Curtain52
Here it is not the quietude but the particularly apt, humorous illustration of Poirier’s character which gives climax. In The Amazons, too, what could better illustrate acceptance of the usual by all the group who have been fighting against it than the sedate and utterly commonplace exeunt?
Lady Castlejordan. Lord Tweenwayes—
(Tweenwayes comes with great dignity to Lady Castlejordan. The girls fall back.)
Lady Castlejordan. Lord Litterly—Lady Noeline. Monsieur de Grival—Lady Wilhelmina. Mr. Minchin—Lady Thomasin.
(The couples are formed, and all go out sedately.)53
When quiet speech sums up the whole meaning of a scene or play, it too gives climax. Ann’s words at the end of Man and Superman, “John you are still talking,” make a fine ironic climax. Irony, whether quiet or decidedly dramatic, is a very effective means to climax. At the end of Act II, Herod, in the play of that name by Stephen Phillips, has ordered Mariamne killed. Completely infatuated by her, he has done this only when her enemies have forced him to believe that she is utterly false. Almost instantly his love overwhelms his mistrust. He tries to revoke his word, crying,
Yet will I not be bound, I will break free,
She shall not die—she shall not die—she shall not—
News of the triumph he has longed for interrupts:
Enter Attendant.
Attendant. O king, the Roman eagles! See!
A cry. (Without.) From Rome!
Enter Roman Envoy and Suite.
Envoy. O king, great Cæsar sent us after you,
But, though we posted fast, you still outran us.
Thus then by word of mouth great Cæsar greets
Herod his friend. But he would not confine
That friendship to the easy spoken word,
And hear I bear a proof of Cæsar’s faith.
Herein is added to thy boundaries
Hippo, Samaria and Gadara,
And high-walled Joppa, and Anthedon’s shore,
And Gaza unto these, and Straton’s towers. (Moves down.)
Here is the scroll, with Cæsar’s own hand signed.
Herod. (Taking the scroll—at foot of steps.) Mariamne, hear you this? Mariamne, see you?
(Turns to look at scroll.)
(Servant enters and moves down to Gadias down L.)
(He goes up the stairs.)
Hippo, Samaria and Gadara,
And high-walled Joppa, and Anthedon’s shore,
And Gaza unto these, and Straton’s towers.
Servant. (Aside to Gadias.) O sir, the queen is dead!
Gadias. (Aside to Pheroras, Cypros, and Salome.) The queen is dead!
Herod. Mariamne, hear you this? Mariamne, see you?
(Repeating the words, and going up steps.)
Hippo, Samaria and Gadara,
And high-walled Joppa, and Anthedon, (As he moves up.)
And Gaza unto these, and Straton’s towers!54
The perfect climax lies in the irony of the fact that all Herod most desires as ruler comes to him at just the moment when he has killed the thing that most he loved.
At the end of Act III of Chains, by Elizabeth Baker, everybody—the father-in-law and mother-in-law, Percy, the brother-in-law, and Sybil, a pretty but useless bit of femininity—has been making Charlie entirely miserable because no one can understand that his expressed desire to try his fortunes in Australia and then send for his wife, Lily, is not a pretext for abandoning her. Percy, with next to nothing a year, is just engaged to Sybil. Foster wants to marry Margaret, Charlie’s sister-in-law, who is dissatisfied with her lot.
Enter Lily, dressed for going out, also Mrs. Massey. Lily goes round, kissing and shaking hands, with a watery smile and a forced tearful cheerfulness.
Charley. (Without going all around and calling from the door.) Good night, all!
(Exeunt Lily and Charley.)
Mrs. Massey. Well, I must say—
Percy. O, let’s drop it, mother. Play something, Maggie.
Maggie. I don’t want to.
Mrs. Massey. Walter would like to hear something, wouldn’t you, Walter?
Foster. If Maggie feels like it.
Maggie. She doesn’t feel like it.
Massey. Be as pleasant as you can, my girl—Charley’s enough for one evening.
(Maggie goes to the piano and sitting down plays noisily, with both pedals on, the chorus, “Off to Philadelphia.”)
Mrs. Massey. Maggie, it’s Sunday!
Maggie. I forgot!
Mrs. Massey. You shouldn’t forget such things—Sybil, my dear—
Sybil. I don’t play.
Massey. Rubbish! Come on!
(Sybil goes to the piano and Percy follows her.)
Percy. (Very near to Sybil and helping her to find the music.) Charley is a rotter! What d’ye think he was telling me the other day?
Sybil. I don’t know.
Percy. Told me to be sure I got the right girl.
Sybil. Brute!
Percy. What do you think I said? Darling!
(Kisses her behind music.)
Massey. (Looking around.) Take a bigger sheet.
(Sybil sits at piano quickly and plays the chorus to “Count Your Many Blessings.” To which they all sing:)
Count your many blessings, count them one by one,
Count your blessings, see what God has done.
Count your blessings, count them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord has done.55
Is not the irony of this group of unsatisfied or dissatisfied people singing “Count your many blessings,” fully climactic?
Not quietness of speech or action, then, but appropriateness makes any of these approved endings climactic and artistic.
There can hardly be any question that the original ending of Still Waters Run Deep is theatrical in the sense that it is climactic only by the dramatic convention of its time. Except when theatricality is intentionally part of the artistic design, it is, of course, undesirable. Rostand, letting the figures in The Romancers comment on their own play as a kind of epilogue, has a really artistic though theatrical climax.
Sylvette. (Summoning the actors about her.) And now we five—if Master Straforel please—
Let us expound the play in which we’ve tried to please.
(She comes down stage and addresses the audience, marking time with her hand.)
Light, easy rhymes; old dresses, frail and light;
Love in a park, fluting an ancient tune. (Soft music.)
Bergamin. A fairy-tale quintet, mad as Midsummer-night.
Pasquin. Some quarrels. Yes!—but all so very slight!
Straforel. Madness of sunstroke; madness of the moon!
A worthy villain, in his mantle dight.
Sylvette. Light, easy rhymes; old dresses, frail and light;
Love in a park, fluting an ancient tune.
Percinet. A Watteau picture—not by Watteau, quite;
Release from many a dreary Northern rune;
Lovers and fathers; old walls, flowery-bright;
A brave old plot—with music—ending soon.
Sylvette. Light, easy rhymes; old dresses, frail and light.
(The stage gradually darkens; the last lines are delivered in voices that grow fainter as the actors appear to fade away into mist and darkness.)