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He had brought with him from Essanay Studios the lovely blonde Edna Purviance, whom he had first met early in 1915, when she was secretary to an industrial magnate in San Francisco. Chaplin at length persuaded her to throw in her fortunes with his, and she left the office for the film studio. At first, she was clumsy and selfconscious in her acting, and though in real life she was charming, on the screen she lacked any personality at all. But Chaplin, with infinite patience, made an artist of her, and one who responded to his least direction. She played the role of the beautiful heroine whom the little tramp Charlie adored from afar, without ever reaching his heart's desire.
Though his reputation was firmly established and he was already known to millions on the screen, Chaplin knew few of the film colony of the time, among whom were numbered Owen Moore, Ruth Roland, D. W. Griffiths, Mabel Normand, Ford Sterling, Ben Turpin, Bessie Barriscale, Dustin Farmer, Charlie Ray, Chester Conklin, Fatty Arbuckle and Mack Swain.
Among his intimates were Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks, Sam Goldwyn and Mack Sennett, whom he saw fairly frequently. For the rest he lived an austere and solitary life in a bare six-roomed house, tended by a Japanese houseboy.
He had not changed much from the morose lad of the Karno days, whose sudden bursts of gaiety, and superlative mimicry had both delighted and astonished his colleagues. Alone in his small house, he plunged into reading, catching up with the lost years. For a time he fell completely under the spell of the free thinkers, and filled his rooms with their pamphlets, booklets, and weightier tomes. He still read politics, economics, and what his friends called "all the gloomier philosophers" — Schopenhauer still keeping his first place. He also developed an inborn gift of being able to speak with authority and distinction on subjects that were not really familiar to him — some years later, on his first visit to Europe, the president of the Bank of England was impressed with his informed views on banking and international finance. None of his intimates knew where such knowledge came from.
Spells of solitude were suceeded by spells of happy sociability, when his vivacity and intelligence always attracted a number of people to him. On those occasions, he was the most excellent companion — witty, ebullient, endearing, and capable of entertaining large gatherings with his spontaneous mimicry — of a classical dancer, a hotel magnate, an old street vendor, a young girl listening to her first proposal. He could keep any group of people enthralled for as long as he chose, his own energy never flagging.