At the Pitchers.

Dominion, Volume 4, Issue 1008, 24 December 1910, Page 13

At the Pitchers.

By A. Gladys Kernot,

It is really quite simple, this proccss of going to see the pitchers. (Now, I am sorry to have to begin my remarks with a parenthesis right off the reel, as it were; but I want to say just here that if you happen to cherish any obsolete 'idea tliat the word should be split into two neat little, incisive little syllables, and called "pic-lures," pray dismiss it atonco from your mind as being entirely and completely pedantic. I myself, even, used to labour under some such hallucination; but I am thankful to say that I have been led into tho ways of gracc and proper pronunciation by the,habitue, who surely knows more about it than I! .As a matter of simple fact, the plebiscite declares in favour of "pitchers," and what more authoritative than the plebiscite, which arrives at its conclusions untrammelled by logic, or reason* or dictionaries, or any other antiquated things like those? • Besides, who in New Zealand, of all placcs in tho world, would dare to suggest that the mob should not riile? Therefore, pitchers they remain, just like the little pitcher that had such long ears; or that other, -more unfortunate still, that went too often to the well, with such disastrous results).

; But lo resume. I was saying what, a' simple matter it was to go and see the pitchers. No previous knowledge of the craft is necessary—is, in fact often a positive drawback; nor is any mental equipment necessary either—this, of course, still further fadilitates matters for you. When you go it is customary to take a child or children with you, just as tho Londoner always takes .a child with him when he goes to the Hippodrome or to the circus. This is supposed to save his digit it j*, and prevent people thinking ho is going for his own amusement, for the Englishman is terribly afraid of losing any of that curiously stodgy quality which he mistakes for dignity. However, if you arc not tho fortuuatc possessor 'of a child of your own, there are always numbers of altruistic little ones quite willing to be borrowed for the occasion. So then, having braced- yourself up with a borrowed or stolen'" child, and feeling slightly more abandoned and consequently much happier than usual, you file into the theatre with all the other, abandoned people, and sit (or as much of you as con) on a little papier-mache chair. Now, these papier-mache chairs may bo excessively communistic, or socialistic, or whatever the thing is that provides tho greatest possible misery to the greatest possible number in' -the smallest possible amount of space. They may be invaluable, in a spiritual way, lor mortification oi the flesh; they may even rival the notorious chairs tho municipality has provided for a suffering public as instruments of torture—but I'll bo hanged 'if they can cure the people of going to the pitchers! Of course, if you really enjoy pitchers, you aro beyond human hope to begin with; you liavo become .what is called ease-hardened; or, in polite language, an habitue. ,

Come to think of it, though, perhaps I , did understate the case when 1 said it was infinitely easy to go to the pitchers. It isn't really awfully easy to sit for two and a half consecutive hours on cnc of these chairs and still maintain the outward repose of manner which stamps the casie of Vere .do Vere or, Jones, or whatever the distinguished elan is to which you belong. Fortunately, the law of average generally .prevents any serious disparity of opinion between you and your neighbours. For instance, if you ore more than necessarily encroached upon on one side, it is quite unlikely that you will be similarly interfered with on the other. In fact, one of the chief uses of the borrowed child is to prevent this very contingency. Indeed, if you are really wise, you will borrow two or more children, and hedge yourself round about with them. This, will ensnro your being able to breathe, or even writhe, with almost comfort. •

I havG often heard it said that tho population of Wellington consisted of seventy thousand odd inhabitants; and in a bemused sort of way I havo sometimes wondered what precisely this meant. Curiously enough, enlightenment came suddenly upon me one night at the pitchers. I was looking around before the lights were turned down, and athwart me, on either side, were rows and rows of profiles—all kinds, makes, shapes and sizes of profiles. I can't imagine where they all came from, but there they were. There were plump, angular, square, and tapering profiles; there were some that exhibited smooth contours, and some that had serrated edges; some looked like the Pyramid of Cheops, and others resembled tho thin edge of the Prohibition wedge. And somehow I knew in a moment what was meant by the seventy thousand odd inhabitants. I have tried in vain even to discover what might be called a prevailing code of morals in tho pitchers. themselves. Stupid things to look for, morals, of course; wouldn't know what to do with ■'em if one did find them; and personally I don't care tho littlest bit. But what I do notice is that there seems to bo a most singular lack of even the most elemental perception of what wo call riglit and wrong on the part of he audiences generally. Escapees from justice almost invariably have their entire sympathy, while ofliccrs of the law are always objects of mirth and derision; transgressors of every sort occasionally gain their unanimous approval. A neglected ; and despairing wile, seeing her perfidious husband driving away in a-'motor-brougham with another lady of frail but fascinating appearance, swallows a very largesized dose of poison amid of merriment, simply because she chokes rather ludicrously on the last mouthful. Now, where's the moral teaching of that? It is all verjr new and delightful really —this not having villains and heroes ana "shocking examples" of the more stereotyped order; and it is even more delightful, I think, this failure of the audiences to treat the enormities of .the "bad man" in some of these stories without words! Hoping against hope, I have sometimes dared to think that pre* lxaps the New Zealander was at last growing tired of being made good by everincreasing Acts of Parliament, and that ho showed derision for the policeman and contempt for tho law'(in tho pitchers) as a meek expression of revolt. Thinking it over, though, T saw how impossible it was to hope that he would show even this amount of revolutionary spirit! So, X think it is just that the people do not take the pitchers very seriously. They are not: permanently impressed by .the passing show; after all, it is very fleeting, and tho impression created hy ono filni is easily dispelled bv tho appearance of tho next one. In short, they only want to be amused—and surely that is not asking too much? Not just yet?

I should not for on© moment seek to belittle tho educativo value of .the pitchers. Perhaps as we grow older and possibly colder and less exacting wo may even prefer tho figment to the substance itself. After all, it is much less trouble to Mahomet to havo tho mountain brought to him. Besides, there certainly are- advantages to be gained by tho presentment of (for instance) a bloodless prize-fight; of Tangier without it-s odours; of Rome without tho vocal embarrassment of its beggars; or even of Snloino without— her sandals!

Tho jaded, leg-weary horse of the Continent, with his lean, sad head, and his horrible bowe'd knees, is frequently ;an object of mirth at the pitchers. Runaway motor-cavs carry him off his aged, trembling legs, and upset; him on the hard boulevard, or verandalis fall on his bony old frame, amid screams of delight. When one sadly remembers tlie unspeakable horso of many big Continental cities it seems strange that the kinematograph should have added still further to his miseries. 0110 couldn't have imagined a last straw being added to tho burden of this husk of a horse—but, I suppose with man or beast, there is 110 abyss of trouble but one can sink into a deeper still. As a matter of cold fact, I think tho predicament of the hopeless horso is only rivalled, as a producer of merriment, bv tho tumult occasioned by thb spilling of furniture or crockery. Spilt crockery is, of course, subtly, quaintly humorous; but I think the pieco de resistance is, after nil, the overturned horso in tho coupe. There are many amusements incidents.! to tho pitchers which might, indeed, be called side ehows. There is often a

loquacious lady in one's immediate rear who makes a runningconimentary on the films past, present, :uul to come. She has habitue lithographed upon her features, and impaled upon her accent. She is ramparted 011 0110 side by a quite surprisingly unattractive small boy, whom she addresses, with appalling frequency, as 'Oraee. She is a sort of advance agent of the next film, but is quite untrustworthy because of the annoying ambiguity of her remarks. For instance, when she announces that the next pitcher is going to be "harem lilies" we don't know whether to expcct vegetation or bevies of languishing Sultanas. Quite seriously, though, I like pitchers, partly for their own sakes, but more particularly for the amusement they give to countless people who, perhaps, don't get a great deal of recreation. And I love the dear simple, souls who go to seo them; and I love the habitue with her naive remarks; and I might even take 'Orace to my bosom—but the one person I cannot tolerate in this sad ' world is the so-called reformer, who seems to think that human nature is innately and inveteiately vicious, and that every amusement other than a prayer meeting or a temperance lecture is a form of depravity. Dear Lord! one has only to go to the pitchers to see that man wants but little here below—and he doesn't even want it strong!