The Mortal Gods, and Other Plays

In Short

This collection of three verse dramas—The Mortal Gods, A Son of Hermes, and Kidmir—examines the heavy toll of leadership, the nature of tyranny, and the sacrifices demanded by personal integrity. Set across varied, mythic, and pseudo-historical landscapes, the plays center on figures who struggle to reconcile their personal desires with the ruthless demands of the state. Olive Tilford Dargan’s work remains resonant today for its unflinching look at the corruption of power and the stubborn, often tragic, persistence of the human spirit in its search for freedom.

The Story

In the title play, The Mortal Gods, the King of Assaria, Hudibrand, arrives in the land of Goldusan with his daughter, Hernda, ostensibly for a diplomatic visit but truly to manipulate the regional economy for his own gain. Hudibrand is a cynical architect of power who views his subjects and foreign allies as mere tools to be used and discarded. As he orchestrates the downfall of the local ruler, Cordiaz, he ignores the brewing resentment of the populace. Meanwhile, a revolutionary named Rejan LeVal languishes in a dungeon, his plight becoming a focal point for those who suffer under Hudibrand’s influence. The tension breaks when a woman known as "Osa" rises to lead the oppressed, reclaiming the key to LeVal’s cell and sparking a movement that fundamentally challenges the "divine right" of kings.

A Son of Hermes shifts the focus to the classical world, framing a tale of political intrigue and personal obsession. Here, figures like Biades and the Spartan princess Pyrrha navigate a landscape where loyalty is a commodity and honor is a mask. Biades, an Athenian, finds himself entangled in the machinations of the state, trapped between his strategic survival and his intense, complicated feelings for Pyrrha. Their interactions are fraught with the weight of national duty; Stesilaus, a stern Spartan, demands that Pyrrha act as a guardian of her country’s security, forcing her to choose between her own burgeoning love and the cold, unyielding dictates of the state.

The final play, Kidmir, is a haunting meditation on the cost of belief. Ardia, known as "Ardia of the Stars," finds herself a pawn in a brutal power struggle. Betrothed to a prince for political gain, she clings to her love for Bertrand despite the efforts of her brothers and political masters to force her into a marriage of convenience. When the political landscape shifts and their lives are threatened, Ardia chooses a desperate, final act of agency. Rather than see her love destroyed or dishonored by the petty tyrants surrounding them, she takes matters into her own hands, ending the life of her beloved to ensure his spirit remains untarnished. The play concludes with her own death, a defiant assertion that love can survive even when the world that harbors it is broken.

How It Unfolds

The arrival of the schemer In The Mortal Gods, King Hudibrand enters a foreign court, immediately setting his sights on economic domination. He treats his own ministers and his host, Cordiaz, with a cold, manipulative detachment that reveals his total lack of genuine principle.

The rising of the oppressed As the political situation in Goldusan deteriorates, the figure of Osa emerges from the laboring class to demand justice. She gathers the broken, the exploited, and the hopeful, effectively turning the tables on their oppressors by force of moral and physical will.

The clash of loyalties In A Son of Hermes, the focus shifts to the precarious balance of power between Athens and Sparta. Biades and Pyrrha find their personal desires constantly thwarted by the rigid demands of their respective states and the looming threat of war.

The final sacrifice The narrative arc of Kidmir moves from the courtly politics of Suli to a dark climax at the altar. Ardia realizes that she cannot preserve her love within the framework of her society's corruption, leading to a tragic, symbolic resolution.

The People

Hudibrand is the quintessential autocrat, defined by his belief that sincerity is merely a tool for fools. He serves as the primary foil to every other character, representing the stagnation of power. In contrast, Hernda attempts to act as a moral compass, yet she finds her own father's coldness nearly insurmountable. In the secondary plays, the figures are equally trapped by their roles. Biades is a man who seeks glory but is fundamentally compromised by his own survival instincts, while Pyrrha represents the rigidity of a society that values the collective above the individual. Ardia stands apart as the most tragic figure; her agency is expressed only through the destruction of what she holds dearest. Each character is defined by a desire to escape the "destiny of stone" imposed by their birth, yet most are forced to confront the fact that, in these societies, the cost of genuine independence is often everything they have.

In Its Own Voice

"I'll make that heart my wizard bowl and mix such sweet and merry potions in 't, his griefs must doff their gray for motley."

Hernda declares her intention to use charm to soften a hardened heart, unaware of the deeper political traps she is walking into.

"At last the dumb, trod way has spoken 'neath man's feet, and by that word uncovered he has learned what he shall not be."

Chartrien challenges Hudibrand’s archaic worldview, asserting that humanity has collectively awakened to its own inherent power.

"My house is down, I, too, must fall."

Ardia realizes that her act of love, though extreme, has completely untethered her from the world that sought to possess her.

What It's Really About

The central argument of these plays is that power—when divorced from humanity—becomes an empty, destructive farce. Dargan asks whether it is possible for an individual to maintain a pure inner life while existing within systems defined by violence and greed. The plays do not offer easy answers, suggesting instead that the "mortal gods" who rule us are essentially brittle, sustained only by the compliance of those they exploit. The underlying question is one of collective consciousness: at what point does the "dumb, trod way" of the masses recognize that the chains they wear are of their own making? It is a study in the necessity of moral courage, even when the only available outcome is tragedy.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate early 20th-century verse drama will find much to admire in the elevated, rhythmic language and the dramatic scale of these stories. The prose is rich with classical allusion and a certain sharp-edged wit that keeps the more didactic moments from feeling heavy-handed. However, the reader should be prepared for the dense, sometimes archaic phrasing that was common to the period’s high-literary style.

Those interested in the history of political theater will find the themes of labor exploitation and the corruption of international diplomacy surprisingly pertinent to modern discourse. While the settings are ostensibly historical or mythic, the underlying frustration with the "fiddlers" of the state and the struggle of the individual against indifferent bureaucracies feels timeless. It is a rewarding, albeit demanding, read that requires patience with the formal structure of the plays. You will stay with the book for its moments of intense, lyrical clarity—those flashes where the characters stop being mere archetypes and become recognizably human, struggling to hold onto their dignity in a world that insists on stripping it away. It is a somber, beautiful, and occasionally fierce portrait of what happens when the human spirit finally refuses to be silent.