On vacation

Tuesday, August 14th., Cadogan Square, London.

Le Hotel Grand, Le Touquet

We left the Grand Hotel, Le Touquet, at 9.55 and reached No. 75 at 3.45 p.m. Comfortable journey throughout. The purser fellow on the boat got us through the Customs without examination and saw to all other arrangements. All because I gave him an autographed book. I daren't give him a tip. Infant in perfect form and a very good traveller. Immediately on arrival I set to work to clear up things, and before I went to bed had done four hours' concentrated work. Also I had searched Bible and Shakespere concordances for a title for the play.

Virginia, Dorothy and me on the sands

We have been in Le Touquet since the end of June, though I had to go up to London twice during that time. The Swinnertons were with us for some of the time. Generally behaved like the holidaymakers we were: on the beach; day at the races; a bit of gambling (I won); some sight-seeing. I managed quite a lot of reading, but nothing stands out, and of course I had my Evening Standard articles to do. What I have enjoyed most is lounging about in my dressing-gown after breakfast, smoking a cigar, talking to Dorothy and others.

A collaboration

Sunday, August 13th., Villa des Nefliers, Fontainebleau.

I began to write "The Family" (tentative title of play in collaboration with Edward Knoblock) on August 1st. I had finished the first act on August 6th. He revised it (but slightly) and on Friday 11th. he read it in our kiosk to the Mairs, Alice K. and her brother, Ed. Sheldon, and me.

I read the draft of what I had done of the 2nd. act. Succes tres vif. I shall finish the 2nd. act on Wednesday, and count to have the whole play finished on the 29th. I write a scene of the play each morning and Knoblock comes in most afternoons for tea to go through what I have done.

I didn't alter at all his construction of the 1st. act; but I have immensely improved his construction of the 2nd., and I shall entirely reconstruct the 3rd. His revision consists chiefly of rearranging the dialogue here and there, and shortening. Whenever he adds a phrase of his own it is heavy and uncolloquial, and has to be altered. Still, he knows the stage, and his help is valuable. Also the original idea of the play was his, and the skeleton his. Nevertheless I do not in the least regret the collaboration. It will have occupied me less than a month.

See also, 'Contrasts' - March 6th. http://earnoldbennett.blogspot.co.uk/2013/03/contrasts.html

South of the river

Thursday, August 12th., Cadogan Square, London.

I had a great desire to go and see what the other side of the river was like opposite the Tate Gallery, and so, by tram and bus, I went.

What a quick change there is immediately you cross. Stone setts instead of wood or asphalt. Many more horses than the North side. Much more noise, more dirt. More physical labour. There are various big factories just close to Vauxhall Bridge, not to mention the railways. A great press of road traffic. Semi-slums. I walked up several semi-slummy streets, such as 'Italian Walk'. Then I went back over the bridge - at once calmness, quiet and no horses. Very dramatic. The whole escapade only took me a little over an hour.

Historic excursion

Wednesday, August 11th., Cadogan Square, London.

I finished my nouvelle yesterday afternoon. 20,400 words written in 23 days. It may not be good, but it cannot be very bad. I now want a really striking title for it.

I have had the opportunity to visit Apsley House, London home of the Duke of Wellington, and took it. I was particularly interested to see memorabilia of the first Duke and wasn't disappointed. Most of the rooms I saw were more or less crammed with gifts given to the Duke to reward his defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo: ceramics, paintings, medals, swords .... What I hadn't realised, but should have known, was what a close run thing it was. Suppose Napoleon had won, which he might, how different the course of European history would have been.

It seems that the Duke had a great respect for Napoleon, though the two men never met except across the battlefield. There is a huge painting of the battle in one of the rooms, meant to be an accurate representation (I forget who it is by) which shows Napoleon in the foreground and Wellington in the middle distance; I wonder if they really could have seen each other and, if so, what their thoughts were? Apparently Wellington went to Paris to see Napoleon's tomb, and pay respects, when the body was returned from St. Helena and interred at the Invalides.

The rooms of course are very grand but what caught my imagination most was a feature of the 'Waterloo Gallery': the long windows which light the room can be covered by sliding mirrors for a banquet or ball making effectively a mirrored wall like something from Versailles; I thought this a clever detail.

What a pity that the road in front of the house (Piccadilly) is so busy with traffic. The house deserves a more tranquil and dignified setting.

A 'Miracle' in Salzburg

Monday, August 10th., Salzburg.

I wrote 1,300 words of novel on Saturday and 2,300 words yesterday before 3.30 p.m. This constituted an enormous effort. At 10 p.m. we went on to a rehearsal of "The Miracle" at the Residenz. Reinhardt left at 10.45 to go to an 11 p.m. dinner at Leopoldskron. Whereupon Rosamund Pinchot (the Nun) had an attack of nerves because he wasn't there to direct her, and her mother was upset. I told her it was the most ordinary thing in the world and not worth thinking about.
See also, 'Sightseeing from Salzburg' - August 2nd.,
http://earnoldbennett.blogspot.co.uk/2013/08/sightseeing-from-salzburg.html

Max Reinhardt (1873 – 1943) was an Austrian-born American stage and film actor and director. Born Maximilian Goldmann, an Austrian Jew, from 1902 until the beginning of Nazi rule in 1933, he worked as a director at various theatres in Berlin. From 1905 to 1930 he managed the Deutsches Theatre ("German Theatre") in Berlin. By employing powerful staging techniques, and harmonising stage design, language, music and choreography, Reinhardt introduced new dimensions into German theatre. After the Anschluss of Austria to Nazi-governed Germany in 1938, he emigrated first to Britain, then to the United States. Reinhardt opened the Reinhardt School of the Theatre in Hollywood, on Sunset Boulevard. In 1940 he became a naturalized citizen of the United States.

I only had three and three-quarter hours sleep on Saturday night, and yet wrote 2,300 on Sunday.

At 4 p.m. took the railway up to the summit of the Gaisberg. Too misty and sunshiny to see clearly but it was all very impressive. A damn fine lump of mud, the Gaisberg, 4,200 feet.




Kommer gave a 2.15 p.m. lunch, at which we met Hugo von Hoffmansthal and wife. He is a very jolly fellow, about 45 I should say, and looking younger. Three children practically grown up, I understood. Just bought his first car, of which he was most naively and charmingly proud. he said that of course I, being a novelist, wrote all the year round and that he, being a dramatist, worked only in the autumn. I was delighted with H. von H.; also with his wife.

Hugo Laurenz August Hofmann von Hofmannsthal (1874 – 1929), was an Austrian novelist, librettist, poet,dramatist, narrator, and essayist. He began to write poems and plays from an early age. In 1900, Hofmannsthal met the composer Richard Strauss for the first time and later wrote libretti for several of his operas. In 1901, he married Gertrud "Gerty" Schlesinger, the daughter of a Viennese banker. Gerty, who was Jewish, converted to Christianity before their marriage. They settled in Rodaun, not far from Vienna, and had three children, Christiane, Franz, and Raimund. During the First World War Hofmannsthal held a government post. He wrote speeches and articles supporting the war effort, and emphasizing the cultural tradition of Austria-Hungary. The end of the war spelled the end of the old monarchy in Austria; this was a blow from which the patriotic and conservative-minded Hofmannsthal never fully recovered. Nevertheless the years after the war were very productive ones for him; he continued with his earlier literary projects, almost without a break. In 1920, Hofmannsthal, along with Max Reinhardt, founded the Salzburg Festival. On July 13, 1929, his son Franz committed suicide. Two days later, Hugo himself died of a stroke at Rodaun. He was buried wearing the habit of a Franciscan tertiary, as he had requested.

This is the third day of very hot stifling weather, with sun all the time.

Leave tomorrow, Tuesday, 11th., at 5.30, by the Orient Express. I shall have been here 33 full days, and I estimate I have written over 35,000 words despite chronic and acute neuralgia.

Who is Arnold Bennett?

Sunday, August 9th., Comarques, Thorpe-le-Soken.

Yesterday Johnson, ex-tobacco merchant, called on me in a state of some excitement. Tall, thin nervous man. He began by saying: "I am a great patriot." He said superiorly: "I know the Germans. They are traitors. I have seen this coming for years. I have £3,000 in cash. I am prepared to use it for the country." His scheme was that the government should give authority to take over the small mills (why only small?) of the district, and that he should manage them without profit, so as to prevent the exploitation of small people now going on. He had already got promises of produce of 4,000 acres at rather less than market price. The extreme improbability of such a scheme ever being sanctioned, the absurdity of it, the rights on which it trampled, the excessive difficulty of it - these things seem not to have occurred to him at all. It was all simple and patriotic to him. He wanted me to guarantee £1,000 and to give the support of my name (this was what he came for), and he had got Syme to guarantee £1,000. On this he was prepared to start.

To soothe him I said that I would write to someone high up as a preliminary, and I wrote to Spender, without however concealing my view from Spender. Johnson was soon launched on his camping experiences in Turkey where he went to buy tobacco. He is a very decent agreeable well-intentioned oldish man, speaking fairly correctly except that he adds R to the end of too many words. He farms his own land.
See also, 'Writers for peace (or war)' - February 11th.
http://earnoldbennett.blogspot.co.uk/2013/02/monday-february-11th.html

Then the Mathewses came. The Reverend Mathews (rector of Beaumont with Moze, Essex), a very nice chap indeed, had suddenly discovered that Redmond was a good man; but he learnt from me for the first time at 5 p.m. 8th., August 1914, that Ulster is not all Protestant. He was staggered to learn that quite 50% of Ulster is Roman Catholic.

John Redmond was an Irish nationalist MP who achieved the passing of an act in 1914 that granted 'Home Rule' - a devolved parliament - to Ireland. He sought only limited self-government, believing his country should not be wholly separated from the British Empire. His lifelong aim was to reconcile unionists with nationalists and Ireland with England. Home Rule was never implemented due to the outbreak of World War One. Ireland was instead partitioned into two separate states.

Although he had to make an announcement about in the pulpit tomorrow, he had not yet understood the object of the Prince of Wales's Relief Fund. I explained it to him. By the way I have no desire whatever to contribute to this spectacular affair. I have taken measures to be told of any bad cases in the village (none at present), and I have authorised Pinker to use £100 privately among really necessitous authors. I have the same feeling against funds that I have against committees.

On 7th August 1914, H.R.H. the Prince of Wales made an urgent appeal in The Times: 

"Buckingham Palace - all must realise that the present time of deep anxiety will be followed by one of considerable distress among the people of this country least able to bear it. We must earnestly pray that their suffering may be neither long nor bitter, but we cannot wait until the need presses heavily upon us. The means of relief must be ready in our hands. To ally anxiety will go some way to stay distress. A National Fund has been founded, and I am proud to act as its Treasurer. My first duty is to ask for generous and ready support, and I know that I shall not ask in vain. At such a moment we all stand by one another, and it is to the heart of the British people that I confidently make this earnest appeal. Edward."

I have organised a Central News service of war telegrams and asked the postmaster if he would like to put them in the Post Office window. He said he would. On Friday Miss Nerney told me that while people were reading a copy of one of these telegrams in the window one man asked: "Who is Arnold Bennett?" The reply was: "He's the War Minister." Then in correction, "Oh no, he isn't. He's the actor chap that lives down the road." Yesterday I read the following on a telegraph form outside the P.O.: "British Gold Coast Forces take German Togoland. No resistance by permission of Arnold Bennett Esquire."

East End adventure

Sunday, August 8th., Cadogan Square, London.

I lunched with Dorothy here; and then felt that I must have some adventure. It was a very nice afternoon with threatening clouds. I hurried out and taxied to St. Paul's, which is still half closed and no doubt will be for years. Still it is neatly and tidily half closed. Immense flocks of tame pigeons on the piazza being fed. A congregation (sparse) assembling inside for a service.

I then took a bus for Hackney Wick. I thought that would do as well as anywhere. But before I got to the Wick I saw buses going in the opposite direction to Blackwall Tunnel, which I had never seen. So I got off and took one of these latter, and went all down the Burdett Road into East India Docks Road to Poplar, and I saw big steamers and even a fine 3-master, and a huge home or hostel for sailors. Incidentally, the top of the slope leading to the tunnel. The thoroughfares are superb in width and very clean, and I noted lots of very interesting things. The East End keeps on till you get to Aldgate when it stops all of a sudden, and you begin to see theatre ticket agencies.

I should have been late for tea if I had not taken a taxi at St. Paul's again. But all the round trip to and from St. Paul's - I should think about 10 miles - I did in buses.