Part 24 (1/2)
It was ”Good luck, Harry,” and ”G.o.d bless you, Harry!” frae them.
'Deed, and it warmed the c.o.c.kles of my heart to hear them! But my friend was quite shocked.
”I say, Harry--do you know those persons?” he said.
”Never saw them before,” I told him, cheerfully.
”But they addressed you in the most familiar fas.h.i.+on,” he persisted.
”And why not?” I asked. ”I never saw them before--but they've seen me, thanks be! And as for familiarity--they helped to buy the shoon and the claes I'm wearing! They paid for the parritch I had for breakfast, and the bit o' beef I'll be eating for my dinner. If it wasna for them and the likes of them I'd still be digging coal i' the pit in Scotland! It'll be the sair day for me when they call me Mr. Lauder!”
I meant that then, and I mean it now. And if ever I hear a coster call out, ”There goes Sir Harry Lauder,” I'll ken it's time for me to be really doing what I'm really going tae do before sae long--retire frae the stage and gae hame to my wee hoose amang the heather at Dunoon tae live!
I'd no be having you think I'm meaning to criticize all the actors and actresses of the legitimate stage who have done a turn in the halls.
Many of them are among our prime favorites, and our most successful artists. Some have given up appearing in plays to stick to the halls; some gae tae the halls only when they can find no fitting play to occupy their time and their talent. Some of the finest and most talented folk in the world are, actors and artists; whiles I think all the most generous and kindly folk are! And I can count my friends, warm, dear, intimate friends amang them by the score--I micht almost say by the hundred.
No, it's just the flighty ones that gie the rest a bad name I'm addressing my criticisms to. There'll be those that accept an opportunity to appear in the halls scornfully. They'll be lacking an engagement, maybe. And so they'll turn to the halls tae earn some siller easily, with their lips curling the while and their noses turned up. They see no need tae give of their best.
”Why should I really _act_ for these people?” I heard one famous actor say once. ”The subtleties of my art would be wasted upon them. I shall try to bring myself down to their level!”
Now, heard you ever sae hopeless a saying as that? It puts me in mind of a friend of mine--a novelist. He's a grand writer, and his readers, by the million, are his friends. It's hard for his publishers to print enough of his books to supply the demand. And he's a kindly, simple wee man; he ust does his best, all the time, and never worries aboot the results. But there are those that are envious of him. I mind the only time I ever knew him to be angry was when one of these, a man who could just get his books published, and no mair, was talking.
”Oh, I suppose I'll have to do it!” he said. ”Jimmy”--Jimmy was the famous novelist my friend--”tell me how you write one of your best sellers? I think I'll turn out one or two under a pen name. I need some money.”
Man, you can no even mak' money in that fas.h.i.+on! I ken fine there's men succeed, on the stage, and in literature, and in every other walk of life, who do not do the very best of work. But, mind you, they've this in common--they do the best they can! You may not have to be the best to win the public--but you maun be sincere, or it will punish you.
CHAPTER XXIV
When every one's talking sae much of Bolsheviki and Soviets it's hard to follow what it's just all about. It's a serious subject--aye, I'd be the last to say it wasna that! But, man--there's sae little in this world that's no got its lighter side, if we'll but see it!
I'm a great yin for consistency. Men are consistent--mair than women, I think. My wife will no agree with that, but it shall stand in spite of her. I'll be maister in my ain book, even if I canna be such in my ain hoose! And when it comes to all this talk of Bolshevism, I'm wondering how the ones that are for it would like it if their principles were really applied consistently to everything?
Tak' the theatre, just for an example. I mind a time when there was nearly a strike. It was in America, once, and I was on tour in the far West. Wall Morris, he that takes care of all such affairs for me, had given me a grand company. On those tours, ye ken, I travel with my ain company. That time there were my pipers, of coorse--it wouldna be my performance without those braw laddies. And there was a bonnie la.s.sie to sing Scots songs in her lovely voice--a wee bit of a la.s.sie she was, that surprised you with the strength of her voice when she sang.
There was a dancer, and some j.a.panese acrobats, and a couple more turns--another singer, a man, and two who whistled like birds. And then there was just me, tae come on last.
Weel, there'd be trouble, once in sae often, aboot how they should gae on. None of them liked tae open the show; they thocht they were too good for that. And so they were, all of them, bless their hearts.
There was no a bad act amang the lot. But still--some one had to appear first! And some one had to give orders. I forget, the noo, just how it was settled, but settled it was, at any rate, and all was peaceful and happy.
And then, whoever it was that did open got ill one nicht, and there was a terrible disturbance. No one was willing to take the first turn.
And for a while it looked as if we could no get it settled any way at all. So I said that I would open the show, and they could follow, afterward, any way they pleased--or else that so and so must open, and no more argument. They did as I said.
But now, suppose there'd been a Bolshevik organization of the company?
Suppose each act had had a vote in a council. Each one would have voted for a different one to open, and the fight could never have been settled. It took some one to decide it--and a way of enforcing the decision--to mak' that simple matter richt.
I'm afraid of these Bolsheviki because I don't think they know just what they are doing. I can deal with a man, whether I agree with him or no, if he just knows what it is he wants to do, and how. I'll find some common ground that we can both stand on while we have out our differences. But these folk aren't like that. They say what they don't mean. And they tell you, if you complain of that, they are interested only in the end they want to attain, and that the means they use don't matter.
Folk like that make an agreement never meaning to stick to it, ust to get the better of you for a little while. They mak' any promise you demand of them to get you quieted and willing to leave them alone, and then when the time comes and it suits them they'll break it, and laugh in your face. I'm not guessing or joking. And it's not the Bolshevists in Russia I'm thinking of--it's the followers of them in Britain and America, no matter what they choose to call themselves.