THE THEATRE.
!` JUSTICE," BY JOHN GALSWORTHY, AT THE COURT
TttEATRE.
DO not know how Mr. Galsworthy regards his play, Justice— that is to say, whether he thinks he wrote it as a piece of propaganda work or as a work of art. In a sense every work of art is the artist's propaganda to the world, but between propaganda and art there is this difference : In art all that matters is truth—not truth absolute and eternal, for that is undiscoverable, but truth as far as the artist, exerting all his power of vision, can see it. In propaganda the artist puts forward just that. amount of truth that will serve most effectively the purpose he has in view. From the point of view of an artist this is an immoral procedure, but from the point of view of a citizen of the temporal world there is so much to be said for it that nearly all the plays, nearly all the books, nearly all the pictures, nearly all the music produced on this earth are propaganda of some sort or other. The small residue is art, that art which reveals and illuminates and is the cherished possession of the few. Now, Justice is propaganda and not quite first-rate propaganda at that. I will try to show why I think it propaganda and why I do not think it first class, even as propaganda.
To begin with, I would like to make the paradoxical assertion
that whenever an artist is completely aware of what he is doing, his work must of necessity be propaganda and not art. The reason is that the utmost truth of which an artist is capable, that truth which.it is his particular job to express and the vision of which makes him an artist and not a craftsman, is always just eluding him. In every real work of art there are things that the author cannot explain, things which, perhaps, defy reason or explanation and which men will interpret in different ways, but which future generations will delight in. There is absolutely nothing of this quality in Justice. What we expect from a creative artist is revelation. It is because he can give us revelation that he stands higher in the estimation of mankind than any other human being. Surely the instinctive recognition of the artist as being in a sense a man privileged could never have been gained by a mere dexterity of mind or hand. If there is any confusion in the popular judgment it is due to the muddleheadedness arising from cheap education and the confusion of instincts under the pressure of modern life. But the natural instinct of the masses towards the artist is either to stone him or to let him alone as being slightly mad.
In Justice, instead of revelation, we find the most conven- tional outlook conceivable. Some suspicion that convicts are just like other men possibly lurks in the soul of every real Governor of a Prison, but there is no glimmer of so revolutionary an idea in the head of Mr. John Galsworthy. Mr. Galsworthy is out to reform the prison, not to abolish it. Now, as a practical man the true artist does not care a hang about reform. Nothing leaves the artist colder than talk about reform. Why ? Because a prison, for example, is a social convenience for the people who are out of prison not for those who are in it. Whoever heard of a man wanting to reform a bathroom because the bath did not feel comfortable in it ! Well it is just as sensible to try to reform a prison because the prisoners are not comfort- able in it. The object of every civilized society must be to keep as many people out of prison as possible. A single man in prison is a single blot on society, two men in prison is a double blot, the stain increases until fifty per cent. is in prison, then it would cease to be a prison and would become a part of society, like the Whig Party or the Tory Party.
In our present barbarous state of civilization it frequently
.happens that a combination of inner and outer circumstances produces what, in our ignorance, we call a criminal action. We find it convenient to lock up the criminal. One of these days some way of dealing with him, still more convenient, will be found. Now Mr. Galsworthy writes a play to persuade men that they should act kindly to the criminal while he is in prison, but men will never act kindly to something they fear, and the quickest and only sure way of procuring kind treatment for the
criminal is to remove men's fear of him. What Mr. Galsworthy
ought to have shown was the extraordinary convenience of the' institution of prison to the firm of solicitors, James and Walter How. Consider the situation. James How is in no immediate need of money. William Falder, his clerk, is. William Felder adds -a nought to a cheque for £9 and so procures £90 less £9, i.e., £81. Ah 1 what a neurotic disposition ! what a weak face ! says Mr. Galsworthy. Well, this is the convention ! But will Mr. Galsworthy explain to me how a clerk earning forty shillings a week, who suddenly wants £80, is going to get it ? Or does Mr. Galsworthy think it is weak to want £80 ? Yes; not only does he think it weak, but even immoral. Well, one doesn't expect such humbug from an artist. Why can't Mr. Galsworthy tell the public the truth, namely, that since society is imperfect and that in its imperfection we can't all have £80 whenever we want it, those who have got it will protect themselves against those who have not ? Prison and the machinery of the law are James How's civilized substitute for superior physical force, but why should he slander and throw pitch over the man he has defeated ? Simply from that instinct that leads us to blacken the character of our enemies so that they may not get strong again. That is the meaning of the moral obloquy we pour on so-called criminals, and that is the meaning of the police sur- veillance with which we dog them. Now, surely we might expect a first-rate propagandist to say to Mr. How and his fellows : " There is nothing whatever to fear from Mr. Falder, shake hands with him and give him the following advice : `Mr. Falder, the next time you want £80 try to borrow it; if you can't borrow it, try to find some legal method of raising it; if that proves impossible and you still want it, try to do with- out it ; if you really can't do without it and you have got to steal it, well, remember that the rate of interest for money raised in that way is extremely high. Good-bye ! I shall not have the pleasure of seeing you again for three years, but when you corns out of prison I hope I shall have a vacancy for you, although I don't like having such a damn young fool in my office."
Of course three years of prison for £80 is an extortionate rata of interest, it is the worst form of usury ; but even the usurer does not call his victim names.
I would ask Mr. Galsworthy how he thinks he could expect propaganda for lowering the rate of usury to be successful if it were taken for granted that the usurer was a noble citizen and the borrower ipso facto an immoral blackguard. Surely the first task of the propagandist would be to enlighten the public as to the true nature of the situation ! It is my complaint against Mr. Galsworthy as a propagandist that he does not attempt to do this, but simply tries to harrow our humanitarian feelings. The result is simply that sensitive people are aimlessly shocked, while a tough-minded person like myself remains absolutely unmoved.
The play was very well acted, and though from the highest standpoint unsatisfactory, yet it is everybody's duty to see it for the sake of the information it contains about one aspect of our
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