at any rate, The climac

which marks the culmination of the rising action, stands the crisis known as the climax. It is generally a moment not only of reversal but of great tension as well. In the drama it usually occurs in the third act, approximately near the middle of the play. tic scene may be elaborate and picturesque in setting, as in the banquet scene of Macbeth or the senate scene of Julius Cæsar, or it may be lacking in external elaboration, as in Esther; but tense and critical it should be, in order to accomplish the fullness of its effect. A distinction at this point is sometimes drawn between the actual climax and what is known as the tragic moment; that is, between the instant when the reversal actually begins and the instant when some critical incident renders such reversal inevitable. But, although this distinction may frequently be drawn without difficulty, yet usually the two merge into one.

An illustration of climax is found at the moment when, in answer to the King's summons, Haman stands before the throne and, confident of its application to himself, makes answer to the inquiry as to what shall be done to the man whom the King delights to honor. "Then the King said to Haman 'Do even so to Mordecai the Jew, that sitteth at the King's gate: let nothing fail of all

...

that thou hast spoken."" With these words and with Haman's complete discomfiture the current of the narrative turns and plunges downward. The effectiveness of the scene is tremendous. The crushing effect of the King's command is intensified by the total unexpectedness with which it falls on Haman's ears. The demolition

FIG. 8

of his air castles and the bitterness of his humiliation are complete. It is the "psychologic moment" of the entire plot. The diagram shows the culmination of the action.

After this culmination of the plot structure there remains but the downward course of the action to its close, the fall, containing the resolution of the thread complications. The powers that have been in the ascendant now decline before the counter-action, which gains in vigor as it advances. The moment of greatest intensity having passed, there is little further complication, and, now that the ultimate issue of the plot is apparent, the problem of sustaining interest presents peculiar difficulty. To offset this difficulty and to sustain the interest, various devices are utilized, among them, striking scenes marked by elaborate setting and great emotional vigor. Frequently at this stage the writer introduces what is known as the moment of final suspense, a crisis at which, for a brief period, the downward course of the action seems on the verge of being arrested and the impending crisis averted. Drama itself frequently offers example of this moment: the final clause in the witches' threefold prophecy seems for an instant to offer a ray of hope to Macbeth, about whom disasters are gathering fast and thick; Brutus for a moment hesitates at the thought of suicide, reasoning that it betrays cowardice thus to "prevent the time of life" for fear of ills to come. But the check is never quite adequate: Macduff proves that the prophecy has no application in his case; Brutus ultimately rushes upon the sword held by Strato. In prose narrative the moment of final suspense is frequently lacking, but, in order to meet the difficulty of sustaining the interest after the point of culmination has been reached, the fall is made very brief

in duration, so that the climax, instead of occupying a medial position, is advanced well on toward the conclusion.

The falling action of Esther is divided as follows: The first scene presents Haman's bitterness and prostration of spirit, following his humiliating obedience to the King's command regarding Mordecai. The inevitableness of Haman's undoing, too, is emphasized by the prophetic warning of Zeresh, that if his enemy be of the Jewish people her husband will in vain seek to prevail. Then follows the great scene of the banquet given by the Queen to the King and to Haman, a scene capable of almost unlimited elaboration. The note pervading this episode, however, is diametrically different from that of similar preceding scenes in the story as far as it affects the principal personage concerned. Haman, to be sure, is the honored guest, he has attained the summit of his ambition, yet all his honors and his success are little better than ashes, all the warmth and the glow have departed from them. The sense of impending disaster is omnipresent; the atmosphere of falling action is unmistakable. The banquet scene contains in reality three constituent narrative episodes marking this climactic approach to disaster: Esther's indictment of Haman as the persecutor of her people, and the King's anger; Haman's despairing appeal to the Queen for mercy; and last, the edict for Haman's execution. The second of these episodes is noteworthy as suggesting, in a way, the moment of final suspense. If Haman is to secure any consideration at all, it must be through the favor of the Queen, whose family and race he has cruelly wronged. Very properly, then, does he throw himself upon Esther's mercy. But she, possessing many of the characteristics that distinguished Jael and

Deborah, stands in a peculiarly responsible position: she is acting for her people, not as an individual. And, to emphasize the inevitableness of Haman's fate, the King misinterprets his action, and the edict of death is immediate. If, then, the scene between Haman and the Queen be viewed as a moment of final suspense, it certainly possesses one of the prime essen

tials of that moment, in that immediately after this promise of a possible check, the downward plunge of the action is increasingly steep and rapid. A diagram of the story up to the point of Haman's death warrant would appear as in

FIG. 9

figure 9, the angle in the fall representing the moment of suspense just preliminary to the final and precipitate stage.

There remains only the concluding phase of the dra-^ matic plot, the culmination, or completion, of the fall, known technically as the catastrophe. In the type of plot structure under discussion, catastrophe differs radically from climax, although in other forms the two may coalesce, as will be set forth later. Catastrophe has about it the character of finality, of termination. Consequently if the catastrophe be well conceived the coherence of the plot structure will be evident. At this point all the lines of action converge in that they indicate it as the inevitable issue. It calms the conflicting forces that have been disturbed since the beginning of the dramatic struggle.

The word "catastrophe" has by association come to connote to the average reader the idea of death or disaster. But this signification is not essential. It implies no

reflection on the charms of the heroine nor a pessimistic attitude toward marriage to say that the winning of her hand may form the catastrophe of a dramatic plot. Death is catastrophic when it is the logical and inevitable termination of the plot series. Tito's death is catastrophic in Romola, but only as attendant upon his moral death which has already occurred. His tragic end below the Bridge of Santa Trinita, with Baldassarre's fingers at his white throat, is a fitting culmination to the general moral disintegration that has steadily progressed since Tito first yielded to the temptations of self-inter

est. And so it is with the death of Haman. In view of the setting of the story in the Oriental court of Ahasuerus and amid Eastern customs of prompt punishment for offenders against the royal power, the death of Haman is the inevitable and fitting issue of the events that constitute the narrative. The complete story, then, would be indicated in figure 10.

FIG. 10

It is to be noted that the dramatic effectiveness of narratives built on this plan is increased if the finality of the catastrophe be not weakened by an appended exposition setting forth the ultimate disposal of all characters accessory to the action. Some degree of emotional tension at the very end is forceful, on the rhetorical principle of emphasis. The sense of absolute coherence is maintained and the effect of a strong conclusion is not lost. The conventional endings of the type familiar to readers of The Marble Faun or of A Tale of Two Cities do not always leave the sense of dramatic culmination. And how does this apply to the Esther narrative, in