and _When we Dead awaken_. In nearly all of these the death is not
accidental but inevitable. _The Wild Duck_ has a tragic death in it
which is by no means conclusive; indeed, it is a horrible humour of the
work that the last idea of all is the suggestion of a continuing tragic
comedy.

The inconclusive conclusion is unpopular. There is a strong craving in
the public to have plays nicely rounded off, and this is a serious
obstacle to writers who seek to represent real life, which seems to have
a sort of prejudice against rounding-off human affairs neatly. In a vast
number of cases the great crises in human life are followed by a tedious
kind of dragging anti-climax.

Great monarchs still live after their fall. The Napoleon of the stage
would have died at Waterloo instead of crawling out of life at St
Helena. One need not multiply instances after such a prodigious example.
Managers naturally respect--some will say "pander to"--the public taste;
wherefore our real life plays rarely see the footlights, and when they
do sometimes are cruelly forced into an artificial ending.

From time to time one even sees quaint announcements that, owing to the
wishes of the public, the conclusion of a particular play has been
twisted from the author's original idea into some termination that
gratifies the audience's desire to leave the theatre in a mood to enjoy
a supper afterwards. The question of art involved in the matter hardly
needs discussion. No one will deny that, in comedy at least, the
greatest suggestion of truth is the greatest art, even whilst admitting
that the inevitable circumstances of the production of a play demand
certain modifications and adjustment of truth. The dramatist can never
hold the mirror up to Nature; he can only reflect her in a distorting
glass.

A few years ago in a play that made a sensation came the worst example
of the forced conventional "happy-ever-after" ending on record. The case
was that of _An Englishman's Home_, where there was foisted upon the
author, who was abroad, a quite imbecile happy ending which caused much
discussion: it is not unlikely that this crime against drama and the
dramatist prevented the piece from enjoying the immense success
confidently prophesied for it.

Nowadays authors are in a greater difficulty, because
people--particularly the so-called "smart" folk--are eager to get away
early for supper, whilst many are compelled to steal off to catch trains
to Brighton and