September 26, 1918 
LAND &> WATER 
15 
The Theatre: By W. J. Turner 
Wyndham's : T/)e Lavp Diyme 
PRINTED on the programme of Mr. H. V. Esmond's comedy 
are the following verses : 
Nothing in this world is single. 
All things by a Jaw divine 
In our spirit meet and mingle. 
Why not I with thine ? 
See the mountains kiss high heaven. 
And its moonbeams kiss the sea. 
What are all these kisses worth 
If thou kiss not me ? 
The trouble is that Mrs. Jack La Bas won't kiss her husband, 
but has transferred her affectipns to a telephone, which 
• she has had installed in her bedroom, while the poor fellow 
Sf)ends his night in the room below, on a couch, hugging a 
pillow and waiting for the war to end. The scene of Mr. 
Esmond's comedy is laid in Hampstead. Jack La Bas is 
an author who has served some considerable time at the 
front, has been wounded, and is now invalided home, and is 
serving his country in the Food Office, or some such inglorious 
spot. Having left the front, as he thought for good, he is 
dismayed to find that his wife is heavily engaged on a little 
front of her own, and that his house is the general head- 
quarters of innumerable committees. His dining-room floor 
is like an Expeditionary Force canteen that has sold out of 
food, and has started dealing in paper and old clothes ; and 
his wife, in a blouse and skirt, and with ruffled hair and a 
worned expression, is generally to be found seated on a 
heap of packages, tying up parcels, dictating letters, arranging 
meetings, and generally carrying on with the war. Other 
women, equally busily engaged, surround her. There is 
never an atom of food in the whole house. The cook is still 
with them, but that is about all. Mrs. La Bas fhinks it 
wrong to be happy in the midst of so much suffering, and her 
determination not to enjoy herself is so unusual as to com- 
mand admirafon, although its result is simply to add a 
little more suffering to the total sum. Of course, every one 
has met these "war women" ; they undoubtedly exist, and 
in large numbers. Women are patriots as well as men ; 
they naturally feel that they must do something to help 
their country in these critical times. The best of them feel 
that they cannot calmly pursue their ordinary habits, take 
their accustomed pleasures as if nothing had changed, as 
if there were no guns thundering nightly in France shattering 
the bodies of their sons and brother? and friends. It is 
when they come face to face with the difficulty — the immense 
difficulty — of finding means to serve their country adequately, 
that the trouble begins. In the warmth of their hearts they 
would like to tuck whole armies snugly in bed, mend their 
clothes, make them hot drinks, cook their food, heal their 
wounds, write their letters, and fight their battles ; but 
they only find themselves sitting on a committee of con- 
tentious and jealous women arguing as to whether Mrs. 
Brown or Mrs. Smith should call on the Vicar to borrow a 
teapot for use at a treat to be given to the children of wounded 
soldiers' aunts. 
Inevitable Results 
It is not greatly to be wondered at that it neeiis 
dozens of committees of this sort to satisfy the healthy 
woman. Under the circumstances, the wise woman steers 
clear of this sort of thing, and does her bit unostentatiously 
and without sacrificing anyone or anything else. There are 
others who, craving self-sacrifice with an intensity that 
resembles lust, make themselves martyrs, and enjoy it. 
They are never happy except when they have deprived 
themselves and as many other people as possible of some 
harmless joy. Mr. Esmond has not drawn Mrs. La Bas 
very definitely; she is simplj' a nice, good-looking, rather 
competent woman who has gradually undertaken more work 
than she can do. Her husband feels, and is, neglected ; 
and, having become acquainted with a- charming young 
widow, bit bv bit gets to spend most of his time with her. 
A nice girl friend of the family, who is in love with the hus- 
band, sees what is happening and expresses herself with 
great vigour on the subject, and ultimately offers herself 
as a consolation. However, she is too late ; the husband is 
rapidly falling in love with the widow, who calls at the house 
to find him alone sitting disconsolately in the midst of a sea 
of packages in the dining-room. In a very well-acted scene 
he tells her he loves her, succeeds in kissing her, and begs 
the key of her flat which she has dropped. She refuses, but 
he will not return the key ; at this moment his son Bill, 
who has just joined the Army, comes in with a naval friend 
and, in order to get back her key, she tells the boys she has 
lost it, and asks them to look for it. While they are looking, 
he returns the key ; but Bill's friend sees hirh do it, and tells 
Bill after they have gone. Bill is slowly made to realise 
what it means, and is frightfulLy distressed, and feels he 
must tell his mother. His naval friend dissuades him from 
this course, enjoins him to remember Nelson, and turn his 
blind eye to it. This scene is extremely well played ; the 
acting of Mr. John Williams, as Bill, and Mr. Pat Somerset, 
as Ted Campion, is almost perfect, and the dialogue is natural 
and often witty ; in fact, up to this point the play, as a 
whole, is distinctly good and thoroughly enjoyable. The 
next step is the arrival of the widow's mother, who has for 
some time watched the growing intimacy between Jack La 
Bas and her daughter, and thinks it is about time it stopped. 
She has come to open the eyes of Jack's wife ; and here again 
Mr. Esmond is successful ; he has handled this very old 
and threadbare situation freshly and piquantly. The old 
lady departs, leaving the wife determined that Jack will 
very soon forget all about the widow. That night, for the 
first time for many months, she dresses for dinner, orders a 
snug little supper, with champagne, for the boj's on their 
retjirn from the theatre, and becomes human again. 
A Turning-point 
But it is from this point that Mr. Esmond's play 
becomes painful. When Jack La Bas and the boys 
come in they find the house transformed. The table, 
brilliantly lighted and gay with flowers, is set for supper, 
and Mrs. Jack La Bas is waiting for them, having obviously 
taken great pains with her toilet. In the scene that follows 
Mrs. La Bas tells, with great charm of manner and a subtle 
seductiveness, the story of their honeymoon in Ireland 
eighteen years ago. The two boys clamour for more and 
more details, and she describes how they * let themselves 
down from the window of their hotel and ran across the 
sands in the moonlight and went bathing in the sea. The 
effect of this recital, together with a prolonged and involuntary 
abstinence on Jack La Bas is startling. Mr. Esmond's acting 
is partly^in fact, I think, largely — to blame for the embar- 
rassing effect of the situation. There is a delicate distinction 
and faint reserve about Miss Jessie Winter, who plays the part 
of the wife, which keeps her attractive ; but Mr. Esmond is 
undignified, his emotions pour out from his finger tips, he does 
not seem to reaUse that he is a man, and not a mere male ; the 
pride and beauty of the human race is in his keeping, and he de- 
grades it by the exhibition of an unconscious animal eagerness. 
If you a,sk me to explain why it offends so deeply I can only 
say that it is due to an unseemly association of ideas. It 
offends some strong and thoroughly sound instinct when 
we read of the Germans using a cathedral as a stal)le, and 
in the same way the relations between husband and wife 
are a sort of treasure, an inheritance, painfully plucked out 
of the dung-hill of animal life, and itjaruises our spirits, it 
humiliates us, to be reminded of their origin. It would 
probably be inoffensive if it were done with a purpose, and 
had significance ; not when it is casual thick-skinned 
blundering. 
In addition to this blemish, there is another weakness in 
the play. We are asked to believe that the separation 
between Jack and his wife is due to her being engrossed in 
war work. Now, this might lead to her neglecting him 
and the house for her committees and parcel-packing, but 
hardly to such a state of things as is represented. The 
trouble would be, in reality, much more deeply seated and 
scarcely amenable to such a simple cure. The truth is that 
Mr. Esmond has dealt with a purely artificial situation, not 
with human life at all. 
Apart from these defects, the play is witty and amusing. 
It is also well worth seeing for the acting. Miss Jessie Winter 
was extraordinarily good as the wife. It is a long time 
since I have seen such a highly finished piece of work. Miss 
Barbara Hoffe, as the widow, played her scene with a most 
engaging naturalness and charm. Miss Margaret Watson 
and Miss Doris Lytton also were both extremely good. Mr. 
Esmond is to be congratulated on the selection of his cast. 
