Of course, being for the Red Cross, we were jolly well paid for all our
trouble by knowing what a tremendous lift we had given the Red Cross in
general; but somehow we felt that, if anything, too much was made of the
wonderful result, and too little of us, who had done it.
Because, you see, if a chap in the trenches covers himself with glory,
as they so often do, it is noted down to the chap's credit, and he gets
a D.C.M., or D.S.O., or a V.C.; but in our case, as Tracey rather neatly
put it, we weren't so much as mentioned in dispatches, and the bitter
irony was that Merivale fairly rung with the fame of Dr. Dunston,
whereas the truth was that we did everything, and Dunston, far from
urging us on, really threw cold water on the whole show, and, up to the
last moment, feared we were in for a grisly failure, instead of a most
extraordinary success.
There was a good deal of difference of opinion afterwards as to who
sprang the idea, and, on the whole, I don't think any one chap could
take the credit. It was too big a thing for one chap's mind, and you
might say nearly everybody in the Fifth and Sixth had a hand in it. It
grew and grew till it reached the stage of asking Dr. Dunston; and after
he had conferred with Brown and Fortescue and old Peacock, he
reluctantly agreed; and then it grew by leaps and bounds till it became
the wonderful thing it was.
The idea was to give an entertainment for the funds of the Red Cross,
and Blades believed it would be a better and finer entertainment if we
did it absolutely on our own, without any help from the masters
whatever. A few faint-hearted chaps thought not; but they were
overruled, for, as Briggs pointed out, there was no entertaining power
whatever in the masters. The only one who would have been any good in
that way was Hutchings, who sang remarkably well in a bass voice of
great depth; but he was at the War, and none of the others had any gift
that could lure a paying audience. No doubt they might have tried, but,
as Tracey said, you couldn't ask people to pay good money just for the
doubtful pleasure of seeing them trying. So it was settled that as
there was a great deal of mixed power of amusing an audience in the
school, we could do it without any assistance; and Fortescue supported
this, and advised the Doctor that we should be given a free hand; but
Peacock, of all people, doubted, and Brown, who wanted to shine himself
in some way, thought we ought to have him and Fortescue to give a
backbone to the show. What he was prepared to do, by way of backbone,
we didn't ask; what he did do, when the time came, was to show the
people to their seats, and his evening-dress, which we had not seen
before, was worth all the money, if not more.
Anyway, Fortescue got the Doctor to let us do everything without help,
and the end justified the means, as Saunders very truly said, though at
one time it rather looked as if it might not.
It was announced in public that the scholars of Merivale were going to
give an entertainment for the Red Cross before Christmas breaking up,
and, when all was decided, we had two clear months for the preparations.
Owing to the War and one thing and another, we didn't have much football
that term, and the show got to be the great idea in everybody's mind--so
much so, in fact, that owing to an utter breakdown in geography in the
Lower Fourth, there was a threat from headquarters that the whole thing
would be knocked on the head if the work was going to suffer.
So we gave the Lower Fourth some advice on the subject, and told them
not one of them should do anything if they didn't buck up.
Of course, the great problem was, who should be in the show and who
should not. That was a question for the Sixth, and it proved a very
difficult problem, because there were immense stores of talent at
Merivale, and some of the chaps best fitted to entertain a paying
audience by their great gifts absolutely refused to appear; whereas,
strangely enough, others, quite useless in every way, were death on
appearing. We even had one or two letters from mothers, written to "The
Committee of the Merivale Concert," fairly grovelling to us to let their
sons do something. Of course, we ignored these, though Pegram, with his
usual strategy, advised us to give young Tudor a show of some sort,
because his mother and father were worth many thousands, and would
doubtless buy dozens of front seats if Tudor did anything publicly.
So in one item of the performance, which was a scene from "The Merchant
of Venice," we let Tudor and certain other kids come on in the crowd. We
also let Cornwallis and Towler sing a duet--not so much because it was a
thing to pay to hear, but because of their great adventure on Foster
Day, when by a fluke they weren't drowned, and so possessed a passing
interest in Merivale.
The programme needed a fearful lot of thought, and we altered it many
times. The first programme would have taken about three days to get
through, and Tracey said, as it wasn't a Wagner Cycle, we'd better try
and cram the show into three hours; and Briggs said there would be
encores, which must be allowed for; and I remembered that there must be
an interval, because on these occasions women want something to drink
about half-way through, and men want both to drink and smoke also. And
if they are prevented from doing these things, they often turn against
the performance, and the last state of that show is worse than the
first.
I am Thwaites, by the way, and, like Percy minor, I hope that I may go
on the stage some day, being much inclined to do so. But his father is
a professional actor, and so he has a better chance than me, mine being
a Government official in London, who never goes to the theatre, always
being too tired to do anything after his day's work. I recite when I
get the chance, and have already acted several times; I also write
poems. I did not push myself forward in the least, it was agreed, by a
sort of general understanding, except in the mind of Percy minor, that I
should play Shylock in the trial scene from "The Merchant of Venice."
And Williams, who is pretty, and had many a time been rotted for his
girl-like eyes and eyelashes, now found that his hour had come, for he
was going to play Portia; and we hoped his beautiful appearance might
carry him through, though at rehearsal it was only too apparent his
acting would not.
The first part of the show was to end with the Shakespearean
impersonation; but this was not all, though, of course, the cream of the
night. We had in the second half an original satire in one act written
by Tracey, and entitled "The White Feather." This would be the
concluding item, and as we finally decided that we would have twelve
separate items, that left ten to find.
There were some obvious things, like Percy minimus, who had a ripping
voice, and was accustomed to singing both in and out of chapel. So,
knowing he was considered class, we put him down for a song; and the
school glee singers were also rather well thought of, and we gave them
two items. This only left seven performances, and after we had
subtracted most of the chaps who were going to perform in the plays,
there was still an immense amount of mixed ability to choose from.
Of course, Rice had to be in it, though, in his usual sporting way, he
said he could do nothing. But as he was the best boxer in the school,
and almost as good as a professional "fly" weight, we felt no show would
be complete without him, and it was arranged he should box three
exhibition rounds with Bassett.
As Briggs said, with people who pay money, you must give everybody
something they will like; and though the people who would come to see
Shakespeare acted might not be at all the same people who would come to
see Rice hammer Bassett, yet there it was--we didn't want to disappoint
anybody, because the great thing with a successful entertainment is to
make everybody thoroughly feel that they have had their money's worth,
as Mitchell pointed out. He was going to take the money, and sit in the
box and give out the tickets. He could have done other things, but
chose that himself, having great natural ability in everything of a
financial sort. And as all the tickets were numbered, we felt it was
safe. Besides, for the Red Cross, nobody would let his financial
ability lead him astray, so to speak.
Percy minor, the son of the famous professional actor, also wished to
play Shylock, but was put down for a comic song--an art in which he
excelled. And Tracey wanted to write it for him and make it topical;
but we knew Tracey's satire, and felt it would not do. Besides, he'd
already written a whole play, as it was, and was performing the chief
part in it, so we let Percy minor choose his own song, and he chose one
of Albert Chevalier's, which blended pathos and humour in a very
wonderful way, but was difficult. This left five items, and it seemed
almost a shame to leave out so much talent; but we finally decided on
Abbott for a conjuring entertainment--him being a flyer at that art--and
on Nicholas, who has the great gift of lightning calculation, though,
strange to say, a fool in everything else. He stands with his back to a
blackboard, and can divide or add in his head; and if you read him out
ten figures, and then ten more to subtract from them, he can do it in a
moment. And no doubt he will make his living in this way, though it is
a science that is utterly useless in the world at large.
Allowing for Cornwallis and Towler, there were only two items left, and
I had the good luck to remember there was, so far, nothing about the Red
Cross in the whole show; so we asked Fortescue if he would allow a
recitation of his famous poem on that subject, and he consented if he
was allowed to coach the boy who did it. We gladly agreed to this, and
Forrester was decided upon for the boy, though he would rather have
given his well known and remarkable imitations of natural sounds, such
as a cock crowing, or a bottle of ginger beer popping, or a man with a
cold in his head, or a distant military band. It was decided,
therefore, that if Forrester got an encore, he might give the
imitations; but he didn't, so they were unfortunately lost, though many
a paying audience would have liked them better than the recitation,
splendid as it was.
For the last item of all it was almost impossible to choose between
about ten chaps, and at last, after voting in secret several times, the
Sixth got it down to young Hastings, who could play the fiddle in a
manner seldom heard from a kid of nine years old, and Weston, who was
prepared to black his face and play his banjo. Finally we decided for
Weston, because he was the eldest, and would be leaving next term but
one, whereas Hastings, being only nine, was bound to have many future
chances of appearing with his fiddle.
So that was the programme, and even when drawn out and written down, it
was pretty staggering, but when actually printed in regular programme
form, it was wonderful, and for my part I didn't see how the big
schoolroom would hold half the people who were bound to come. In fact,
I suggested giving two, or even three, performances on consecutive
nights, but this was not approved of.
Being, as you may say, historical, I will here insert the programme.
The price was threepence, or what you liked to give above that sum.
Many gave more; some got copies for nothing, owing to the programme kids
losing their heads about change. It appeared in this way on pink paper,
faintly scented, and nothing was charged for the scenting by the
printers, so I suppose the scent was their contribution to the Red Cross
Fund.