Armageddon

Examiner of Plays' Summary:

Both in conception and execution this is by far the finest work, with the possible exception of Mr Barrie’s play, which the war has inspired. It is, however unequal, being sometimes commonplace, especially in the prose dialogue, while in some of the blank verse passages, notably in scene IV, the poet rises splendidly to (or at any rate towards) the height of his theme. The prologue is in hades, where Satan presides over a sort of council of Beelzebub, Belial, Moloch, rumour, etc., and it is decided to send the shade of Attila back to earth. It is not definitely stated into what human frame he should enter, but of course, the Kaiser is understood: however, that is left vague of any possible offence, I think. Nor do I think there is any possible offence in the supernatural or allegorical business, and the person of Satan has been introduced in far less dignified shape in other plays. Here he merely reminds me of Milton. Scene I is in a French Chateau overlooking Rheims. The first part is much as other scenes of German brutality. General von der Trenk condemns a Frenchman to be shot as a spy for refusing information and his sweetheart to be his own paramour, but the girl shoots herself. This seems a fair picture. A finer vein is reached with an argument between Trenk and a priest about the bombardment of Rheims Cathedral. At the end, when the bombardment is decided on, a Turpinite shell leaves the Germans dead and rigid in their living attitudes. Scene II is a sort of sad idyll of a mother in England mourning for her son and a girl for her lover. It is genuinely touching and all that is to be said against it is that it would be intolerably sad for those who have suffered such bereavement to see. Scene III is lighter, an amusing scene of the Berlin press bureau manufacturing lies and its director dismissed for accidentally passing the truth. In scene IV the allies enter Berlin. There is here half a page (p.29 and 30) I have marked as regrettable. The English general, Murdoch, promises the daughter of the burgomaster to use his influence to spare the Cathedral, and for a moment is tempted to make - or half make - a condition suggested by her beauty. That is dismissed at once from his mind and I hesitate to advise that a poet of Mr Philip’s repute should be told to cut it out. Moreover, the instant dismissal of the idea is perhaps a better contrast to German practices than no suggestion at all, still, I think it a pity. Afterwards the best thing in the play is reached in the argument of the French general, Larrier, and the Belgian, LeBlanc, on the one side and Murdoch on the other about the destruction of the cathedral. I cannot see anything to offend French or Belgian in this. Larrier, left alone, sees Joan of Arc in a vision and she exhorts him to spare. In the epilogue Attila goes back to hades and reveals his sensation of an 'influence' opposing force in him, and that, too, touches Satan himself who, as the curtain descends 'spreads out his arms as in crucifixion'. How much this gesture is meant to convey I know not, but in an allegorical passage of serious poetry it could hardly offend the religious. Recommended of literature. G. S. Street.