ering in an act which
for the very reason that it is, or seems, comparatively unimportant, is
all the more likely to trip up a dramatist who, buoyed up by his victory
in a fine and effective scene of climactic force, comes to the final act
in a state of reaction, and forgetful of the fact that pride goeth
before a fall--the fall of the curtain! No wonder that, in order to
dodge all such difficulties, playwrights sometimes project their climax
forward into the last act and so shorten what is left to do thereafter;
or, going further, place it at the play's terminal point. But the
artistic objections to this have been explained. Some treatment of the
falling action after the climax, longer or shorter, is advisable; and
the dramatist must sharpen his wits upon this technical demand and make
it part of the satisfaction of his art to meet it.

The fundamental business of the last act of a play, let it be repeated,
is to show the general results of a situation presented in the crucial
scene, in so far as those results are pertinent to a satisfactory grasp
of story and idea on the part of the auditor. These results must be in
harmony with the beginning, growth and crisis of the story and must
either be demanded in advance by the audience, or gladly received as
pleasant and helpful, when presented. The citation of such plays as
_Rosemary_ and _Years of Discretion_ raises the interesting question
whether a peculiar function of the final act may not lie in not only
rounding out the story as such, but in bringing home the underlying idea
of the piece to the audience. Surely a rich opportunity, as yet but
little utilized, is here. Yet again danger lurks in the opportunity.
The last act might take on the nature of a philosophic tag, a
preachment not organically related to the preceding parts. This, of
course, would be a sad misuse of the chance to give the drama a wider
application and finer bloom. But if the playwright have the skill and
inventive power to merge the two elements of story and idea in a final
act which adds stimulating material while it brings out clearly the
underlying theme, then he will have performed a kind of double function
of the drama. In the new technic of to-day and to-morrow this may come
to be, more and more, the accepted aim of the resourceful, thoughtful
maker of plays.

The intelligent auditor in the playhouse with this aspect of technic
before him will be able to assist in his cooeperation with worthy