A play may start from almost anything: a detached thought that flashes through the mind; a theory of conduct or of art which one firmly believes or wishes only to examine; a bit of dialogue overheard or imagined; a setting, real or imagined, which creates emotion in the observer; a perfectly detached scene, the antecedents and consequences of which are as yet unknown; a figure glimpsed in a crowd which for some reason arrests the attention of the dramatist, or a figure closely studied; a contrast or similarity between two people or conditions of life; a mere incident—noted in a newspaper or book, heard in idle talk, or observed; or a story, told only in the barest outlines or with the utmost detail. “How do the ideas underlying plays come into being? Under the most varying conditions. Most often you cannot tell exactly how. At the outset you waste much time hunting for a subject, then suddenly one day, when you are in your study or even in the street, you bring up with a start, for you have found something. The piece is in sight. At first there is only an impression, an image of the brain that wholly defies words. If you were to write out exactly what you feel at the moment—provided that were at all possible—it would be exceedingly difficult to indicate its attractiveness. The situation is similar to that when you dream that you have discovered an idea of profound significance; on awaking you write it down; and on rereading perceive that it is commonplace or stale. Then you follow up the idea; it tries to escape, and when captured at last, still resists, ceaselessly changing form. You wish to write a comedy; the idea cries, ‘Make a tragedy of me, or a story-play.’ At last, after a struggle you master the idea.”[1]
Back of La Haine of Sardou was the detached thought or query: “Under what circumstances will the profound charity of woman show itself in the most striking manner? In the preface to La Haine, Sardou has told how his plays revealed themselves to him. ‘The problem is invariable. It appears as a kind of equation from which the unknown quantity must be found. The problem gives me no peace till I have found the answer.’”[2] Maeterlinck wrote several of his earlier plays, The Intruder, Princess Maleine, The Blind, to demonstrate the truth of two artistic theories of his: that what would seem to most theatre-goers of the time inaction might be made highly dramatic, and that partial or complete repetition of a phrase may have great emotional effect. Magda (Heimat) of Sudermann was written to illustrate the possible inherent tragedy of Magda’s words: “Show them [people thoroughly sincere and honest but limited in experience and outlook] that beyond their narrow virtues there may be something true and good.” In Le Fils Naturel of Dumas the younger, the illegitimate son, till late in the play, believes his father to be his uncle. “The logical development would seem to be obvious: father and son falling into each other’s arms. Dumas, on the contrary, arranged that the son should not take the family name, and that the play should end with the following dialogue:
The Father. You will surely permit me, when we are alone together, to call you my son.
The Son. Yes, uncle.
It seems that Montigny, Director of the Gymnase Theatre, was shocked by the frigidity of this dénouement. He said to Dumas, ‘Make them embrace each other; the play, in that case, will have at least thirty additional performances.’ Dumas answered, ‘I can’t suppress the last word. It is for that I wrote the piece.’”[3] One suspects that Lord Dunsany feels the same about the last words of his King Argimenes. The whole play apparently illustrates the almost irresistible effect of habit and environment. At the opening of the play, King Argimenes is the hungry, overworked slave of the captors who deprived him of his kingship. He talks eagerly with his fellow slaves of the King’s sick dog, who will make a rich feast for them if he dies. At the end, Argimenes, completely successful in his revolt, is lord of all he surveys. Surprised by the news of the incoming messenger, he suddenly reverts to a powerful desire of his slavehood, speaking instinctively as did Le fils of Dumas.
Enter running, a Man of the household of King Darniak. He starts and stares aghast on seeing King Argimenes
King Argimenes. Who are you?
Man. I am the servant of the King’s dog.
King Argimenes. Why do you come here?
Man. The King’s dog is dead.