Screenland (Sept 1922–Feb 1923)

f faux-pas and they try to make me forget my misery by telling me that General Pershing is in the next room. I'll bet the General never went, through a battle like the one I passed through that night. Then they wanted to see the decoration, which reminded me that I had not yet looked at it myself. So I unrolled the parchment and "Doug" read aloud the magic words from the Minister of Instruction of the public and beaux arts which made Charles Chaplin, dramatist, artist, an officier de 1'instruction publique. We sit there until three in the morning discussing" it, and then I go back to my hotel tired but rather happy. That night was worth all the trip to Europe. At the hotel there was a note from Skaya. She had been to the theater to see the picture. She sat in the gallery and saw "The Kid," taking time off from her work. Her note : "I saw picture. You are a grand man. My heart is joy. You must be happy. I laugh — I cry. Skaya." This little message was not the least of my pleasures that night. Elsie de Wolf was my hostess at luncheon next day at the Villa Trianon, Versailles, a most interesting and enjoyable occasion, where I met some of the foremost poets and artists. ,''p HOLLYWOOD C<KLirOftNIA driven to the Ritz, but to the Majestic Theater in Clapham. The chauffeur wore a mustache, and though he looked familiar I did not recognize him. But very dramatically he removed the mustache. "I am Castleton Knight. A long time ago you promised me to visit my theater. I have concluded that the only way to get you there is to kidnap you. So kindly consider yourself kidnapped." I couldn't help but laugh, even as I thought of Lloyd George, and I assured Mr. Knight that he was the first one who had ever kidnapped me. So we went to the theater and I stayed an hour and surprised both myself and the audience by making a speech. Back at my hotel, Sir Philip meets me and tells me that Lloyd George couldn't wait, that he had a most important engagement at 4 o'clock. I explained the airplane situation to Sir Philip and he was very kind. I feel that it was most unfortunate, for it was my only opportunity to meet Lloyd George in these times, and I love to meet interesting personages. I would like to meet Lenin, Trotsky and the Kaiser. T) R ETURNING to Paris, I met Henry Wales and we take a trip through the Latin quarter together. That night I dine with Cami, Georges Carpentier and Henri Letellier. Carpentier asks for an autograph and I draw him a picture of my hat, shoes, cane and mustache, my implements of trade. Carpentier, not to be outdone, draws for me a huge fist incased in a boxing glove. I am due back in England next day to lunch with Sir Philip Sasson and to meet Lloyd George, Lord and Lady Rock-Savage, Lady Diana Manners and many other prominent people are to be among the guests, and I am looking forward to the luncheon eagerly. We are going back by airplane, though Carl Robinson lets me know that he prefers some other mode of travel. On this occasion I am nervous and I say frequently that I feel as though something is going to happen. This does not make a hit with Carl. We figure that by leaving at 8 o'clock in the morning we can make London by 1 o'clock, which will give me plenty of time to keep my engagement. ^ An intimacy quickly developed after Chaplin's first meeting with hi. G. Wells, celebrated novelist and historian. Anecdotes told by Chaplin of the strange friendship bctzveen these two incongruously different men contain peculiar interest. This photograph was made in Wells' "workshop" during a week-end visit of Charlie at Wells' country estate. B UT we haven't been up long before we were lost in the fog over the channel and were forced to make a landing on the French coast, causing a delay of two hours. But we finally made it, though I was two hours late for my engagement, and the thought of keeping Lloyd George and those other people waiting was ghastly. Our landing in England was made at the Croydon erodrome, and there was a big automobile waiting outide. around which were several hundred peoDle. The aerodrome officials, assuming that the car was for me, hustled me into it and it was driven off. But it was not mine, and I found that I was not being HIS is to be my last night in England, and I have promised to dine and spend the evening with my Cousin Aubrey. One feels dutiful to one's cousin. I also discover that this is the day I am to meet Chaliapin and H. G. Wells. I phone H. G. and explain that this is my last day, and of my promise to my cousin. H. G. is very nice. He understands. You can only do these things with such people. My cousin calls for me at dusk in a taxi and we ride to his home in Bayswater. London is so beautiful at this hour, when the first lights are being turned on, and each light to me is symbolical. They all mean life, and I wish sometimes I could peer behind all these lighted windows. Reaching Aubrey's home, I notice a number of people on the other side of the street, standing in the shadows. They must be reporters, I think, and am slightly annoyed that they should find me even here. But my cousin explains hesitatingly that they are just friends of his waiting for a look at me. I feel mean and naughty about this as I recall that I had requested him not to make a party of my visit. I JUST wanted a family affair, with no visitors, and these simple souls on the other side of the street were respecting my wishes. I relent and tell Aubrey to ask them over, anyway. They are all quite nice, simple tradesmen, clerks, etc. Aubrey has a saloon, or at least a hotel, as he calls it, in the vicinity of Bayswater, and later in the evening I suggest that we go there and take his friends with us. Aubrey is shocked. "No, not around to my place." Then they all demur. They don't wish to intrude. I like this. Then I insist. They weaken. He weakens. We go to a pub in a very respectable part of Bayswater and enter the bar. The place is doing a flourishing business. There are a number of pictures of my brother 33