Princely

Wednesday, December 16th., Central Station Hotel, Glasgow.

 

Marguerite has written to say that she has now read "These Twain" and finds it "good". It is the most I can expect as she must have recognised at least a little of my depiction of the quarrels between Edwin and Hilda. Would she feel flattered to see herself as Hilda? I don't know. In any case she is not Hilda, though there are aspects of the marital relationship which are drawn from life, as it were. There was a promise of a renewal of tender relations implicit in the letter. That is something to look forward to on my return. Must keep up my strength!

I am being treated very well on my travels. Neil Munro, Scotland's foremost novelist, was waiting for me at the station yesterday evening, with John Richmond. Richmond is an art collector as well as a successful industrialist, a partner in the firm of C. & J. Weir. We have become good friends since our first meeting in 1909, and had a long chat in the evening. We became quite intimate and Richmond confided that he had been made quite uncomfortable when he last came to Comarques by Marguerite's provocation of myself. Said he admired my ability to maintain command of myself, to remain calm and uniformly courteous. More than he could have done he said. I disclosed something of my feelings about the increasing difficulty of living with Marguerite.

Our conversation was at Richmond's house in Glasgow. His wife was not there, She is in the new country house 100 kilometres away. His sister-in-law was there - very Scottish and very intelligent; a fine woman. I thought it a little strange that she was there whilst his wife was not, and sensed some 'tension' in the atmosphere, but he made no revelation. Quite possibly there is nothing to reveal. He is keen to read "These Twain", and may find it interesting!

In general the Scots are much better educated than the English. But they have a terrible accent. I can hardly understand the hotel servants and they can hardly understand me. This hotel is good with big rooms, solid and provincial. The bathroom is perfectly equipped. I slept quite well, and have stood up to the travelling admirably well. Yesterday was an awesome day, visiting factories etc., followed by a party at the Arts Club. Richmond sent his car, with driver, for my use. The greatest advantage of being a novelist whose novels are liked by serious people is that one is treated better than a prince.

Bursting borders

Thursday, November 14th., Chiltern Court, London.

The difference between Scotland and England is that Scotland is educated while England, relatively, is not. All creative artists, literary, dramatic, musical ,graphic, are aware that Scotland is keener than England on the phenomena of art. The theatre and concert audiences of Glasgow and Edinburgh are far more alert than any London audience. I remember once being present at a performance of one of my own plays in Glasgow. The audience was unique in my long experience. It took every point. It saw jokes which have never been seen either before or since by a living soul - except myself. In England it has occasionally been my experience to be present when an audience has seen none of my jokes at all. A chastening experience for your correspondent.

True, Scotland has but one great poet. And she has made the most of him. Whereas England has about forty great poets, including the greatest in the world, and she has made the least of them. There is no recipe for emptying a West End theatre more efficacious than the mere name of Shakespeare.

So, to Burns. For myself, I had reached quite a mature age before the notion of casting a casual English eye upon Burns occurred to me. I confess that Burns bowled me over completely. For weeks I kept saying: "This man stands alone!" And so he does - almost. What mighty inspiration, what free-flowing lyricism, what wit, what humour, what satire, what nerve, what reckless and abounding vivacity, what sheer resourceful skill. It is rather surprising that a poet so great should not have burst the borders of a country so small, and flooded England even unto Stratford-on-Avon. Hadrian must have built his wall in prophetic mood.