APROPOS THE WALLS OF JERICHO.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXVI, Issue 1, 6 January 1906, Page 24

APROPOS THE WALLS OF JERICHO.

( Bv

“Candidus.”)

I went (in Auckland) to ace Brough —Flemming, in the latest London success, •’The Walls of Jericho.” A distinguished audience attended with me, adorned in their best imitations of fashion, and fortified by chocolates in sufficient quantities to sustain them during the evening. Numbers of those present, to my personal knowledge, went to see the play because they had heard that there were things to see and hear,others because it was the "ton.” All were prepared to enjoy themselves thoroughly. In four powerful scenes, we see the women of the play revelling in all the festering evils which corrode modern society— not alone 1 believe that of effete Mayfair, but also the more cultivated circles of our suburban aristocracy. With wolfish and unappeasable appetite, they- gloated over the heartless rending of the characters of their sisters; with astounding imperturbability they cheated meanly and ignominiously at bridge, the debased the ancient and honourable epigram to the ignoble uses of their vile talk. The picture upon the stage was a replica of the lives and habits of many of those who. while loudest in their applause, bore the closest and most striking resemblance to the persons of the play. "The Walls of Jericho” were blown down indeed: but they were promptly blown up again by the simple process of reversing the trumpet. For that happened which always docs happen on such occasions. The ladies were driven into expression of virtuous indignation against their sisters of the play, so ogre-like in their scandalmongering, so contemptible in their charlatanry, so foul in mind ;md conversation. Th? men had .sever'd opportunities — (there were three intervals) —- of recovering from the shocks dealt them by the out-spoken author. Every virtuous sentiment uttered was extravagantly applauded, though such applause was no indication that the sentiments were being stored up for personal example on appropriate occasion. We hear a great deal of the moral influence of the theatre. It would be in’teresting to hold a census of convrsions won by it. With its diret and simple human appeal, it

should have the most vivid and sustained influence; it should reach out its hand, and touch the heart: it has opportunties, how much finer than the most eloquent preacher or parson could ever hope for. Yet, what does it do with the modern ? Take "The Message from Mars.” No man is in the least degree less selfish on account of witnessing that delightful fantasy (women, of course, were not addressed in that play). What woman is st all likely to abandon scandal, bridge, or even vile twik, after hearing "The Walls of Jericho” addressed by Sutro’s trumpet? While, as has been said, the most heinous offenders were the most uproarious in their plaudits, many of them openly expressed their hopes that the certain other women of their own suburb (whom they named) would take the trenchant lessons of the play to heart.

It is always some other woman, it is never the stainless speaker, who rails so glibly about her sister's horrible practice of what she does not hesitate to stig-niati-c as social crimes. It is never that

child of culture who can see the moat in her own eye, or can detect the cesspit in her own garden. The photographer is, indeed, far too faithful a portrayer. Unless he will retouch, the print will show every defect in the complexion, every stain upon the skin; and such a portrait could never lie presented to friends—or rivals; nor will the careless examiner of her own reflection ever acknowledge that the negative speaks even more truth than her mirror. "What a nasty hit at Gertrude?” "Gladys must really come to see this play; it is so true to life” (meaning Gladys’ life). “I’ll send a ticket myself to Gwendoline; she may learn something from it” (about Gwendoline’s own evil ways). Such were the astonishing remarks of the lady from —well, that suburb you all wot of—who has played more doubtful bridge, held more doubtful converse, and riddled more unoffending characters with her poisoned shafts than any other two society women from the same street—l mean avenue. When will yoti learn, my lady, that you have so black a pot to cleanse that you cannot afford to chatter about the sooty kettle of your neighbour, and when will some kind bludgeon do the work for you and others, which has never yet been done, by trumpet. by rapier, or by truncheon?