Behind the scenes

Wednesday, May 24th., Cadogan Square, London.

This last week has been much taken up by theatrical matters.

All day last Tuesday rehearsing "The Great Adventure" with Leslie Faber at the Haymarket. He was very good in explaining to the usual incompetent young actors how to do a 'hesitating' scene in a 'clean' way. Also in explaining that the proper sequence in acting was "thought, movement, speech". These young people apparently know nothing and have to be shown the least things, the most obvious things. At the same time Faber, the star, was doing comic business with hot milk while Honoria made her great speech descriptive of the Abbey - a monstrous thing which would have absolutely ruined the speech. Of course I stopped him. He then said he thought I should! Good God! He also made even Hilda Trevelyan deliver 40 or 50 words straight up stage only because he wanted to be ranging to and fro at the back of the stage. I stopped that too.


http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13894

Leslie Faber was born in Newcastle-upon-Tyne in 1879. A highly successful stage actor, perhaps his most notable performances were 'The Hypocrites' in 1906, 'Lady Patricia' at the Empire Theatre in 1912, 'Diplomacy' in 1914 and 'The Patriot' in 1928; also well-known on Broadway stage. Handsome smart gentleman who appeared in a few British silent films, making his debut in 'The White Hen' co-starring Mary Glynne and the popular comedy 'Candytuft, I Mean Veronica' in 1921, he will be best remembered in the lead role as Anthony Bond in 'Afraid of Love' in 1925 and as Weston in 'White Cargo' in 1929. Married stage actress Gladys Gray. Died of pneumonia in 1929 age 50.

In my two plays now rehearsing I have two unusually stupid actors. One tries, the other may try, but doesn't seem to. He has to be told everything, yet has the reputation of being a very good actor. In one scene he is patronising. Told to be very deferential and really worshipful, he said, "Yes, I see," and does the scene again exactly in the same manner. He did the scene several times. He is a conceited man and therefore can't learn. He knows little or nothing about articulation and enunciation, and cannot be heard clearly, or sometimes at all, even in the 3rd row of stalls.

X. complained much the other day about the producer's harsh attitude. "He never gives us any praise. I can't sleep. If it hadn't been for my kind author I should have walked out before this." This is a woman of 45-50, thoroughly experienced, ought to know life, married, etc. yet she behaves very much like a child. All stage artists very much the same. This producer is rude to young beginners and he ought not to be; but he is never more than hard or harsh to the others. He did spring onto the stage after a scene the other day and say: "This is appalling." But so it was appalling. It appeared that many of the company had been antagonised by him. I explained to this actress all the weight of worries and hard work on his shoulders - immense; far greater than hers, etc. She began to perceive things. The next morning I spoke briefly, but with a solemn beginning, to the producer: "You'd better give them some praise today." He said: "I give H. lots of praise in private." "The women," I said. He said, with significance: "Thank you." On the following day everything was all smiles, and X. radiant, positively. "How did you do it?" she said.
What a world!

Hilda Trevelyan (1877 – 1959) was an English actress. Early in her career she became known for her performance in plays by J M Barrie, and is probably best remembered for creating the role of Wendy in Peter Pan. Another early success was as Oliver Twist in a dramatisation of Charles Dickens's novel staged by Herbert Beerbohm Tree. Later in her career she performed in plays in London and on tour. She retired after her last London play in 1939. In 1924 Trevelyan appeared in a new production of Arnold Bennett's The Great Adventure. The Observer's critic wrote, "When I say that Miss Hilda Trevelyan's Janet Cannot seemed to me quite perfect there will doubtless be people to tell me that the part has been done better. But I don't think I shall believe them."

Yesterday at rehearsal of Act IV, Sc. 1 of "Great Adventure", Faber asked another actor what his feelings were - what it meant to him when carve showed his two moles. This actor hesitated some time, and then said: "It means I'm ruined." On being informed that the case was precisely the reverse he said: "The play as a whole has never been shown to me, and I don't know the story." He had rehearsed the scene several times; the scene explains itself; yet he had never understood its point. He had just gone on playing it with an entirely wrong set of simulated emotions within him. Even at the worst one would have thought that he might have bought a copy of the play for 3s. 6d. and read it. I admit that in my opinion the play ought to be read in its entirety to the Company.

See also, 'Theatrical adventures' - April 1st. http://earnoldbennett.blogspot.co.uk/2013/04/theatrical-adventures.html

A man at the Haymarket told me yesterday that he had just seen in Piccadilly an old lady, parading with a board; "I am the widow of Bennett Burleigh, the famous war correspondent, and I am forced to this method - " I forget the rest. Anyhow she must be an old lady of some character.

Brain and being

Saturday, May 23rd., Villa des Nefliers, Fontainebleau.

Today I seemed to get a little nearer the state of mind and the mode of life that I have aimed at. I finished the story "The Glimpse" for the Xmas No. of  Black and White (much too good, too spiritual). It gave me a headache. In the afternoon I continued reading Lewes's "History of Philosophy", which I have undertaken in all its bigness.

While reading it I was seized again with the idea of learning Latin decently; it was so strong that I could scarcely keep my attention on the book. Another example of the undiscipline of the brain.

Yet I have gradually got my brain under far better control than most people. Always haunted by dissatisfaction at the discrepancy between reason and conduct! No reason why conduct should not conform to the ideas of reason, except inefficient control of the brain. This that I am always preaching, and with a success of popular interest too, I cannot perfectly practise. It is the clumsiness of my living that disgusts me. The rough carpentry instead of fine cabinetry. The unnecessary friction. The constant slight inattention to my own rules. I could be a marvel to myself and to others if only I practised more sincerely. Half an hour in the morning in complete concentration on the living-through of the day, and I should work wonders! But this all-important concentration is continually interrupted - interruptions which weaken it; sometimes deliberately abandoned for concentration on matters of admittedly inferior importance! Strange! One can only stick to it.

It is humiliating that I cannot get through one single day without wounding or lightly abrading the sensibility of others, without wasting time and brain-power on thoughts that I do not desire to think, without yielding to appetites that I despise! I am so wrapped up in myself that I, if anyone, ought to succeed in a relative self-perfection. I aim as much from love of perfection and scorn of inefficiency as from my own happiness. I honestly think I care quite as much for other people's happiness as for my own; and that is not saying much for my love of my own happiness. Love of justice, more than outraged sensibility at the spectacle of suffering and cruelty, prompts me to support social reforms. I can and do look at suffering with scientific (artistic) coldness. I do not care. I am above it. But I want to hasten justice for its own sake. I think this is fairly sincere; perhaps not quite. I don't think I scorn people; I have none of that scorn of inferior people (i.e. of the vast majority of people) which is seen in many great men. I think my view is greater than theirs. Clumsiness in living is what I scorn: systems not people. And even systems I can excuse and justify to myself.

For some days now I have been experiencing pain and discomfort in my neck and shoulders. No apparent reason why it started. I just woke up in discomfort one morning. Re-reading what is written above I am wondering about the connection between mood and physical comfort. Is this present mood of self-analysis and self-criticism a product of my generalised sense of  suffering? If we are a product of evolution by natural selection, as Mr. Darwin argued, and of which I am quite persuaded, then there is no reason to regard the brain as other than an integral part of the body. The idea that mind is 'separate' from body is patently absurd. That being the case, it seems obvious that when the body is suffering this will manifest itself in conscious experience. So, when I talk of brain-control I should really say organism-control. But that of course would necessitate lengthy preliminary exposition, and would be disturbing to many 'ordinary' people who buy my books.

Immortality in stone

Wednesday, May 22nd., Trinity Hall Farm, Hockliffe.

Rickards and I, in the evening, went over the vast, unfinished Roman Catholic Cathedral in Victoria Street, and found it distinguished, impressive, a work of great and monumental art.

See also, 'Eating companions' - December 23rd. <http://earnoldbennett.blogspot.co.uk/2012/12/eating-companions.html>
and, 'An architectural experience' - December 28th. <http://earnoldbennett.blogspot.co.uk/2012/12/an-architectural-experience.html>

The Cathedral Church of Westminster, which is dedicated to the Most Precious Blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ, was designed in the Early Christian Byzantine style by the Victorian architect John Francis Bentley. In preparation for designing the cathedral, by far his most important commission, Bentley spent several months in Italy. The result was a neo-Byzantine rather than Gothic Revival structure. St Mark's in Venice, San Vitale in Ravenna and St Sophia in Constantinople were among the sources of inspiration for the design. It was an unusual style for an English cathedral, but a sensible way of differentiating it from Westminster Abbey, only a short walk away.The foundation stone was laid in 1895 and the fabric of the building was completed eight years later. The awesome interior of the Cathedral, although incomplete, contains fine marble-work and mosaics. The fourteen Stations of the Cross, by the sculptor Eric Gill, are world renowned.

Bentley, the architect, was wandering under the dome, examining and enjoying his mighty production, the realization of a conception which must live for many centuries. It was an impressive sight to see him, an impressive thought to think that one has seen him so, this magnificent artist, who started his life as a stonemason, and is now slowly dying of cancer on the tongue. He wore a frock coat and a silk hat, but a necktie of black silk tied in a loose bow.

John Francis Bentley, the architect of Westminster Cathedral, was born in 1839 in Doncaster and died on 2 March 1902. In June 1900 the Royal Institute of British Architects (RIBA) held an Architectural Congress, and its first visit was to the incomplete Westminster Cathedral. It was a great success, and at the annual dinner Sir William Blake Richmond, RA (best known as designer of the mosaics of St Paul’s, and later to advise Bentley on mosaic decoration), declared that "he had very rarely been so impressed as when first entering that original and manly structure" two days previously. However, the occasion was marred by the fact that, when Bentley was due to address the visitors, he "discovered that his tongue was powerless", and had to ask Canon Johnson to step in. This was the second attack of the paralysis caused by cancer of the tongue, which was to kill him.

Casualties of war

Friday, May 21st., Comarques, Thorpe-le-Soken.

Yesterday I lunched and dined at the McKennas, and learnt a lot about the crisis. Runciman fine. McKenna and Asquith and others extremely hurt and pained by the crisis. Kitchener not very good. Crisis made by Repington's article in The Times. Churchill with French at same time as Repington. Rep's article 'arranged'. Excellent War Office defence against charge of lack of shells, namely that French, knowing circumstances, demanded a certain quantity, and that this quantity was not only supplied but doubled. Fault therefore with leaders at front. French not now liked by the army who want Robertson.
See also, 'War Nerves' - March 27th.

http://earnoldbennett.blogspot.co.uk/2013/03/war-nerves.html

The 'Shell Scandal', as it became popularly and widely known, was generated by publication of the British Commander-in-Chief's view that a shortage of munitions led directly to the failure of the British offensive at Neuve Chapelle in March 1915. In confiding his views to the Times war correspondent, Colonel Charles Repington, Sir John French set in train a political upheaval back home in London. That the British Army were experiencing a shell shortage was not in doubt. British munitions production was not operating at full efficiency nor anything approaching it. David Lloyd George, the Liberal Chancellor, fervently believed that a radical improvement to the munitions industry was not only possible but thoroughly necessary if the British were to compete with Germany in a long war. He did not however believe that the war secretary, Lord Kitchener, under whom responsibility for munitions production fell, was up to the task of delivering the required production overhaul. Lloyd George therefore encouraged the proprietor of the powerful Times and Daily Mail newspapers,Lord Northcliffe, in the latter's determination to publish details of the 'shell scandal' in his newspapers. Northcliffe duly published an article by Repington on 14 May 1915 claiming that the fault of the matter lay with the War Office and in particular with Lord Kitchener. The resultant uproar was not restricted to the political elite. In spite of a growing view in the Cabinet that Lord Kitchener was not well suited to his political role, he was revered in the country at large. Regarded with awe, 'K of K' (Kitchener of Khartoum) the country was not yet ready to believe ill of Kitchener of Khartoum. Circulation of Northcliffe's newspaper consequently dipped. Nevertheless Lloyd George achieved his aim. Even though by this time the bottleneck in shell production was opening up and supplies were increasing, the Liberal government fell on 25 May 1915 and a new coalition established (under the continuing Prime Minister Herbert Asquith). Lord Kitchener remained as minister for war. Within the government a new department was created, the Ministry of Munitions, and its responsibility handed to Lloyd George.

<http://www.firstworldwar.com/atoz/shellscandal.htm>

Battle of Aubervilliers of Saturday, 8th., bloodiest of war. Not a defeat because men could not be shifted, but we lost 28,000 men. Operation undertaken against advice of other generals.

The battle of Aubers Ridge was a British contribution to the Allied spring offensive of 1915. It was fought over the same ground as the battle of Neuve Chapelle, 10-13 March 1915, but failed to achieve even the temporary successes of that battle. The battle of Aubers Ridge fits the popular image of a First World War battle better than most. The British troops went over the top early on the morning of 9 May and were cut down by German machine gun fire. The survivors were pinned down in no mans land. No significant progress was made, and early on 10 May Haig ended the offensive. The British suffered 11,000 casualties in one day of fighting on a narrow front.

<http://www.historyofwar.org/articles/battles_aubers_ridge.html>

In evening, after dinner, Hobhouse, Postmaster-General, came in to learn from McKenna his fate, who, however, couldn't tell him. As I had been attacking Hobhouse fiercely in Daily News, McKenna saw him alone in the Drawing Room. I just caught a glimpse of him.

Book getting

Wednesday, May 20th., Villa des Nefliers, Fontainebleau.

Since we came here I have been determined to recommence, modestly, my career as a book collector. I got addresses, bought L'Intermediaire and got catalogues; which gave me a keen pleasure. And at last I have begun to receive catalogues from second-hand booksellers in Paris. I ordered three cheap books on Sunday to make a commencement. After tea today I sought out all the books I have acquired during the year, and ranged them apart. At the end of the year I shall visually know what I have done in the way of book getting.

l'Intermédiaire des Chercheurs et Curieux (ICC) is a monthly French magazine consisting of questions and answers from readers on various encyclopedic topics mainly to do with art, history, genealogy, literature and religions. It appeared from 1864 to 1940, then, after a break, reappeared at the beginning of the year 1951.

<http://www.icc-edition.fr/>

I then had to decide what I should read, of heavy stuff, and I settled on Lewes's "History of Philosophy".

Last weekend I meant to plan out my average day as I mean to live it here; but I did not do so. For I am now 'settled down' definitely, and must arrange my life. One of my notions is to study French more methodically; my knowledge of it does not improve fast enough; not even as fast as my accent - and that is not saying much.

For some weeks I have been occupied with the proofs of 3 books: "Helen with the High Hand" (The Miser's Niece), "How to live on 24 hours a day", and "Buried Alive". On Monday I finished the last of these damnable nuisances. Also on Monday I began to construct Part III - Paris - of "The Old Wives Tale", and got on pretty well, in spite of a headache.

Today I wrote a complete short story, "The Tight Hand", 2,300 words. A good idea, rather spoilt; funny, really humorous, but not enough construction to it, and the effect rather anticipated. But I couldn't do it again. With me, the rough has to go with the smooth. I know I have been right in always refusing to do anything twice over, or to alter anything, once done.

Marguerite was in Paris. I had finished at 3 p.m. Madame B. came. Speaking of her cat she said: "I give him everything except liberty. I can't give him that because I haven't got it."

Valuing art

Thursday, May 19th., "Flying Cloud", Spalato.

We arrived at Spalato about 8 a.m. Lunch on the yacht.

Spalato (Split) is a city situated in the Mediterranean Basin on the eastern shores of the Adriatic Sea, centred around the ancient Roman Palace of the Emperor Diocletian and its bay and port. Split is by far the largest Dalmatian city and the second-largest city of Croatia. Split is also one of the oldest cities in the area. While it is traditionally considered just over 1,700 years old counting from the construction of Diocletian's Palace in AD 305, archaeological research relating to the original founding of the city as the Greek colony of Aspálathos (Aσπάλαθος) in the 6th century BC, establishes the urban tradition of the area as being several centuries older.

Then off in three cars to see Trani (Trogir), 17 or 18 miles. A rotten, dusty, noisy drive. First we saw the remains of a large Roman town, once the capital of Dalmatia, then a series of horrid cement works in clouds of smoke, and then suddenly we were in Trani, a perfectly preserved medieval town, with a marvellous church, with marvellous sculptures (especially an Adam and Eve on the porch) in a marvellous state of preservation.

Cathedral porch by Radovan

Trogir has 2300 years of continuous urban tradition. Its culture was created under the influence of the ancient Greeks, and then the Romans, and Venetians. Trogir has a high concentration of palaces, churches, and towers, as well as a fortress on a small island, and in 1997 was inscribed in the UNESCO World Heritage List. "The orthogonal street plan of this island settlement dates back to the Hellenistic period and it was embellished by successive rulers with many fine public and domestic buildings and fortifications. Its beautiful Romanesque churches are complemented by the outstanding Renaissance and Baroque buildings from the Venetian period", says UNESCO report. Trogir is the best-preserved Romanesque-Gothic complex not only in the Adriatic, but in all of Central Europe. Trogir's medieval core, surrounded by walls, comprises a preserved castle and tower and a series of dwellings and palaces from the Romanesque, Gothic, Renaissance and Baroque periods. Trogir's grandest building is the church of St. Lawrence, whose main west portal is a masterpiece by Radovan, and the most significant work of the Romanesque-Gothic style in Croatia.

In my Evening Standard article today I asked the question: "Are picture galleries really of value to the public?" They are certainly of real value to me. The Tate, for instance, is a godsend, because I can walk thither by the river's brink. I am continually walking thither. The Tate has some of the worst, and a few of the best, pictures publicly exhibited in London. According to my observation the worst draw rather more attention than the best. This disturbs me and has a tendency to undermine my faith in mankind.

At any rate, I feel sure of one thing: namely, that the picture galleries are of more value to the public now than they used to be. The change is due to the introduction into them of literature. The literature is spoken and takes the form of lectures. These lectures are excellent. I sympathise with the lecturers on account of the apparently quite unresponsive stolidity of the listeners. I wonder why the young women who listen so closely to the expository young men nearly always have thick ankles and clumsy shoes. Surely the sweet influence of art ought to reduce ankles and refine footgear? Nevertheless I am optimistic about the results of the lectures - they must do good because they couldn't not do good.

Forms of blindness

Tuesday, May 18th., Berkeley Hotel, London.

Sir George Riddell sent a man and a car to conduct me to St. Dunstan's, Regent's Park, where Arthur Pearson has established a home for blinded soldiers. very large place; belongs to an American financier named Kahn. 15 acre garden etc.

Pearson very natty, and a constant and rapid talker. Practically quite blind. He may have vague sensations of dark and light. His wife came. He kissed her hand when she left. I liked her.

'I shall soon be blind but I will never be a blind man, I am going to be the blind man'. 

These are the words, spoken in 1913, by Arthur Pearson who went blind through glaucoma. He was a newspaper proprietor, owner and founder of the Daily Express and Pearson's Weekly. In the same year he joined the council of the National Institute for the Blind, now Royal National Institute of Blind People and in 1914 became their Treasurer and President. In 1914 Soldiers were being blinded on the battlefields and began arriving at designated hospitals in England. Once notified of the casualties Arthur Pearson or a member of staff usually visited the young men taking them a braille watch, symbolising their first step to independence. Towards the end of 1914 it was agreed that more needed to be done for the blinded soldiers so Pearson, who firmly believed that they could lead useful and fulfilling lives, set his ideas in motion for a new training centre supported by the National Institute for the Blind. So from 1914 the Organisation started, firstly named the Blinded Soldiers & Sailors After-Care Fund then from 1923 we officially became St Dunstan's and from 2012 Blind Veterans UK. Although our name has changed our original vision was much the same as it is today: no one who has served our country should have to battle blindness alone. Sir Arthur Pearson drowned after slipping in the bath in 1921 aged only 55.

http://www.blindveterans.org.uk/about-us/patrons-and-governing-body/founder/the-late-sir-arthur-pearson,-bt,-cbe/

Two blind officers; a Secretary of Blind Institute, Pearson's secretary; the Matron, a wounded soldier, and the bishop of London for lunch. The last is certainly clever - for the mot particularly. He is, perhaps excusably, deeply impressed by the fact that he is Bishop of London, but he turns it off always into a joke. Thus: "When I get into a car it always breaks down. people say the Bishop of London is a Jonah" etc. "A strange thing for the Bishop of London." Small thin sharp face, with small trembling eyes. Ordinary Tory ideas. He told us that every general had told him to impress upon the country that the army was very short of ammunition; and one general told him he was only allowed two rounds a day! He spoke agreeably, with simple well-worn forms of jokes, to the men after lunch about his experiences at the front.

Arthur Foley Winnington-Ingram KCVO PC (1858 – 1946) was Bishop of London from 1901 to 1939. During World War I Winnington-Ingram threw himself into supporting the war effort. He saw the war as a ‘great crusade to defend the weak against the strong’ and accepted uncritically stories of German atrocities. For a clergyman the language he used about the German people verged on xenophobia but Herbert Asquith, Prime Minister at the outbreak of the war, described his pitch as "jingoism of the shallowest kind." He spoke in aid of recruiting drives and later in the war urged his younger clergy to consider enlisting as combatants. Chaplain from 1901 to the London Rifle Brigade and London Royal Naval Volunteers, he visited the troops on both the Western Front and at Salonika and the Grand Fleet at Rosyth and Scapa Flow.

As ever when in company with these officers of established religion I wonder how they reconcile the tenets of "Peace to all men" and "Turn the other cheek" with their active support for the war effort? But it would be in bad taste to ask the question directly. What a sham organised religion is. It seems that the Bishop has been afflicted by a different sort of blindness.

Quotes from Winnington-Ingram:

"this is an Holy War. We are on the side of Christianity against anti-Christ. ....to fight in an Holy War is an honour....Already I have seen a light in men's eyes which I have never seen before."

"the good old British race never did a more Christlike thing than when on August 4th 1914 it went to war."

"Christ died on Good Friday for freedom, honour and chivalry and our boys are dying for the same things. ....You ask for my advice in a sentence as to what the Church should do. I answer MOBILISE THE NATION FOR A HOLY WAR."

There is a quote from a sermon where he mentions “a great crusade – we cannot deny it – to kill Germans. To kill them, not for the sake of killing but to save the world: to kill the good as well as the bad; to kill the young men as well as the old; to kill those who have shown kindness to our wounded as well as those etc …. and to kill them lest the civilization of the world should itself be killed…….”

George Bernard Shaw responded as follows:

"They have turned their churches into recruiting stations and their vestries into munition workshops.........."

http://1914-1918.invisionzone.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=26769