Philosophers

Sunday, March 14th., Waterloo Road, Burslem.

Lunch of the North Staffs. Liberal Federation at the North Stafford Hotel in Stoke yesterday. There was nothing especially to notice, except the inferior quality of the speeches, including Lord Crewe's. But Mills, of the Manchester Guardian there to report the proceedings, said that he was much better in the House of Lords. Well, better is a relative term of course; I can't imagine that he suddenly blossoms forth into a notable orator when in Parliament.

Hawtrey, after accepting "What the Public Wants" on his own - that is, so far as he was concerned - found himself obliged to refuse it because his syndicate funked it. Very disappointing. He said he thought he could ultimately have persuaded them, but we would not give him time. This is yet another instance of the ways plays are chosen. This was on Thursday. On Friday, Trench wrote me definitely commissioning a play, subject to seeing a scenario. 

The Leopard, Burslem

The Potteries is of course brim full of practical philosophers, but there are not so many of the theoretical sort; and even those few who are that way inclined would never admit to theoretical speculation, not relishing ridicule. But, last Friday evening whilst strolling about in Burslem, I bumped into Callear, who I had not met since we were at school together, and we went into the Leopard for a talk. Within half a hour we were deep in discussion of the concept of personal autonomy. Seems he is philosophically inclined and was disinhibited by my being a 'foreigner'. He gave me a quick run-down on the ideas of Rousseau, Kierkegaard, Kant and Nietzche. For himself he thought it his business as a rational person to be as clear as he could be about how his intentions and actions were truly his, as opposed to being a product of socialisation. I think he referred to this as 'personal autonomy'. Whether he borrowed that from one of the philosophers I know not. After an hour I made my excuses and we parted with mutual protestations of good feeling. I hope to make this a regular occasion and to see him again in about 30 years or so.

Old friends

Monday, March 9th., Cadogan Square, London.

Ernest Thesiger

The embracing qualities of revue seem to be more and more in evidence. I saw Ernest Thesiger last night at Hubert Griffiths' war play "Tunnel Trench". I knew he was to play in a revue (of Cochran's, Noel Coward's etc.). What surprised me  was that he should pass about six weeks in the country playing it before London - he who never plays out of London. He has left the Dauphin in "St. Joan" to go and play in revue. At the "Tunnel Trench" party afterwards on the stage of Prince's Theatre I saw Margaret Halstan who was the original Emily in "What the Public Wants". Hadn't seen her for years. Next moment I was talking to Haidee Wright, said to be our greatest tragic actress, and the real star of "Milestones". She said she had been asked to play in revue. She had enquired what she would have to do in the revue and the reply was that she would have to be an old woman in rags and try to ride a bicycle and fall off it, and that was all. So she refused revue.



 

Elegant women

Monday, March 8th., 37, Clarendon Road, Putney, London.

We left Paris on Saturday at 8.25, traversing hundreds of miles of snow. We are staying briefly with the Kennerleys on our way to Burslem.

Last thing I did in Paris was to visit the Exposition de la Societe des Aquarellistes at George Petit's. I went to pick up some hints about technique. general level very low. Coming out, I met procession of autos depositing elegant women at the door. I doubt if the auto has yet been properly done from the elegant and the purely romantic qualities it has. Then, similar thought to that caused by  the Debussy singer at Ullman's - all those painters having painted for a year to give, ostensibly, momentary pleasure to a few elegant un-understanding persons. Something fine about the notion somewhere. I thought I could work it up for "The Glimpse".

Two weeks ago, when he wrote to me in Paris, Lee Mathews said he thought he could sell "What the Public Wants" to Lena Ashwell. She is managing the Kingsway as well as appearing herself in the plays. To that end he took me to see Miss Ashwell today and we saw "The Truants", her current production, last evening. It is brightly written, has a splash of melodrama, and makes mild fun of the 'Salome' dance craze. Amusing and rather lightweight I thought for Miss Ashwell who is better suited to playing complex dramatic characters. I hinted this to her and she agreed but confided that the theatre is struggling financially and she needs a popular success. I don't think this will be it.

As at our first meeting I found Miss Ashwell to be in every way extremely attractive. Her voice is pitched low and has a slight vibratory quality which stirs something in me. And her eyes! When conversing with you she looks deeply, and almost without blinking, into your eyes. Hers are large, softly brown, slightly hooded, and entirely captivating. She is in truth a beautiful woman, elegant and understanding. She re-married last year to a medical man, the royal gynaecologist apparently. How much I regret that we did not meet sooner. She seems well-disposed to me, has read my books, and expects "What the Public Wants" to be a great success. What a wife she would have made. I feel quite downcast that her affections lie elsewhere.

Some silly things

Monday, December 31st., Hotel Belvedere, Mont Pelerin sur Vevey, Switzerland.

Dinner. Games. God save the Queen, and varied songs at the hotel. God save the Queen (or King) in various languages. Servants watching eagerly at nothing from behind a curtained window. I say 'at nothing', but the sight of a crowd of middle-class English people determined to enjoy themselves, and fuelled by over-indulgence in alcohol, may indeed be worth watching. I would rather have been watching than participating, but there you are; life is only occasionally what you make it.

I have never worked so hard as this year, and I have not earned less for several years. But I have done fewer sillier things than usual. It is a constant quandary for me, whether to focus on 'serious' writing which is professionally and intellectually rewarding, but unremunerative, or to write to make money. I have tried to do both. I will probably continue to do so because I do enjoy the rewards of financial success. Such as winter in this hotel. 

I wrote "Buried Alive", three quarters of "The Old Wives' Tale", "What the Public Wants", "The Human Machine", "Literary Taste: How to form it", about half a dozen short stories, including "A Matador in the Five Towns"; over sixty newspaper articles. Total words 423,500.

Looking back through my journals I see that it has become a habit to record the number of words written each year. I think this has been a record, but I have not been consistent in what I include, journal for example. Still my output is considerable by any standards. To think that if my working life extends to say forty years, at an average of 300,000 a year then I will have written 12 million words! That is a figure to conjure with indeed.

The turn of the year is a time to take stock and, for many, a time for new resolutions. I am not inclined to the latter, having seen so few actually carried through. I wrote in one of my self-help books this year that "the chief beauty about time is that you cannot waste it in advance. The next year, the next day, the next hour are lying ready for you, as perfect, as unspoiled, as if you had never wasted or misapplied a single moment in all your life. You can turn over a new leaf every hour if you choose." I still think that is good advice. I resolve to follow it!