"JOURNEY'S END."

Auckland Star, Volume LXI, Issue 39, 15 February 1930, Page 11

"JOURNEY'S END."

A STUDY THAT LIVES.

TRANSCRIPT OF LIFE,

NATURAL, REAL, AND TRUE.

Talking with a pressman _in Melbourne, my eye caught a paragraph headed "Sad Journey's End for Gordon Highlander," and*.l read: "'A British soldier with a good war record has died in" the Austin. Hospital, leaving a widow and child destitute. He wiirbe buried as a pauper to-morrow unless someone guarantees the funeral expenses," writes the Rev., T. E. Ruth, of Sydney. A Sydney man, paying in the same hotel, had just been complaining, of the /scurvy treatmeiit of some of our own returned men, his own-son among them. And I notice that Sir la,n Hamilton says: "The truth, is that when the last relatives, of the fallen have been aiven a workhouse funeral, the soul of their sacrifice will still go marching on." But why "a workhouse funeral ?." Journey's End! "Have you seen the play?" asked the pressman. "No?" "Then buy it and read it on the boat." And I did. On arriving in Sydney I found. that "Journey's End" was to be broadcast from the principal British broadcasting stations on Armistice Day. And now 1 am setting down some impressions of the play that is being broadcast in England to-day. " . It is as clear "and concise as a photograph. And it lives. It lives as a picture in your mind. You ion't need to apologise to yourself for giving it a place in the gallery of your imagination. It is there to inspire and keep aflame your hatred of war. It is as a striking bit of'literature that it will appeal to English people. It doesn't seem like a play. There isn't a theatrical line in i* is a transcript of life, and ££ere fore dramatic. About the stage directions, which alone make the play ..worth reading, there is something natural,: real. These ten men are not actors. They are not on a stage. They 'are actually soldiers in a dugout. We know them, every one of them, intimately. " '

Cut Out of Life. .It-is.a play without a plot. It is a play without a story, with all thti*=broken threads of many different stories. It ..is a play without a purpose, without a preaching note,' but the final exposure of: the. rottenness of War is as powerful a peace sermon as can,be preached. It is a play without a woman in it, with-out-any sex -appeal, which"'yet masters every masculine quality and captures every. feminine instinct. The' playwright, R. C. Sheriff, an in surance. assessor, cuts' out a bit of* the war—Monday evening to Thursday toward dawn—cuts it clean out of life, with the edges bleeding, and leaves'. it living. You see the dugout; hear Hardy and Osborne i talic about Stanhope, the company commander;' Stanhope, who. could drink a whole bottle of whisky in one hour fourteen minute's; Stanhope, son - of a country vicar; Stanhope, Who - had been- out nearly three years, \ caiiVe straight from school when lie was 18— stuck it till his nerves were battered to bits,' and was still sticking it. Raleigh, a boy of 18, reports to. the company, and Osborne tries to prepare him for the change in Stanhope. Raleigh thinks he knows. "I remember once at. school he. caiight some chaps in a study with a. bottle of 1 whisky, .Lord!■ The., roof nearly blew'off. He gave them a dozen each , with a cricket' stump." And Stanhope confesses to Osborne his love for Raleigh's sister. "Yes, she's waiting f°r nte—and she doesn't know. She thinks I'm a wonderfulj cliap—commanding a company. She doesn't knew that if I went up those steps into the front line vwithout being doped with whisky I'd go mad with fright." Laughter in Hell. There are gleams of gaiety in this ghastly crucifixion of youth. It isn't inconsistent to face the cross with a song. Laughter has a place, even in hell. • Some lines shout with laughter. There, are plenty of smiles. But the shadows lengthen and deepen. You cant, read > without a chuckle or a catch in your ( throat, a catch more often than a chuckle. Nothing is forced, though the . whole gamut of emotion is swept. There , I are some great.scenes Stanhope cen- ' spring Raleigh's letter is one. Stanhope saving Hibbert, a snivelling coward, is another. But there is no exploiting of 1 heroics. \ N When Osborne, the. ex-schoolmaster, s and Raleigh, the schoolboy, detailed to '] make .a raid, tick oil the minutes be- i fore what looks like certain death, tliey <

talk ; of"anything—"Alice in Wonder-: land," pigs , iii tlie New Forest, Allum Green just outside Lyndlmrst. Osborne is -killed; Thiit- night Stanlio'pie,- trotter and Hibtert .have'' their' chicken- and. ■champagne -"and- cigars.' : -• Staiiliopc is; furious' -with.': Ealeigli. for' not joining' 1 •/Raleigh: . Grtod God! Don't, you understand?, can. I sit down and -that-Tf^vhen—(his A'oice is. -nearly breaking)—when Osborne's—lyirisr—out V; ' . , • - ■' ' 'Stanhope: - MyH God! You bloody little swine! ; You think I don't care. ; -Raleigh: And yet you can. sit there and drink- champagne and smoke cigarsN". '•.• Stanhopo: ; : To. forget, you little fool, ,to forgdt • Peace is'an affair, not of pcace pacts, but of -education, in which politicians and playwright, pressmen and preachers, must play their part.