s coming out ahead, we say
that the situation is dramatic. This clash is clearly defined in
any effective play, from the crude melodrama in which the forces
are hero and villain with pistols, to such subtle conflicts,
based on a man's misunderstanding of even his own motives and
purposes, as in Mr. Middleton's "Tides."
In comedy, and even in farce, struggle is clearly present. Here
our sympathy is with people who engage in a not impossible
combat--against rather obvious villains who can be unmasked, or
against such public opinion or popular conventions as can be
overset. The hold of an absurd bit of gossip upon stupid people
is firm enough in "Spreading the News"; but fortunately it must
yield to facts at last. The Queen and the Knave of Hearts are
sufficiently clever, with the aid of the superb cookery of the
Knave's wife, to do away with an ancient and solemnly reverenced
law of Pompdebile's court. So, too, the force of ancient loyalty
and enthusiasm almost works a miracle in the invalid veteran of
"Gettysburg." And we feel sure that the uncanny powers of the
Beggar will be no less successful in overturning the power of the
King in Mr. Parkhurst's play.
Again, in comedies as in mathematics, the problem is often solved
by substitution. The soldier in Mr. Galsworthy's "The Sun" is
able to find a satisfactory and apparently happy ending without
achieving what he originally set out to gain. And the same is
true of Jock in Mr. Brighouse's "Lonesome-Like." Or the play
which does not end as the chief character wishes may still prove
not too serious because, as in "Fame and the Poet," the situation
is merely inconvenient and absurd rather than tragic. Now and
then it is next to impossible to tell whether the ending is
tragic or not; in the "Land of Heart's Desire" we must first
decide whether our sympathies are more with Shawn Bruin and with
Maire's love for him, or with her keen desire to go
To where the woods, the stars, and the white streams
Are holding a continual festival.
It is natural for us to desire a happy ending in stories, as we
desire satisfying solutions of the problems in our own lives. And
whenever the forces at work are such as make it true and possible,
naturally this is the best ending for a story or a play. But where
powerful and terrible influences have to be combated, only a poor
dramatist will make use of mere chance, or compel his characters
to do what such people really would not do, to
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