered conjunc n tio with the letter which accompanied it . We are able to see evidence of the extraordinary

n n an rapidity with which Du sa y works , d we n see likewise the reaso for this rapidity . It is m not easy to hold a ood . This same letFer gives us the reason for the seemingly haphazard “ ” n n compositio of Alexander , a d suggests to in us , so far as the collaboration which failed is m concerned , that , as a friend amusingly re arks, Padraic Colum may yet give us a play about ” The Late Clitus so that we shall be in the

long run the richer for the failure . Though “ ” I have now read Alexander in manuscript mm I have offered no co ent of my own, as the play has as yet neither been produced nor

published , but what its author has to say Of it is quite enough to whet the curiosity of the very many who follow his work with such a

keen and eager interest . xvi

P R E F A C E T O R E V I S E D E D I T I O N

m f of opinion . Probably not any o us will im in h . believe with this I Offer the suggestion , n however, that his feeli g in this regard throws not a little light on certain qualities to be found But in his work . any deductions that are permissible the reader can best make for him self . A letter written to me a year ago while I was away, and therefore never acknowledged by me , n throws some light, I believe, o the point of “ ’ view from which to regard The Queen s En ” ” m not emies . While I a ready to subscribe to it wholly as yet I think that Mr . C . Brewster Morrison ’ s suggestion is at least sufficiently tenable to warrant consideration . Mr . Morri “ ’ son writes in part : Doesn t it seem to you ‘ ’ ’ that The Queen s Enemies is pretty good psychology from the point of view of one of ’ ‘ William Blake s pictures of Hell ; The weak ’ ’ in courage is strong in cunning ; and didn t ‘ Montaigne write that cowardice is the mother

’ o f cruelty ; and that this malicious sharpness and inhuman severity is commonly accompanied ” with female remissness ! While I am not quite prepared to swallow all this at the one gulp I am perfectly ready to afford anyone P R E F A C E T O R E V I S E D E D I T I O N

else the opportunity . It seems to me reason

able .

I t m or s is always a ore les open question ,

especially in a book of this type , whether it is “ ” better to nurse it by trying to keep it up to date in so far as that is possible or to let it stand unchanged until the time comes for another

on work the same subject . It has seemed to me that it would be more useful to the general reader in the present instance if some attempt were made to include new material as it became n t n accessible . I have o e deavored to revise the book from the standpoint Of criticisms

of in m which have been made it , because any instances those criticisms have been too foot

n o n m n ling , a d have proceeded from t o u i porta t and unkn owing a source to be considered

n r seriously . I neither hope o expect that every one will agree with me in my estimate Of Lord

’ n s n Dunsany s work . I ca exp ect to plea e either those fatuous ones to whom anything short of

s a p salm of undiluted praise would be libelou , nor those who are at once to o feebly cautious , and to o limited in vision to praise any living

TO u e author other than faintly . the tr e lov r of Dunsany who is neither the victim O f infatua xix P R E F A C E T O R E V I S E D E D I T I O N tion nor of hypercriticism I have tried sincerely T to appeal . hat is the Objective point of this m n ad ittedly i adequate volume . If I have fallen

of m on m o short the ark my sins are y wn head . The world today is very tired . Almost it seems as if there were to be no end to the wars n still raging between nations, a d between classes

f For o society . the moment we are rid ofpoison gas, and have graduated to bombs ; we have progressed from organized war to guerilla war fare among ourselves . We cry peace, but there n no : is o peace ; rest, but there is rest we look I n for beauty , and see only blood . I some wise Lord Dunsany Offers us a release from all this

‘ h e horror . ll er is a time at which actuality n n becomes too unbearably pai ful to endure , a d when that time comes we turn to the creator of “ ” The of , and the Tales , Gods the Mountain of the other plays as to the the keys, ! ! keeper in the gardens of wonder . ! If we had known

' ' fsooner and had believed in him , some portion of the present chaos been avoided ; as It is he comes like a ew Moses to lead us out of the blackness of our own lives

r lst 1 91 9 Septembe , . ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I T is with pleasure that I acknowledg e here my indebtedness to Stuart Walker for valu in able material used this book, and for photo graphs Of those of the Dunsany plays which T were produced in the Portmanteau heater . Miss Alice Lewisohn has also placed me under Oblig ations by permitting me to use r : her pictu e of Lord Dunsany, as well as by The aiding me with certain material . Neigh borhood Playhouse has provided me with pic M Kennerle tures , as has itchell y, and to them too I am indebted . H It is throug h the courtesy of Sam ume , Director of the Arts and Crafts Theater O f

Detroit, that I am able to use the picture ” showing The Tents of the Arabs in pro duction . The set for this play was designed

Mr H . by . ume and is especially beautiful

XXI A C K N O W L E D G M E N T S M T . o . Padraic Colum , and to J Kerrigan, I am oblig ed for information about the Dun for sany plays , and material concerning Lord Dunsany himself which I trust they will not reg ret having g iven ! And to my friend B H s for arrett . Clark I expres my g ratitude

- his never failing patience , and kindly thoug h somewhat caustic criticism This is a long list of acknowledg ments for be so small a book , and rightly the list should ff even long er . I have no excuse to O er, but in explanation I sugg est that a certain num “ ” ber of accomplices before the fact are sometimes highly to be desired . B E. H. . CONTENTS

I THE MAN

II HI S WORK

III HI S PHILOSOPHY

IV LETTERS

APPENDICES

L I S T O F I L L U S T R A T I O N S

The Toff deceives the Priest into thinking he A h at I is dead . N ig t an nn m h ’ The Queen welco es er guests . The Queen s Enemies

h ’ The Queen reassures er guests . The Queen s Enemies

Bel- Narb and Aoob before the gates of the T T o the Arabs city . he ents f T Agmar tells the one who doubts to go . he Gods of the Mountain

Agmar tells Slag to have a prophecy made. The Gods of the Mountain

n an s o n M a and Du s y Ca tle , C u ty e th, Irel

Argimenes at last mounts the throne of Dar n r n and the nknown iak . King A gime es U Warrior DUN SANY THE DRAMATI ST

DUNSANY THE DRAMATIST

THE MAN

FO R s n about the la t quarter ce tury, or from the time when Ibsen began to come into his

of own , the history literature is at one with the

s f Th hi tory o the drama . e great literary artists of this period have nearly all chosen the dra matic medium , and , though they have not con

n m an m n fi ed the selves to it exclusively by y ea s , the more notable of their works have found

ss in The n n e n cen exp re ion this form . i et e th tury was un deniably that of the novel ; the twentieth seems to be quite as unmistakably that of the play . I n those countries where the drama assumed proportions of a national movement the develop: a its ment was for the most part gr dual , scope T widening as its intensity increased . here are defin ite reasons why the dramatic art should D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

tend toward national expression in a greater T degree than any other of the arts . he most fundamental reason may well be that the drama

is part and parcel of the art of the theater, and

- that the theater is the great co operative art .

- n CO operation , in theory at a y rate, is our inheritance from the last century ; there is hardly a phase of life where its influence has not become evident in a greater or less degree, but in the arts there seems to be but one logical T outlet for the trend . hat outlet is the theater, and the spirit Of co -operation has perhaps been one of the greatest factors in instilling a new and increased vitality into the theatric and dramatic n arts . It is stra ge , and yet not so strange, that one of the least co -operative countries on n earth should have felt this i fluence so keenly . T n n his cou try is Irela d , and it is perhaps be cause of the hyper -sensitiveness of the Irish people that they reacted so sharply to an ele ment which was in reality foreign to them . And it is again perhaps because that element was alien that‘ Ireland having reached a pinnacle of greatness permitted the movement to decline

n n s u til ow it seems to have little besides a pa t . The inherent inability O f the Irish to co -operate 2 T H E MA N

s succes fully over an extended period of tim e ,

one was , however , but of the factors that brought

n The about the cha ge . great war, and that rising among the intellectuals in Ireland that soon followed it, were fatally destructive ele ments, if only in the dreadful loss Of life which n Bu they e tailed . t Ireland has contributed n her share , and more tha her share , to the great

dramatic movement that has swept the nations . 1 8 9 9 . B It was about that W . Yeats and Edward Martyn inaugurated the Irish Literary T in n heater Dubli . At this time Lord Dunsany T was in the ransvaal with his regiment , for T the Boer war had just started . hat is doubt less one reason why we do not hear of him until the Irish literary movement had been under in n way for some years ; indeed it was 1909 , te ” The years afterwards, that Glittering Gate , ’ n Dunsa y s first play, was produced at the Abbey

Theater . There is no necessity to recapitulate here the history of the Irish Literary Theater or the Abbey Theater Company as it finally n became That history has already been wri tte .

s Great names are connected with it Yeat , “ n n Moore , Martyn , Hyde , A . E . Robi so , n Ervine , Shaw, Colum , Lady Gregory, Sy ge , 3 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

n and Dunsa y have all had their share , as well as n n m many others , in developi g a natio al dra atic literature which has spread its influence over n Th the entire E glish speaking race . e drama so generated and developed was a direct reaction n n n agai st the drama fathered by Ibse , a d yet to a certain extent there is a superficial resem n h bla ce between the two . T e form is the same T certainly, and so also is the terminology . hat is , we have people who are true to life speaking B lines which are equally true . ut the philos h n f op y, the poi t o view which was brought to n m bear o the work was essentially dissi ilar . This has been summed up well and succinctly by Edwin BjOrkman : Observation and imagination are the basic n f m pri ciples o all poetry . It is i possible to conceive a poetical work from which one of them is wholly absent . Observation without imagination makes for obviousness ; imagina n n tion without Observation turns into no se se . ’ What marks the world s greatest poetry is perhaps the presence in almost equal propor

n of of n B tio s both these pri ciples . ut as a

fi n one O f m n n rule we d the predomi ati g , and from this one-sided emphasis the poetry of the

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

n statistics are not always interesti g, but they n are Often necessary, a d so let us try if we can come so close to the man as to understand and appreciate his plays and his point of View a

little better . ’ Lord Dunsany s family name is Edward John

Moreton Drax Plunkett, or it might be more cor rect to say that those are his Christian and his n H B family ames . e is the eighteenth aron ofhis n n n li e , a d his ame and ancestry are said to be

the third oldest in Irish history . In 1899 he

succeeded to the title, and to the family estates T in Meath . hese estates comprise many acres of n n n the most historic la d in Irela d , a d within sight of Dunsany Castle rises the great Hill of T in n n B i 7 a . n ara, famous so g d story orn 18 8 , Lord Dunsany was educated at Eton and n n m H Sa dhurst , a d then entered the ar y . e saw active service with the Coldstream Guards Af n during the South rican war, a d there is a faint memory of the hardships undergone at “ this period in King Argimenes and the Un known Warrior when the slaves cry for the ’ T bones of the King s great dog to eat . here was a time in South Africa when there were not even bones . It is interesting too to observe that 6 T H E MA N

’ Dunsan s n H un Lord y u cle is Sir orace Pl kett , who laboured so long and earnestly to introduce the idea of co - Operation in agriculture among n in n the peasa ts Irela d . It was Sir Horace “ ” m ’ . . s fi e who took A E fro a clerk Of c , upon ’ mm n n n Yeats reco e datio be it oted , to send him as ambassador among the rural classes in

“ ’ ” n and nn n of E Irela d , this was the begi i g A . . s career . Somehow one always comes back to B t . u n Yeats now I must return to Dunsa y .

His family, by the way, are said to be of n n n in Da ish origi , a d to have settled Ireland

n sometime before the Norman co quest . Per haps that is one reason why his gods are not the gods of Irelan d ; one reason why there m is a strain of northern mysticis , weird , m n n indefin able, and i placable withal run i g through his work . It must have been about 1 902 or 1903 when we first find mention Of Dunsany in connection n with the literary movement in Irela d . George “ He E . Moore remarks in speaking of A . , was Offered some hundred s Of poun ds by Lord but he no t Dunsany to found a review , had

n s n n n . time to edit it , a d propo ed Joh Egli to ‘ ’ Contrairy John wanted to see life steadily, D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T and to see it whole ; and Yeats came along ‘ n an : with a s eer, d said I hear, Lord Dunsany, that you are going to supply groundsel for ’ ’ h E s n . T e A . . ca aries sneer brought the An project to naught . d so the review was not founded . Nevertheless this must have ’ been Dunsany s initial entrance as a patron

His of art . first published book was issued in 1905 , but his first play did not appear until ” The 1 909 , when Glittering Gate was put T “ on at the Abbey heater, Dublin . King Argimenes and the Unknown Warrior fol f lowed in February o 191 1 at the Abbey, and “ the next June The Gods Of the Mountain H T went on at the aymarket heater, London . ” Then came The Golden Doom at the Hay 1 12 market in November Of 9 , after which it was played successfully through a number of Rus “ The sian cities . productions of both The ” Gods of the Mountain and The Golden ” Doom were entirely successful , the first so B much so that William A . rady, the American n producer, brought the productio intact from

the Haymarket, except as to cast, and put it

on in Buffalo , New York . It failed promptly for reasons which will be taken up when we 8 T H E MA N

n come to consider the i dividual plays . This of 1 12 h was in the summer 9 . T e next produc “ of The H tion was that Lost Silk at by B . n n in f Iden Pay e at Ma chester August o 1 913, n n 4 . 1 1 duri g the repertory seaso there In 9 Mr . “ ” Philip Carr gave The Tents of the Arabs its

first production in Paris, and in the same year ” The Glittering Gate was put on at the Neigh borhood Playhouse , New York , to be followed “ “ ’ by A Night at an Inn and The Queen s

” l Enemies in 19 16, all at the same theater . These last two plays have not as yet had an

n T n of 1 916 English productio . hus the seaso n m was a splendid one for Dunsa y in A erica , for “ ’ at the same time that The Queen s Enemies was put on at the Neighborhood Playhouse , “ ” n Kin Ar imenes The Gods of the Mountai , g g ” “ The n and the Unknown Warrior , and Golde Doom ” were staged by Stuart Walker in his

Portmanteau Theater, which may be said to T n and Thalanna for be of New York , ientsi , , The it is a traveling theater . productions of the Dunsany plays were most beautifully Dun done, however , and all New York was

1 A more detailed history of these p roductio ns will be found in d x the Appen i . D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

n T sany mad on the i stant . hat is roughly ’ f Duns n the history o a y s dramatic career .

It covers only eight years, but surely those eight years have come to a most wonderful fruition . ’ Lord Dunsany s style is at once the wonder and admiration Of his contemporaries ; wonder at its sheer, limpid beauty, its melodic charm n sometimes his li es are perfect hexameters, reminiscent of Homer in their colour and beat and admiration of the artistry with which he

" “ " ” " useS the material that has been given him . This style seems to have been due in some part to a process Of rather involuntary elim i n inat on . During his youth at Dunsa y Castle he was never allowed to see or to read a news paper lest he become contaminated by the

His filth circulated in the daily press . books n were watched over as carefully, a d for many years no style seemed to him natural but “ that of the Bible . I feared that I would never become a writer when I saw that other ” n people did not use it, said he in speaki g B of this period . With the ible he was per ’ ’ mitted Grimm s and Hans Andersen s fairy

tales, and soon afterwards he was able to 1 0 T H E MA N recognize his like in the splendour of the f literature Of the Golden Age o Greece . This

n n n has remained , I believe , his stro gest i flue ce , affecting both his manner of expression and his The . of point of view lovely imagery the Greeks, of n and the pure melody their li es , are reflected in his style, and in his philosophy may be found man in his relationship to the gods or to the cosmos even as it was in the olden , golden ” evenings of Euripides !, To be the best pistol shot in Ireland is no u n small boast , but it is one that Lord D nsa y

He n can make if he so wishes . is a kee cricketer

of too , and has been captain his County Club

for in team . Often he is Off all day the saddle ,

on for he is a good horseman , and these days his writing is done in the wee, small hours . m Altogether Dunsany leads the life Of the nor al ,

- out of healthy Anglo Saxon , loving the doors , and rejoicing greatly in it all from the warmth n of the sun to the glisteni g dew, and the cool T splendour of the moonlight . here is not a morbid bone in his body and that is why , when I hear him compared rapturously with Strind m He in berg , I am forced to s ile . is happy f and and his friends, and in his wi e little boy , 1 1 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

only desires to be allowed to remain so . Lady

Dunsany is the daughter of Lord Jersey . She is intellectual , and she is attractive, perhaps charming would be a better word though it is somewhat overused , and for the purposes of the present sketch it will be enough to say that she is an ideal wife for such a husband . Pic ture to yourself Lord Dunsany and his guest Bernard Shaw sailing paper boats in the pond at Dunsany Castle , and see whether you too cannot get the eternal spirit Of childhood which makes such a scene not only possible but keenly pleasurable to the participants . Did you never sail paper boats, and would you not like t o do it again ! ’ f D ns n As I said , much o u a y s work is done at night, and , it is an infinitely small point ne but an amusing o , it is all done with quill of pens , a large supply which he keeps before him . I remember when I first saw a letter from him I wondered whether he used a brush as the

Japanese do . It seemed to me that nothing n i else would make such great li es . H s work is not methodical ; he does it when the fit is on him , and there is no reason why he should t not, for he is no only independent of the public 1 2

T H E MA N e conomically, but mentally and spiritually as

. for well Yet he is eager praise , as who is ! not who has respect for his work He is in of tensely desirous being accepted by the public , of having others love his gods as he does . And

yet appreciation has come to him slowly . His

r own n fi st book was published at his expe se , i and even the illustrator was paid by h m . I saw a first edition of this book the other day

listed at fifteen times the original retail price . Publishers seemed to think that a “ Lord had not to think of money, yet Lord Dun sany is

F r not rich as such things go nowadays . o a poet he is without doubt fabulously wealthy, n but for a peer he is rather poor . O e O f his

n n s chief characteristics is his i te se eagernes . This quality is apparent in his attitude toward

everything ; his work , his play, his desire for

appreciation , and his whole outlook upon life

as a whole and in particular . Eager is a very n for good word to use in that con ection , it conveys in some wise that nalv eté of which it

n is an esse tial part . n It is said , even by his frie ds , that Lord

Dunsany is the worst dressed man in Ireland . “ one of n He looks , remarked these frie ds , 1 3 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

’ as if he d stood there naked , and had his clothes m hurled at him , leaving the wherever they ” n happe ed to land . I may be wrong , but I n believe this stateme t is slightly exaggerated . However In appearance Lord Dunsany is tall , quite six feet two , and rather slender, with fair hair, and kindly eyes from which the won

not der has yet vanished , and with the most exquisitely sensitive mouth in the world . Was n T it ot horeau , by the way, who said : Who am I to complain who have not yet ceased to ” ! n wonder Lord Du sany is like that . His attitude toward his title of Peer as well as his title of Poet is immensely characteristic f n o the ma . Though he is the eighteenth Baron of his line his dignity has lost none Of its freshness for him in tradition ; rather it has gained . Strangers meeting him for the first time sometimes go away feeling that he is m too haughty for the , but they do not under stand . He is haughty, and he is proud when the occasion warrants it , but it is never the

e haut ur or the false pride Of a snob . It is m n f of n si ply his absolute se se o the fitness thi gs . It is as if he said what is the use of having a ’ title or Of being a poet if you don t get all the 14 T H E MA N

! fun out of it that you can The attitude of a

m rs of n s all boy toward his fi t pair lo g trousers , or of a girl toward her first lover is entirely But similar . perhaps the best comparison is to say that Lord Dunsany and Don Quixote are

a one very ne rly and the same . TO kn ow that he is a Baron with centuries Of tradition behind

s s him , to realize that his great e tate are a his in n n n toric lan dmark Irela d , a d the above all — to be a Poet into the bargain what more could the heart of small boy or Dunsany him self wish for ! And how he must enjoy it all ! Lord Dunsany is an Imperialist of the I m

eri lists n p a largely, I thi k , because it satisfies n n on his sense of roma ce . O ce a time Lord

n an Dunsany was candidate at the electio s , d his joy passed the bounds of enthusiasm when he n not in found that he was beate . Politics do terest him except as they serve to complete the H m m n picture . e sees hi self as a ro a tic , a feudal m is figure , and because he does so see hi self he

e n f on is on . But his poi t o view all this that of n the joyous child playing with glitteri g toys , and seeking new worlds to conquer over the “ ” n e n in Manaliv e sa d hills . G . K . Ch sterto , ,

’ drew Dunsany s picture for once and all . 1 5 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

At the beginning of the present war Lo rd Duns any was Captain in the 5th Ro yal Innis killin g Fusiliers . Until he was woun ded in the Dublin riots ’ he was stationed in Londonderry i n m en nt a n s wh ppi g i o sh pe for the tre che ; then , e m 1 1 before l aving for the front in Dece ber, 9 6, he w i rin as, for a t me, in b arracks recove g from his

I n his o m n . w wound c pa y as Francis Ledwidge, the Irish poet whom Dunsany himself disc ov

. L w O f t of ered ed idge is p easant s ock , a p oet the s an his oil , d the b eauty of lyrics might perchance have b een lost to the world had it not been for ’ Dunsan s in nt s y k dly i ere t . It was Dunsany ’ who wrote the Introduction to Ledwidge s first

s in his n n is book of ver e , and t I troductio a p as sage which in its summing up Of Ledwidge sums up Dunsany hims elf so well that I shall quote it here .

f r o h r are tw o kin ds h O pu e p etry t e e , that w ich mirrors the beauty Of the world in which o ur bod ies are and ha h h i ds the m or m sterio s k n , t t w ic bu l e y u i g d o ms h r o ra h nds and a r and ns , w e e ge g p y e f i yl beg i , h o d s an d h ro s at war an d the s r ns s n n wit g e e , i e i gi g s and A h o n d own to the d arkn ess rom Xanad till , lp g i g f u . M L d us the firs k n d r . edwi ge gives t i .

n es s n And Lord Du nsa y giv us the eco d . ’ It was for Yeats that Lord Dunsany s first 1 6

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

Now while comparisons are said to be odious they are at the same time Often enlightening , and it may not be amiss to compare in a general way these three men who stand at the top of the great literary movement of the day . Dunsany and Yeats are alike in that they both are more interested in ideas than in people . Therein lies at once their strength and their n weak ess . Of the three Synge was the only one who knew poverty and misfortune in plenitude ; his whole life was such as to emphasize the

ns human element, as the lives of Du any and Yeats have been to make this element Of less

T . account . hey have lived in a dream world A poet considers things and people in three in ways in their relation to themselves , their n relation to each other, a d in their relation to T in the whole . he greatest poet is he who his work is able to see and to express things in all ’ n s three ways . Sy ge weakness lay in the fact that as a rule he saw people in their relation to themselves and to each other, but not in their n relationship to the whole scheme ofthi gs . It is “ only in one play, his greatest , Riders to ” the Sea , that he achieved and made plain this triple relationship , and that play alone marks 18 T H E MA N a height to which no one of his fellows has n m yet bee able to cli b . Riders to the Sea is one of the great masterpieces of modern “ drama . George Moore rated it below The ” Well of the Saints because it was less Of the soil , which is to say less local , but that which Moore pointed out as its weakness is in reality its strength ; that is what makes it akin to the m n Greek dra a , its realizatio of m an in his

of m n relation to the cosmos , his i pote cy , and f “ o the great cosmic implacability . Riders ” to the Sea is , however, an isolated example ’ e s of this quality in Syng work . Yeats and Dunsany err on the other side : their outlook m m n m is almost entirely cos ic, a is re oved n from man , and is considered only in refere ce

r to the gods , the fairies, o whatever it is that represents the whole . A poet must have his m head in the clouds , but his feet ust be touch Th ing on Mother Earth . e feet Of both Dun sany and Yeats are Often striding through the

T s skies where mortals cannot follow . hi is n n much less true of Du sa y , who achieves a far

s better balance in his work than Yeat , but it is sufficiently true of them both to b e defined et as l n . S n a imitatio y ge, with both !g hard D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

on the ground , thrust his head for a moment through the upper air and in that instant m achieved i mortality .

In style, which is to say beauty and clarity of n expression , there ca not be much doubt but

that Dunsany stands alone . Since William n Morris no such E glish has been written . It in is this regard that Yeats becomes Obscure, n n and Sy ge occasio ally colloquial . Moore in “ speaking of Yeats remarks that he attempted in a joke, but it got lost the folds of his style . Unfortunately too many of his ideas have been nn Hi lost in that same ma er . s style is rich ,

but it is rarely clear ; whereas with Synge, his B style is clear, but it is not always rich . ut n with Du sany, his style is both rich and clear T beyond desire . here is nothing that he can not say, and in the saying make more beautiful or i more dramatic than can another . H s great est thoughts as well as his smallest are all

expressed so simply, and yet so exquisitely that

a child can understand and feel the sheer beauty . T n his here is a music , a d a magic harmony in e lines that no other living writer can imitat . From a dramatic standpoint Synge and s is Dunsany are very fairly matched . Yeat 2 0 T H E M A N so much less a dramatist than a poet that it is

f n him in s di ficult to co sider thi connection . Through the work Of both Synge and D unsany one finds errors Of dramaturgy side by side n n with mag ifice t examples of perfect structure . “ ” It is probable that Riders to the Sea , masterpiece though it is , would have been better

one n in two acts than in , a d it is certain that “ ” King Argim enes and the Unknown Warrior would have been a better play in three acts than “ n in two . On the other ha d , I n the Shadow ” “ ” of the Glen and A Night at an I nn are well nigh perfect one act plays so far as construction T n is concerned . hey might well sta d by them n f selves as a criterio o excellence . For some time past it would be fair to say that the point of view Of the literary artist

n one was e tirely microcosmic , and that is rea son why we hail Dunsany with such a sense of

n n . relief, eve Of quiet a d Of gratitude Yeats too has attempted to bring us closer to the great n heart of things , but his fairies a d heroes are ’ of n Dunsan s uni local origi , while y gods are n T im versal if they are anythi g . his was the mense advantage Dunsany achieved in creating his own mythology ; he was not bound by place 2 1 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

n or time, a d the only associations his characters have are those of the infinite . His expression is universal in the broadest sense , and upon the theory Of universality is founded the philos M n h . a of op y Of art becomes tired himself, and fatigued with his fellows , and when this time comes his only peace is to be found in his n n relation to the i fi ite . A part becomes sated n with itself or with a other part, but upon the n But whole it may feed eter ally . I fear that

i n n in my own des re to clarify I have o ly co fused , and that from the philosophy upon which art is founded I have wandered almost into meta n n physics , so fai t is the dividi g line between n them . It is o ly a critic who is so foolish as to try to explain the beautiful or to think that it can need explanation . HI S WORK

I T will be well now to take each of Lord Dun ’ sany s plays in turn and see what may be gained by a brief analysis of its structure and of its meaning , and in so doing let us take them chron

i ll f r n in olog ca y, o to list them at o ce the order of their importance would be to anticipate the work at hand .

THE GLITTERING GATE

i n a and the m the The scene s a Lo ely Pl ce , ti e

Present . The L onely Place is strewn with large black rocks and

- A t n reat ro usion . uncorked beer bottles, the latter i g p f back is a wall of granite built of great slabs and in it the

T e doo s o old . Gate of Heaven . h r i f g

B elow the L onely Place is an a byss hung with stars .

re im The two characters of the piece a ! ,

or is and B w lately a burglar , f he dead , ill , like ise ’

of on r . deceased , who was a pal Jim s ea th 23 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

was n an B l was Jim ha ged d i l shot , and the

e n marks Of th ir rece t ordeal are still upon them .

n e n ! im has bee d ad the lo ger, so that he is B n him n there first . ill fi ds uncorki g empty

n e n n m beer bottles e dl ssly a d throwi g the away ,

n an n s on O f H n as he e ters d k ock the Gate eave . Each time that ! im fin ds him self deceived by the empty bottles faint and unpleasant laughter

m s m i is heard fro o ewhere n the great void . Bill recalls to ! im the little things of their life

u im em m n together and grad ally ! r e bers . Fi d ing the great door imm ovable before him Bill recollects that he has still with him his old ” - e so he jemmy , nut crack r , with it tries to H drill Open the huge Gate of eaven . Jim takes little interest in the endeavour until sud T d enly the door b egins to yield . hen they both give them selves up to imagining all the wonders that will confront them on the other side O f the

B s m closed door . ill is ure that his other will

n ! m n s e - be there , a d i thi k Of a y llow haired girl whom he rememb ers as a bar - maid at Wimble

n s n r o e an d o . Of a udde the d ill g s through d

sw n s s w n n e the great door i g lo ly ope , a d th re

e is nothing ther but the great blue void , hung n with twinkli g stars . 24

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

m - rounded by e pty beer bottles , fitting symbols of their material life , and hounded by the

i B mocking laugh of Nemes s , ill and Jim can only vent their spleen In a last bitter outcry

The n against the eternal . Old a d endless bal n f a ce O things is achieved , and the law is ac m co plished . The play is open to several interpretations n and therein lies its greatest weak ess . The issue is not clearly defined and it is only in the ’ light of Dunsany s other work that we are able to attempt a logical elucidation . A mythol ’ ogy such as Dunsany s presupposes a certain element Of fatalism when man comes in contact m with the cos ic force . It must be remembered too that Dunsany is a great imaginative genius , have Fn ot deplored his lack of interest in man as related to man ! and that imagina

tion is a wholly mental quality . Any emotion we get from Dunsany is not one based on human

attributes for the most part it is purely aesthetic,

a rapture at the beauty of his conceptions, and n f the at his man er o expression , or a terror at

immensity and grandeur of what he shows us.

Herein he is at one with the Greek dramatists, and this attitude on his part has been laid 2 6 d P l hoto h t t d io C o rt e y o f N eig h b o rhoo yho P b y W i e S u . u s a use THE G L ITTERING G ATE r The gate O pens and there is nothing the e

H I S W O R K down by Aristotle as a law of tragedy centuries T ago . hat is why we find so little human sympathy shown in his treatment of Bill and How Jim . easy it would have been to have made this play a maudlin diatribe ! But ’ Dunsany s point Of view on the problem is i n n purely d spassio ate , e tirely that of an artist — and an aristocrat ! And after all the little

not n s play must be take too eriously . It has a story to tell , and with Dunsany the story T is paramount always . here is no need to

n s attempt to read in a hidden mea ing . Yeat might have written the play and if he had done so we should doubtless have had a second “ ” version of The Hour Glass or something n n n of closely akin to it . I deed the i flue ce ’ Yeats on this first play of Dunsany s is not to be ignored . Dramatically The Glittering Gate leaves

n s es much to be desired . It most certai ly furni h f an excellent example Of the law o surprise ,

and it even provides suspense , a much more

no t s vital element, and one which is alway to ’ How n be found in Dun sany s plays . Ofte it has been said that a dramatist must no t keep ! anything from his audience A genius may 2 7 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

n do all thi gs, and as a rule Dunsany prepares us for his surprise so effectively that in the very

an preparation element Of suspense is created . It is interesting to observe that Dunsany here avoids an error which marks a weak spot in two of his later and bigger plays ; that is, he does n n not attempt to bri g the gods o the stage . The mocking laughter i s much more mysterious n a d terrible when its source in unknown . h Th n T e dialogue is excellent . e la guage that the two dead burglars use is perfectly natural and in character, albeit the situation n n is grotesque . This very i co gruity is highly T too dramatic in itself . hrough the dialogue, , n n n ru s a vei ofge tle irony , as there does through every Dunsany play . Each character is devel n n n oped alo g i dividual li es . Jim is frankly a — cynic ; Bill is more trusting but Jim has been dead the longer . Th In dénouement the play is masterly . e climax is led up to without hesitation and when the moment comes the blow is struck with

T . 0 deadly accuracy . hen the play is over N “ further time is wasted in past regrets or future ” on fears . It is not a very good play the whole, but considering the circumstances under which 28 H I S W O R K it was written it is beyond question an extra ordinary play . I think it is a better play ’ than The Queen s Enemies which was written much later and which was successful in produc “ ” But The n tion . Glitteri g Gate will remain ’ always one of the least popular Of Dunsany s f r plays , o while the dialogue , the humour , the n characterization , the dé ouement are all done n n well and with infi ite fi ish , the purpose of n the play is undoubtedly vague, and o matter how capable it is of elucidation its lack Of clar ity detracts from the force of the piece . It

The on could not be otherwise . play depends the Situation and upon the dialogue to hold the interest of the audience ; there is no actual of immedi opposition to the characters , none the ate and personal conflict for which the modern To audience has been taught to look . some ’ people this will always be a lack in Dunsany s

not n i plays , but they could have bee wr tten The in any other way and written as well . impotency Of man is much more strongly shown when he is placed in conflict with a gigantic indefi nable force ; as soon as that force suffers ’ n n embodiment , it is brought dow to ma s level ,

and the whole conception is destroyed . 2 9 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

The Glittering Gate stages well , and acts

- well ; it is very short even for a one act play, but its lack Of d efi nitiv eness keeps it from being classed with the later and more forceful work ’ Of the author . None of Dunsany s plays could be described as robust ; they are too delicate , n a d too full of finesse for that , but The Glitter ” ing Gate is not even vital . And notwith it standing all that, is a most extraordinary play .

KING ARGI MENES AND THE UNKNOWN WARRIOR

The action opens in the slave fields of King i k Ar im Darn a , where King g enes, a deposed and captured monarch , is working with the slaves . King Argimenes has just finished the bone he was gnawing and laments that he has nothing more to hope for . Zarb , a slave , envies him his beautiful memories, for he himself can recall nothing better than the fact that he once went for a full year without beatings . He tells ’ Argimenes too that the King s great dog is ill and that they may soon have more bones .

im nes on of a Arg e left alone goes digging, until sudden he comes on a great bronze sword left

there long ago by some unknown warrior. 30

H I S W O R K

He of Offers a prayer to the spirit the departed , and conspires with Zarb to rebel against King i him Darn ak . Zarb tells that now he has a sword , and such a sword , the slaves will

an believe he is a King d will follow him . Ar gimenes creeps Off to where the slave -guard are k n seated with their bac s to the diggers , intendi g to kill the guard and arm the slaves . As the curtain falls one sees the slaves all huddled together watching Argimenes stalk the slave o guard , and at the very last a great gasp f T wonder goes up from them . his scene is very remarkable . From the time when Ar i n g menes makes his intentio apparent to Zarb , to the fall of the curtain the action O ff stage is as clearly shown as that before the audience . n Argimenes creeping through the sa d hills , and then showing himself on the horizon line as he plunges downward to the attack is as clear before us as the slaves themselves as they watch and listen in awe and agony . The second act is in the throne - room of King in Darniak . The King is seated all his glory on his throne with his four lovely Queens beside

I lluriel him . O n his right is his idol , , with an ’ - The n idol guard in front of him . Ki g s Over 31 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

n n n seer bri gs plans for a new garde , a d they are n n n discussed by the Ki g a d Quee s . A hill must be removed , terraces made , and the slaves must be flogged that the work be accomplished n more quickly . Power and selfish ess are very n T clearly and amusi gly depicted . hen a Prophet m co es in to prophesy, and the Queens com ment caustically on the cut of his hair while

n The the King co verses aside . Prophet warns n them of the approachi g doom , of an enemy within the gates , but there is no one to give n him heed . Whe he stops, the King in a bored tone , and without listening to him , bids him

The an continue . Prophet goes out d the King n and the Queens go to the ba queting hall . The idol -guard ruminates on the prophecies n f and feels a se se o disquietude . A great h noise of fighting is heard without . T e slaves

an - rush in all armed d overpower the idol guard , throwing down I lluriel and breaking him in T seven pieces . hey go back to face the rem

n rni nants of the palace guard , a d Da ak rushes in from the feast to fi nd his idol fallen and his

He f throne broken . goes back in an e fort to

flee , for he knows that his doom is upon him . The slaves reenter with Argimenes at their 32 H I S W O R K

Ar imenes head . g takes his place on the throne , n a d throws a cloth of gold about his shoulders . He looks the King he is and the slaves bow n before him in awe and wo der . Suddenly the ’ Keeper Of the King s Great Dog comes to say I n that the royal beast is dead . an instant Ar gimenes forgets that he is a King once more ” f B s ! and with a cry o one he rushes forward , T followed by the slaves . hen , recollecting him

and n self, he returns to the throne , with dig ity ’ commands that the King s Great Dog be “ ! ” buried . Majesty cries Zarb , confounded at this last token of royalty . And so the cur tain falls . It is unquestionable that the first act of this n play is immeasurably superior to the seco d .

n an The first has a unity, a direct ess , d a force n n which the second lacks , breaki g as it does i to

r several phases of action . F om the time when King Darniak goes with his Queens into the ban queting hall to the entrance of Argimenes n n and the slaves there is a mome tary i terlude , n n and just here the act breaks , splitti g i to

two sections . I n the last half of the act the n entrances and exits are not carefully arra ged , and altogether the effect of the whole is to give 33 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

the act a downward slant rather than the up i h “ ward one that t should have . T e play falls

Off at the conclusion . This is all due simply T and solely to faulty construction . his was the first play Dunsany attempted in more than

e on act, and hence it must be regarded some i n m what as n the nature Of a experi ent . Prob ably the play would have been better written f Th in three acts instead o in two . e first act in that case would show King Darniak on his throne with the Queens and the Prophet ; in short it would contain the material now used f in the first part o act two . The second act would be the present act one just as it now stands ; and act three would be composed of what is now contained in the second portion of T act two . hus we would see the splendour Of i Darn ak on his throne , hear the prophecy, and n n mark his inatte tio to it, after which we would get the contrast of Argimenes ln the slave fi elds, followed by the revolt, and the over

D rni k T throw O f a a . his revolt would follow ’ immediately and logically upon Argimenes

- T slaughter Of the slave guard in act two . here is little question in my mind but that this is the proper construction for the play, 34 H I S W O R K

It may be well to take up here a question which has arisen concerning the acts or scenes f o . the Dunsany plays When William A . ” Brady produced The Gods of the Mountain in America he called it upon the programme “ T ” A One Act Play in hree Scenes , whereas

Dunsany himself calls his divisions , acts . When “ ” King Argimenes an d the Unknown Warrior “ ” and The Gods of the Mountain were pro duced by Stuart Walker in his Portmanteau Theater he had no hesitation in using the term “ ” But acts . Of late the point has again arisen so that it seems desirable that we pause long enough to investigate the matter more deeply . A play is a series of minor climaxes leading to major climaxes which in turn lead to an

m - ultimate cli ax . A one act play is a series of minor climaxes leading to one major climax which is in itself the ultimate climax . A three-act play has the major climaxes near the f n end o each act , a d the ultimate climax near the end Of the second act or during the third . A four or five act play is susceptible to the n same course of reasoni g . I fear that my phraseology is somewhat involved , but I have striven to be exact . D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

Let us try this dictum on King Argim enes ” and the Unknown Warrior and see whether or

n Be n not it will sta d the pragmatic test . it u der stood that these major climaxes are as a rule placed at such points in the action as will n n n T te d to divide the play co venie tly . his n n is merely a co ventio of the dramatic art . ’ ns n s n m Du a y acts are shorter tha is custo ary, but that does not invalidate their claim to be

in f r n m called acts the least, o acti g ti e has nothing to do with the question , except as it might tend to produce lack of balance B n and unity . roadly speaki g, acts are nat ural divisions produced by emotional or in tellectual climaxes . In the first act of the play under immediate discussion the minor climaxes are the finding

n of Of the sword , a d the coming the Overseer , m “ ” both leading to the major cli ax, the Oh which the slaves give as Argimenes slays the n guard . In the seco d act the Overseer , the

n ofAr im enes estruc Prophet, the entra ce g , the d n n tion of I lluriel, the ree tra ce of the Overseer, ’ the incident of the King s Great Dog with the “ ” cry Of Bones ! all lead to the ultimate climax, where Argim enes orders that the dog be buried 36

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T in the first act Of King Argimenes and the wine song or the chant of the nobles in the n second act are both i teresting . When the play was first given at the Abbey Theater one of the Old songs of famine time was used for

n f n an the cha t o the low bor , d most effectively . It is immensely typical of Dunsany to have these two songs balancing each other, and

n The presenting so forceful a co trast . play begins and ends with the thought of bones n uppermost, a d this gives a certain sense of unity in contra -distinction to the otherwise

I n Ar im n faulty structure . g e es there is a “ superficial resemblance to Agmar in The Gods ” of n in the Mountain , a d Zarb there is a faint f prophecy o Slag in the same play . This does ’ not argue by any means that Dunsany s charac ters are all types , but it indicates how his char r one acte s developed , growing out of another . This play should dispose finally Of any theory that Dunsany develops his plot at the expense of men his characters . See how Argi es, fallen n almost to an animal, regains his i dividuality under the influence of the sword , and how the

slaves, from being mere whipped curs, rise to the point of revolt under the leadership of 38 H I S W O R K

i nes Arg me . Observe the study of meanness

n n n of i a d selfish ess in the sce e Darn ak, the

n and an n Quee s , the Overseer , d the bli d igno rance depicted in the following scene with the H Prophet . ere is a social study for us if we An care to heed it . d then the reversion to habit in Argim enes when he hears that the ’ Do King s Great g is dead , and his cry of with the awe and wonder of the n slaves at the rei stated monarch . It is a most excellent bit of character work on rather broad lines . As might be expected the gods have n their share in the proceedi gs , and the fact that the god of Argimenes was only broken in f D r iak I lluriel three pieces while that o a n , , was broken in seven , is made to serve as a

’ The s partial raison d etre for the action . la t act furnishes a splendid example of peripetia i n of in the fall of Darn ak, a d the victory Ar

s gim ene . King Argimenes and the Unknown Warrior n is almost a good play . It prese ts a problem of m an as opposed to man as most of the other n in n of Dunsany plays d o not, a d co sequence

this the conception is much less poetic, with

none of the grandeur of some of the other plays . 39 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

n On the other ha d , the fact that we are dealing with purely human elements permits more n n visible oppositio and direct co flict, and for this reason one occasionally hears the play placed much higher in the scale than it deserves to be . In its characterization , its dialogue, n its flashes of poetry a d of wit, the play is well n n in n worth serious co sideratio , but its co cep n n f tion , and in the faulty co structio O its frame work it falls far below the standard set by the ’ major portion of Dunsany s work .

THE GODS OF THE MOUNTAIN

The first act is outside the wall of the city n of Ko gros . In the dust three beggars are seated who lament their poverty and that the “ divine benevolence Of man is not what it T A mar fol used to be . O the three comes g A r lowed by his servant, Slag . gma is a very h n great beggar . T e story of his adve tures is n n told by Slag , a d a practical demo stration

of his cleverness is given as some citizens pass .

The other beggars all fail to receive alms , but Agmar by his pitiful aspect and deep groans

- moves the passers by to compassion . A scheme 40 H I S W O R K

must be devised to retrieve their fallen fortunes . O ogno suggests that they enter the city as n ambassadors from a far country , a d Ulf seizes n m upon this with e thusias . Slag , however, not n says that they do know his master, a d that now they have suggested they go as am

r n bassado s he will suggest that they go as ki gs .

A r n n gma , who has been thi ki g , betters even H this and says that they will go as gods . e tells Of the seven green jade idols seated on the

’ mountain of Marma a few days ride from the

n and city . Those gods are very pote t here ,

A m r the beggars shall impersonate them . g a n sends for a Thief , a d tells him to fetch some green raiment , and he sends also for another The beggar to make up the quota Of seven . n A mar green raiment comes , a d g distributes n u it among the seven , telli g them to disg ise

n of themselves . The co clusion this act is par ticularly fine , presenting as it does a splendid n n climax to the actio , and a most e lightening bit of pure characterization .

a h ar a o f o r o ur ra s . ULF . We will e c we piece it ve g

s es sha o ok fi ne . O O GN O . Ye , y , we ll l is no t the wa ha sha d s s AGMAR . That y t t we ll i gui e ourselves . D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

t o r our ra s ! O O GN O . N o c ve g Th r o no . e s h AGMAR. N , fi t w o lo oked closely “ T s re n T h a o ars . would say, e e ly begg hey have dis ” guised themselves . ha sha d o ! ULF . W t ll we Ea h of the s n sha r AGMAR . c eve ll wea a piece of r m n u d r hi r An the green ai e t n e neath s ags . d p erad venture here and there a little shall show through ; “ nd men sha sa Th s s n ha d s a ll y, e e eve ve i guised them B kno n selves as beggars . ut we w ot what they be r m s m s r SLAG . Hea y wi e a te . d r t i N . i a mi a ion He s r O O G O ( n ) a begga .

i an r . ULF . He s Old begg a It is Ulf who voices a fear that what they are

an m to do may be regarded as i pious act, but him Th Agmar quiets . e curtain falls on the n last speech give above . Act two is in the Metropolitan Hall of the

City of Kongros . The beggars are seated in a n n n n m circle a d the citize s are questio i g the . Agmar with the aid Of Slag succeeds in d eceI VI ng them into a half-hearted belief that the beggars n A m ar are the gods . Whe doubt is raised g so frightens the citizens that meats are brought A mar as a sacrifice . All the beggars except g T n eat hungrily . o the citize s they eat like n n A mar hungry me , but whe they see that g A r abstains they wonder . gma says that he, H I S W O R K

of the eldest the gods , never eats , leaving that to the younger gods who have learned the bestial habit from the lions . And again he

ol intimidates the citizens . W d ery wine is n brought as a final test , a d Agmar taking the on bowl pours the wine the ground . The citi zens are amazed not so much by what the man n does, but by his dignity and the man er Of the n T n doi g . hrough his very acti g Of the part , Th he is growing godlike . e citizens retire

n A r n a d gma eats , posti g Slag at the door as

n unn n an m senti el . One comes r i g d de ands

The the god who will not eat . following scene ,

n n one the concludi g o e of the act , is of the most

remarkable in dramatic literature .

NE Mas r m h d was n in the hro a O . te , y c il bitte t t - S ar him m as r he by a d eath adder at no on . p e , te ;

s s o . still breathe , but l wly nd d o r h d ! AGMAR . I s he i ee y u c il

NE is s r m h d m as r. O . He u ely y c il , te r n to h ar him in his AGMAR . W as it you wo t t w t he w as and s ro n ! play , while well t g

NE n r h ar d him m as r . O . I eve t w te , te h s h d is D a h ! AGMAR . W o e c il e t

NE h is the h d of the o d s . O . Deat c il g u ha n r h art d o r h d AGMAR . DO yo t t eve t w e y u c il ! in his pl ay ask this of the g o ds D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

’ om r r O NE . (with s e ho ro , p erceiving Agmar s mean ing) Master ! l n . F r l h AGMAR. Weep ot o a t e houses that men have builded are the play-fi elds Of this child of the gods .

The Man oes awa in silence not wee i . ( g y , p ng )

O O GNO . (taking Thaku by the wrist) I s this indeed a man !

an n n AO MAR . A m , a ma , a d until just now a hun gry one.

Is not this scene beautifully builded ! As Agmar talks he gradually assumes the aspect of a god , for his imagination reacts upon him ff until he seems to shake O his earthly guise . Then on the departure of the Man or as it is usually played to give better effect, a Woman he slowly recovers himself in his repetition “ n of, A man , a man bringi g himself back to earth and to a realization of his position . Agmar is but a leader of beggars ; he would n have been a great prophet, a captain , a d a for H leader of men but one thing . e is wholly lacking in that spiritual quality which prompts Ulf to voice his fear that the gods will be angry at their impersonation . Agmar is a mental giant, an imaginative genius, but this great void in his nature is to undo him . 44

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

gods are still seated in their thrones at Marma . They are not there ! Their shrines are empty ! The gods are indeed come from Marma ! The citizens are reassured and retire to prepare a feast for the beggars whom they now believe Th to be the true gods beyond all question . e

m a T beggars are d w ith j oy. hey are saved . n A mar n n O ly g wo ders . Somethi g has come n H to pass which was u foreseen by him . e saw the seven gods there at Marma as he passed

n He n n . H by ot long ago . ca not u derstand e represents the wholly mental element as O ogno an no and Mlan represent the physical , d w some thing has happened that his intelligence cannot e f compass . Ulf t lls o a dream he has had

in which there was a fear . Ulf is the one who is susceptible to spiritual instincts ;

he may be said to be the prophet O f the gods . Suddenly a frightened man runs in and throws H himself down before them . e implores them n n n ot to walk at ight arou d the city, and he describes how they appeared to him and to — n n n n . others all gree , and bli d , a d gropi g Th n n n e beggars cannot u dersta d , but they begi

A n s on to wonder . gmar ow feels his gra p the situation slipping from him . He feels the 46

H I S W O R K presence of some force which is superior to — I him and he fears . n spite of this he re and him n assures the man sends away , but whe the other beggars ask for explanations he can m T not give the . here is the sound O f a heavy , n n measured tread approachi g . Ca it be the dancing girls who walk so slowly and with

‘ such an ominous soun d 7 Ulf springs to his feet and permits his fear to cry aloud they have been impious and retribution will over

m His an take the . fears shall cry aloud d shall

The run before him like a dog out of the city . m n n n great steps co e earer . Seve huge sto e n gods enter , a d despite the efforts of the beggars to escape they are held by some mysterious power and are unable to resist .

(The leading Green Thing p oints his fi nger at the — hen the six are lantern the fl ame turns green . W seated the leader p oints one by one at each of the seven

rs shootin ou t his ore n er at them . A s he does begga , g f fi g this each beggar in his turn gathers himself back on to his hi ri ht arm oes sti l u throne and crosses his legs, s g g fi y p re n er erect and a starin look o horror ward with fo fi g , g f I n thi attitude the be ars sit comes in to his eyes . s gg

motion less while a green light fa lls up on their faces .

The gods go ou t. ) t r the Citizens some with victuals and (Presently en e , ’ ’ O ne tou ches a be ar s arm and then another s . fruit. gg ) 47 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

Th are o d h ha rn CITIZEN . ey c l ; t ey ve tu ed to stone . h lv reh d h (A ll abase t emse es, fo ea s to t e floor. )

e ha d o d m . e ha d ONE . W ve ubte the W ve oubted Th ha urn d to s on a s them . ey ve t e t e bec u e we have d oubted them . Th r h r ANOTHER . ey we e t e t ue g ods .

r he r d . ALL . They we e t t ue go s It is probable that there has never been a

i n n i I n n n play more g ga tic tha th s co ceptio . The fatality which Dunsany shares with the m Greek dra as is here in its most perfect form . “ B The of h bri As Mr . jorkman remarks , crime y s ’ which to the Greeks was the unforgivable sin is here made as real to us as it was to

Five of the beggars are purely physical , and they are shown as wholly subservient to the great intellect Of Agm ar ; they themselves have nothing of the mind or spirit ; they care for

n an n an n n . nothi g but food , d wi e , d da ci g girls

A m ar n n an g is a other Nietzsche ; he is all brai , d his limitations are those of the fallible human n n i tellige ce . Ulf is a prophet Of the spirit, but his mind is not strong enough to combat that of Agmar even though his instincts rebel n agai st the projected imposition . But all through the play his forebodings warn us of 48 H I S W O R K

n the approachi g peril . It is only when Agmar comes in contact with the spiritual essence , the

divine force , that he is frustrated and ruined . Here is something Which he did not consider T and could not account for . hat which is beyond and above the grasp of mere mind has crushed him with an ease and implacability T which he could never foresee . hroughout the play I have pointed out how from time to time

n s Agmar seemed to rise almost to divi e height , “ ” n m n His but it was never more tha a see i g . f m n f divinity was a matter o i agi ation , and o cold logic ; it never rose above the stratum of H on the mind . ence when he is at the last c m fronted with that which he tried to i itate, n his whole structure is shattered in an i stant . “ The old saw that you can fool a man with a ’ ” o stuffed dog , but you can t fool a d g is very applicable to the relation between the citizens H n and the beggars . uma ity is fallible ; only n the gods are om ipotent . By the foregoing it will be seen that I have “ read no little symbolism into The Gods of ” n n m s the Mountai . It is not o ly per is ible

but even inevitable that this should be so , but still I feel called upon to defend my position 49 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

’ in the face of Lord Dunsany s oft repeated statement that his plays have no hidden mean n ing . A writer is Often wholly u conscious Of He what lies beneath the surface of his work . may tell a story and see nothing himself but the story, and yet that portion of him which is apart from his objective consciousness may n n have written heavily betwee the li es . It is one here that must step in to interpret, a dan

r s of n ge ou task and full pitfalls, strivi g to de duce from the more Obvious import the under n lying a d subconscious motive . The Gods ” of the Mountain taken only as a tale fulfills its purpose splendidly, but it is quite fair to take it as more than that, provided only that in our f o to e f rt interpret we do not misconstrue . ’ Several of Dun sany s plays are distinctly sym oli b c in character, but the symbolism is wholly n u conscious, and therein differs from the d elib erate of one symbolism such as Maeterlinck . With Dunsany the symbolism arises from the story ; with Maeterlinck the story arises from m the symbolism . It is si ply a difference in of f point view, but this dif erence is vital . From a standpoint of dramatic technique the play is almost perfect . The plot is unified 50

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

T is of stage . his a matter applied psychology, n n and of stage mecha ics . O e can imagine much more terrifying things than one can con struct . When the gods are merely talked of, when they are only heard , and when their presence is but suggested , the imagination will conjure up a picture much nearer to that which the artist desires to convey than when we i i actually see the gods in person . It is mp oss ble so to construct them as to present a really n n adequate sense of illusio . Giga tic and gro tesque as they are they will always fall far Short of what they ought to be . This comes of try in m g directly to e body an abstract force . It n n ca not be done . It is like tryi g to bring Truth B m or eauty before us ; it is i possible . True T B we can symbolise ruth and eauty, and just

here we are provided with a point of escape . n The gods ca be symbolised . Very well, then , and how shall such symbols be manifested ! When the Dunsany gods come on the stage the criticism is usually that though they are obviously not men they partake too greatly h of the human element . T e only way to

avoid this is to make them more so ; that is, to make them more like Man than men them 52 H I S W O R K

m selves . In the sa e way the Venus de Milo n n m is more like Woma tha the average fe ale . They must not be something different because they cannot be made different enough ; hence ! they must be simply the same , only more so not of It is a question realization , but Of idealiza tion . In my Opinion by far the better plan would be not to attempt to bring the gods on the stage “ ” The at all . Glittering Gate illustrates this T perfectly . hen while everything would be done to suggest , nothing would be done to satisfy n the suggestion , and the imaginatio would be own left free to spin its texture Of immensity . Realization always falls short of expectation ; nothing really is as terrible as we think it is n going to be , a d so it is by all odds best to rest

em i content with the thought , sure that the bod n ment would be no more than disillusio ing . With this one exception The Gods of the ” Mountain is a practically flawless play . And be it noted in this connec tion that it is not the

s dramatist who is at fault in thi , but the man of no t n the theater , and Dunsany does prete d to be that . ’ This play is the only one of Dunsany s which

in n and has had a failure productio , that failure 53 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

has since been notably retrieved . When H William A . Brady brought the aymarket production to Buffalo it failed . There were two reasons for this . First, the bill consisted of two plays of which The Gods of the Moun ” tain was the second , and the bill was far too

n The lo g . audience did not leave the theater n n u til almost midnight, a d no play could be

expected to succeed with such a handicap .

Next , the production was very inadequately rehearsed , so inadequately in fact that the gods are said to have fallen over each other as they made their entrance . I simply desire to point ’ out that Dunsany s one failure has been through no fault of his own . “ If The Gods of the Mountain were a second “ Hamlet ” we should have the back

in for of ground sketched each the characters, giving us a personal interest in their problems ’ which is now somewhat lacking . Agmar s tragedy would be almost unbearable if we had a deep personal interest in him . It is man in his relation to the gods and not to himself or to his neighbour which we are called upon to

Observe, and so the personal touch , the human T element , is not there . here is something greater 54 H I S W O R K

there , but it is not enough . If the two lesser re

uirements one is q were fulfilled as the greater , the play would be perhaps one of the greatest in all dramatic literature . As it is , it is a masterpiece . The plot advances to its conclusion with utter

n inevitability, punctuated by the forebodi gs of

n m s s Ulf, who s iffs the approach Of Ne e i as

fl in h s m f a trained dog c e at the s ell o death . It is impossible to praise the play too highly

The n in this connection . characterizatio is f n clean cut and vivid , the lack O backgrou d accounting for the fact that the outlines of

m s the personalities are so ewhat over harp . They have to be in order that they may stand

n se out properly . Dunsany has ever surpas d ’ in his dramatic writings the poetry of Ulf s wailing warning of their doom in the last act .

n the Agmar too has in several places , otably n n n end of act two , wo derful magic lines , poig a t and bitter sweet with beauty .

THE GOLDEN DOOM

’ The scene is outside the King s great door m in Zericon, and the time is so e while before 55 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

Tw n the fall of Babylon . o se tries guard the door and talk meanwhile of the heat and the

- T cool of the near by river . hey talk also Of one f the great King , and o them feels a sense of menace as if some doom hung heavy . A star has fallen , and that may be a Sign . A little h boy and girl come in . T e boy has come to r pray to the g eat King for a hoop , but he can not see the King so he prays to the King ’ s door

Instead .

’ n s o r n B OY. Ki g d o , I wa t a little ho op .

The girl tells of a poem she has made and h then proudly s e recites it .

I saw a purple bird Go up against the sky And n and it We t up , up,

And round about did fl y.

di . B OY. I saw it e ’

T n n . GIRL . hat d oes t sca ’

B . h h do n m r. OY O , t at es t atte

’ Th n e King s Spies cross the stage, a d the girl is frightened . The boy tells her that he will ’ n write her verses on the Ki g s door, and at this she is greatly delighted . And so he writes the n n verses, appe ding the last li e he added . The girl again protests, but the line is written . 56 H I S W O R K

The sentries have hardly noticed the children , but now they hear the King coming so that they drive the youngsters away . The King n n comes with his Chamberlai , a d as he nears

n on He the door he sees the writi g it . ques tions the sentries but they say that no one has been near the door ; it does not occur to them

The to mention the children . King fears that

The this writing may be a prophecy . Prophets of the Stars are summoned and are commanded to interpret the prophecy of the writing on ’ T n the King s door . hey can ot do so , but each o ne silently covers himself with a great black

cloak , for they believe the prophecy to be a He h m n . doom . T e Chief Prophet is su mo ed reads the writing and says that the King can be no other than the purple bird , for purple is royal ; he has flown in the face of the gods The an d they are angry . It is a doom .

He King offers a sacrifice . says that he has done his best for his people ; that if he has neglected the gods it was only because he was concerned with the welfare O f his subjects on

n earth . The King a d the Chief Prophet dis and n cuss the most suitable sacrifice , fi ally ’ decide that the King s crown as a symbol of 57 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

Th n his pride shall be Offered . e Ki g asks only that he m ay rule among his people un n m n crowned , a d i ister to their welfare . So the crown is laid on the sacrificial block before ’ n n the Ki g s door , a d as the night comes on and it grows dark so that the stars may be seen, n everyo e goes away .

r d B OY . (enters from the ight, dresse in white, his ’ ’ tle r n K n s d o r K n s d o r hands out a lit , c yi g) i g o , i g o , I ’

n o . u o e wa t my little ho p (He goes p t th King s door. ’ When he sees the King s crown there he utters a satisfi ed)

- u u t u O O h ! (He takes it p , p s it on the gro nd , and, r t beating it before him with the scep t e, goes ou by the way that he entered . ) (The great door Op ens ; there is light within ; a furtive A o S p y slip s out and sees that the crown is gone. n ther T e r u S p y slip s ou t. h i cro ching heads come close to gether. ) r Th FIRST SPY . (hoa se whisp er) e g ods have come !

(They run back through the door and the door is closed . I t op ens again and the King and the Chamberlain come through. ) Th r e s a s are sa d . KING . t tisfie

n SO the play e ds , on the high note, the major chord always . ’ The play like others Of Dun sany s represents n f n n the expressio o a abstract idea , a d that ne idea not a particularly dramatic o . Again 58

H I S W O R K

we have the cosmic , the godlike viewpoint ,

’ n an n detached , imperso al d vast . A Ki g s crown ’ and a child s hoop are weighed against each in other the scale , and are found to be of equal

n in m of n importa ce the sche e thi gs . We learn

n m that it is not always the great thi gs , but so e times the smallest things that overthrow whole m n m n in kingdo s , that prophets are by o ea s fallible, and that the gods may speak to us through the mouth of a child . “ ” m ns The Golden Doo is well co tructed . It builds from the very outset to a triumphant

B k n n . conclusion . ut it lac s oppositio , co flict Man is neither opposed to man nor even to

no t the gods . A sacrifice is made ; will does n assert itself but bows to the i evitable . As a

s n of an study of a situation , as the expo itio

m s e but idea the play is in its way a a t rpiece , the fact that the forces which are suggested in the action are not contending thins the piece from a purely dramatic standpoint . It is the poet rather than the dramatist who speak s in

se The Golden Doom . It may be ob rved too that it is no personal problem with which n we are confronted ; it rarely is with Dun sa y .

n n r We do ot feel , o is it desired that we should 59 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

n of n m feel , a se se perso al sy pathy for the B oy praying for his little hoop , or for the King lay on ing his crown the sacrificial block . It is n in Boyhood in the mass , nay, eve the abstract with which we are called upon to sympathise ; it is the idea of Majesty which we are asked to in n pity . It is Man the co glomerate whole with which we are dealing ; not an individual man . It is necessary that this should be well understood , for it is one of the basic principles ’ n n mm of Du sa y s work, and it is su ed up when I repeat that he is more interested in ideas n n n tha he is in people . It is ever a isolated individual problem which he attacks ; it is rather some one question which is peculiar

to humanity as a whole . It is interesting to observe that while Dun sany does not provide conflict in this play he n n does provide the ext thi g to it, contrast,

n The a d that in a most effective manner . whole episode of the children played against the background of royalty with its spies and m n h n its prophets is im e sely ironic . T e poi t

of View of the child , too , with its perfect and n wholly unconscious logic, becomes delicious whe placed in juxtaposition to the complex outlook 60

" D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

feel the force of its suggested terror . From n then o we wait, sure that a crisis of some kind

is at hand . As I said , the play ends on a major

chord , but it does even more than this ; it

ends at the very moment when it should end , neither too soon nor a moment overtime . This ’ point is true of Dun sany s plays ; they begin at the one inevitable moment when they should T begin , and they end in a like manner . his f is not only true o the plays as a whole, but it is true of every separate scene, and of every T speech in the scenes . hey are all timed to

The f the minute . dialogue o Dunsany has been compared with that of Maeterlinck , but ’ the comparison is superficial . Maeterlinck s dialogue is often so vague as to be practically f f imbecilic in e fect , while the dialogue o Dun sany is always terse and to the point : not one word is wasted , there is never a shadow of doubt as to the exact meaning, and every speech carries the action definitely forward . With Maeterlinck too all the characters speak

of in the style Maeterlinck, whether they be prince or peasant ; there is no attempt to give them a colloquial value . It is here that Dun sany most clearly shows that with his marvelous 62 H I S W O R K imagination he has combined the most acute

n His power of Observatio . characters are as real as any to be found next door or on the

- high road . It is only the situations which are

n m n f grotesque , a d this very co bi ation o the real and the unreal makes for dramatic effect in a manner Of which Maeterlinck for all his

s n genius could not dream . Dun a y has O b served and noted , and the results of that observation are as true to life as any preach ’ ment Of Ibsen s ; with Dunsany it is only his n terminology that is stra ge . For sheer beauty of thought and Of expres “ ” sion The Golden Doom ranks high among ’ of w n Dim sany s works . It is full o derful color, and of that magic atmosphere of which only and Dunsany is master . It has a story to tell , n that story is one of the great o es Of the world , albeit that the theme is perhaps more suited T to the poem than to the play . hat is the of only flaw in an otherwise faultless bit work , that the poet has for a moment driven the But dramatist to a secondary position . the

n and work was well worth doi g , who but “ Lord Dunsany could have written The Golden Doom ” ! D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

THE LOST SILK HAT

’ This is one of Lord Dunsany s two exp eri “ ” n B ments with a realistic backgrou d . y realistic I mean here that the action of the piece “ ” in n n is set a fashio able London Street , a d that the characters are such persons as one n Th might expect to meet i such a locality . e acceptance Of these self imposed conditions h n n n in as not, however, restrai ed Du sa y, the m n n n very least degree , fro i dulgi g his fa cy, and the result is one of the most amusing light n T comedies imagi able . here will doubtless be some who will insist on the term farce being n m used in this connectio , but by farce is eant a play where the plot dominates the charac teri i n n zat o , a d by comedy is intended exactly I n the reverse . this play again we fi nd an entire lack of personal background for the characters ; they have individuality rather than personality ; we are dealing with broad types n used for the expositio of certain ideas , but these ideas are exposed through characteriza

H n tion rather than through plot . e ce, if it is necessary to classify the play at all it seems 64

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

very mysterious about the whole affair . The dialogue between the two is outrageously funny .

’ Y u ar n n o me LAB ORER . o e t g o i g t give a sove n and r s t o r ns for an em t h reig , i e it o tw sove eig , p y at ! B m ’ CALLER . ut I must have y hat. I can t be ’ r h Th r s no h n seen in the st eets like t is . e e t i g in the ’ ha d o ou h nk s in the hat ! hat. W t y t i ’ Ah I m not r no h to B R . LA O ER , cleve e ug say that, th a r n but it lo oks as if e p pe s was i that hat. T CALLER . he papers ! Y B . es a rs ro n o n LA ORER , p pe p vi g , if y u ca get ’ h m h o r the h r to ha bi ho n t e , t at y u e ei t t g use, a d some n n d poor in oce t will be defrau ed .

And so it goes until the Laborer makes his m departure, sure that a cri e is on the verge of commission . A Clerk enters and he is ap proached in the same way, and with the same H result . e too is suspicious, b ut his imagina tion is not capable Of the flights of that of the

Laborer . It is rather his sense of propriety that is violated the situation is unconventional ,

m He and therefore i proper . goes away, and n the Caller is left alone . E ter the Poet, who having the whole ghastly mishap explained to n him is disposed to be i dulgent . He philos ophises at length upon hats and upon pro posals and at length advises the Caller to buy 66 H I S W O R K

n B n n T a bayonet, and joi the os ia s . here , n having give up his life for a hopeless cause ,

m The he will become i mortal . Caller is furious , and at last decides to go in and get the hat him

The self, whatever the cost . Poet pleads with

f r him not to go , o if he does there will be a reconciliation and Romance will be unsatisfied ; the Caller will marry the lady, and will have a f large family o ugly children . Could any thing be more horrible to contemplate ! Never theless in the Caller goes , and the Poet sits

- disconsolate on the door step .

OE hand h r P T. (rising, lifting ) but let t e e be graven in brass upon this house : Rom ance was born n He sits again here out Of due time and died you g . (

down Ent r L aborer and Clerk with Policeman . The . e

music stop s . ) O I E N An h n ron h r ! P L C MA . yt i g w g e e ' ’ ’ OE T r o n to k n . h P T. Everything s wro g ey e g i g ill

Romance . ’ O E N to L aborer Th s n man d o sn P LI C MA . ( ) i ge tle e t

seem quite right so meho w . ’ n h m r h oda . LAB ORER . They re no e Of t e quite ig t t y n (Music starts agai . )

OE M o d ! I t is a d . P T . y G uet

O I E N m s a ro n som ho . P L C MA . He see bit w g e w ’ ’ ORER d a s n the o h r o ne . LAB . You shoul ee t e

Curtain . 67 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

This is surely a most excruciatingly funny

The one of play . Laborer is the best comedy n characters I have seen in a long , lo g while . And just here let me digress sufficiently to remark that, quite unconsciously, I believe , Lord Dunsany has in the Caller and in the Poet drawn two delicious pictures Of George Moore and Yeats both caricatured broadly

i to be sure, but both recogn sable . It may be that it is simply some perverse imp Of the gro tesque that makes me see a caricature where n there is none inte ded , but the thought has amused me , and so I pass it on in the hope that

m no its humour ay t be entirely exhausted . “ ” The Lost Silk Hat is not particularly

for dramatic , even a comedy ; nothing happens . Its carrying power exists almost entirely in But the dialogue . such dialogue ! It is not n witty, for wit is cold , a Shavia quality, ln tended not to expose a character, but to make a point , while humour is exactly otherwise . n n n The Fre ch are , as a atio , witty ; the Eng The . n lish are humorous deep suspicio , the frank incredulity of the Laborer ; the strong common sense of the Caller ; the rigid conv en tionality of the Clerk ; and the pure romance 68

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

n tio ; namely, that it is the satirist who is m n witty, and the hu orist who is iro ic . Dun sany certainly comes within the last named He m n category . is a hu orist , eve a great humorist, and the final test is that in their n very humour his plays border o tragedy . Humour may be turn ed to tragedy ; satire Th n never can be . e chief poi t Of difference between Dunsany and most humorists is that while their outlook is personal his is cosmic . Man regarded in the mass becomes a gigantic

assum joke , his pretence that he is civilised , his p n f tio o entire free will , and all his foibles of n m n sophistication are e tirely co ic . It is o ly when he is regarded individually that he is n m him tragic, a d that which akes so is the very m n m sa e eleme t that made him co ic before . When one thinks of the present war as a whole n n it is imme sely ironic , but whe one stops to consider the individual personal problems in volved the great irony breaks into an endless m m n series of inor tragedies i or, that is, in ’ Duns n their relation to the whole . a y s out n look is as nearly universal , a d hence as nearly

detached and impersonal , as may be ; he never

reaches the personal , he never tries to reach it . 70 H I S W O R K

T hat is at once the cause Of his greatness , and

n e the reaso why he is not great r . “ The Lost Silk Hat is no more than a

fl ecke off m trifle , a spark d the e ery wheel Of

n of the imaginatio the artist, but it is so perfect n a trifle, and so brillia t a spark , that a more or less serious consideration of its merits is by no means out Of place The small thing beauti fully done is of inestimably greater value than m n An the great thing botched in the aki g . d perchance in this play we may find a promise of that perfect comedy Of manners which Dun

n an sany may one day write . Certai it is at y rate that no one is less interested in such a

m an for possibility than Dunsany hi self, d that

He one we can be thankful . has receipt for writing a play when you have a story to

an n tell , tell it d so lo g as he adheres to this dogma we can at least be sure that whatever

the result may be we shall n ever lose interest .

A NIGHT AT AN I N N

Dunsany says of this play that comparing “ ” it to The Gods Of the Mountain is like T comparing a man to his o wn shadow . hat 71 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

" sums up the case very well . A Night at an ” I nn is indeed a shadow, an echo of the greater work . The curtain rises on a room in an old English

The T m Inn . off, a dilapidated gentle an , is there with his three sailor followers . We learn from the ensuing conversation between the three (the Toff does not enter into the discus sion) that a short time ago the party raided an n Indian temple, a d robbed the idol Of its single

T wo m nl ns eye, a huge ruby . heir t co p a o were killed before they left the country, and even f h now the three priests O Kles , the idol , are following after the fugitives in order to visit m n retribution upon the a d regain their own . Albert tells how he gave the priests the slip

The T f in Hull . o f has brought them here to the old I nn which he has hired for a period of time . The sailors are restless ; they see no more danger and desire to be Off with their T booty . When they tell this to the off he bids n them take the ruby a d go . They do so , but the next moment are back through the door. They have seen the Priests Of Klesh who have followed all the way from Hull eighty miles

e T has on foot . Th off has expected this , and

H I S W O R K

in n n He m acted co seque ce . tells the that they must kill the priests if they ever expect to in T enjoy the ruby peace . hrough his clever ness the priests are trapped one after the other, Th n and are murdered . e four the celebrate

one out of their victory , but goes for a pail i water and comes back pale and shak ng , dis

lesh m claiming any part in the ruby . K hi self

He n . enters , blind a d groping takes the ruby

ou eye an d placing it in his forehead goes t. n f Then a voice is heard calling o e O the seamen . He does not want to go but is impelled by some

He out n mysterious force . goes , a si gle moan

The n is heard , and it is over . ext seaman is T called , and then the third . Last of all the off hears the command and makes his final exit .

Exit A ER To ff T o ff . LB T (going) . y, y ( )

OI E Meestaire a o Sm h A S am an . V C . J c b it , ble e ’ ’ ’

NI ERS T an o . an n o o . S GG . I ca t g , ffy I c t g I c t

oes . do it . (He g ) OI E Meestaire Arno d E r S o - or s V C . l ve ett c tt F te cue ,

at Es r A S am an . l e qui e , ble e Exit O did not or s . THE T FF . I f e ee it ( )

Curtain .

as A mar He did not foresee it , just g did not H foresee the result O f his impiety . erein the 73 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

Th two plays are close together, but e Gods of ” the Mountain is immeasurably superior both

n n n in n n of m in co ceptio , a d the ha dli g its the e . n n It has poetry, a d characterizatio , whereas m m the second play is pure elodra a . And cer tainly it is one of the best melodramas ever

The one written . error made in the entrance of the gods in the first play has been repeated m ff here, and with just as detri ental an e ect . The same arguments which we considered then n apply now a d with equal force . It cannot

n he be do e . T illusion is destroyed immediately . n n in This is the o ly error to be fou d either play, and it may be said again that it is an error not

m of . of the dra a, but the theater “ The construction of A Night at an Inn m n is really agnifice t . Gradually it gathers force until it is in the full swing Of tremendous action, and having reached the climax it pauses a single n n insta t , and the with a marvelously quick n h e . T reversal , it pitches down to the d e “ ’ ” cloud no bigger than a man s hand is seen ; it rapidly spreads over the whole situation , n until finally it is dispelled to all appeara ces, but at the very moment Of its disappearance it The returns only to envelop the whole action . 74

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

B varsity what it is . ut all evidence goes to ’ “ prove that Dunsany s fir st play was The ” for Glittering Gate , written Yeats , and fol “ lowed by King Ar gimenes and the Unknown B Warrior . oth these plays Show the hand of the tyro in places , but they both indicate n a grasp of form that is amazi g . I fear that ” my use Of the word form m ay be antagonis tic to those restless spirits who chatter so easily “ of freeing the drama from the shackles of ” dogma . I have a strong inward conviction, however, that when they have rid themselves f satisfactorily o the shackles, they will find that somewhere in the scuffl e they have lost the H drama . owever

In their sudden reverse twist at the end, ’ ’ one H Dunsany s plays remind of O . enry s short stories . With both writers too the same m sense of econo y is evident . Not a word could be subtracted from “ A Night at an Inn n without its loss bei g felt . Sometimes this is ’ n m Dun n carried almost to a extre e . sa y s im

i n en on n an aginat o outruns his p occasio , d there “ ” is a paucity of stage business in his manu

s one scripts that has made at lea t producer gasp . In the plays one sometimes feels that while 76 H I S W O R K all the high lights are present there is a lack Of i of n shadow ng , detailed li e work which , while Th not vital , is at least desirable . e plays are

s n in m n never in the lea t slove ly work a ship ,

s is quite otherwi e in fact , but there present a sense that not enough time has been spent on

m n them to give us all that the author has i agi ed . This doubtless arises from the fact that Dun sany concerns himself with nothing beyond the n in story its elf . He is not i terested the lights n and shadows of a more subtle characterizatio , and this is without doubt a serious weakness . But it is only in the acceptance of a work of

for art for what it is , without regrets what

n can it might have bee , that we arrive at any conclusion . The resemblance Of A Night at an I nn “ ” to The Gods of the Mountain is particularly interesting as showing how effectively the same Th theme can be treated in separate ways . e

A s are the Toff parallels gm ar, the sailor Of n s w s same ilk as the beggars , a d the god are al ay

h m s is s n in the same . T e sa e philo ophy pre e t m o f both plays , but the subli e audacity the first raises it to heights Of which the other is

n s in not capable . Moreover we are i tere ted 77 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

n m Agmar as a perso al proble , while in the Toff

we never feel such interest . The beggars are individualized ; the sailors are treated collec

tiv ely. All this marks the difference between

the two plays especially in that one is drama, and the other is melodrama in which the plot

motivates the action , as opposed to drama in which the action is motivated by character . “ ” A Night at an Inn will always remain one of ’ Dunsany s most effective plays because it is n so perfect of its ki d , although that kind may not be of the highest type . Certainly it shows that Dunsany can provide plenty of action n f when actio is called or. It is vital to the effect of the play that the action be extremely

n Kl sh brief after the e trance of e , yet there are n still certain definite thi gs to be accomplished . n Without conveyi g a sense Of undue hurry, with only such speed as is necessary to keep the pitch , the play is brought to its logical n T co clusion . here can be no question that, with the exception of the bringing of Klesh on the stage, the play stands the acid test in n of every particular . It is a thrilli g bit work ; a tour de force which is reminiscent of the Grand r Guignol , but which is wholly lacking in the mo 78

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

is due partly to the fact that Dun sany hims elf

is convin ced , an d that therefore he is enabled H to be convincing . e believes so thoroughly

wn a n i in his o cre tio s , at least wh le he is work

in on m nn g the , that the audience ca ot but feel i the force Of his belief . More than th s it is

n r is skill in writing , a d , ma k you , it the skill

f of i O the poet rather than that the dramat st . A playwright is able to create an atmosphere

O f s i n n n he this de cript o o ly whe is a poet also . The ability of Dunsany to do this and to do it

on e of n a s well is his stro gest s ets , and A Night ” at an I nn is a perfect example of this phase .

’ THE QUEEN S ENEMI ES

The place of this play is in the grea t room of an underground temple situated on the bank of the Nile ; the time is that Of an early dy n s The n a ty . stage is divided i to two sections . O n the right one m ay see a steep flight of stone steps l eading down to a door which opens into m Th the roo its elf . e stage is dark Two

e m n slav s co e dow the steps with torches . They have been ordered to prepare the room for the

n is Quee , who about to feast there with her 80

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

n H does not wa t to go further . e fears a trap .

Finally he induces his fellow to turn back, but as they are about to do so the others arrive an n The d there is othing to do but to enter .

n n - Pri ces, a King, a d the High Priest come with

The n : their slaves . Quee greets them timidly . They stand about the room uncertain whether n Th m to trust her or ot. e old du b slave of the Queen is at her side , and she murmurs to “ T H ” H him , o your post, arlee . e goes, though one of the Princes stops him and inquires his — m Th mission but he is du b . e Queen finally manages to persuade her guests to sit at the n T feasti g board . hey fear to eat, and the

Queen weeps that they should so distrust her .

Moved by her tears they eat . She offers a toast to the future . As they are about to drink it the High -Priest says that a voice has just come to him speaking in his ear telling him not to drink to the future . His fears are T n laughed at and the toast is drunk . he the n compa y becomes merry, and jest and story Th n n in fly across the board . e Quee joi s at fi rst, but when she sees that her guests are occupied she slips from her throne and with her attendant tries to leave the room . She is 82 H I S W O R K

stopped at once , for they are distrustful of her But still . she has promised to restore to them n the lands she has taken , and they can ot be B lieve that she would harm them . y her

generosity she has made them all her friends . The Queen says that she must go to pray to a m very secret god , and so she is per itted to de

out part . She goes and part way up the steps , while the great door closes fast behind her . Th e guests try the door when she has gone . It

T . is locked . hey fear once more a trap Slaves are posted at the door with weapons and they

The all wait in silence for what may come .

an n Queen above them , unseen d u heard by them , on the steps lifts her voice and prays to

Old Father Nile . She tells him that she has a n sacrifice worthy of him Princes , a Ki g , and m a Priest . She asks that he come and take the m no from her . She pauses, but there co es “ T H Har answer . hen she calls swiftly, arlee , ” i ! T n lee, let n the water here is a other deathly an pause . Then, as the lights darken , from m opening in the room below, the water fro the and Nile pours in , and amid cries shrieks , the The enemies of the Queen are drowned . water rises up the steps from un derneath the door ; 83 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

as it reaches the Queen She lifts her gar n me t out of its way and then, mounting a step m higher, she mur urs voluptuously, Oh , I shall sleep to -night She slowly climbs the

an steps with her attendant d vanishes . I n the character of the Queen we are con fronted with a problem which the play itself does little to solve . Is her act simply a cold

r blooded deliberate murder, o was it a sudden impulse ! Throughout the play she maintains n n an attitude of i jured virtue, a d of entire innocence This pose on her part is stressed n nm u til it is u istakable . Is this hypocrisy or is it natural ! If it is natural she could

The never have done what she did . two things are wholly incongruous ; if she is one she can

ne not seemingly be the other . O cannot be a sweet and innocent girl and a Lady Macbeth s at the same time . On the other hand , if thi e attitude is merely a pose , why is this not mad evident ! To keep such a matter from the T n of audience is fatal . here are a y number times when the Queen could have thrown O ff The m . the ask , but she never did so result Of all this has been to make the character of

this royal lady extremely Obscure . We all 84

H I S W O R K

n agree that it is a most i teresting play, but what is the mystery of the Queen ! She is not consistent ; nor is she even consistently inconsistent . The fact that she told Harlee early in the action to go to his post, and then later called to him to let in the water surely indicates beyond question that the murder n was most carefully plan ed and arranged for .

The very fact Of the feasting place , under f ground and on the bank o the Nile , suggests

Bu of this also . t the character the Queen as it is shown us does not suggest it in the slightest

- degree , and the sign posts which I have just mentioned are too slight to afford adequate

ns n s ue warning . Hence the Du a ye q surprise at the end of the play comes with an unexpected shock ; the characterization so carefully built up is shattered in an instant , and we are left to gasp in amazement at what seems an utter incongruity . Surprise calls for careful prep

or n . aration , and here there is little one Of it “ ” “ In both The Gods O f the Mountain and A ” Night at an Inn the sense of menace and fore boding is gradually built up until the event of But which it gave warning has transpired . in “ ’ The Queen s Enemies we are shown a woman 85 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

who is one thing and who does another without n n warning or expla atio . Our sense Of the fi t f n ness o thi gs is violated . It is bad drama

turgy somewhere . It so happens that Lord Dunsany has himself

s m n furni hed the key to the proble , a d before discussing the play further I will submit his n n h ow expla ation . T e Queen is wholly un n conscious O f any wrong doi g . She is an aesthete ; anything ugly either in itself or in its n mm effect upon her is to her a disti ct i orality, something to be obliterated from the face of the B n n n . earth , to suffer nothi g but a nihilatio eing m this she is of course subli ely selfis h . She is

s . selfish too in the ab olute, not the relative sense If a dirty child brushed against her she would

of kill that child . And yet she is the most delicate sensibility ; these things hurt her, and she blots them out of existence not because she feels a satisfaction in the act there is no

n r be sense of vengea ce , o Of malice but cause she believes it to be a divine duty to rid the earth Of that which she deems a painful m n SO disfig ure e t . when she prays to Father Nile to send the water she fully believes that in offering this sacrifice she is performing a holy 86;

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

is imperative, and the fact that it is not there

his e i The has frustrated d s gn . play is intended

an imm ns to be e ely subtle characterization . ’ Dunsany s tendency to Show only the high spots has reduced the subtlety to intelligibility w in this instance . It as vital that the back Th ground should b e filled in . e play is inter

s an h e e ting , d as b en successful b ecause Of its B atmosphere, and of its action . ut the moti

i is n v ating force Of th s action e tirely obscure . The play is like a book in which one sees only the chapter headings an d the illustrations . For several reasons I am inclined to suspect that D unsany intended in this play to convey the idea that the Queen was in reality not at all

if n m n ma d fere t fro the ordi ary wo n , indeed that she typified in this phase of her character Woman

The m in the generic sense . oral would be in that cas e that women are utterly ruthl ess in their n pursuit of whatever they desire, a d that any thing which stands in the way O f such a pur suit is to them merely an evil to be extin Thi tu n guished . s atti de o the part Of Lord Dun sany toward woman in general I shall take in ai l e to up more det l a ittle later, as it appli s e several of the plays . As Miss Prism remark d 88 H I S W O R K

h in The m B n to Dr . C asuble I portance Of ei g ” “ n m n Ear est , A isa thrope I can understand — ” a womanthro e n ! n is p , ever I thi k it per fectly safe to acquit Lord D unsany of being a womanthrope It has b een suggested several times that the play would have b een vas tly improved if it had been a short sto ry ; that the drama was T n not the med ium for this theme . o a certai Th extent this theory is tenable . e sto ry writer can fill in a mass of deta iled characterization in description which the dramatis t mus t exp ress

n fi . in terms of ac tio , a much more dif cult tas k Hence there are un doubtedly some themes which the playwright would do well to leave to his fellow craftsman . I do not believe ,

f m see is O . however , that th is one the I no reason why the story of this unconsc iously u l cruel Queen , for all her s btlety , shou d not

r The es s n be told in dramatic fo m . b t olutio would probably be to give the play another act ,

I n act on e making the present act the second . all necessary background could be given quite eas ily and dramatically through some incident or episode which would sugges t in itself all that has b een omitted in the present version . 89 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

’ The Queen s Enemies is one of Lord ’ n Dunsa y s poorest plays . And though this be true it has been successful and deservedly so . It tells an interesting story in a most dramatic nn n ma er ; it has atmosphere and colour, a d it shows amusingly how much better Dunsany is at his worst than many others at their best . I class the play as I do because it fails of the

n o purpose for which it was i tended . It set ut h n to S ow something , and it failed to Show it, a d n Th in the faili g it obscured the action . e ’ f rai son d etre salient point o the play, its real , is the underlying motive which prompts the action , and this motive is so vague as to be m incoherent . That which re ains , the action itself, saves the piece , but it is not enough to turn the play into that which it would have been T bad the whole motivation been apparent . hat such motivation was intended is very evident, and that the intention was not carried out is equally so . f As for the poetry o the play, that lies hidden for the most part with that portion which has n never seen the light . It is ot there ; the most that we can say is that if the play had been written as it was intended , it would have been . 90

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

f one and of the dreary waste o the other . For long they talk, wishing that their lot were cast

among the crowded places , and that they did not have to venture their lives among the sand T storms . hey are on their way to Mecca , and the voices of their fellow pilgrims are heard T calling them to come . hey go , hard ‘ and upon their departure the young King enters , followed shortly by his Chamberlain . The

King is very bored with the council chamber, and the court ; he is tired of the walls that hem i i i him in , and weary with the heavy resp ons b l ties which have been forced upon him . They

have sent for a Princess to marry him , and this is not because of love , but for the good of the H f r State only, and the King is sad . e longs o

the desert, for the great quiet, and rest, and H for the tents of the Arabs . e has known o H cities t o long and he is weary . e says he

will go to the desert for a year, and though the Chamberlain does his best to restrain him he is

decided . The Chamberlain conspires to have n his escort bri g him back very soon , for when the n Ki g is gone there are no favours to be given . But n the King slips away alone, a d mounting

‘

a camel is soon lost among the sand hills . 92

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

T and the city must have a King . he Chamber lain and his follower come in ; they are expecting T n the King . hey do not otice the two on the

B - A sand . el Narb and oob enter, for they have

The returned from their pilgrimage . Chamber lain speaks to the noble who accompanies him, and as it is past the time they feel sur e that the King has died within the year and will never T return to them . hey cover their heads with

- dust . Bel Narb , who has been listening to this , suddenly goes up to the Chamberlain and says that he has returned , that he is the King . h T e Chamberlain doubts, surely he has changed most greatly in the year, but surely also the desert changes men . The King has started to his feet, but he does not interfere . As the n Chamberlain hesitates, the Ki g , half covering his face with his cloak as an Arab , says that he has seen Bel- Narb in Mecca and has there i known him for the King . This confirmat on is

- all that is needed . At once Bel Narb is rec n A ognized by Chamberlain a d noble alike . oob joins his voice to the chorus of recognition . The King on being questioned says that he is n but a poor camel driver, a d when they wish him to go to the temple to be rewarded he 94 H I S W O R K

refuses , for he must return to the desert . The

n Eznar za Ki g and are once more left alone .

The of n n people the city are o ly fools , a d now Th they have a foolish King . e rightful King and the gypsy will return to the tents of the

Arabs .

EZ h h he sand n h NARZA . We s a ar t a s ll e gai , w i per l h d n nd ing ow to t e aw wi . K e ha h r h n n ING . W s ll ea t e omads stirring i their n camps far off because it is d aw . The a ka s a r s s s n EZNARZA . a j c l will p tte p t u , lippi g back to the hills . IN n at n n h sun is set sha K G . Whe eve i g t e we ll n weep for no d ay that is g o e . r s m h ad a n h m EZNARZA . I will ai e up y e Of ig t ti e n nd the ld o ld n o h s ars sha agai st the sky, a O , u b ug t t ll hr h m ha r and sha not n an twinkle t oug y i , we ll e vy y f r d of the diademed queens o the wo l .

Curtain .

It is a beautiful story ; one almost hesitates But one. to call it a play , although it is in it the poet has spoken more loudly than the play

ou wright . In the first extract I quoted y will notice how perfect the hexameter lines are through the first four speeches and the first part of the next The following also is really

very lovely in its delicate and subtle beauty . 95 ' D U N S A N Y T H E D R A MA T I S T

ho is h s h d KING . W t i little c il that is mightier than Time ! I s it L ove that is mightier ! L EZNA ZA . no R N O , t ove .

KIN . he on r n Lo G If c que eve ve , then none is r mightie . H s ar s L o h EZNARZA . e a a k c e ve w y wit wea , white d h n r an r k s . o or hai s wit w i le P little L ove . Poor T m s ar s him a a L ove , i e c e w y . K a is h h d of man ING . Wh t t is c il that can conquer Time and that is braver than L ove !

M m r . EZNARZA . Even e o y

And a little later Eznarza says agaI n that “ We have only that little child of man, whose ” n f name is Memory . Dunsa y has the trick o

repeating words , phrases and thoughts until they seem to catch a swinging rhythm of their own . Alfred Noyes does the same . Per haps it is a quality of the lyric p oet/ though Dunsany deals with the epic rather than with But s the other form . they are both poet , Th be it lyric or epic . e quality that I have mentioned has the ability to transmit an ele f n ment of s entiment to verse , or se timent is n a matter of association , and collatio , the recall n ing of an emotion through its recurre ce . This is the only Dunsany play which contains anything nearly approaching a love story . 96

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

The second act Of ‘ the play is better than n the first, because the fi est poetry of the play is in that act, and because that act contains

- the only drama , the scene where B el Narb ff T passes himself O as the King . here is not m another dra atic scene in the play . The witchery of the atmosphere, the music of the f lines , the beauty o the thoughts , the poetry and magic of the expression are what make m fi ne T r . the play really . he e is no dra a One may be permitted to do this and still have a play when one is done, if one can do it in this wise . For the result will hold an audience, m and there is for in the structure . A play is little T more than this . here are several opportuni ties for strong dramatic action in the last act, n but they have all bee passed over . It seems

s to me right that this hould be so , for the intro n f duction of any eleme t o violence , even though it does not express itself in physical terms , would be entirely out of keeping with the rest

he of the play . T delicacy Of the whole con ception would be thrown out of key by a note I n too hot with passion . the play we see that world in which our bodies are contend with that

greater world of the spirit, and we see the first 98 H I S W O R K

The T f world lose . ents o the Arabs may be said to be perhaps the least dramatic , and the ’ of Dunsan s most poetic y plays . Were it not that its poetry is very exquisite the play would sink to an insignificant place in relation to the others ; as it is we can never forget it .

THE LAUGHTER OF THE GODS

Next in point of production comes The Laughter of the Gods wherein Lord Dunsany has again utilized his favorite theme which “ reached its climax in The Gods of the Moun tain But this time the gods do not appear on the stage ; we only hear their laughter coming up to us mockingly as it did in earlier “ n days from the far side of The Glitteri g Gate . The scene Of the play is in the jungle city of Thek in n nd the reign Of King Kar os , a the time is somewhere near the decadence in Baby lon n n , a much more defi ite date tha the author The n usually gives us , by the way . play ope s, apparently, in the palace where several ladies of the court are busy among themselves display ing those qualities with which Dunsany gener m m ally endows the women O f his dra as ; na ely, envy , jealousy, vanity, conceit, and all manner 99 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

n The of petti ess . court has just arrived in

Thek of B - l- from the capital city arbul c Tharnak,

of a metropolis, and the seat kings . The husbands of the ladies of the court squabble as to whose is the credit for persuading the

n Thek The T i Ki g to come to . ladies, harm a n i a d Arol nd, go out to purchase new hair in

the shops, and gold dust to decorate their hair . Also they desire to see the palaces of the neigh

n Two of boring pri ces . other nobles the court

n n an Ludibras enter, armed for hu ti g, d and h n n m Th rmi I ht ario . a a c , the husbands, joi the

n Ar lin rol x a d o d return in tears , and Ca y enters m T and co es to them . hey have been to the end of the main street of the city, and there are no shops in which to buy hair ; there are n n n no neighbori g pri ces, there is othing at all except the jungle with its many-colored

The s orchids . ladies decide that at all cost the King must be induced to leave this bar baric place and return to the metropolitan pleas

- l-Th k The men ures of Barbul e arna . return n n n m n out from the hu t singi g, a d the wo e go to them to explain that they must use their influence with the King to urge his return .

The two sentries converse together for a moment, 100

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

T him complished . hey try to bribe to proph esy an evil thing if the King does not leave Thek at once The prophet rebukes them n T majestically and with dig ity . he gods can i T not I e, and he is their voice . hen I chtharion accuses him of having! three wives when two m f i is the allotted nu ber or his stat on . The n prophet trembles a d admits his fault . It is

- - an offense punishable with death . Voice Of the Gods consents to make the false prophecy that in three days the gods will destroy Thek because H of their hatred for some man in the city . e warns the courtiers that the gods will punish T them, but they heed him not . hey have become civilized , and they know that there are

The n n no gods . Ki g knows it too ; o ly the n n n Quee , who is you g, weak, a d fearful , believes Th in the gods of old . e act closes with the warning .

The second act opens with the prophecy . n The King does ot believe it . When the gods say that an old man will die or that a young man will love, it is easy to believe, but this is He an unnatural and foolish thing . tells Voice of-the-Gods that if the prophecy is not fulfilled T s at sunset Of the third day he must die . hi 102 H I S W O R K

is not what the courtiers have looked for and n m they are frightened , but the Ki g is un oved .

The Queen hastens in , pale and trembling .

has r of - zw She says she hea d the lute Gog O a, which is heard by those who are about to die .

The King hears it too . It is nothing ; a man

ol playing in the street . An d courtier hears T n one. it, and then a you g hey all hear the I lute : they cannot all be about to die . t is

Th out absurd . e King sends to have the man him B who is playing brought before . ut they n cannot find the ma . There is no one playing T a lute . Yet they all hear it still . here is only one man in the whole city now who does not hear it, and he is a camel driver who is just

He ab out to leave the city . is brought before n n him the King, but nothi g can be gai ed from , T so that he is sent away on his journey . he King patronizes the Queen because she fears the gods .

The o d EE a e ods . s QU N . 0 d o not spe k of th g g all he d o o m s ha sha r o m are very terrible , t t t ll eve be c e I n m s nd n s of the and r forth from the g o ds . i ty wi i g w e n an an ing hills they fo rge the future even as o vil .

The future frightens m e . ’

a h n s m a d ns . S nd KI NG KARNOS . C ll t e Quee i e e 103 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

DO o e quickly for her maidens . n t let th future frighten you . Men a h a e od T QUEEN . l ug t th g s . hey Often laugh am r a h o d a the o ds . s h t e s a h t g I u e t t g l ug to o . It is to h nk of the a h r of dreadful t i l ug te the g o ds . O the lute ! the lute ! Ho w clearly I hear the lute ! B ut you all hear it ! DO you not ! You swear that you all hear it ! Y . l a KIN K RNOS es es . We a l h r G A , y e the lute . a a n It is only a m n pl yi g . I sh T QUEEN . wi I could see him . hen I should know that he was only a man and not Gog -O zwa the m ost terrible of the g o ds . I should be able to sleep h n t e . Ye KIN K RNOS oothin l . G A (s g y) s, yes . d (Enter Atten ant. ) H r om s the m an ha ha n e e c e t t I ve se t to fi nd him . You have found the lute player ! Tell the Queen that ou ha o nd he a r y ve f u t lute pl ye .

ATTEND NT. The am ard ha o h A c el gu ve s ug t, your Ma s and anno fi nd an man ha i a je ty, c t y t t s pl ying a lute . T hree days elapse . It is near sunset . Again T the three ladies are together . hey fear at the success of their plot ; they have gone too m far . The prophet ay betray their husbands an The d they will be put to death . Queen enters weeping at the thought of Gog-O zwa

He n n whose lute is still heard . plays o lo ger i The than three days and then grows t red . 104

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

n an sun n n menace is very stro g, d the is si ki g . The prophet comes in followed by the Execu

The n n tioner. Ki g goes to the window a d looks n o ut across the ju gle .

- - E - D The VOICE OF TH GO S . g ods have lied ! The n i nk n KING KARNOS . ju gle s si i g ! It has fallen into the earth ! T u en smiles a little holdin h ha d ( he Q e , g is n . ) The city is falling in The houses are rolling towards us !

(Thunder Ofi . ) Th are om n I CHTHARI ON . k a a ey c i g up li e w ve, m n and a darkness is co i g with them . n d hund r a (L oud and p rolo ge t e . Fl shes of red light n A lit l li h nd then total dark ess . t e t come back ow a g s , sh r umbent ures shattered llar d ing ec fi g , pi s, an rocks of arb white m le. ) ’ The Pro het s back is broken but h ( p , e raises the fore r a n p art of his body fo mome t. ) - F-THE -G D trium hant T VOICE O O S ( p ly) . hey have not lied ! I I O am k CHTHAR O N . , I illed .

(L aughter heard ofi . ) n L a ! Someone is laughi g . ughing even in Thek i sha h o s r d . W y, the wh le city tte e d (The laughter grows emoniac. ) What is that dreadful sound

- - - I i VOICE OF THE GODS . t s the laughter Of the go ds ha anno o n a k o h t t c t lie, g i g b c t t eir hills . H d ( e ies . ) Curtain . 106 H I S W O R K

If A Night at an I nn is the shadow of ” The Gods O f the Mountain it may be said “ ” The of that Laughter the Gods is its echo . “ Lord Dunsany ranks this last play above The Gods of the Mountain but it is very doubtful n w whether his audie ces ill agree with him . It

not m m e fi n does see to as big or as e a play . It certainly cannot approach in conception the magnificent audacity of that actual impersona

’ tion of the gods which makes one catch one s breath in the other work . But while compari sons are interesting and sometimes useful they

i o ne s es em are , as usual , odious n effect if pur u th

s The too far, so it will be better to peak of ” n Laughter of the Gods as a separate thi g, and to judge of it according to its own merits

he s or demerits without reference to t other play . It is probable that the play loses a little in suspense in the fact that we kn o w from the “ first appearance of the small cloud exactly

m the m m n when the storm will break . Fro o e t of the prophecy we know that sunset o f the And co n third day will see the dénouement. ,

i s s and its nc us o n the a s dering its the i , co l i , pl y is u o f a is surpri singly light in color . It f ll th t

n of n n light, cutti g satire which Du sa y is such 107 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T IS T

a master, but which seems a trifle out of place

in a piece of such magnitude . What humor “ ” there is in The Gods of the Mountain (I have had to fall back on comparison after all) is ironic rather than satiric ; it is more in keep

m of Th ing with the at osphere the play . e “ Th f ” light, deft satire of e Laughter o the Gods does not truly suggest the character of the piece

ne as does the other . On o hand we have the great and terrible ironic justice of the gods ; on the other a mocking jest better suited to

Fairyland than to Fegana . And again the

mystery, the poetry of the play is not to be

- f— - found in Voice o the Gods, the prophet who is

rather a drab fig ure at best, a speaking trum

pet for those whom he serves . Rather this n n mystery, this poetry is co ce trated in the

of figure the Queen , that delicately lovely char acter whose spirit is so closely attuned to that which is apart from man that it is she who first

- hears the faint notes of Gog Ozwa the lutanist,

- forerunner of death . It is Gog O zwa too who raises the level of the play from the mark set “ The not by The Glittering Gate . gods are terrible until they become personified in Gog O zwa ; their laughter is much less dreadful 108

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

T n d s . h s is Opp ositio to the go i right enough , an d it is not of the fac t that we feel disposed

m n of f to co plai , but the treatment, o the at

r ir n m osphe e. Sat e can ot be mixed with tragedy

r s in H unless the sati e be lo t the traged y . ere

s ut m it ticks o like the proverbial sore thu b . I n this play Dunsany has not made the error n n T of bri n gi g the gods o the stage . rue, they

e es n n kn are w ll repr e ted by thu der, dar ess , fiery

n d a a s f light , a e rthqu ke, but the e are the right ul S m emissaries O f the gods . O it is that the ock ing laughter that sneers and ta unts even as it mocks (truly these are drea d gods) is doubly

ne n lm se e frightful . O ca a ost the gigantic forms thr ough the dust O f the fallen city as they turn back for a moment in their march towards the hills to paus e and give vent to their

s n in grim hum or . At thi poi t the play there

m Of m n is a s all detail so e i terest . Dramatically the play ends with the cry of Voice- O f-the “ ” ds T not ! and Go , hey have lied the few sp eech es that come after this affect one almost

- I f as an anti climax . this were written so as to read (Demon iaca l laughter) then Voice “ f- - s T n o ! is o the Go d , hey have t lied It the ” laughter of the gods ! the effect would perhaps 1 10 H I S W O R K

i w fi i m st n . be more s ft , more de n te , and ore ro g I am well aware of the risks I incur in inv itin g

’ the sugg estion that I am rewriting Dunsany s n plays for him , a d that such a step is far more

n n H w t a . imper i e t than advis ble o ever , I accept the respons ibility with a clear consc ience and an untroubled heart , for we all have the tradi

i l wn n n a t ona right to our o opi io , and the re der and time to gether will judge for thems elves . There are several rather curious sp eec h es in

I chthari on s in this play . In the first act ays

B - l- harnak speaking of the return to arbul e T ,

O are n o w N , the gods use to us , they ere ” n An d Har a us driven away by the deca de ce . p g “ are not in e a n answers him , We the d c de ce

- - el harnak is in iff n . here . Barbul T a d ere t age ” The city of Thek is scarcely civilized . And “ n The n m h i e n agai , Ki g is ore ighly civ liz d eve ”

He wi not s . than we are. ll care for the god And fin ally the very a musing sp eec h of Tharmia

ar e m where she remarks , We beco e like

h n m was she saw Helen . W e y mother a child

sa s was u e e an d her once . She y she the q i t st e gentlest of crea tures and only wi shed to be lov d , and yet b eca use O f her there was a war for four n was e or five years at Troy , a d the city burn d 11 1 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T which had remarkable towers This bor ders very close on farce The first three speeches

m me o f see to to be ut o character . Men , Th k in not whether they be in e or London , do n talk like that . Let it ot be thought that I m n m n ' a pleadi g for realis . Heave forfend I have no wish to exchange Dunsany for Gran m B . B a ville arker ut, though civilization y do n m men all the evil that Dunsa y clai s for it, do not realize it objectively, except they be poets . n n n m n Smith a d Jo es, ot to ention Robinso , might scoff at the actuality of divinity quite

n h h rion as readily as Harp agas a d I c t a , but they would not attribute their disbelief either to the decadent age in which they lived or to n n the adva tages of civilizatio . Rather would n n n m they Christe it with a ew a e, Pragmatism n or Christian Science for instance, a d raise n Th ff ma y altars in its honor . e e ect would be there, but the cause would not be so appar n m e t. Co pare these with the two beautiful m speeches of the Queen where she says, Wo en m i n T are blosso s n the ha d of Death . hey are ” n and ofte close to Death . She will die too , “ not later Do not be troubled . We should let

Fate trouble us . The World and its daily 112

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T ter of the Gods we cannot but admit that it n m is true, and o atter how captious we may m n n see , we ca not but co fess that it is beautiful . ’ Surely that is enough . If we dissect Dunsany s plays we are at least sure of finding real organs n i side, even though we may feel that some of these may be placed so as to function less n n well tha they otherwise might . O the other

n n n of ha d , if we take apart i e tenths the popular successes of the day we will only find vacuity, n B much space in which there is nothi g . ut with the poet one sometimes does not quite know whether it is the lark or the swan that is

: f r singing it does not greatly matter, o it is “ h the song that counts . So while T e Laughter of the Gods may not stand quite so high in the list of his works as Dunsany himself would place it, it nevertheless marks a step that no

other has taken .

THE MURDERERS

This is the most recently produced play of ’ uns n s for D a y , it had its first professional per formance in America during the summer of

1919 at Indianapolis . While it is not as fearful 1 14 H I S W O R K as A Night at an I nn it is a splendid melo m n n dra a o e the less, and , well played , is tremen n n dously effective . U fortu ately it was exten siv ely reviewed by the New York papers at the time of its performance in the spring of

m n n 1 919 by the Yale Dra atic Associatio , a d while I certainly have not the slightest desire to deprecate the work of this organization it would un questionably have been much more fair to the play had its criticisms been based on a really good production by a professional company such as Stuart Walker gave it later . n However , the adage regardi g spilt milk is n still useful upon occasio .

The play is in one act , and the scene is laid T in the back room of a cheap bar . here are

Tom and n . three characters , Bill , , the Stra ger At the rise ofthe curtain Bill and Tom are seated together at the table discussing the murder of Tom ’ s brother which took place in this very room a short time before The spot where the

The m body was found is pointed out. urderer B an d Tom has never been discovered . ill , be it B n s and well understood , are pals . ill is ervou

is m and and out of sorts ; he ju py querulous , im n e n Tom tries to quiet h . A Stra g r e ters , 1 15 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

m and seats hi self at the table with them . He

He is not welcome, but he stays . too speaks

His of the murder . dress is somewhat better f T m B than that o o and ill , and he wears a

He n of long cloak . jovially orders a rou d n n n dri ks, a d i sists that the other two drink f n with him . A pitcher o beer is ha ded in from

The n n the bar, and two mugs . Stra ger, u seen

by the others, wipes the outside Of the mugs n n T m n clea . He does not dri k . o dri ks with n n B n n e joyme t, but ill takes nothi g u til he is n n reminded of the fact , whe he gulps dow his

in ne The beer o draught . Stranger will pour B another glass, but before he does so ill says ’ fi n er- an that he doesn t like dirty g marks , d

n on T wipes his glass clea his sleeve . hey drink n n n n agai , a d the Stra ger begi s to discuss the ’ B n n murder, much to ill s a noya ce . At last, after questioning that almost drives Bill frantic, the Stranger says that he will bet his life that m he can name the urderer, and that he had B in n n brown eyes . ill , a ago y of nerves, gets n up and crosses the room , a d then returning suddenly throws himself at Tom ’ s feet and n co fesses that it was he who did the deed . T Tom is aghast . he Stranger discloses him 1 16

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T more forceful in that it is apparently uncon

or n n scious . Not a word a li e is wasted o effect

The m an alone . dra a builds, d mounts steadily and inevitably to its conclusion .

How not the play reads I do know, for it is ’ the only one of Dunsany s plays which has so far been acted in this country that has not been f printed . In it we find none o the pet Dun sany tracts ; there is railing neither at cities m nor at gods , nor at those men who the gods n destroy . Beyo d the fact of its being a melo “ ” drama, a thriller which would delight the n n f Grand Guig ol audie ces to the point o frenzy, one finds no outstanding feature except the

Tom n curious psychology Of who , lovi g his nd n brother, a desiri g to avenge his death , for ’ h n sakes his desire in t e face of his pal s da ger, T albeit that same pal is the murderer . his is perfectly tenable ; it is not in the least over n draw , and I half suspect that Lord Dunsany wrote the play from some small actual fact n beari g on such a Situation , which stimulated his imagination through its very grotesque T m ’ quality . o s final blow with the hammer which gives the coup de grace to the Stranger m ay seem gratuitous, but it is far from being 1 18 H I S W O R K

so actually . It is the first and only definite move that Tom makes along the line of behavior

s and m n he has e tablished , co i g when it does , n n m in the fi al actio , it has so ewhat the effect of an exclamation -point at the end of a sen n te ce .

Simple in scene and in costume , and with “ ” The only three characters, Murderers is H f . not di ficult to produce owever , it is by no “ ” - n means actor proof , and to raise it, as it ca and should be raised , above the level of a sordid “ ” of little tragedy blood requires dexterity,

’ Dunsan s n skill , and technique . It is y o ly

of one of play modern life , with the exception ” The Hat not n Lost Silk , which does depe d for its effect on the introduction of a supernatural “ Th H ” element , and e Lost Silk at is farce “ Th m comedy . e Murderers ight really have

n ns as an happe ed , if that is to be co idered advantage , although , Allah be praised , it could hardly be included in the naturalistic school . It met with a rather casual reception on its in nd n u first performance America , a , oddly e o gh , those who had been lamenting that Dunsany

m n m dissatis always did the sa e thi g , now see ed n fi ed because he had not done it agai . Of 1 19 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T such is the kingdom of criticism ! One thing

one only, and that rather far fetched , may say “ ” of The Murderers within its limitations, and that is that it might have been written

by someone else, which is something that one

nn of But ca ot say Of any the other plays . , as melodrama, it is a small masterpiece .

FAME AND THE POET

This is, so far as I know, with the possible “ ” f e T f exception o Th ents o Arabs , the only ’ play of Lord Dunsany s which has been pub i h n l s ed before it was produced . Certai ly it has had as yet no professional production in n America , a d I have no record of a public pres entation on the other side ofwhat we used cheer “ ” to : n fully call the pond now, i these days of rapid transportation by air I take it that we shall rechristen the Atlantic the pan . However “ Fame and the Poet was

Atlantic M published in the onthly for August,

1919 , and has not as yet been collected in book form .

It is Dunsany at his satirical best, which , when it rises to the height of gigantic irony as 120

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T fessed that even in such improbable circum stances the soldier would regard poetry as

f m He rather a waste o ti e . prefers betting

n e m n it is at o c ore se sible, and more lucrative . De Reves remarks that he has no doubt but that an earthly horse is more reliable a beast

n s s ! Th tha Pega u . Who is Pegasus e winged

s of s . hor e poet , to be sure N ow Prattle is quite sure that the mind of

h s n his friend a become dera ged from overwork . He recalls that when he was at Sandhurst he once arrived at the point where he could

s n n n n e have ee a ythi g , wi g d horses or pink

m . n ice Prattle peers behi d the screen, and

n s drawi g it back di closes a Grecian altar .

and of ! s Worse, more it De Reve , perforce,

s an m tell him it is altar to Fa e . But Fame

is no n . n t a real perso Perhaps ot, but neither of n would the Lord Mayor Lo don be real , except by common consent ; they are both

The symbolic . floor about the altar is littered with poems . As Prattle Observes it is un

He at s tidy . goes la t after assuring de Reves n n in that fourtee li es are quite enough a sonnet, ’ and that he mustn t bother to write another

one. H I S W O R K

De Reves left alone places his sonnet on T i the altar itself . hen he leans back n his chair and gradually becomes more and more de pressed until he jumps up determined to burn all his work . As he goes to the altar he lifts

and n m his eyes there sta ds Fa e , lovely in a n n m Greek dress , a d with a lo g golden tru pet H H . e in her hand . e is thunderstruck leads her down into the room , and asks her to read “ ’ nd his new sonnet . She does so , a You re a m bit of all right says Fa e . She is vulgar

and an a to a degree, with a cockney accent, p ’ f H n palling lack o s . Fame goes to the wi dow, and bawls to the people outside . She tells f ’ them all the picayune details o the poet s life .

i m r H s na e, his favorite color, that he w ites with a quill 1 and that he eats bacon and eggs for “ breakfast ; that he plays golf and is a m anly

m n and n man , a virile a that his frie ds call

m . s him Harry . It is too uch De Reve tells ’ n and Fame that he really does t deserve her,

But m s t m not . that it cannot , it ust be Fa e ea s n herself in a chair, a d blows a puff Of cigarette “ ’ m smoke through her trumpet . I ve co e to stay, I have says Fame .

1 S ee page 1 2 of the present volume D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

on n It is a delicious satire modern advertisi g, the god of brass that Dunsany has attacked so often before . I believe that the play was n writte before this book appeared , and in that i case it is prophetic in parts, especially n the ’ n n m quill i cide t . Well , I won t atte pt to defend either myself or the point of view Dunsany is

n m s non attacki g (I refuse to consider the , y y n mous here . Notoriety disguisi g herself as

m an ol one Fa e is d theme, and a true , but never has it been productive of a more truly witty f The bit o work . play should stage delight n fully, a d easily . As in his other pieces of a somewhat like nature Lord Dunsany has made his characterization broad to the point Of f farce, but, in the figure o the poet, de Reves, H this becomes very much less evident . ere

n for is Dunsany speaki g himself, or so it would

n n - certainly appear . De Reves is o lo g haired m n dabbler, but a a gifted with true poetic

His f inspiration . comparison o Pegasus and

not n the Lord Mayor is only fun y, but it is n true in so far as it need be to make his poi t . The mere v ersifi er would have welcomed Fame and her great trumpet with open arms . De

Reves cannot ; the difference is too apparent, 124

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T possible exception of The Tents of the Arabs have that other quality which so strongly marks

- his work, the fairy like charm and truly marvel of f T ous poetry many o the ales . B e that as ” it may, Fame and the Poet is as light as thistledown , as clear as crystal , and as sharply cutting as a dagger point .

THE TALES

’ Besides his plays there are to Lord Dunsany s credit eight volumes of short tales ; I call n them tales for wa t of a better title . Some times they are mere random thoughts jotted down seemingly until such time as they found Th place in some more pretentious form . e “ ” book of Fifty- One Tales might so be de

- scribed almost as a note book , so fleeting , and so incomplete are some of the conceptions ; yet there are others of which one might say that to write them alone was to have at least a n finger upon immortality . There is not o e of them which is not beautiful in thought and T n in expression . hey give too strange i ner ’ n glimpses of the man s philosophy, his e tire f loyalty to beauty, and his disgust o com 12 6 H I S W O R K

m m pro ise . Baudelaire might have written the

n of so far as form is concer ed , but the point m m m n view , and it is that which akes the i porta t ’ of Dunsan s I n of first all , is y alone . some the longer tales one may fi nd pure metrical n n m n flights of surpassi g loveli ess , al ost se suous in the long swinging hexameters which are so reminiscent of the Greece by which they were

The n doubtless suggested . followi g fragment by the change of a syllable here and there is a perfect example of this phase :

C ad ho h ha was in one ro a a s in l t ug t t city be lw y , h s its a or h f n s o twilig t , yet wa be uty w t y o eve o l vely a wonder ; city and twilight both were peerless but r h r B o f a o n nkno in h r fo eac o the . uilt st e u wn t e wo ld r d r i s ons arr d no n t h r we t ea we e t basti , qu ie we k w o w e e , a d the nom s ab a so fl ash d a k to but c lle by g e y , it e b c he h its or o or for o or ha no n an t twilig t gl ies , c l c l , t t e c f m h r r o ndar is nd h h say o the w e e thei b u y , a w ic the rna h and h h the C of r h ete l twilig t , w ic ity N eve ; t ey are the n - orn h dr n the a r s d a h rs of twi b c il e , f i e t ug te o n r T m had n h no t t k W de . i e bee t ere , but o wor d e r n he had rn d to a a r a r n the st uctio ; tu e f i , p le g ee d om s h r mad o f o r the r s he had e t at we e e c ppe , e t left n o h d n he the d s ro r o f s ha u t uc e , eve , e t ye citie , by w t ” bribe I know not averted .

This is from a tale in The Book of Wonder which Dunsany calls A Chronicle of Little 1 2 7 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

Adventures at the Edge of the World . The m m n n Preface to this volu e is very char i g , a d is even remindful of another invitation extended “ to us all some hundreds of years ago : Come n n in with me, ladies a d ge tlemen who are any wise weary of London : come with me : and those that tire at all of the worlds we know : ” for we have new worlds here . “ It is in The Gods of Fegana that Dunsany creates that mythology upon which so much

n He of his work is fou ded . is discovered here n playing with his gods as with a new toy, te der,

n s n m iro ic , and severe as the occa io see s to warrant . And little by little grew his gods in n strength and stature , u til they were as gods 2 B “ indeed . In 191 , W . . Yeats published Selec ” n tions from the Writings of Lord Du sany , n I ntroduc to which Mr . Yeats co tributed an n tion from which I shall quote at le gth , for it gives an estimate of Dunsany from a fellow craftsman who is always as great in his gen n erosity as in his ge ius .

These stories and plays have for their continual theme the passing away of go d s and m en and cities before the mysterious power which is sometimes called ’ ‘ T ’ by some great go d s name but more Often ime . 12 8

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T covered them up ; and then the wind lay d o wn and the ’ sand rested . O r he will invent some incredible sound that will yet call before us the strange sounds of the ‘ n h as h n he sa s S m m s om m ons r of ig t , w e y , o eti e s e te ’ he ea An h a n ur t s coughed . d ow he can pl y upo o ars h ha a a of his arv d rom a s n fe wit t t gre t g te , c e f i gle ivory tusk dropped from some terrible beast ; or with his tribe of wanderers that pass about the city telling o ne another tales that we know to be terrible from the blanched faces o f the listeners though they tell them in an unknown tongue ; or with his stone gods of ‘ the m o n a n for h n ee ro k a k n is u t i , w e we s c w l i g it ’ ‘ ’

rr r k ho d n k in he n n . te ible, o c s ul ot wal t eve i g “ a ha n i the as r Yet s y w t I will , so stra ge s ple u e ha h o ar o ana s and d s r do t t t ey give , s h d t ly e e c ibe , I not know why these stories and plays delight me. N ow they set m e to thinking of some old Irish jewel ork n f r r nd an Ara s s w , ow o a swo d cove ed with I i be que ’ ’ ha M rk s at han in n ha n f St . a t t gs a frie d s ll , ow o n nd n Ve ice , now of cl oud palaces in the su ow but m ore often still of a strange country or state of the soul that once for a few weeks I entered in deep sleep and ” after l ost and have ever m ourned and desired .

Indeed the tales are very like to the plays except that lacking the fixed quality of the dramatic form they have become even more “ fanciful Fifty- One Tales is perhaps a little more philosophical in tone ; the gentle irony of the author shows itself again and again, sometimes flaring up fiercely in a glow of indig 130 H I S W O R K nation at the cobbled streets that dare to wan n n der over the danci g places Of Pa , sometimes tenderly rebuking those who can see no other n m f beauty tha the tall chi neys o factories , and again the spirit changes to a wonder and an awe at the great immensity of existence . It has been remarked that most of the plays would fit well into the form Of stories , and it n n is quite as true, o the other ha d , that many of the stories would do well as plays . Some

o of them could not be dramatised , they are t o too n in light , fragile , a d too lacking action ; Th but others would be splendid material . e tale of the magic window and of the war in the ’ of n other world , the story of the quest the Quee s tears , the dreadful adventure that befell three

an literary men , would all make plays , d there m are many more that would go with the . Yet were they put into dramatic form there would be so much that would have to be lost from them that the change would be of ques

i n F r n n t o able wisdom . o in these tales Du sa y has permitted the bridle rein to droop upon

n the neck of Pegasus , a d that steed has wan n m dered to an d fro among the hills a d eadows , he has sniffed the woods and has paused to 1 31 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

drink from the stream that runs through the n n pasture, and all life arou d him has k own a

l rl n golden and a g o ous awakeni g . SO there are

some things which are too subtle, and there are some which are too delicate to be transmitted to a play, but though this be so the tales them selves would never have risen to their present importance had it not been that some of their m T kind were embodied in dramatic for . here is n n a force, a direct ess, a co centration , not only of attention , but of energy which gives a carrying power to the play which the tale

or can never attain . N is such attainment intended ; the cow and the horse are both noble animals, but we would never look for milk from the latter . ’ Dunsany s tales convey us to lands that we Hi never before knew existed . s favourite loca “ tion is that which he calls The Edge Of the ” of World , for the passion for geography is the

- n school room , and Du sany is too big to be confined within the mean and narrow circle of of four walls . We may call some the tales symbolic, and others allegorical , while to nearly all of them we may attribute some deep and hidden meaning that must be frantically 132

HI S PHILOSOPHY

’ LORD DUNSANY S outlook on the art of the theater and that of the drama has by no means n 1 been confi ed by local restrictions . In 913 there might have been seen in the pamphlet issued from Florence by Edward Gordon Craig ’ an advertisement of Craig s school for the art f o the theater . An international committee was appointed and the two members for Ireland B were W . . Yeats and Lord Dunsany . There is printed too in the same place a list of the donations and gifts toward this school , and here ’ “ Dunsany s name heads all the rest This is doubtless because his was the only cash contribution ; it was certainly a most generous f n n n n o . o e, consisti g one hu dred pou ds What ’ D ns n became of the venture , and how Lord u a y s hundred pounds were exp ended belongs to that part of history which is still immured in the 134 H I S P H I L O S O P H Y

archives Of the unkn own . At any rate it was a

one worthy cause , and which , by reason of its n very inta gibility, was sure to appeal to both

m s m n the me ber fro Irela d . That which is far away always seems to n n appeal to Dunsa y most, a d the further away

n it is the stronger the appeal . Whe he speaks “ of King Argimenes and the Unknown War ” rior as being the first play about his own coun try he is very evidently not talking about

of n Ireland , but that mythical la d of which he is the discoverer There is a danger in all n n Th this , a d it is no small da ger . e realm of pure abstraction invites to rest and contempla

one tion , especially after has been deluged with

of of n the opposite phase life to the point ausea . But when one wanders so far from the things of every day that one ’ s thoughts seem to have no application to the everyday man , it is high time to pause and consider the possibility of

- n T inter terrestrial communicatio . here is a point where Dunsany in his effort to deal only with the big things ends by glorifying the little

n m n n n things , by doi g the s all thi g i fi itely well , in nn instead of doing the big thing any ma er . N ot once but many times I have compared 135 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

’ Lord Dunsany s work with that of ancient n Greece, traci g in his plays and tales a resem blance to the old gods, and to the eternal battle An between man and destiny . d I have pointed out the three points of view with which a poet B may regard his own creations . ut I neglected to say that all three of these points of view are the same . It is necessary for me to talk a little of religion in order that I may make this clear to you . I have no apology for including such a dissertation here , for I am talking of a poet, of one who writes of Beauty ; and surely God B and eauty are the same . Lord Dunsany has

z omni o n made his gods to be absolute , p te t, divine beyond the very outskirts of the cosmos, and in this I believe he has been mistaken . His gods are those of the ancient Hebrews ; they are like the Egyptian gods , for they are n implacable a d apart . N ot so the gods of B m Greece . efore they became aterial for the plays and stories of men they had been hu i n man zed , they had lear ed to suffer . Their followers endowed them with the traits of mankind , love, hate, gratitude, and they were even permitted to sorrow . In a word they were not only individual but personal. Then 136

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

n n the relatio ship , deal with those gods as fi ite . This was well understood by the great dramatists n m n n n f of Greece , a d it is in the isu dersta di g o this eternal fact that Dunsany has handicapped n n his power . Dunsa y has show us the falsity

- n f in of the super ma o Nietzsche , but his place

- we are given a super god even more terrible .

His place is that of pure abstract thought, n devoid of emotio , and so neither in his gods nor in the world they rule do we find a trace of m n passion either hu an or divi e . It is this that f sets his work apart from the lives o men , and m it is this which is his greatest li itation . Life m is action otivated by emotion . Dunsany deals only with ideas . It is true that those ideas are beautiful , but no matter how beautiful they may be they are nothing more than the n unborn childre of life . In the dream world he has created we find many of the superficial n f m traits and idiosy crasies o hu anity, and these deceive us into thinking for a moment that n Bu his people are eve as ourselves . t when we probe deeper we discover that it is all a m n n sha , that not o ce does a single huma emo m tion show above the surface . If this ake believe world is to remain as calm and as 1 38 H I S P H I L O S O P H Y detached as he would have it there must be no

n r human passio to distu b the quiet Of the dream . That is why there are so few women in Dun ’ n sany s plays , a d that is why , when they do appear , they serve merely as a background ’ For or a mouthpiece . man s relationship with woman is more intimate than any other ; it is vitally personal , and it is Often great with passion . Intimacy, personality , and passion ’ are three things with which Dunsany s gods n may have nothi g to do . If they had it might

m - make the less god like , but certainly it would m make them ore divine . Dunsany has remem bered that in heaven there is “ neither marrying ” n in nor givi g marriage, but his interpretation has been too literal . Let me say again that while a poet may , nay, must, have his head in the clouds , his feet must touch earth soil .

n His Dunsany is a aesthete . beauty is that m and which we appreciate with our inds ,

n ur of senses. We see the sple do the pictures

n and m of he paints for us , the wo der agic his faerie dawns and twilights soothes and dazzles of our eyes, but not once do we feel a throb n n living emotio . Our ears are e raptured with w n the music of his lines , we feel the o derful 139 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

an f rhythm, swing, d beat o phrase on phrase, but not once do we know the poignancy of the familiar . It is all apart . In his scenes, in the

times he has given for his actions , in the very costumes of his people there is an effort made to universalize by choosing something which is typical of the whole and yet so different from

each part that it cannot be confused with reality . One cannot universalize a thought by making it unlike ; it must be more like than the thing

not f itself . It must be di ferent ; it must be even more than the same . It may be thought that I have devoted much space to destroying that which to all of us has been beautiful . I have not intended to do so . It seems necessary to me to point out that the great fundamental error which Dunsany has made is that he has set himself to find the least common multiple instead of the greatest common divisor . In doing this he has imposed a limitation upon his work which must He be recognized . deals in the most delicate tints and shadings ; his writing is a marvelous

pastel , but it lacks the vigour and lasting power i An n of O l. d now havi g said all this I will ask

you to forget it, if you have not so far disa 140

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

H fi n truly beautiful . e has done a e, it may not be too much to say a great work, and he has done it with the deftness of the perfect m crafts an . And now it is well to let the man speak for himself ; it is only just that his voice should be heard in a discussion which touches

The him so nearly . following extracts are from an article contributed by Lord Dunsany to e the N ational Revi w of London during 191 1 , and “ the title of the article is Romance and the ” Modern Stage .

Something must be wrong with an age whose drama deserts romance ; and a cause that soonest ne is the a arm n occurs to o l i g spread of advertisement , v ar and i h - its frightful ulg ity, ts w ole hearted devotion n of m on to the snari g ey . What advertisement (the screaming voice of our ks to o h r han a an he a age) see be t e t lie , d if t actu l n is ra r h l stateme t lite lly t ue, t en a l the m ore must the suggestion correct this error by being especially

false . “ h he sa r Everyw ere t c edness of business is preached , h r is o n d t as an en t h s r a everyw e e it p i te o d , o t i g e t error advertisements testify alike in all places ; chil dren are brought up on them ; for everything sublime or beautiful that any city shows them twenty times h see far m or no r s rd d d o t ey e ticeable, some placa d o i A k with avarice . dvertisements drop from the boo s dr n r ad h that chil e e , t ey confront them in their homes . 142 H I S P H I L O S O P H Y

They stand large between them and the scenery when n they travel . Will a yone say that their preaching is neglected ; not unless the bill -sticker has lost his nn n T h cu i g . hose who are t us educated will learn o to b w d own to business . When m ost we need ro man roman has n r h n d a a ce , ce bee f ig te e w y . “ As he steals over dewy hills in the dusk of summer evenings he sees those placards standing in the fields and praising Mamm on ; to Rom ance they seem the m n f he r r ss f A r an battle e ts o t fo t e o va ice , d he is g one t on a ce . “ is not rom s n ss ha ro man has fl ed It f bu i e t t ce , but from the wo rshiping of it ; the calf was not an unclean am on the sra s h n h rsh beast g I elite , but w e t ey wo iped the G olden Calf then Go d deserted them . “ TO -d ay a work of art must be defended in terms of ‘ ’ ’ h he u e f ! h sa f business . W at s t s o it t ey will y o m n n and woe to the ar s who anno so e pai ti g , ti t c t ‘ ’

I n s m e in so m h . answer, t bri g uc “ A year or so ag o this age of ours spoke through the T p en o f some writer of a brief letter to a j ournal . he d o not fate of Crosby Hall was being discussed . I n a was remember the argume ts ; it was be utiful , it And the a e s ok and sa d nd in he a . historic , a t w y g p e i ‘ Let us have a little m ore business and less sentiment . “ That was the great error put into a sentence which r the age inspired its prophet to write to the p ess . “ Human happiness is nothing m ore than a fairy m o n h ring of hum an sentim ents d ancing in the o lig t . of The wand that co mpels them m ay po ssibly be g old . s m a n d d to m ak h m d an Business, perhap , y be ee e e t e ce , n ss the oss m ans sho d but to think that busi e , p ible e ul D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T be m ore desirable than the certain end showed that that Obscure writer whom the age had inspired was ignorant firstly even Of himself and the little fanciful T things that he intended some day to d o . hus is the n for he sak of the m ans and r h and end give up t e e , t ut r da on nn m ra o n rs beauty sac ificed every y up i u e ble c u te , until the generation fostered am ong these things says ‘ ’ o the ar s h do ou et ! and to the o t ti t , W at y g by it p et, ‘ ’ Does it p ay ! “ I n discussing the state of the stage one has to r n k n d he watch the affairs of its neighbo i g i g oms, t

a s and th . I r nd on re sord d st ll e pit f thei co iti s a i , a rom nce will not easily fl ourish across the border. “ The drama is the mirror Of life if not something And an a e n i ork r d m ore . g that pai ts ts woodw e to a e maho an h m r d n p g y, t at akes especte fortu es by mixing up sulphuric acid with glucose and calling the ro d r the e of fl annele n e n p uct bee , ag tte a d th pate t pill such an age m ay well have such a drama as will be pleasant and acceptable to the d o ers of these things : for when insincerity has once raised up its honor d h ad in o s and omm r as has an e e p litic c e ce , it , d in d a as is r n i ily life well , it quite ce tai that ts wor ship ers will dem and a d ram a sufficiently stale and h r smug to suit t ei lives . “ I n an a a e a n y be utiful g poet is scarcely oticed , he is the na ra ro d of the a f he tu l p uct be uty o t time, he is no m ore than the lilac in the Spring ; only in evil d a s d o s he a ar ha - d ha n h o y e ppe lf witte , vi g t e f olish ook f n a m l o a lily upo a p ve ent . “ I am quite ig norant of the cost or feasibility of r skin new r m n s in i g expe i e t the theater. I have no

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A MA T I S T inform atio n about the newest question upon any ha ar s s an ha om t kn a subject t t i e ywhere , we s ll c e o ow s n r o r h r di little about omethi g once m o e, as u forefat e s d Th n ha h before the d ays of encyclopedias . e we s ll ave dram a again that shall concern itself with life rather u than with o ur anxious uncertainties about it . B t the discoveries Of steam and electricity which have n to m r re as r n to r one of give life atte , a pe plexi g eve y us as what came out of the bottle that the Arabian rm an o nd and ha not r o r d rom fishe f u , we ve yet ec ve e f

r n r n m h n r . our pe plexity . I am ot c iticisi g ac i e y I stand in awe of so terrible a genie whose shadow has d arkened all the midlands of England ; but I mention it n to explain the newness and sudde ness of o ur problems, our unfamiliarity with o urselves and the puzzled ex l h h h n s pression on the faces of al who deal wit t ese t i g , n r h r at and the difference betwee the sto ies we tell , w e e n o nd m r a s and son s romance yaw s l udly, a the si ple t le g of m ore rural people . “ Rom ance is so inseparable from life that all we need to Obtain rom antic dram a is for the dramatist to fi nd any age and any country where life is not too ons thickly veiled and cloaked with puzzles and conventi , in fact to fi nd a people that is not in the ag onies of self F r m s h nk ha is s m r to consciousness . o y elf I t i t t it i ple s s the ro of r ad n imagine such a people, a it aves t uble e i g n r m an a e or the ro of mak n a to fi d a o tic g , t uble i g h r h r i j ourney to lands w e e t e e s no press . “ s a I t is easy for a philanthropist to endow a ho pit l , and easy for a benevolent m an to wo rk for the sake of r h r o a is n ar to h m o s or s the po o , t ei g l e t e , l gic upp t

them and reasonable men applaud them upon the way. 146 H I S P H I L O S O P H Y

the a the o is the wa o f t e B ut w y Of p et y h martyr . The a r his ork the m o r n n his o a gre te w e i fi ite g l . His own

s anno ass ss . Th r is o i eye c t e it e e little l gic n a lyric , r s on Ho and noto iou ly little m ey . w c an an age which values all things in g old understand so unvalued a thing as a romantic fancy ! “ The kind of drama that we m ost need to -day seems to m e to be the kind that will build new worlds for the for the s r as m h he o d fancy, pi it uc as t b y sometimes needs a change of scene . “ E r m orn n ra a ra ns ra and ve y i g ilw y t i , teleg phs, motors await to spread the latest inform ation every E r n or where . ven we e this i f mation O f value there ’ han m n n s o would be m ore t e s mi d c uld digest . I d o n o d a d o n s of rd r i ot bject to et ile acc u t mu e trials, l fe is at a high tension in a co urt where a m an is on trial for his life ; what d oes the harm is meaningless reports Of cricket m atches spun out with insipid phrases and ’ n m s an h h o m n newly i vented sha l g , w ic fill a pe ple s i d n n n re d r ad men h no with othi gness, a d a wi ely e by w o hras s on r die ass a a at h r r s d n . l ge , but p w y t ei e i e ce P e are paras ites in the fur o f thought and in tim e they Man and destroy the thing upon which they feed . y many an erstwhile clever head po urs forth phrase after r - a and s rda h nd phrase picked up f om to d y ye te y, be i

a and on the aras s . which thought is de d , ly p ite left T o o much inform atio n about the fads and fashions o f empty lives is stealing year by year the traditions and a s r m a n simplicity even Of ru ral people . Yet pl ce e i al h n s h s are the h n n unaffected by l these t i g , t e e u ti g Th n h r is the o h r ground of the d ram atist . e t e e t e s ms to m e ha a world the world of fancy . It ee t t D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T play that is true to fancy is as true as one that is true rn m s for an is as r to m ode ti e , f cy quite eal as more solid n nd r as n ssar t thi g s a eve y bit ece y o a man . A fancy of some sort is the mainspring and end of every human nd a r h rn ambition, a write w o tu s away from conv en tions and problems to build with no other bricks than nd a is d o n no r a r fancy a be uty i g t ivi l wo k, his raw i he dr ams and h ms and h material s t e , w i , s ad owy im ” f ma out h ll s s in the so o h a s ar s h . pul e ul n, Of w ic el e i et

H ere we may see Dunsany as a critic, less f of the drama than o the age which begets it, and less of the age than of the philosophy which n n u derlies its spirit . One is i clined to wonder ’ too whether the fact of Dunsany s critical ability does not in some wise explain many other things about his work . Often we find in him in a critical mood his tales and plays, and we realize again that good criticism is always creative in the highest sense . But this tendency on the part of Dunsany empha sizes the fact that his outlook is essentially intellectual . Dunsany realizes, but he does ot not experience ; he perceives , but he does n feel . In his desire to get away from the life of to -day he ends almost by getting away from

His f all life . drama is that o imagination coated with a veneer of observation, albeit 148

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

This creation has Offered him unlimited sc ope for pure fl ights of fancy ; he is bound down

s e of r by no po sible r striction time or place, o n H adherence to traditio . e makes his tradi

- tions as he goes along . Actual folk lore is always closely entwined with the actual re i lig on of its peo ple, and thus it proceeds not n only from what me think, but from what they ’ i - D n feel . An art ficial folk lore such as unsa y s, being the product of the imagination of one man , is purely mental , and thus fails to satisfy on one side no matter how beautiful it may n be in itself . Imaginatio is entirely a mental

quality . And so , as the greatest art must always be emotion expressed in terms of the t a of in ellect , we must convict Duns ny half H e . e e measur s d als not with emotion , but

of n with states mind , a d be it said here again

a i that, l ck ng or not in the bigger and more n f vital quality, that which he has give us is o

r is the most su p assing b eauty . It the art Of

a st fir the intellectu l ari ocrat st, last, and always ,

e akne and therein li s its we ss ; but such as it is , i f n it is a beaut ful art . It is not the art o o e f n who feels , it is not even the art o o e who on r ms thinks , but it is the art of e who d ea . 1 5 0 H I S P H I L O S O P H Y

One could almost wish to discard all the rest

’ to n e D n n s and be conte t with dr ams alone , u sa y are so potent in their magic power .

a s Dr matically too there is a lo s to be noted . Dun sany sometimes disregards a dramatic situ ation in the very fear that it will conceive a human emotion of violence at variance with T his established code . here is always one “ scene in King Argimenes and the Unknown ” Warrior for which we look from the very out

e . s s m set , and which never com s It eem al ost

e it a important enough to be called a sc ne f ire.

is f two Ar im This the meeting o the Kings , g enes i n and Darn ak . What a wonderful situatio it would be , and how many notes could be touched B t n u . upo n in its risi g scale . it is not there For the rest I have called attention to them as

s so occasion arose as we discus ed the plays , there is no need to consider them further here . m n Whatever his shortco i gs as a dramatist ,

n r one and there lives not one , o has ever lived ,

n n n in which some flaws ca not be fou d , Dunsa y has done the remarkable thing of writin g plays which are startlin g in their dramatic power and

T e really fine in their poetry . h y are big in T . r conception , and artistic in execution hei 1 5 1 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T dialogue might serve as a model for many dramatists who are accounted of more impor tance than is Dunsany, and their colour and atmosphere exert at times an almost hypnotic effect . It may be interesting to see what Dunsany has to say concerning a fellow worker, Synge,

a r no less, in the London S tu day Review during

1910. The following bit is taken from a review ’ ” of e Syng s Deirdre of the Sorrows , his finest work so far as regards beauty of expression .

It is so long now since Pegasus shied at a factory whistle or at one Of our own ha-penny newspapers o n d o n the r ad and so r d and the bl wi g w o , a e left people and remained aloof from them the way he was wont not to d o for the Elizabethans trotted him in and out h r r men s n r s r or o d r n w e eve a g , o wo e, foll we thei calli gs it is so long now since his ears caught the sound of the streets that it is strange to think o f a poet only ’ over the Irish sea writing in a peasantry s common

on And is . a . M n as t gue this what J. Sy ge w ble to d o as Hom r as a and as K f r n an an e w ble, eats , o i st ce, d an Tho on r no Fr cis mps , we e t. n is n r far a a ro the ds of m n hi Sy ge eve w y f m fiel e , s is not the inspiration of the Skylark remote from the earth ; o ur wonder at his fancy is as o ur wonder at the fl ight of the white o wl low down near beautiful ” fields .

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

beneath the surface of humanity, and though it has on occasion cut below the skin it has

never yet touched on that sacred , and therefore shocking thing Of which modern society stands so

greatly in dread . If it ever had so touched , the white heat of the spirit would have withered it

away . We have dealt with the isolated example, n with the abnormal insta ce ; why, no one can tell unless we admit to a morbid curiosity . It is

the age of science, and we have applied the rules of science to the principles of art and T we have failed most miserably . here is every n indication that this phase is well o its decline . There is every reason to believe that the roman tic renaissance for which we have been waiting “ is at last within reach . We have a new art ” of the theater which is in reality an Old art us revitalized and brought up to date . Let e be thankful for it . It is what we need . W “ ” may even begin to see signs of a new drama, and for this let us be thankful also . We need n it as a dyi g man needs life . We call one man a realist because he deals in strange mental conditions, and we call another man a romanticist because he deals mm n s with co on emotional co ditions . Per on 154 H I S P H I L O S O P H Y ally I am strongly of the conviction that the

of romanticist is the more real the two by far . Lord Dunsany does not come under either n heading accordi g to this defin ition . That is because both the realist and the romanticist deal with life , though from different points of n View . Lord Dunsa y deals not with life , but

F r with dreams . o long it has been forgotten n n that there were dreams , except whe o e had eaten too much lobster in some gilded restaurant after seeing a bad play . And then the dreams were not such as to make one desire them . It had almost passed beyond our recollection that there was a land in which realist and romanticist ceased to exist in themselves and n us blended into one. Dunsa y has taught n again the name Of that la d , and he has called

no it Wonder . There we find dramatist who may be labelled with a scientific name ; there m him is only the drea er . To all things are possible , and the stranger they are the more i probable is their happening . As in this l fe of the flesh we catch fleeting glimpses of that in other life which has no boundaries , so that life do we see now and again something which may remind us of the existence we have left 1 5 5 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

behind . The dream world is not empty for us ; the land of wonder is peopled thickly with those who are glad to give us welcome ; the

people Of the hills are there and waiting . Dunsany has opened for us the great gates

leading into that other world so near, and yet

so distant from us all . Like all the little people

his creatures have no souls, for if they had

then Time might overtake them . For the only thing in all the whole wide world that is im

perishable, the only thing that Time stands f On baf led before , is a dream , even a little e. And that Is most of all what Dunsany has

o told us , that a t o great intensity of interest

with the things of everyday life, the transient

things, is just so much ground given up to that

T . great scourge of all the ages, ime In our

fight with him he hurls the years at us, and our houses crumble, our cities fall into ruin , and our n our civilization passes away . All learni g, n all our wealth , all our accomplishment ca not m turn him even so uch as a minute from his path . And all we have with which to oppose him are

n m T . dreams . Only agai st the is ime powerless

The world is very tired of thinking, especially o e h of the about itself, and we wh are aC a part 1 56

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

s He has shown u beauty, which is truth, and truth is immortal . And so , while Lord Dun “ sany will in due course come to pass away at ” his residence , it is quite as certain that he will i never d e. LETTERS

THE follo wing letters are taken from a correspondence k r Mr. ar Wa ho between Stu t l e , w has staged three of th D nsan a s in his or man a T e u y pl y P t te u heater, and The rs hro Lord Dunsany . lette t w light on not a onn d h the a s in a n a n little c ecte wit pl y , cti g , st gi g , and ’ r n L r in the philosophy unde lyi g them . o d Dunsany s r a m and hos f M letters are given ve b ti , t e o r . Walker have been relieved o nly of such matter as did not seem n on he Th to have a direct beari g t subject at hand . e rs for h ms s and r r n h lette speak t e elve , equi e o furt er introduction or comment .

l t e ro L ord D sa to Excerp ts from a e t r f m un ny Mrs . Emma Garrett B oyd

N ot dated . There are many others who know me o and a r a m an ha no m and know my w rk , g e t y t t k w e ar of m or and m an o h s and never he d y w k , y t er to whom my work is a harmless eccentricity or a chance o ccupation less important than golf . D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

n han h I was wou ded less t t ree weeks ago . The bullet has been extracted and I am healing up am a so nd d f r F an rapidly . I l u er or ers o r ce as soon as I have recovered . Sometimes I think that no man is taken hence until he has done the work that he is here o d o and oo n a on a n t , , l ki g b ck five b ttles a d other m h h h m escapes fro deat , t is t eory see s only plausible ; but how can one hold it when one thinks ofthe deaths of Shelley and Keats ! in sha n But case I ll ot be able to explain my work , I think the first thing to tell them is that it does n not need explanation . O e does not explain a sun e n r do s one n d to a n s t o e ee expl i a work of art. O ne ma ana s of o s ha is y ly e , c ur e ; t t profitable and in " terestin the ro n d mand g , but g wi g e to be told What ’ I t s All A o o one can n n o i b ut bef re eve e j y, s becom ing absurd . ’ n h m f r Do t let t e hunt o allegories . I may have n an a o at som m if writte lleg ry e ti e, but I have, it was a o o s one and as a n quite bvi u , ge eral rule, I have nothing to do with allegories . What is an allegory ! A man wants the streets to s in his o n r h be better wept t w , o e wants his ’ n h s to ha a h n m eig bor ve r t er clea er orals . He can t h out a h say so straig t , bec use e might be had up for so he sa s ha he ha libel , y w t s to say, but he says ’ a o som n n in B it b ut e exti ct ki g abylon, but he s h n n of his one o s o n l t i ki g h r e t w a l the time . N ow h n r of Ba on w e I w ite byl , there are people who can 1 60

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

ho h n i a . am not n o scious, t ug i ev t ble I tryi g t teach m anybody anything . I erely set out to make a u of a s m e h m an work of art o t i pl t e e , d God knows s of art in s a e of o we want work thi g c rrugated iron . How many peopl e hold the error that Shakespeare was of the school room ! Whereas he was of the

nd as all s are. playgrou , artist

Dunsany.

Stuart Walker to Lady Dunsany

n Ju e 6, 1916. My dear Lady Dunsany A cable from Miss Wollersen two days ago had ’ me of Lo d Dunsan s m informed r y isfortune . I trust that he is fairly on the road to complete recovery ; it seems a great tragedy that one with universal messages should be silenced by rebellions and wars . ad The T n s f I have re e t o the Arabs . It is beautifully po etic but its lack of action makes it unavailabl e for me now . I have several plays of the type I n preparation and I have to be careful not to attempt too many wherein the only movement is of the mind and spirit . But should the play still be free at the end of next season I should like to consider it again . Before cl osing my letter I want to tell you that “ the costume plates for The Golden Doom are

. F an i . m v ery prom sing Mr r k Zim erer, the artist, 162 L E T T E R S is a most capable young man and he uses Lord ’ n n Du sa y s green with great effectiveness . I call Ho n it the Dunsany Green . w else could I desig ate ! — n o i it the Gree g ds, Klesh, the green sword n “ " n Ar im ne d Ki g g e s , the green lantern outsi e ’ Skarui s door ! ’ With every good wish for Lord Dunsany s com plete and rapid recovery,

Stuart Walker.

Lord Dunsany to Stuart Walker

n 2 1 1 Ju e 8, 9 6.

Dear Mr. Walker I am still in Ireland as I am still recovering from

am n a ad to o now . my wound , though I very e rly re y g Had I not been wounded I should now be in the m ans n o to Lad trenches . SO I a weri g y ur letter y s ass am ad to ea are Dunsany . Hughe M ie , I gl h r, “ arranging for you to have The Gods of the Moun ” n ma a oad or d ad tain . Whe ever I y be br e , rran m n s Lady Dunsany will make all a ge e t . “ ” Argimenes was the first play I ever wrote ab out “ ” The n a had my own country . Glitteri g G te I to as a s a already written, chiefly ple e Ye t but th t Ar imenes was the play never interested me. g of m s and first play l aid in the native land y pirit, ’ m ons the mos of course it has a first play s i perfecti , t visible of which is I fear a do wnward trend from a fi ne scene of the King and his bone to a mere round 1 63 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

as n ns ad of s n the h ing off and ce i g , i te ri i g w ole way ” of he n n like The Gods t Mou tain . I deed I think I wrote the whole play from a sudden fancy n in a s na n a on I had of a ki g r g g wi g b e , but that fancy may have come from an inner memory of n o was n r s n n a time whe I to hu g y, itti g a d sleep ing upon the ground with other dishevelled men in Africa . The last stage direction in this play (in a voice of p rotest) was suggested to me by a producer and pleased me at the time but I almost think my own m “ M ” idea was better . I ade Zarb say ajesty in h a n awe . That he should t row aw y good bo es reveals no h n s has d on the nn to Zarb , as t i g el e e, pi acle to T e which Argimenes has really risen . h other way n is funny , but I thi k I ought to have stuck to my m s m m o wn inspiration . I a u e yself so etimes by cutting seals on silver and on the chance that it may amuse you if it arrives unbroken I will put one n of them or more on this e velope . Though the world may be growing more barbarous n h ou me f i Flanders, w at y tell o your aspirations h h s is om n mo s ows t at el ewhere it bec i g re civilized . As a matter of fact it is not the ruins of Ypres or a street in Dublin that shows the high water mark ’ of our times barbarity ; it is to be seen in London in “ ” “ ” our m a om d s in m h of our a hi usic l c e ie , uc rc f n m d or h n . tecture , a d in toys a e c ildre

Yours sincerely , D n n u sa y.

L E T T E R S

S tuart Walker to L ord Dunsany

12 1 1 . July , 9 6 My dear Lord Dunsany When my mail was brought to me this morning the first thing that caught my eye was a light green a h s n d a od m se l whic repre e te g Of the ountain . Be fore I turned to the face of the envel ope I called my mother and my cousin to tell them that I need search h f r h n f no furt er o t e desig or the costumes . Then f m a d ho ma he s one o the ske w de t eals . The moment n I turned the envel ope I recog ized your writing , ’ which I had seen in the manuscript of The Queen s m ” Ene ies . as d me m s o Your letter ple e very uch, but h rtly “ ad h a d ha he h A after I had re it, I e r t t t rig ts to n n H r n Night at an I nn had go e defi itely to Mr. ar iso o rs was d d sa o n d Gray Fiske . Of c u e I eeply i pp i te for the addition of this play to my repertory would

r . F i m have meant a great deal to me. M iske s uch han am am ho n o Older in the theatre t I , but I pi g t make you very proud of my work on your other “ ” a d to ou to -da abo Ar imenes pl ays . I c ble y y ut g f m m with m ore assurance than I have had or so e ti e . ’ “ ” Your suggestion that Zarb s final Majesty is spoken in awe shows me that I shall be able to stage ha a a s in your work as you would like it . I ve lw y ,

d ad the o d in awe. The reading the play alou , re w r “ ” o of o was an a direction in a v ice pr test , fr kly , shock to me because it changed Zarb and weakened 165 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

ma of the the remarkable cli x play , which by the h n ds in n st h s e way, I t i k buil very well i tere wit ur dramatic strides not as inevitably as The Gods of the Mountain but beautifully , nevertheless . I am going to tell you a few ofmy ideas about play producing because I feel at ease after reading your statements ab out our uncivilized musical comedies f T m m n and our absurd toys or children . o y i d i he mos m an on a h the play s t t i port t c sider tion. T e author must know what he is talking about and why in Th e he says what he does the way he says it . er ’ is a story to tell and I try to tell it in the author s ’ n s m o sm as nd ma no way. I do t like y b li such, a I ke effort to foist upon an audience a suggestion that T there is always some deep hidden meaning . here is a story to tell and that story must always have ff n he a n nd ha f a certain e ect upo t udie ce , a t t ef ect ’ is gained primarily through the actor s ability to ’ translate the author s meaning into mental and n n m n be oh physical actio . The sce ery ust ever trusiv e ; it is not and cannot be an end in itself ; but to me lights come next to the actor in im h f and inten portance . With lig ts o various color sit as han s in s a and m and ho h y, v t c ge p ce , ti e , t ug t m re can be suggested . My lighting syste is very h h m h see the markable. O , ow I wish you ig t beggars turn to stone . I know your feeling for your first bel oved play ” King Argimenes and I shall treat it with a fi ne aff se ms a o ms ection . It e lm st wicked to discuss ter 1 66

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

Stuart Walker to L ord Dunsany 1 1 1 July 7, 9 6. My dear Lord Dunsany “ The possession of The Gods of the Mountain “ ” e o d n D om ma s me and Th G l e o ke very happy . “ ” Now I am waiting word on King Argimenes i a i a h a o s . s b am n wit gre t h pe It g pl y , but I ot n n h o s f r expecti g a y suc p pular succe s o it, or for “ “ ” The Golden Doom as A Night at an I nn ” will have or The Gods of the Mountain ought to have . The l oss of A Night at an I nn was a great dis n h appointment to me. I saw it the first ig t at the Neighborhood Playhouse and I told the Misses n n n Lewisoh the that I would do a ything to get it . I n my eagerness to get in touch with you I am afraid that I hurt or displeased them : but the process Of h reaching you seemed so terribly slow . I ad already told them that I should defer to them even if I succeeded in reaching you first and that if I got the play I should let them use it at the Neighborhood

Mr . F s h m Playhouse . i ke oug t to ake a great p opu l r f hi n i e a success o s productio . The play s quite th s ho m o ama h n o m be t s rt el dr I ave ever see , but t y “ ” “ h a and m nd The d n D om The ods e rt i , Gol e o , G “ ” of the Mountain and King Argimenes are far “ ’ ” r m g eater plays . The Queen s Ene ies is most n s n i m r m n s are i tere ti g , but ts echanical equire e t d “ ifficult of achievement for the present . The 1 68 L E T T E R S

m Tents of the Arabs impressed me very uch . I hope that I may try it sometimes when my resources are greater . ood s With every g wi h,

Stuart Walker .

S tuart Walker to L ord Dunsany 24 July . My dear Lord Dunsany m h n Mr . Zi merer brought t e sce e designs for both ” “ The Golden Doom and The Gods of the Moun ” a n as n h and se h m in h m t i l t ig t, I t t e up t e odel of “ m a to s h m nd he h y the tre te t t e u er t lig ts . The d n D m m n Th Gol e oo is really a re arkable setti g . ere are the great iron doors in the centre at the back of h A h f he d oo a i t e stage . t eac side o t rw y s a tall n o mn h as a h gree c lu , wit a black b alt b se t ree feet h n n n s a d on a a a in a a oo . hig , t i g b s lt circle gr y fl ri g Hanging between the columns just bel ow the flies is a large winged device in dark blue with a touch of o an and h E n n rom the a s r ge here t ere . xte di g f g te diagonally to the sides of the proscenium are very high bl ack marble walls with a narro w dull - colored “ n m d r r e on d o o e a ele b ick baseboa d . Th ly vivi c l r ings on the stage except the costumes are the green n columns and an orange design o n the iro d oors . mm r r has o o d in he n d d Mr . As t wi ge evice , Zi e e f ll we Assyrian and Babyl onian designs cl osely in the cut n m a d col or of the costu es . D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

“ As the Portmanteau Theatre main stage is rather n the o s is m h s d for a on small , a d f re tage uc u e the cti s h some d f o ms in of the play , t ere were i ficult pr ble “ ” I n the settings of The Gods Of the Mountain . m s ma on of he the first act Mr . Zim erer u es a s ll secti t i a h antas wall between two bastions . It s built r t er f f ro nd a o one can see the tically o col ored cks, a b ve it m s of Kon ros and in the d s an the copper do e g , i t ce Th d i in emerald peak of Marma . is last etail s teresting but I am not yet sure that it is best to have the m ountain seen far beyond the city in the first act because I want to g et an effect in the second and h M ro o an Ha of Kon ros is third acts . T e et p lit ll g The r n a d a is a road n quite simple . p i cip l et il b lu ette shaped window through which Marma is visible and it is with the play of lights upon Marma that I I n the os mes want to gain some impressive effects . c tu mm s s as in the wall of the first act Mr. Zi erer u e oriental themes with no attempt at accuracy . Kongros was in its heyday we believe some time n e a s ood after the fall of I lluriel a d as w pl ce it, it t f H f T n not so far somewhere west o the ills o i g , but southwest as ancient I thara . h s ou m d a Lo d All our good wis e go to y , y e r r D unsany .

L E T T E R S

L ord Dunsany to S tuart Walker

London derry . Ireland .

A s 1 16 ugu t 7, 9 .

My dear Mr. Walker Another welcome letter from you reminds me that a not ans r d o r I h ve we e y u last . I was waiting for a m ood h h sho d o h of the w ic ul be w rt y occasion, but I have had few moods but lazy ones ever since I was wounded . I have always heard works Of art spoken of as a ss or of a s a the o m n v luele v lue , u u lly f r er, and o the rare o ccasions when they have been admitted to be of value I had found that they take their pl ace with cheese . They are in fact a commodity or “ ” a and a a and are a d a o d rticle , h ve price , v lue cc r i h r d h fi nd ha ing to it . It s t erefo e a great elig t to t t h d you l ook on a work of art as a work of art. I a am so r a o almost forgotten that it was one. I r y b ut “ ”

h . B u sa anno A Nig t at an I nn ut as yo y, it c t “ touch the little Golden Doom while to compare “ ” The Go ds Of the Mountain to it would be like Ta n comparing a man to his own shadow . lki g Of “ The Golden Doom there is o ne sentence in Bjork ’ man s preface which particularly delighted m e and ’ that is the one in which he says that I show a child s desire for a new toy and the fate of an empire as n being of equal importance in the scheme of thi gs . ha n nd d the n o s n That is exactly w t I i te e , u f re ee effect — of the very little not that I am trying to teach 1 71 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

n m n anybody anythi g of course, I may e tion white chalk while I am telling a story if I have happened a i h h n in to notice that ch lk s w ite , but wit out a y f h n m n he r tention o t rusti g a essage i to t ears, o a lesson on whiteness : people seem to have been so much frightened by the school -master when they were young that they think they see him I n every one ever after Often critics see in my plays things that I did not

h . An h i as s o for know were t ere d t at s it h uld be, n n i n n ns s h son i sti ct s swift a d u co ciou , w ile rea is n an o an m s on a pl oddi g d sl w, d co e up l g afterw rd an n n s n n not s o fo d explai s thi g , but i sti ct does t p r ’ “ ” explanations . An artist s message is from instinct m m n to sympathy . I try so eti es to explain ge ius to people who mistrust or hate it by telling them it i n n th n fi h m i s doi g a y i g , as a s swi s or a swallow fl es,

s m n i h . n perfectly, i ply a d w t absolute ease Ge ius is in fact an infinite capacity for not taking pains .

A ugust 8 . It has just occurred to me that perhaps you never “ got my cabl e in answer to your letter about Ar gi ” “ h ” menes . I cabled Rig t meaning that I accepted o ms the n y ur ter ; but Ce sor, who is wiser than I , found in this message a menace to the stability of the m n n Real , a d a explanation of my invidious cable a Th w s d mand d . s s d n h e e i I upplie , a d thoug t the a had on ma h n c ble g e , but it y ave been co sidered too dan i gerous n the end . What tended to annoy me 1 72

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

ho h no d h s at the Ha m I t ug t I tice t i y arket, when they started with small children but altered the cast n afterward a d changed the size . But of course it m f n is only a atter o illusio . “ ” The public must needs know exactly when it ” all happened so I never neglect to inform them of n man d o s no the time . Si ce e t alter it d o es not in the as ma ha m n le t tter w t ti e I put, u less I am writing a a a o his o h s or his m o o pl y b ut cl t e t r car, so I put “ ” he m of the a f B about t ti e f ll o abylon , it seemed “ a n m a o the m f h n ice breezy ti e , but b ut ti e o t e i ’ v ention of Carter s Pills would of course do equally h . t e s was ha h n h well Well , re ult t t t ey we t to t e British Museum and got the exact costumes of the in B n n n od a o a d did . Th r peri byl , it very icely ere a e s o ha n o wh a m h ure t ve bee pe ple o s id , N ow y c ildren sha om to the h a and n you ll c e t e tre e j oy yourselves , but at the same time you shall learn what it was really ” B n like in abyl o . The fact is the schoolmaster has o oos and he m s a d so hat o can g t l e , u t be c ge , t pe ple enj oy themselves without being pounced on and made s A an n s n a d to lead better live , like fric ative bei g c rrie away by lions while they danced . Military duties have somewhat interfered with ’ the course of this letter and the taking of a wasps n s m m h d n ha n a h and e t to a use so e c il re t t live e r ere ,

m m ma n r h r h . y own s all boy, y i te fere wit it fu t er I meant when I got your l ast letter to write to you sometim e and send you a few comments on Argimenes for print unfortunately cannot con 1 74 L E T T E R S

the n in h ds are a d and n in vey to e whic wor s i , Ofte “ ” h Ar imenes the tone is the meaning . I ave g by ’ me now and probably shan t fi nd much to say about

n . it . First of all on page 63 (American editi o ) Zarb in his utterance Of the word Majesty shows that he attaches m ore importance to the empty glory of being called Maj esty than to the possessi on of a n Bu horse or any other adva tage he enumerates . t after all this sort Of detail is too trivial to be of any interest and you will have noticed already how Argi menes with his wider views and knowledge of strategy appears witless to Z arb when it comes to the detail of the daily life of a soldier of the slave guard . Probably if we were suddenly made to live am ongst insects it would com e out that we knew nothing o he sm of r ss r n i xa o o and ab ut t ell g a o eve ts e ct c l r, the insects would wonder how any creature living in the world could be so ignorant of a thing so common as grass . An l Another little note . Page 75 . o d sl ave ” Will Argim enes give me a sword ! He says it as one who sees a dream to o gl orious to be true . ” Old Slave A sword ! He says it as one the

r m of hos has om . o no d ea w e life c e true N , , I He sa s as one who s s was on must not. y it ee it ly Bu in he o o h s han n a dream . t t b k t i c ge betwee sword and no is not indicated . Of course I always liked to read my pl ay al oud before it was acted to h m d s h h n show the actors w at y i ea were , w ic pri t often fails to do . D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

A ug . 9 . d o of l 19 h h s m n I have just receive y urs Ju y t t i or ing, and see by it that you never received the cable that h Do not h n I sent and for whic I paid . t i k badly f o n h for his o n o ur Ce sor, but reflect t at God w good asons h s n sd m m h on o h re a give wi o to so e, w ile up t ers for reasons as divinely wise he has showered stupidity .

I have no redress .

Yours very sincerely ,

Dunsany .

L ord Dunsany to S tuart Walker

Ebrington Barracks, Londond erry ,

Ireland .

My dear Mr . Walker, M as to ou nd d som ha a m y l t letter y e e ew t bruptly, y mind being too preoccupied with the stupidity of the Censor who seems to have stopped my cable to you in which I accepted your terms for my two act play 4 r e to sa howthe s of on July 1 th . I w it y picture n m i the plays you have do e delight e. You ev dently have the spirit of Fairyland there .

A 1 ugust 3. I am glad you like the seal of the god among the a s n s h n s e mountains . I cut se l o ilver w e ever lei ur and h s one is and an idea fall in the same hour, t i l a most my favorite . 1 76

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T the tracks across the desert taken in conjuncti on with the passage over the hills of Ting and re ’ garded in the light of all travellers tales can only is n o one h n . as ou ha poi t t t i g It there , y ve said , that one will fi nd Kongros . Yet one counsel and a a n n the a sho d a to his h a w r i g tr veller ul t ke e rt , let im n m in h a h heap scor upon hi self t e G te , let him s m an of h m n vi his o in for h peak e ly i self a d lify rig , t ey o -da n in Kon ros a the l tell a fable t y, eve g G te ( O d men tell it seated in the dust) ofhow there once came folk to Kongros City that made themselves out to a h n be greater than men may be . Wh t appe ed to them who can say ! For it was l ong ago . Without doubt the green gods seated in the city are the true n m ho h h and a o al gods, wor by ti e t ug t ey be ; b ve l let the traveller abase himself before the beggars h and h m h ms o h m for who t ere, u ble i elf bef re t e ; may say what they are or whence they come ! ” n h d n D om r sa d i Regardi g T e Gol e o , a c itic i n London that it was death to touch the iron door Th r m h and yet a lot of people touched it . e e ig t Th be something in that but not much I think . e children of course are ignored the play hinges on — that and after all someone must open the door K n and his n a om an s him for the i g , reti ue cc p ie , but better not let any unauthorized person touch it un n f r o d a to a ood a o ecessarily , o it w ul be pity kill g ct r just for the sake of realism . f m fi v e min s Even as I went out o y quarters, ute e r n h s saw e s uads d n ago , aft r w iti g t i , I ight q rilli g 1 78 L E T T E R S on the parade ground and two children right in the middle trying to dig with sticks and no one saying a o d to h m so no ha m o d n Doom w r t e , I k w t t y G l e is o B a all i as true t life . ut fter it s e y to be true to h n on f man and the dr am f life w e e writes o e s o man, and not of some particular set of fashions in dress or catchwords that may be regarded as being untrue l m to a l ti e . o s s n Y ur very i cerely, D n u sany .

S tuart Walker to L ord Dunsany

O o 2 1 ct ber , 916 . My dear Lord Dunsany Your letters of mid - August were forwarded to m e Th had n d s o at Wyoming . ey bee e p iled of their seal s but no bl ack pencil or heedless Shears had laid

h n . a a s s t e conte ts waste I h ve very eriou quarrel , because I am quite sure one of my letters and several n h n bits of printed m atter ever reac ed you . Ma y months ago I sent my message to you whose work m h m e and o h has said so uc to , I t ld you t en what I “ ” thought Of The Golden Doom and what I hoped “ ” “ The ods of the M n a n and K n for G ou t i , i g Am a did not no ou so Argimenes . eric k w y well ow a d in n ou ha n then . N I t ke pri e telli g y t t eve sm n in the oo sho s no o nam the sale e b k p k w y ur e , the names of your b ooks even those reported out — of print and have their individual way of pro n f m nouncing everything . Ma y o the have friends 1 79 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

u and se nds m who know yo , the frie co e back like travellers past Marma with their wonder tales and ’ Y u are a s pronunciations . o v riou ly called Dun o Dun sa n D n an a h sany, Do n sah ny, y, u s y, ut or e of Ar gim i nez, Ar gi m e neez, Argi me nez, I myself have chosen the pronunciation of Argimenes h n are h as in as Th ! t e ar as i , t e gi give, 3 z ere l o u is sho n n a m h the eterna pedag g e wi g be e th y yout , I fear ; but I call Argimenes what I do call him because I think he would like it, even though he had another way. We had our public dress rehearsals of The Golden ” “ ” Doom and The Gods of the Mountain at is h s o d to Wyoming . And here w ere I h ul like tell you what these curtains opening on the realization of my dream meant to me ; but I cannot . I have n n n c n not your words to picture i ta gible thi gs . I a tell you only that I was very happy to see in my own h little theatre what I know to be a great work . T e ” Golden Doom was remarkable and its effect upon Th n the audience was indescribable . e sce e you B n the h s was m ss . u ow know . Under lig t it i pre ive t that you have told me what you think of school mm id rooms may I confess that Mr. Zi erer d use Assyrian and Babylonian designs but with less attempt at accuracy than I led you to believe . The h a ma m Sentries were very good . I ad alre dy de the n i s o o am not be very human se tr e bef re y ur letter c e , r m n h h m and cause I have known aw a t roug ti e space, s s ha no n him om the a you have, but becau e I ve k w fr 180

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

h sh dd d at the me an h still , t ey u ere right ti d c eered when the final curtains cl osed . I have taken two liberties in the first act. Will you send your approval quickly ! The curtains open after a mo ment of music that tells of the East . The mottled m s of Kon r wall , the copper do e g os, and green Ma ma n sk in the d s an are s b e r pierci g the y i t ce , vi i l n lf n i n h h s . n i t e brig t u light U , pe ur ous a d suspi i s o no no and n c ou , O g , the glutto us care free, a d Thahn, n n n h re the i effi cie t a d w eezy, a seated under the wall . An l a a ass s h n a m o d w ter be rer p e by , t e dro edary n mom n a f m n n ma . A e t l ter a at wo a si ging a song which the successful beggars imitate go es into the n - city but offers no alms . A s ake charmer passes Oh d ss is a ma of h an n e , but her re rvel w ite d ora g and red she drops one of her snakes into fat ’ m O ogno s bowl . Ag ar followed by his one eyed n n s A mar in r a an h retai er e ter ; g pu ple r gs, d t e other in black that has been fastened together at strategical poI nts by pink which he must have stolen

k ra . ha M an h h in Ac a I ve l broug t on t e first act. n f n o n n h He is little , i e ficie t, y u g , a d speec less, but m he n h he akes t seve t beggar . The end of the first act shows the seven beggars . They put the green n h m raiment underneath their rags . Agmar li es t e u h m o ho h m h p , lo oks t e ver, s ws t e t e attitude of the gods once m ore and takes his place at the head f The o the column . curtains close as the beggars disappear into the city . Of course I have not ad n n ded a y lines, but the busi ess holds very well . 1 82 L E T T E R S

I n the second act I have made the character whose h d is n a d a h add m c il bitte by e t er a other . I think the scene gains in pathos and prepares somewhat more effectively for the third act which is tremen d ous . I have had the thrones made so that they are palpably imitation and this seems to add to the m s n f na i pre sive ess o the fi l picture , when the fearful citizens have slunk away leaving the seven stone beggars to themselves : in the distance green Marma k s a n Mr . Ar h pierce blue ight s y t ur Farwell , f our s Am an om s h one o be t eric c po ers, as done the “ ” music for The Gods of the Mountain and his grasp of your story is excellent . “ We have not yet put King Argimenes into the i n in n s o a sa . Mr. sce e, but it g i g very well rehe r l is r n the m for s n Harry Gilbert w iti g us ic thi , a d the n n n r n h n tear song a d the wi e so g a e promisi g . I t i k in fact that you would be highly pleased with what we are doing .

ns . 2 r n Our season ope O ct 3 d at Spri gfield , Massa e and for s a in Ea in chus tts, five week we pl y the st the l arger cities on November 27th we open in New York at the 39th Street Theatre which is really well arranged for your performances . Our Opening bill will in all likelihoo d consi st of The ” “ ” “ ” n D m r h ss The F am Man Golde oo , Neve t ele , l e , “ ” and my own Six Who Pass While the Lentils B oil . On Thursday and Saturday m ornings o f the first week we shall pl ay for children and what an au dience they will make ! I use a prologue for some of 183 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T my own pl ays and with your permission I am going to make him speak some ofyourlines before The Golden ” O ur ha s m the n Doom . f co se I s ll ub it li es to you n o n he for approval . I wa t to pe t performance in h o u o the Th New York wit a prol g e t eatre, a copy of Th n o f which I encl ose . e the Prol gue o the plays will speak a few words : if no news spreader were listening I should call them mood words . These n prol ogues were liked last seaso very much. Such “ n m me ad s n n li es as your C o e with , l ie a d ge tlemen who are in any wise weary of L ondon (may I sub stitute the City for London ! ) come with m e : and those that tire at all of the world we know ; for we have new worlds here .

’ “ Haven t you some new plays that I can see ! With every good wish

a Stu rt Walker .

L ord Dunsany to S tuart Walker

Ebrington Barracks, L n n rr n o do de y , Irela d .

Oct . 2 6.

My dear Mr . Walker I have looked forward for a l ong time to hearing from you again and was delighted this morning to

n 2 . h fi n fi d your letter Of Oct . It is delig tful to d somebody just going ahead with my pl ay without asking if it is What The Public Wants (as though the Public had irrevo cably decided j ust what it wants 1 84

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

he hra a m o . e s right Us t p e s uch as y u like . Wall

a a o d so n s nd . Street, if pplic ble , w ul u d ple id What you tell m e of the way you are doing my a s ma s me s h s d n t n pl y ke feel ure t ey will uccee , o o ly a s of he a u are n m bec u e t w y yo doi g the , but because your letter makes m e confident that their fortunes n n ca safely be i trusted to you . sh o d r ad a h a u on f I wi I c ul e e c pl y to yo ce , or neither p en nor typist can say exactly where the r i to in f h m h hm c n st ess s fall , spite o t e t e rhyt a be m d and n in som as s h m a no h isse , eve e c e t ey y t s ow a h ha m o ords are sa d h cle rly wit w t tive little w i , w ile some appear to have significance where none is n i tended . I wonder how the sentry will say I would that s mm n do n the G shon on the oo I were wi i g w y , c l ” s d n r m m s m o e i e, u der the f uit trees . So eti e y l v of o o om s the drama s in m e and h p etry verc e ti t , ere and there are lines that I would like to hear said m r m en e ely lyrically . If it be not blasphemous to ti on his name while speaking of my own work I would say that Shakespeare had this fault : you read som s h d r on as n Two M rd s e uc i ecti , e ter u erer , and then you read some pure ecstasy of verse as the ruffi ans come on talking perhaps about dawn in r fai yland . I should like the sentry who has that line of mine “ to sa the ords on the nd the y w cool side , u er fruit r s A t ee just as the last part of a hexameter . fter all the — o s are r h h i m an n in p et ig t, t ere s a e i g 1 86 L E T T E R S rhythm though it lie to o deep and is too subtle for s n u or rha s a all u to reaso o t, pe p it lies like j oy cle r o the s r a of the or d and so is m ss d ver u f ce w l , i e by ur h r n o logic t at g oes bur owi g blind like the mole , over whose head the buttercups bl ow unseen : that is r h ana on not m r n h n s the ig t expl ti , y fi st ; ot i g lie oo d ha is ss n a t h t eep t t e e ti l o life , or w o would live ! A n an a m I turn to your letter again . go g d to m are a o d n fl n m to l vely i ea, a d a at jewel i the pal of the hand ! Of course that is just the pl ace where people would wear l arge fl at jewels who had never known m anual labor and whose only business was to ou s n h n s bless . Y ay I k ow t e sce es ; but I wi h I n s s n f h h u did . I ever aw a de ig o it alt oug yo de scribed it to me .

r A m r. So you a e g a That is goo d . The water- bearer and the snake - charmer and all

d on . n n . will be great ad iti s I stead of citize s, etc at the foot of the programme you might write “ ” ne h s s a ha m f sna s and O w o ell w ter, A c r er o ke , ns an a n i no ha so on . I t tly the udie ce w ll k w t t they are before the gates of a country where water has its r and the ha m n of sna s is an p ice , c r i g ke occupation . o me a a d Do what you like with Ulf. T he ppe re a m an who in the c ourse o f his years had learned h n f ha is due t h o ds : is he and somet i g o w t o t e g it , h n ha h n s at m s s and at the as e al o e , t t i t Ne e i , l t he o penly pro cl aims it (my fear) shall go from me ” crying like a dog from out a doomed city . 1 87 D U N S A N Y T H ‘E D R A M A T I S T

’ s s out of on s n of A play write it elf e experie ce life , n h han one can m m going back eve furt er t re e ber, h m m h n n n d o s . O and even, I t i k , i to i erite e rie ur slow perceptions and toilsome reasoning can never keep h an f t and pace w it y work o ar , if I could tell you for certain the exact source and message of The ” Gods of the Mountain I could tell you also from what storms and out of what countries came every f the s n ha i a h n f h drop o pri g t t s l ug i g out o t e hill . Therefore I only suggest that Ulf plays as it were the part of a train bearer to the shadow of some

messenger from the gods .

O . 2 6 ct . T s has n n a o for som m so l hi letter bee lyi g b ut e ti e I had better send it off though your letter is but half

answered . DO s nd me ho o ra hs or d s ns of n e p t g p e ig sce es, as man as ou an and Lad D nsan y y c , y u y would very m h h f h uch like to ave t e music or t e piano . Thus sha a o a r h I ll be ble t he r it, o at least an ec o of it ; she o d a so m h to see the h r w ul l very uc like p otog aphs . I do not expect to go to the front before the middle

of December . I wish you the best of luck with your own plays an f n h n f d or your ve ture wit mine . You are o e o the I n l prophets of my gods . a l history I know of no tale of a god without any prophet ; that would be t M oo sad even for history . ay my gods protect ou m h n y fro t e followi g , who stoned the prophets 188

L E T T E R S so Often of old time and stone them still they s a and an for h ha s on d for so man we t p t , t ey ve t e y n r s h hands are he n of man ce tu ie , t eir cut by t lifti g y fl ints s h s on on s he , till t ey t e , le t ever t prophets d v d m a shoul li e , they ee it holy duty

Ignorance Apathy Empty Frivolity Fashi on and many another begotten by the third upon the

An o a . fourth . d s f rewell D unsany .

S tuart Walker to L ord Dunsany

o m 1 1 N ve ber 5 , 9 6. My dear Lord Dunsany My intenti on was to write you immediately after “ ” the first performance of The Golden Doom and “ ” The Gods of the Mountain but when I tell you that we have pl ayed 65 pl ays in 12 cities during the w ou ma n n past t o weeks y y u dersta d my delay . ” The Golden Do om was first performed on Tues 24 in H th ar ord nn . n day Oct . tf Co a d we have given m an s f in h five perfor ce o it the two weeks . It as made a very deep impressi on b oth with newspaper n men and the public at l arge . Whe I have a moment to sit down and sort out my papers I shall send you I n ne some clippings . o you will notice that the 189 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

a s the n n writer appreci te you g ess of the children . I ’ d o not generally approve ofhaving a girl play a boy s but M ss o s a s a m s ha part, i R ger cre te o t ppy illusion, and this saves me from using my very remarkable i Gregory Kelly in the part . He s somewhat too m mo in h tall . I a re l ove wit your beautiful play than ever and it is to be used in the opening bill 2 n o on ov . 7th. n o n i New Y rk City N U f rtu ately, h are no ho o a hs a s ha b n t ere p t gr p yet, bec u e we ve ee n sh and hat we movi g ab out so feveri ly rapidly, t cannot take time to set up a play especially for the photographer . “ The Go ds of the Mountain had its first p er

nc a M n Ho o and it is a reat la . forma e t ou t ly ke , g p y f A ar I shall send you photographs o myself as gm ,

n f a s . and Mr. Kelly as Slag a d several o the begg r n m r m him man who o d I n playi g Ag a , I have ade a w ul have been a great man if he had just been one step of m further advanced in understanding . Several y friends have disagreed with me in not making him a a n six physically powerful man . I am quite t ll , bei g and nd nd ou see om the feet quite sle er, a as y will fr m n h h h h and the costu e, I acce tuate bot t e eig t s nd n f m n n h re mom n s n le er ess o the a , a d t ere a e t whe ha I all ow him to devel op a real light in his eye , t t is th h the a s if , e lig t that could shine through ge a h n it were ll owed to s i e . I am quite gratified that every notice has spoken of the final effect in the pl ay when the seven beggars have turned to green stone and in the distance green 190

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

unn n and h s s ands on to of sand is sl owly r i g , t i t p a gold h in n s s on a rm on s anda globe whic tur re t up ve ili t rd . Darniak himself wears a black robe and seated on the steps at his feet is dark haired Atharlia in orange and nd xara is in a nd and h an red . The bl o e O l ve er w ite d hafra is in h n silver . The feline Ca lig t blue a d white The a hr and her hair is red . tr gic T agolind is in h n ou o d h n e. t e n gray a d blu I t i k y w ul like Quee s . Just one more suggestion about The Gods of the ” I n the h d act ha ha th Mountain . t ir I ve d e so ha h are a a m ta thrones built t t t ey p lp bly i i tive . Am I right in doing this ! The altar in the second act of a a s and n on o is a great block g te t i g iv ry legs . It is really a wonderful piece of stage furniture . o Very truly y urs,

Stuart Walker .

S tuart Walker to L ord Dunsany

2 December 4, 1916. My dear Lord Dunsany First let me thank you for the photograph which i h a your uncle delivered to me. It s t e pleas ntest sort of assurance that the strange man shown in the articl e in the B oston Transcript was not you . Our season in New York has proved more success ful than I had hoped and we are now advertising i n o na ha anno our sixth week . It s u f rtu te t t we c t stay longer because just the people to whom we want to appeal are finding us and sending their friends to 192

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

to order the burial of the late king . There has never been a suggestion Of l oss of tension in the n d n the n f second act. N ot eve uri g sce e o the queens and the prophet do es the audience forget the crouch ing Argimenes who stole from the dark trench in the preceding act to kill the guard . After the queens he ond act ha ne leave the stage in t sec , I ve the sce darkened to suggest a lapse of time . Then in a half and h n a am of o h s light broken now t e by gle t rc e , n D rni the rest of the play is done . Whe a ak rushes in from the chamber of banquets to see I lluriel cast down I have the queens follow him and it is their voices that first take up the wail I lluriel is ” h on - o d s s a n in fallen . Besides t eir l g r be figure te li g terror from the throne ro om are much more impres ’ in h sive than men s figures would be t e half light .

mm and Mr . Fa are s o Both Mr . Zi erer rwell very l w to s n he with their work for you . If I were e d you t n for the ha n score of the music as it is writte rp , violi , ond Lad D nsan o d use it ! and cello , I w er if y u y c ul he n s to u The photographs will suggest t sce e yo , but sh o I am eager to have you see the col or . I wi I c uld a sha e bring my whole m odel to you . Perh ps I ll b able to do so some day within the days of my youth. With every good wish for the New Year and new years,

Stuart Walker . L E T T E R S

Fragment of a letter from L ord Dunsany

You ask me about my interpretation of The ’ ” is he Queen s Enemies . Well , it t o nly play of mine yet acted in which the entire theme did not arise in my own mind ; usually the whole country of the play with its kings and queens and customs “ ’ B t the m f The n s arises there too . u the e o Quee ” e a ad and not one of hos Enemies I ow to l y , t e n t n d a r a dreamy women who , havi g go a i e , w ite sonnet about it or a play : she did it ; she g ot the n n her n m s so she n d motive of drow i g e e ie , i vite Tha is al them to dinner and drowned them . t l I know about her . It was not only easier but m ore amusing to imagine her character and all the names of her enemies than to be b othered with reading ab out s n she was a oman n her . And , i ce live w , whe ever s r n in E h n the Sixth Dynasty wa th ivi g gypt, I t i k she came a little m ore alive out of my fancy than she might have done out of some dusty b ook . I mention this lady in order to show that the story one so s m ha is not only a very simple , but i ple t t nd or d it actually worked , a w ke , I believe , very nicely . a r s ha n h If there is a moral in the pl y , I t u t t t eit er you nor any o ther lady who has had anything to “ ” the m o a for do with the pl ay will profit by r l , I do not consider it at all right to give a dinner party and then drown your guests . D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

as o s an n The Queen of my play w , Of c ur e , u usual h is not n n . e i character, but it e tirely u ique S s

- nn h r i En m s a o e . s n l self centered . e ie y It atura to get rid of them . I s this not a little like the All Highest ! If she im she o a e sa d had been h , w uld h v i , quite sincerely Woe to all that dare to draw the sword against ”

i n d me. me. God s u doubte ly with ’ sn h n n f n But, of course , I wa t t i ki g o a y Kaisers h r h n o e t e a . o o r w e I wr t pl y I w te it bef re the wa . I wrote it in a wood near here (Dunsany Castle) toward the end of April in 1913 . ’ But it s curious what a fitting consort she would f r he n a f Per s lem 1 have made o t I c o u a . h n she s h An She is sincere w e pray to t e Nile . d I “ ” think that The Kaiser was sincere when he nd d s f spoke of God , a gave or er or things to be ’ done in Belgium that Ackazarp ses mistress would never have sunk to . As f r h n n sh o teac i g people, I o ly wi for them what sh f r m s h h m I wi o y elf , t at t ey ight escape from all the dull facts and equally dull lies that they are da n a h o rn s s n ily bei g t ug t by j u ali t , politicia s, owners of n lo a d as and man a s of h n e cyc p e i , uf cturer ugly t i gs . While they still have power to be disgusted by the mod n s m n h m n er adverti e e t, let t em co e a d see my

1 I wonder whether D unsany has been initiated in the mystery r i I re of the autho ship of that much d scussed play. t will be membered that Miss Gertrude Kingston played it in the same ’ ” b The E N r ill with Queen s nemies at the eighbo hood Playhouse . 1 96

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

’ re sh in on s m nd han o h s a fre er e i t t er , but I think that this is the order in which they will come

A n 1 . lexa der

' The La hter f e 2 . ug o th Go ds f 3 . The Gods o the Mountain

’ nd a ha do n no for a fter t t I t k w, I would always give preference to any play about the country of my spirit over some comedy whose scene was London h I nn But ha - c or even a Yorks ire . I ve a 3 a t comedy “ a d The n at h h h c lle Gi ger C w ic I ave hopes of. Th o n to act in Lon on ey were g i g it d , but the war n k ocked all that . The books that you kindly sent us have arrived o a an ha n to ma a n t d y , d I ve begu ke few otes as am m h you asked m e. I very uc obliged to you for the n s ou a a n in m or l i tere t y h ve t ke y w k, a l the m o e so a s ha Am a R s a r bec u e w tever eric , u si , r —I m n n n o Posterity may say a a o n r . F u k w w iter N ot that I have not always known where to fi nd en h s asm and n n o s h h h n t u i , give ge er u ly wit bot a ds, n a ll n but give by few . Yet, fter a , what do umbers matter ! I have lately found time in spite of soldiering to r in the a noons h n an w ite fter , c iefly betwee four d i s x . ha n n n Ma h 29th and 30th I ve bee writi g o rc , and on r 4 h h m A th 5t 6th and 7th. p il , , , Wit ore s e sho d a don in a lei ur I ul h ve e it fewer d ys, but I ha done two one-act a s o om d s n ve pl y , b th c e ie , o e sh o the n . rt, other lo g There are 3 characters in 198 L E T T E R S one and 6 in he h n f h ha a rs , t ot er, a d o t ese 9 c r cte 8 are m or a so ha o s e m n t l , t t y u e I a rather getti g a r m m aw y f o y usual themes . ow end ho ha m to sa and N I will , t ugh I ve uch y, ma no s in o oo as ou ask m e and will ke te y ur b k y , one day will send it on its sl ow way back to America . If the characters in my books could write to m e as this character in your book is writing to you what queer letters I should get.

n Yours very si cerely ,

Dunsany .

B erstadt Lord Dunsany to E . H . i

n n Ba ra Ebri gto r cks ,

Londonderry . 2 r 191 July 3 d , 7. B s ad Dear Mr . ier t t h I was very glad indeed to hear from you . Suc letters as I get from America are my only links We a not the s h with civilization . h ve lei ure ere is to attend to the affairs of civilization . It quite The m n right that we should not. recu be t figure of Civilization must first of all be defended : after n a ar sm has n d n a a om wards, whe b rb i bee rive w y fr h a s to a m to s o her her, we s all h ve lei ure tte pt re t re to animati on . I am rather hopeful of the future ; for those who have seen war have seen one of the real and mighty n s and s s o d s h a o hs on all thi g , thi h ul be uc t uc t e 199 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T their lives by which to test the false and the trivial that managers and publishers may not fi nd it so m n easy in the future to ake mo ey by false pretences . It is even possible that had I never been under shell fire I should have been unable to conceive “ anything of the size of the climax in The Gods of ” the Mountain .

As a writer of plays we think that Lord Dunsany is d a s is not seen at his best . H i logue are rather s o s are h n and his d ama s a tedious, hi pl t t i , r tic itu ‘ tions are wanting in grip . Neither they ( The ’ ‘ ’ ’ Laughter of the Gods and The Queen s Enemies ) ‘ nor the two plays that follow them ( The Tents of ’ ‘ ’ the Arabs and A Night at an I nn ) are distinguished T e by any outstanding qualities . h frequent repeti tion of words and phrases I n the first three plays reminds one of Maeterlinck there is a great deal of palaver and very little result with really ‘ ’ good acting A Night at an I nn might be interest

L . ing . The Outlook ondon

It is a literary pleasure to read these trifl es .

The B elfast N ews L etter.

T s n e h s hat i the ki d of reviews I g t in t i country, d s m ll not because they i like y work at a , but because of the invio late Engli sh custom that no poet shall e 1 be welcomed until h is dead .

1 r . r rks Although a recent letter from Mr. E nest A Boyd ema that there is no sign of Dunsany coming into his own in England Ir k him Am r c as yet , and that even eland has not ta en in as e i a 200

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T nice collection of heads that I have shot in different o n s and h h ho to sho ou som da c u trie , w ic I pe w y e y, f r h s o o h oss the A n O o s ip g b t ways acr tla tic . f course I should have to fi nd out before go ing after s h was the h a to o fo h head w ere rig t pl ce g , r t ere are right places and wrong places for that sort ofthing ll the d and h r are d h e a over worl , t e e gui es w o ar n s o Sho ou one and d s h r a xiou t w y , gui e w o a e as h he h m m one of ready to s ow you t ot er . I re e ber the wrong guides once in one of the wrong places who was going to Show me a wolf : we went out at h l n a a d ad on nig t and ay e r e d key , my guide pointed to the exact spot on the sky-line just before us by “ which the wolf would come : Wolf he come down ” h mo n a n he sa d . n a wo or h like a u t i , i W e fter t t ree r s an d me to om a a n and s failu e he w te c e g i , I a ked im o d a an he h if he c ul gu r tee a wolf , reproached me by summing up the uncertainties of this sport with ” he o ds o he om om od : n n t w r , W lf c e fr G a u just o h s n on a n h repr ac , i ce ly few ig ts earlier he had “ s o n in a h mood o he me w r c eerfuller , W lf co , ” h na he om on he om n h m ye c e , li c e , everythi g e co e . But a was a on m nd h n d th t l g ti e ago , a I ave lear e m n better to discri i ate guides since then . I am aware Of the irony of m aking plans for the i r n h s da s the ss . futu e t e e y , but I make them none le I am sorry a censor spoiled the seal on my last ’ s os letter, but I upp e it can t be helped . The ns nd m i ect u er your icroscope ,

Dunsany . L E T T E R S

Lord Dunsany to S tuart Walker

Fo Tre antie D rt g , evonport, an a 14 1919 J u ry , . D a Mr My e r . Walker was d h d to a om I elig te he r fr you again . N ot sha m for h n the w yet ll we eet , w e ar was over our authorities no l onger had any Object in sending m e h as o n to . T s of o s i t ey were g i g hi , c ur e , s anno y in f r M d wh was h o r. on o to a ar n m g P , ve ra ged y tour , ’ is no od s a and ann h e but it b y f ult c ot be elped . H has ot n o o h h th F r n Offi g i t t uc wit e o eig ce , but it is the War Office that would have to give m e leave and the routine of that would take so long that I n h have ot t ought it worth while to apply for it . hO e to om in h A mn not o I p c e t e utu , t lecture a o the war to a a o an th n ha b ut , but t lk b ut y i g t t they i h t a m and a o all may w s o he r about y work ; , b ve , m to ss m a d to Am ans to atte pt expre y gr titu e eric , who have taken the trouble to look at the work I d n and who ha had the a ndn ss to was oi g , ve gre t ki e n m fo and to h r and n o a me tha k e r it , c ee e c ur ge by the warmth of their many friendly messages . For too long I have looked forward to the time when a victori ous Engl and would shine forth after the war with the splendor of a reanimated civiliza

n m n is a m os rush n . tion . The disappoi t e t l t c i g I s h s r are the m s l ook to our theatre , whic u ely te ple n o d to r n wherein civilization should fir st be i v ke , etur of man and from exile by the highest achievements , 203 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

d s to ou ha see h e I need not e cribe y w t I t er , but I realize that before my work can be of any value to n m n or can n s n m my cou try e , bef e it eve be ee by the , I must wait till a patient people are slowly driven by sheer disgust to revolt against the mean and cyn ical business men who insult their intelligence and decent feelings by giving them What the Public

Wants . Who told these fat men with little eyes and low foreheads that England wants indecent j okes that ’ aren t funny to be given in place Of drama in the land that knew Shakespeare ! a - I h ve written a three act play for children, but is no sm in no nd n o n there cynici it , i ece t j kes, o ballet, ’ no motor cars ; and I don t know who would want o f n s a the tr uble o refusi g it, o I have put it aw y in a drawer. s a ad t sit in on of a fire as o I h ll be very gl o fr t , y u

m i h u an o r nd n . pro ise , w t yo d y ur f ie s a d eat apples Would it not be too bad if the greater part of man kind had been made so restless by these restless years that they could only feel at ease sitting by burning cities ! Tha som m h sa is n na e t , e ig t y, a origi l idea, or ven a ma an is n r ll d f cy, but it ot so far f om fact as a

ha . We a om n in t t h ve bec e like gods, co ceived a d a e d h n cru e g , go s t at smile in secret , looki g o as d ands fir e and and a h ver w te l , famine, plague e rt a oar n d s and nd m n o ns qu ke, r i g eep fiery sa s, fla i g t w and lan in n s c g g fights, sinking ships and praying ha d . 204

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T

me ha is as f m a say to t t it w te o ti e , s a gunner work ing one Of the big howitzers might be unable to say

l

l where one of his shells had fallen or what it had

done . But at any rate it is clear that our two countri es now s a h feel very clo e to one not er, and since they hold identical views on such things as the drowning ofwomen and the bombing of children it is Obviously to the interest of humanity that they should remain os o m n n cl e , f r i g a solid a d formidable block of what seems to us the right feeling . is asan to h n o It ple t t i k , if the pr jected time tables a ad are a a m n h n i th t I re ccur te, that a a by avi g h s breakfast very early and his supper rather late may now have the one meal in England and the other in America in the same day ; a pl easant change after correspondence that has lately accustomed one to expect an answer to a letter in little short of two months . Tha the s n n n e mom n t pre e t feeli g will conti u , e tarily ruffled of course by the occasional loss of lug gage by tourists from either country and questions a o in on ss and a am n s is b ut it C gre P rli e t, I tru t there l do is d ma n a s us litt e ubt . It ifficult to i gi e erio breach ever coming between the two countries on an o nds h of n m n i y gr u , s ort a e peror risi g up n Am a m n m eric , clai ing desce t fro Heaven, and seek in to m i g i pose h s divine will upon England . That there will be efforts made to estrange us do no I t doubt, and such efforts will be well made, 206 L E T T E R S and they will appeal especially to the idiosyncrasies of a h na on ho d n as a to th d u e c ti , l i g up b eb ll e ri ic le of En sh s and n i Am a gli cricketer , pointi g out n eric the futility of a nation that can waste two whole ’ mm n m f Bu ur su er s days over o e ga e o cricket . t o present alliance is based upon the failure of all such nda n n d n not propaga , a d we ee o ly be watchful ,

f of . earful , the future

s . Your , etc , D n n u sa y.

iers ad Dunsany to E . H . B t t

n B r s Ebri gton ar ack ,

Londonderry . nda d r n in the (U te , but w itte autumn of 1917) B s ad Dear Mr . ier t t I send you a sample year from the record I have kept of all the tales I have written since the end of ma do som h n o ards nd a n 1906. It y et i g t w i ic ti g m m hods h h are o h to o a a h y et , w ic r ug ly g w y wit h n to oo at the an idea and escape from noise, t e l k n and r as as as country I am writi g ab out, w ite f t I mood h h s d to can as l ong as I can keep the , w ic I u e and s can as be able to d o alm ost indefinitely , till l ong as I am not disturbed by any noise that is not to two or h ho rs to o obviously of this world , up t ree u am at or when I begi n to get tired . While I w k I practically see it all happening and jot it d own just as a policeman would jot down the details of a motor 2 07 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T IS T

h n a h in our own s e. So t e En s accide t, e c tyl gli h ” h ad n m h at an I nn e reviewer w o , re i g y Nig t , stat d that it would never do as a play because I had not

troubled to visualize my stage picture was an ass. ’

aw . I didn t visualize it . I s it That these periods of composition are so intense is probably the reason that I never care to waste any time either on irrelevant dialogue or even on a e d on stage directions . St g irecti s that are not stated are nearly always obvious or totally unim I n he s n n portant . t fir t pl ace a i telligent producer see how the h n m s e don nd in will t i g u t b e, a the sec ond he will much improve on any suggestion I could make . On the o h and a a a s o n or t er h I h ve lw y f u d , fancied, that it was absolutely necessary for the author to at h a sa s for be re e r l , fear that something get said in the n ro wa . w g y Words have many tones, many a n s man m n n cce t , y ea i gs, and print cannot always on F h m . or ns an i c vey t e i t ce , I wrote, or ntended , “ ‘ En bo n ter y, cryi g I want my But with “ the help of the typist or printer who put Enter ‘ ’ ” boy (crying) I want my hoop he came on weep in . I n Lond n o d g o I c rrecte this all right . I must quote you from a letter I have just received rom m T f y wife . he child referred to is the daughter of a brother Officer then on a visit to Dunsany and “ now s a n a t yi g there gain . Poor Yvonne is greatly worried by the paper boat incident which she found ’ ‘ o d d i Mr n . Biersta rec r e dt s book . But they were 208

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A M A T I S T her real name since and I forget it) takes hold of the rm a fi ne oman who ma ns ue pl ay pretty fi ly , w re i tr ha i a o to the earlier Alexander . T is s g od soul too . And in spite of the topsy-turvydom of its origin n d m in h I can see a theme showi g i ly t is play , and T e an in hi n my own theme too . h m s magnifice ce ’

n M . on s on on of o nor he forsakes, ot r J e c cepti G d t ’ D s n H m Mr. m s s or o Rev . S ith , but e ti y i elf, h wever Th man is n n n else he be named . e ot stro g e ough

e m his . to do it . H falls fro heights Yet the world i not nd n A and d d nd m d d e whe lex er ie , a so y play f n n i o s o o do s . goes o , w th l t little pe ple i g petty thing And in the end Rhododactilos carries him back to the heights . N earchus is perhaps unnecessary ; he is too much a d a of all a is n uplic te th t represe ted by Apollo . a not ad the la for om I h ve re p y s e time, otherwise I o d not r so o f f c ul w ite c ldly o it, or when I read it I love it . I loved it almost as much as my simple hillmen o h h s an n l ve t eir ill , d the lo g rope they kept in the of temple brass . What fancies came into that play ! Think of the nuggets flattening as they fell into the cataract ! And the priest praying for vengeance to gods that he knew were doomed ; and the gods a and a l i h s f bl ze f l w t Per epolis . And the wisdom o Thais who tells how the g od s gave the world to a

oman . And h n w , w e they are surprised and ask her “ a oman she m an wh t w e s , Oh, any woman . The d ” go s care not. And what a splendid loser Alexander is in his 2 10 L E T T E R S

h D s n d n ods nd fig t with e ti y , efyi g the g a their to priest with his last words . I used hope that this d m m m or a ha o p lay woul ake e fa ous, r ther t t I sh uld am f now o no s ha see f e because o it, but Wh k w w t ’ ! n n i n n in m m nd I shall see And Milto s li e s ri gi g y i , ” a ro on mor a so Fame is no plant th t g ws t l il .

n Yours very si cerely ,

Dunsany. PAPE R I N WHI CH PRIN TE D

Satur day Review Som e chatty book about the stage ; nam e forgotten and imm ateri al The Sketc h The Sketc h

The Sket ch Saturday Review

Saturday Review E nglish Review

The Sketch Saturday Review 5 1 Tales ( 7) ( I )

B W k c L . . . The S et h

Read at the English Review Poets ' Club 5 1 Tales Saturday Review 5 1 T ales Cam bridge Review Saturday Review

Saturday Review Saturday Revi ew Saturday Review Satur day Review

(not sent to any Review 9 Review Saturday Rev iew Saturday Review

I rish Review

N otes r 2 See lette on page 07 . ’ Apropos of thi s sc hedule it is interesting to observe Lord Duns any s statement m “ ’ enti on that the fi rst act of The Tents of the Arabs was written on Septem be r 3rd ‘ ’ The fi rst and sec ond acts of The L aughter of the G ods were written on ! ah i e ! r 1 7th 1 9 12 ‘ ’ ’ - was wr tt n on anua y . , and The Q ueen s Enemies on Ap ril 19 20 2 12

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A MA T I S T

NOWADAYS

’ (Dedicated to the Poets Club)

I WI LL ask the reader to approach with me in fancy he any great city . Let us suppose t open country to a ad nd s som oo has ome be lre y behi u , a bre l k c on the sk dd n oo on the rass the up y, a tro e l k g ; air has the look of brooding o ver some regrettable th n the h n s a s se i g ; oardi g , always ugly , alw y fal , o n nd n h h n h u ll da fte i ece t, whic ave bee wit s a y n o d s n d m and dd n i t i ta t wol s, ultiply here , su e ly the m an And how r is e streets rush on us . ter ible h m an ond in t eir e ness . The poorest cottager bey the o n the m in n s n o se c u try , re ote dweller te t , eve h u ss and r s ma n t n mom n ho le w e er , y tur a a y e t, wever a d h lo h h s he d nd the a h r t eir t, to t e ill , t wil wi , he th, to som h n is et i g that is not in itself base, but part of a scheme in which the stars themselves have part . But in a town ! The night is a glare of a h o s and the a n ss . And n and f ct rie , d y a a et ig t da re a n n n h d n y they a re di g , readi g , readi g c il re and ro n men a a s ad n h h g w lw y re i g , w et er they will

or not. R a n n h ha d e di g , readi g , reading , till t ey r ly e n no h And a ve k w t at they read any longer . wh t do h ! i l he m a t ey read All that s basest . A l t e n, cunning words of the advertiser praising his poison o us wares which no Government dare put down be cause they know that the power of the fraudulent cure is too great to be attacked either with safety 2 18 A P P E N D I X I

or remunerative applause . So the poster stands d a of a unchecke , the liter ture people ; stands in h s d en of man mod n a t i , the er f ctory city, a record ’ of man s ambiti on . ’ Surely as one looks at all these things one s mind is an o s a on a high, d ger u pl ce , with the gulfs of n pessimism all black be eath it . It is then that n one turns to the po ets . O e sees the holy tradi ons oa of Hom n ti , the cl k er bei g passed reverently a m sa ha r are no on . I he r the y t t the e poets nowa n I n s t days, a d liste re pectfully o that judgment I m n for i whenever hear e utter it, it s no less awful h m a thing than judgment upon t e selves . It means n h n n For that they are all al o e wit out a i terpreter . how can one view and understand so old a thing as life or so new and strange a thing as this varying e o of ma n and o s ho the ag , s full chi ery p litic , wit ut m n s ha oo o n help of those rare i d t t l k, with ut reeli g , upon essenti al things ! There are only two ways of understanding life we could do it ourselves no doubt if we had the s o a s and ten are not on time, but three c re ye r l g n no h ho one enough ; nor is the time lo g e ug , t ugh add to that span twenty or twenty - fi v e of those extra years that the Psalmist says are all labour h are o n two a s of nd and sorro w . T ere ly w y u er fi n som an n o som standing life : one is to d e cie t f lk , e

- nd o o om the s o ho s age old peasantry , a b rr w fr t re u e of their wi sdom which they have had leisure to fill while wars and earthquakes troubled the thrones 2 19 DQU N S A N Y T ILE D R A MA T I S T

and citadels of kings . I never hear a nursery rhyme nor an old saying but it comes to me in this ha ad and o s a e mad so so d age, t t tr e p litic h v e r id, like a little cool breeze into a stifling town out of An on h some far, quiet hills . d the ly ot er way of which I know to come at the meaning of life and f m n is o urn o the scheme o a t t t the poets . N 0 man m n d can nd rs and an in his lifeti e i dee u e t it, d I do not think that any poet would claim to or would pretend to know more than any other man ; but n mom n s n no n a a s n the at e t u k w , lw y u expected , om s a a o in his m nd and there c e th t cle r v ice i , with a feeling surely of ignorance and of awe he finds himself speaking of cities he has known and byways he has trod in lands where the desert has long since ll m n a a n to its covered a , co i g back g i own, where the historian can only guess and the traveller durst n s f h n s h ot go . He speak o t i g t at were before cities f ds h d h im i began, and o go t at walke wit h n the prime of the stars . The voice passes (like the wind f hn n i in the gospel o Jo ) , a d he s only a man again, ’ with a man s humiliations . It seems to me that in some way beyond our nd n n the in h i u ersta di g po et , t e depth of h s ex erience nd the d n f his n l d i p a wi e ra ge o k ow e ge, s to be compared with the many generations of a whole people rather than with individuals ; and the final product of the culture of man seems to be little more than a return to a certain simplicity that was long since. 2 20

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A MA T I S T

! e re r mo d so r m our wi sdom W a e ve , ter ibly re oved m all the s m o and utterly cut off, fro i ple pe ples of h ha is not om h m ha s a the eart , t t it fr t e t t we h ll He o d sh his learn our destiny . w ul ift pipe in his d ne of h m an n mouth if we aske o t e , d look lo g in front of him before he spoke ; for there is no hurry a s h h n s ha n s in the rural pl ce w ere t i g ve go e ea ily, ar s n he but for winter and w , i ce ever t quiet folk came there far back in the story of Time ; he would h f r h be silent per aps o a w ile before he answered , and then would speak with an accent so unfamiliar and words so unlike those hallowed only this morn ing by the latest editions of the daily Press that we m h fi nd som h n h ms a in s a ma n ig t et i g w i ic l uch n, a d sm n rn a m ile a d tu aw y ; so ay Adam and Ev e, as h the n ha oun m h t ey left garde , ve f d so et ing a little ’ n u couth in the angel s speech. Yet it seems to me as I a h the a of o r a s r h , w tc gl re u f ctorie , o ear the roar of our towns and the sound going up from Pro ss on her a no s a h ms me gre up r ve u p t , it see to that man has sailed out of his course and is steering

‘ by bad stars . And the terrible evil of it is this : t a the r h he o f h t fu t er g es, the harder it becomes or him to h a an i e r y voice that calls h m back . I mean that this recent redundancy and elaboration of s h f h peec , o w ich an example is the ridiculous spec tacle of modern Cabinet Ministers standing up “ and sa n Th n m yi g , e a swer is in the affir ative, “ ” — when all they mean is Yes those pompous and meaningless phrases that eke out Sixpence for 2 22 A P P E N D I X I . the needy j o urnalist when all he had to say would ne n a nn and fi na or of all fill o li e t a pe y ; , l h ror , the language of the adverti sement bego tten o f avarice and bred in Am erica : all this so ro ts the mind that true and simple things come to seem

n on h ar h n the o s a s . false , and m en o l ger e w e p et pe k is not for That is not the concern of the po et . It t f r him to et a h or him to fi nd hearers, no o g we lt is not for him to ask ease or appl ause of m en . It why the message came to himself while other m en n r n to ask h n am nor for may rest, o eve w e ce it c e , is for him to or on i h ha am what end . It w k w t t t fl e in the mind which is the bane and blessing of the — i in ad rs in ten ars inspired . Time w ll br g re e ye n a s ten or a do n h n in one or two , in twe ty ye r ze , t e h n a ho sand ten ho sa nd a decade a hundred , t e t u , t u r and som da m o ns and s in ten years m o e , e y illi ; till n nor s o s ca s as to ma in Time go es o , t p be u e we ce e i g e and the da om s h n h d his progress , y c e w e every c il on the earth has perhaps one little fancy in its mind that its forbears got from the dreams of that ’ o h h ha om the or d s neglected p et , w ic ve bec e w l inheritance . “ ” h i sa to me the o is d a d . But, t ey w ll y , p et e ! What is that to the poet It is not for any reward ha the o that may be put into live hands t t p et Who no s for hom his ns ra o n was works . k w w i pi ti ! d sent ! Who knows to what end Perhaps to gui e

- d rha s the the ki ngs of some far future age ; an pe p a n sh poet is picked out from all o ther men as pu i 2 2 3 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A MA T I S T

m sin mm d in h an s ment for so e co itte ot er l d long ,

h h the s a s s m m . long ago , w ic t r till re e ber They think that because they do not heed the poets they are right upon the course that they s n to ma mon a s a o have cho e , right ke ey by f l e p tri t n s d and ad d n ism and poiso ou brea ulterate wi e, Bu e and that the poets are wrong . t th po ets are n n n ha d in the h s f ever wro g , ever ve erre i tory o the h n a d how man m s h world , ave o ly f ile ( y ti e t ey m ss h s r know) to give the e age, but t eir in pi ation m s sh om the a a of T h and h co e eer fr P l ce rut , w at h sa is a is so so on as h r t ey y be utiful , l g t ey a e true h ns a on and ha h sa is damn to t eir i pir ti , w t t ey y able Th is already damned in heaven . ey reflect what n a t h is as lakes reflect it . Ca a l ke reflec t ree trees re n t r n a h when there a o ly wo , o ca w ite bird swim m n on s m a or a oo d an h s m i g it ee bl ck, cr ke br c ee s h ! Th ann n r h traig t ey c ot be wro g , fo t ey weave r f s n a and h n their wo k o i cerity, be uty , trut ; a d evil days are in store for those prosperous cities L that turn away from these things . et them work B h on ; it is not for them to fi nd readers . ut w en the poet comes to an age that will not heed his o s him sha off ha d s ha is s w rd , let ke t t u t t t fle h and pass hence ; let him go back whither he has come ; and not in the day of judgment only shall it be better for Sodom and Gomorrah than for that a e in i s g , but t own time its own people shall eke out their own damnation for what is it to hate o r ! is o h p et y It t ave no little dreams and fancies, 2 2 4

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A MA T I S T

’

o Dam or St. Mar s or os land , or N tre e k , th e tre mendous dreams of bygone kings that marble and granite have realised in Egypt ; but matter is subservient to the spirit in these . Never before

- to day has it been so great for its own sake . What will it be to -morrow ! Shall we always go on toiling and blackening our sky to make m achines ever or s a we not n om more wonderful still , h ll tur fr ! “ matter because it has failed us I t has had its o sh d all h s man ea s turn, we have w r ippe it t e e y y r ; it has given us swiftness ; Man can move now by

- m s an o an i is mono rail at a hundred ile h ur, d t not he ol s ld s ld fast enough all t d trouble , o care , o : e n he e sicknesses keep pace with us ay , a d t n w I m diseases and new cares too . s it not ti e to turn away from it ! Our triumph over matter has been ’ us and a n matter s triumph over , , like a gre t a ma a s not a we h n we a tagonist, tter c re th t t i k h ve s won the game that we have lost . Look at u after our triumph ; look at the stunted figures of the Midlands ; look at the careworn faces ; look at the full and terrible asylums every year growing at the an n n fuller ; look feeble, fr tic politicia s tryi g d an r r n he n na a a o . Ma to soot bli , g y, i ticul te l b ur is m so s h o s s d d beco e very, very wi e , as s clo ely tu ie the papers ; he is as wise as some old and learned professor caught in a crowd and not knowing which way to turn . The soul is not soothed by a hundred miles an h m n n d hour, t e i d is ot made easy in shops in Bon 2 2 6 A P P E N D I X I

nd h ndr d n Street by four hundred a five u e per ce t . r ma ha n ss o nd for a n profits , no yet y ppi e be f u cert i even by all the wickedness of honoured and wealthy vendors of patent drugs and adulterated food . n s as mon a a s With such me as the e l t, ey will lw y remain ; but more and more every year I hope we may fi nd men turning away towards simplicity s n ha o h mon ma and beauty , reali i g t t th ug ey y buy n is on a m d m h the o s happi ess, yet it ly e iu , w ile p et f r n h n hos d a s have on sale in exchange o ot i g t e i e l , s out of h h a n ss is fancies, and phantasie w ic h ppi e nn is a n d not a h n made . For not a pe y e r e , t i g ’ done but it was to help to carry out some man s ambition to make some little fancy a little easier ; ’ ’ and men s ambitions and men s fancies are the ’ nd is on sho -s h d po et s raw material , a it ly rt ig te , unpractical millionaires that think that the stamped gold coins which they give their days in exchange ms s or ha a to for are at all an end in the elve , t t f il see that that very happiness that they hope their money may buy is often thrown away for the sake 0 all s n ss men of making that money . ye bu i e , r I som m s h n is all ou praise ye money , fo eti e t i k it y ma ha o ro s m ever get. It y be t t bef re we g w i pler A s s and sincerer we m ay grow even worse . ub titute a as h has n for is yet to be found for w ter, t ere bee d ad r s d beer and salt ; it is yet to be wi ely ve ti e ,

n man ano h d n ss , sold , and dru k like y t er wicke e but peo ple must some day turn from all these things d men and go one by one to the camp where the goo , 2 2 7 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A MA T I S T

s on ll h dwell not the po et ly, but a w o do work l Th for its own sake and do it wel . ere are two n mon h m the ue n great divisio s a g t e , tr a d the sham ; I n n I judge them by their works . o e class are all n ll he r nd s the f the s obs, a t p ete er , writers o ad n s of s o s v ertiseme ts, the keeper h p (except such r h n ma s of an n e n as a e o est) , the ker tique fur itur a d f it the man a s of ll n the buyers o , uf cturer a thi gs r m n to oo a are not the that a e ea t l k wh t they , lovers f n s n ll s nn s all h i o ugli es , ot a the i er , but t at s n n f the sa of a n o ono mea ly or ke g i , h wever h ured n And in the o h ass are the men their statio s . t er cl i h s a s men n a to the ds an na a w t p de , e r fiel d tur l like a s so d s and sa ors a o s n the h rvest , l ier il , p tri t , ot mm n a o s not a o - ad s politicians, co o l b urer , l b ur le er , n n s an all ho a the s policeme , ki g , d (t ugh h ppily li t is too long) who do any work well for the sak e of r and not so as to s at an n s e the wo k , ell it u ju t pric I n h s ass ar to the first ignorant customer . t i cl e n s h ass s o d ho d as the po ets . A d thi w ole cl h ul l f t together to resist the false that is spreading over

th a s n a s or a s ood . e world f l e k owledge, f l e w k , f l e f The rough seafaring man may be ignorant of the t h ha the nd n h m of poet, bu t ey ve bo betwee t e h h r m work well done, w ic sets them utterly apart f o the m n m s f h- r n n Min ea aker o coug cu es, a d Cabi et is r n in th te s answeri g e affirmative . And of such a class the po ets should be the leaders ; for of all ma r a s f r d ms are the hard s te i l o labour, rea e t, nd i s who a the art fi cer in ideas is the chief of worker , 2 2 8

APPENDI X II

THE casts given in the following pages are those Al of the first British and American productions . l the British productions were professional , but in h h se n America the Neig borhood Play ou productio s, and that of the Arts and Crafts Theater must be n classed technically as amateur . From a artistic n e e n ss ona standpoi t, howev r, th y were e tirely profe i l , Th i m l o n one especially the latter . is s a s al p i t, but ’ f n on as Dun n h ome worthy o atte ti , sa y s work as bec widely known in this country partially through the m f h m I n the mediu o t e a ateur stage . have give m n f m n nd hose ost otable o the a ateur productio s, a t only when there has been no professional production. “ ” Two productions of The Gods of the Mountain are m n on for Am h r was so e ti ed erica, because t e fi st entire a failure that most people have never even h f h h m eard o it . T ere ave been many other a ateur productions ofthese plays to which attention has been ca d om m to m n oss nor lle fr ti e ti e , but it is either p ible n i the slightest degree necessary that they be listed .

REFERENCES

’ Lo Du rd nsan s ods C m Ma 1914 . : . T e oru y G vale , h F , y Lord Dunsany o n the East Side Teaches Bro adway H ow to Thr : Curr nt n n 19 1 6 . ill e Opinio , Ju e 2 30 A P P E N D I X I I

Ha and ar : or Mo or e il F ewell Ge ge e , N w York, D . n Appleto Co . The r sh L rar Mo m n : adra C I i ite y ve e t P ic olum , The m oru 1 91 5 . F , February , ’ Seeing the Theatre with L ord Dunsany s Eye : Oliver Sa r B oston Transcri t O o 2 1 ile , p , ct ber , 1 91 6 . The a s o f L ord D nsan : C a n Pl y u y l yto Hamilton , The B ookman N ew ork an ar 1 17 ( Y ) , J u y , 9 . ’ L r n n E r and s ra R a ssa : rn s . B d I el ite y e i ce e t A oy , N ew k h L n or o n a o . Y , J e C

h C m or r Dram of r and Ern s A . B T e onte p a y a I el e t oyd ,

os n Bro n o . B to , Little , w C h Th r : Ma r B o r o M. S and he r s a s J. ynge t I i e t e u ice u ge i ,

L d . d he Ma n C n a an o . t an T Lond o , o st ble d C c

m an o . e ork . ill C , N w Y Intro duction to Five Plays by L ord Dunsany : Edwin

r n B o on L Bro n Co . Bj o km a , st , ittle , w th r : L nd Deni The Mo st Talked of Pl aylet of e Yea y e g ,

Ma n ul 1 9 1 6 . The The ater gazi e , J y, ’ M Mon ros . os s Lord Dunsany s Peculiar Genius : t e J e ,

B 17 . The ellman , 1 9

n or n 191 5 . A Living Theatre : G ord o Craig , Fl e ce,

PUBLI SHED WORKS

Five Plays : The G o ds o f the Mountain The “ Go lden Do om King Argimenes and the “ Unknown W arrio r The Glittering G ate “ hards Lo ndon . R The L o st Silk Hat. , G ic

1 14 h a ro n s I . L n h . Ltd . , 9 , wit f ti piece by y c Mit hell Kennerle 1 9 14 : h an in N ew York , n y, wit B n L n . os o tro duction by Edwin Bjorkm a t , ittle ,

1 1 6 . o . 9 B rown C , D U N S A N Y T H E D R A MA T I S T

: Lond on H n mann 1 906 Time and the Gods , ei e , , illus B hn S m . os on o . L trated by S . H . i e t , J W uce

1 . Cc . , 19 3 ’ r T : ndon G . A n and Son A Dreame s ales Lo , lle s, 1910,

illustrated by S . H . Sime . B oston, John W . Luce

Co . , 1 916 .

r of Welleran : London . A n and n The Swo d , G lle So s,

m . B ra d S . H . S os o n oh 1 908, illust te by i e t , J n W .

1 16 . L o . 9 uce C , d Pe an : ndon —E k n Ma h s 1 The Go s of g a Lo , l i tt ew , 905 . nd Pe ana r Second edition . Lo on, g P ess , 1 9 1 1 , illus B on n rated S . H . S . o oh t by ime st , J W . Luce

Co . , 1 916 . T f n r : L ndon H n m n 2 he B o ok o Wo de o , ei e a n, 191 , B o on h illustrated by S . H . Sime . st , Jo n W . Luce

Co . , 1 913 . Selections from the Writings ofLord Dunsany : Church 2 o n uala r ss 1 9 1 r . B t w , C P e , (p eface by W . Yeats 2 edition limited to 50 copies) . Fi -O ne Ta s : or M h K nne fty le N ew Y k, itc ell e rley, 1 91 5 ,

B B r . 7 s on L o o 1 1 . o t , ittle, wn C , 9 Th L B B e as o k f ond r : os on hn . t o o W e t , Jo W Luce

1 r d . . S o . 19 6 s S H m . h a r C , , illu t ate by i e Wit p ef a e o A an r d s L an c t meric ea er by ord Duns y . “ Plays of G o ds and Men : The Tents of the Arabs ’ The Laughter ofthe G ods The Queen s Ene ” “ m s A N h at an I nn D n T ie ig t ubli , albot

1 917 . B o n r Ltd . s o ohn P ess, , t , J W . Luce

Co . , 1 917 . Bos on L T ar : Bro . ales of W t , ittle, wn Co , 1918 .

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A MA T I S T

d a ho s o M Neighborho o Pl y u e , New Y rk City, on arch s n d s h 1915 . The was n d M . 6t , ce ery e ig e by r

Warren Dahler and Miss Lois Phipps . The cast was

Mr . David S olomon

Mr. Ma x M. K ap lan

KING ARGI MENES AND THE UNKNOWN WARRIOR

d n the d on M Pro uced u der irecti Of r. Nugent Mon the A Th a D n ck, at bbey e tre , ubli , o n January 2 1 1 1 h he o o n as : 6th, 9 , wit t f ll wi g c t

’ ‘ KING ARGI MENES Mr . Fred O Donovan

M. K ZARB Mr . J . errigan T ’ A HE KING S OVERSEER Mr. mbrose Power H AN OLD SLAVE Mr . Fred arford r B rinsl A YOUNG SLAVE M . ey MacN amara A ’ . . u A PROPHET Mr . J O Ro rke

KING DARNI AK Mr . A rthur Sinclair T M d HE r. ne IDOL GUARD Sy y J . Morgan THE SERVANT O F THE ’ Er KING S DO G Mr . ic Gorman ’ QUEEN O XARA Miss Md eve O Donnell QUEEN ATHARLI A Miss S ara A llgood ’ QUEEN CAHAFRA Miss Maire O N eill QUEEN THRAGOLI ND Miss Maire N ic Shiubhlaig

The scenes and the costumes for this production

Mr. n M were designed by Nuge t onck . The first production in America was made by M n in r. Stuart Walker i his Portmanteau Theater, A P P E N D I X I I

or o n D m 1 h 1 1 New Y k City , ece ber 8t , 9 6, with m d nd os s s n d M . n scenery a c tu e e ig e by r Fra k J . n h o o in Zimmerer, a d wit the f ll w g cast :

ME ES McK a Morr s KING ARGI N Mr . y i r e or K ell Z ARB Mr . G g y y ’ EE L w Medbu r THE KING S OVERS R Mr . e y Z rank . imm AN O LD SLAVE Mr . F J erer obert ok A YOUNG SLAVE Mr . R Co Ed ar tehli A PROPHET Mr . g S illard ebs er KING DARN I AK Mr . W W t ard Thornton THE IDOL GUARD Mr. W THE SERVANT O F THE ’ KING S DO G Miss A gnes Rogers QUEEN OKARA Miss Florence Wollersen QUEEN ATHARLI A Miss Gertru de D avis QUEEN CAHAFRA Miss N ancy Winston QUEEN THRAGO LI ND Miss Judith L owry

THE GODS O F THE MOUNTAIN

t the Ha m ar Th a London First pro duced a y ket e tre , , 191 1 i h the o o n as on June lst, , w t f ll wi g c t

E . A . Mr . Warburton

l ud Mr . C a e Rains

Mr . H . R . Hignett

Mr . Charles V. France

Mr . Charles Maude

ren Mr . Law ce Hanray P La Mr . . m R . b 2 35 D U N S A N Y T H E D R A MA T I S T

O O RANDER Mr . J . Dickson K enwin

AKMO S Mr. Ernest Graham B I LLANAU N Mr. Grindon entley B H AS ARA Mr. F . G . Clifton

THULEK Mr. G . Carr TH HAR M O MAS r. K enneth Dennys

HAZ Mr. B . Hatton Sinclair THEE DES Mr. A . Jones LI RRA Miss Anne Carew E E S LUNZA Miss E . Risdon

THONI A Miss hit k ON LARA V. W a er YL Ax Miss M. Ronsard A E CKARNE S Mr. N orman Page A D E MA ROM DARY N Mr. W. B lack N ENNEK OF THE MEADOWS Miss Enid Rose M r. E . I /yall S wete

M . r A . A ckerman

Mr . B k . K lac T E M H OTHERS r. H . Coop er

Mr. E . L everett

Mr . G . Wilkinson ’ Mr. J . O B rien

d an n The scenery was designe d pai ted by Mr. he n he rs se Walter Bayes, with t exceptio Of t fi t t,

for . H . m . which designs were made by Mr. S Si e m r The first American production was ade by M .

. A . B in h T h in B fa W rady, t e eck T eater uf lo , New

o 12 n as . Y rk , on April 8th, 19 , with the followi g c t With the exception Of the cast the production was id n e tical with the one at the Haymarket . 2 36

D U N S A N Y T H E D R A MA T I S T

n h h Mr. Brady prese ted T e Gods Of t e Mountain n he n n s A i 8th 9th nd l upo t eve i g Of pr l , , a 0th, in B ffa o and in the Sh Th a Ro h u l , ubert e ter, c ester, o on the 1 1th 12th and 13 h New Y rk, up , , t , after n which the play was withdraw . “ n 2 th 1916 The ds the M O October 7 , , Go Of oun ” d for a s ond m in Am tain was produce ec ti e erica, a a in his o man a Th a by Stu rt W lker, P rt te u e ter,

Mo n Ho o Massa h s s . The as then at u t ly ke , c u ett c t, which subsequently played 28 performances during n i was as o s a repertory seaso n New York , foll w

ULF Mr . Edgar S tehli L O O GN O Mr . ew Medbury r k i THAHN Mr . F an J . Z mmerer tu r alke AGMAR B eggars Mr . S a t W r ll SLAG Mr . Gregory K e y k A THIEF Mr. Robert Coo MLAN Miss Agnes Rogers

O O RANDER Mr . Willard Webster

I LLANAUN Citizens Mr . Ward Thornton

M a Morris AKMO S Mr . cK y A MOTHER Miss Florence Wollersen AN O LD WOMAN WHO SELLS WATE R Miss Judith L owry Edm nd renshaw A DROMEDARY MAN Mr. o C A WO MAN WHO SINGS Miss Dorothea Carothers A CHARMER O F SNAKE S Miss Gitruda Tritj anski

Th m s and o s for his e scenes, costu e , pr pertie t

mm er . Fran . production were designed by Mr. k J Zi er Mr m s a om osed . Walker made use Of usic e peci lly c p

l. by Mr . Arthur Farwel 2 38 A PP E N D I X I I

THE GOLDEN DOOM

Ha m ar Th a London on Produced at the y ket e tre , , A r ards mad o 1 h 1912 . a November 9t , fte w e t ur Of he as was as o o s Russian cities . T c t f ll w

Allan ca es FIRST SENTRY Mr . J y k o enwin M . K SECOND SENTRY r. G Dic s n

M L eonard E . N otcu tt STRANGER r . GIRL Miss Eileen E sler

B OY Mr . Eric Rae

M C aude ains r . l R

erald erome SPIE S Mr . G J ril Hardinham Mr . Cy L al wete E . S CHAMBERLAIN Mr . y Henr Har reaves THE KING Mr . y g al h Hutton FIRST PROPHET Mr . R p rank F ridle SECOND PRO PHET Mr . F y r Ewan B rook CHIEF PROPHET M . B ier M. r Mr .

L is R. ew Mr . ATTE NDANTS Miles C . Mr .

Pla ord Mr . G . yf

1 h nn on O o 24th, 19 6, Hartford , C o ecticut , ct ber wit mm r r and Fran . scenery designed by Mr. k J Zi e e , with the following cast : D U N S A N Y T H E D R A MA T I S T

d FIRST SENTRY Mr. E gar S tehli M L ew Medbur SECOND SENTRY r . y r ard T or A STRANGER M . W h nton B OY Miss Agnes Rogers GIRL Miss N ancy Winston

Mr . Gregory K elly M Ma o SPIES r. Charles s n

Mr. John Higgins

THE KING Mr . McK ay Morris T M illard ebster HE CHAMBERLAIN r. W W Mr Robert Cook FIRST PROPHET . r Z r SE HET Mr ank . COND PROP . F J immere ard Thor ton CHIEF PROPHET Mr. W n

— D in he a n of 1916 191 Mr. a ur g t se so 7, W lker “ pl ayed The Golden Doom in New York 1 1 times, as well as in many other American cities .

THE LOST SILK HAT

d Mr. B d n n a Pro uced by . I e Pay e , at the G iety h M 4 h 1 1 t e T eatre , anchester, on August t , 9 3, with h following cast

THE E B CALL R Mr . asil Ryder T Maltb HE L r . . ABORER M . H F y THE E rd ha man CL RK Mr. L eona C p T l HE ET r E st . asse PO M . rne C C THE POLICEMAN M Kilj oy

The first American production was made by Mr. Henry Jewett of the Jswett Players in the C opley 2 40

D U N S A’N Y T H E D R A MA T I S T

r. H Kr scenery designed by M oward etz and Mr. D h h os mes d s n n Warren a ler, wit c tu e ig ed by a d executed under the direction Of Miss Aline Bern n n M ss R h D h n f s stei a d i ut eike , with lig ti g ef ect i n n Mr. Denn s a a d h h f devised by Sulliv , wit t e ol lowing cast

T B S . A HARRA A Mr lbert J . Carroll

THARN I Mr . Erskine S anford

HARLEE Mr. A rthur Wood THE QUEEN Miss A lice L ewisohn ACKAZ ARPSES Miss L ouise Coleman

E Z PHER ES Mr H nl E PRINC O N . e ey dwards E HADAMANDASPES L u PRINC R Mr. eslie A sten E T F H PRI S O ORUS Mr . C . Haviland Chapp ell

Mr . Wells S p aulding TWIN DUKES OF ETHIOPIA Mr r A . Geo ge bbott A r d Mr . nol Rittenberg

Mr. J . F . Roach l SLAVES Mr . Wil iam E ssex

Mr. A rthur S tevens

On the 18th of December the producti on was Ma ne E o Th a h transferred to The xi lli tt e ter, wit the substitution Of Miss Cathleen Nesbit for Miss Lewisohn in the part Of the Queen ; thus leaving the a n m o d o n l c st e tirely co p se f professio a s . There has n n no a B h bee o t ble ritis production .

THE TENTS OF THE ARABS

T s a was rs od Mr. hi pl y fi t pr uced by Philip Carr, who gave it in English in Paris at two theaters in A P P E N D I X I I

14 M s M Mc I h A 19 . s ad nt s a d Ez arza pril , i ge o pl ye n , r and the cast was enti ely composed Of English actors . Th s od on was m os s ss am n orm d i pr ucti t ucce ful , I i f e L h m a Mr . Ern s A . B d . a a sa by e t oy ter in t t e ye r, M ss McI ntosh a the a in L oo mar n i g ve pl y iverp l , ki g the first English producti on . The first professional production Of the pl ay in America took place at the dedicatory performance Of The o d n T D o . the Arts a d Crafts heater, etr it pr uc m m who a so d s n d the tion was in charge ofSa Hu e , l e ig e

in h he was assis d dson Sm h . Thr set, whic te by Ju it ee n n he 1 6th 17th and performances were give o t , , The as was as o o s : m 1916 . 1 8th of Nove ber, c t f ll w

B EL -N ARB Carl Guske a k AO O B Eugene J . S h r ey Elliott THE KING R . J . B Ell ott THE CHAMBERLAIN Harry . i ZABRA Edward L ou d L ouise Vha EZN ARZA. y

THE LAUGHTER OF THE GODS

The fi rst American production Of this play was n h and d h a r by Stuart Walker at the Pu c Ju y t e te , on dn sda an ar 1 5th New York City , We e y , J u y , rod d in a hr a s and 1919 . It was p uce bill Of t ee pl y , The ast o o s was given for three weeks . c f ll w

THARMIA E lizabeth Patterson ARO L I ND B eatrice Maud e I CHTHARI O N A ldrich B owker D U N S A N Y T H E D R A MA T I S T

LUDI BRAS HARPAGAS Richard Farrell FIRS T SENTRY Joseph Graham SECOND SENTRY Robert Fiske CAROLYx L ael Davi s KING KARNOS McKay Morris VOICE -OF-THE -GODS George Gaul AN ATTENDANT Donald McClelland ANOTHER ATTENDANT Harold Winston THE QUEEN Margaret Mower AN O LD MAN George S ommes A CAMEL DRIVER Walter Geer A YOUNG MAN Morgan Farley THE EXE CUTIONER L eon Cunningham ACOLYTES AND LADIES

THE MURDERERS

The first professional American production Of h a this play was by Stuart Walker at the Murat T e ter, 14 1 I h s n n n o n ul h 19 9 . n e I dia ap lis, o J y t , t pri g Of 1919 the Yale Dramatic As sociation was permitted “ ” M Murd s for h i by r. Walker to use The erer t e r New h a York production at the Punch and Judy t e ter, but this earlier presentation cannot of course be ’ o d Mr a s c nsi ered strictly as professional . . W lker cast was as follows

B ILL McKay Morris TOM Aldrich B owker A STRANGER George S ommes