My Autobiography
Page 54
*
During the Korean crisis, when the world held its breath over that extremely dangerous brink, the Chinese Embassy telephoned to ask if I would allow City Lights to be shown in Geneva before Chou En-lai, who was the pivotal centre around which the decision of peace or war was to be decided.
The following day the Prime Minister invited us to have dinner with him in Geneva. Before we left for Geneva the Prime Minister’s secretary telephoned to say that His Excellency might be detained, as important business had suddenly arisen at the conference (an understatement), and that we were not to wait for him; he would join us later.
When we arrived, to our surprise Chou En-lai was waiting on the steps of his residence to greet us. Like the rest of the world I was anxious to know what had happened at the conference, so I asked him. He tapped me confidentially on the shoulder. ‘It has all been amicably settled,’ he said, ‘five minutes ago.’
I had heard many interesting stories about how the Communists had been driven far into the interior of China in the thirties, and how, under the leadership of Mao Tse-tung, a scattered few became reorganized and began marching back to Peking, gathering military impetus as they went. That march back won them the support of six hundred million Chinese people.
Chou En-lai that night told us a touching story of Mao Tse-tung’s triumphant entry into Peking. There were a million Chinese present to welcome him. A large platform, fifteen feet high, had been built at the end of the vast square, and as he mounted the steps from the back the top of his head appeared and a roar of welcome surged up from a million throats, increasing and increasing as the lone figure came fully into view.
And when Mao Tse-tung, the conqueror of China, saw that vast multitude, he stood for a moment, then suddenly covered his face with both hands and wept.
Chou En-lai had shared with him the hardships and heartbreaks of that famous march across China, yet as I looked at his vigorous, handsome face I was astonished to see how calm and youthful he looked.
I told him that the last time I had been in Shanghai was in 1936.
‘Oh yes,’ he said, thoughtfully, ‘that was before we were on the march.’
‘Well, you haven’t far to go now,’ I said jokingly.
At dinner we drank Chinese champagne (not bad), and like the Russians made many toasts. I toasted the future of China and said that although I was not a Communist I wholeheartedly joined in their hope and desire for a better life for the Chinese people, and for all people.
*
In Vevey we have new friends, among them Mr Emile Rossier and Mr Michel Rossier and their families, all of them lovers of music. Through Emile I met Clara Haskil, the concert pianist. She lived in Vevey and whenever in town Clara and both the Rossier families would come to dinner, and afterwards Clara would play for us. Although past sixty, she was at the apogee of her career, having her greatest triumphs both in Europe and America. But in 1960 she slipped off the step of a train in Belgium and was taken to hospital where she died.
Often I play her records, the last she made before her death. Before I started the task of rewriting this manuscript for the sixth time, I put on Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 3 with Clara at the piano and Markevitch conducting – which to me is as near an approximation of truth as any great work of art could be and which has been a source of encouragement for me to finish this book.
If we were not so preoccupied with our family, we could have quite a social life in Switzerland, for we live relatively near the Queen of Spain and the Count and the Countess Chevreau d’Antraigues, who have been most cordial to us, and there are a number of film stars and writers who live near. We often see George and Benita Sanders and Noël Coward is also a neighbour. In the spring many of our American and English friends visit us. Truman Capote, who occasionally works in Switzerland, often drops by. During the Easter holidays, we take the children to the south of Ireland. This is something that the whole family looks forward to every year.
In summer we dine on the terrace in shorts and stay out till ten watching the twilight. Often on the spur of the moment we decide to go to London and Paris, sometimes to Venice or Rome – all within easy reach of a couple of hours.
In Paris we are often entertained by Paul-Louis Weiller, our very dear friend, who in August invites the whole family for one month to La Reine Jeanne, his beautiful estate on the Mediterranean, where the children get all the swimming and water-skiing they want.
Friends have asked me if I miss the United States – New York? In candour I do not. America has changed, so has New York. The gigantic scale of industrial institutions, of Press, television and commercial advertising has completely divorced me from the American way of life. I want the other side of the coin, a simpler personal sense of living – not the ostentatious avenues and towering buildings which are an ever-reminder of big business and its ponderous achievements.
It was more than a year before I could liquidate all my interests in the United States. They wanted to tax my European earnings on Limelight up to 1955, claiming that I was still an American resident in spite of having barred me from that country since 1952. I had no legal address since, as my American lawyer said, I would have little chance of getting back into the country to defend the case.
Having dissolved all my American companies and divested myself of every American interest, I was in a position to tell them to go sit on a tack. But not wishing to be under an obligation to another nation’s protection, I settled for an amount considerably less than their claim and considerably more than I should have paid.
Cutting my last ties from the United States was sad. When Helen, our maid at the Beverly Hills house, heard that we were not returning, she wrote the following letter:
Dear Mr and Mrs Chaplin,
I have written you so many letters, but never mailed them. It seems just everything has gone wrong since you left – I myself have never suffered so much grief over anyone else except my own family. But everything is so unnecessary and unneeded and unjust and I just can’t get over it. And then we received the sad news that we feared might come – to pack most everything – it just isn’t possible – it just can’t be – the things we packed have nearly been washed away with tears and I still have a headache from grief –I don’t know how you folks stand it. Please, PLEASE, Mrs C, don’t let Mr C sell the house if you can help it. Every room still bears its own personality even though there are mostly the rugs and draperies there – I am so positive minded about this house I would never let anyone else have it. If I only had the money myself, but that’s silly and out of reason for me too. Cut off all the excess that’s possible if you wish. But please, PLEASE keep the house. I know I should not say this but I can’t help it – and I shall never give up the idea but that some day you will all return. Mrs c, enough of that for now – I have three letters to send you but I must get some larger envelopes. Give my regards to everyone, and excuse my pencil as even my pen has gone wrong.
Sincerely, Helen.
We also received a letter from Henry, our butler, who wrote as follows:
Dear Mr and Mrs Chaplin,
I have not written you for a long time as I have an awful time to express myself correctly with my Swiss–English. I had one happy story a few weeks ago, as I had a chance to see the picture Limelight. It was a private showing. Miss Runser invited me. There were about twenty people present. Mr and Mrs Sydney Chaplin, Miss Runser and Rolly were the only ones I knew. I took my seat way in the rear, to be alone with my thoughts. It was well worth it. I probably laughed the loudest but also had the most tears in my eyes. The best picture I’ve ever seen. It has never been shown in L.A. There are several records played over the radio, music from Limelight. Beautiful music. They electrify me when I hear them. Mr C the composer is never mentioned. I am happy to hear the children like Switzerland. Of course, for grown up people it takes more time to get used to any foreign country. I do say Switzerland is one of the better ones. The best schools on the globe. Also the oldest
republic on the globe, since 1191. First of August is the 4th of July there. Independence Day. Not a holiday, but you will see the fires on all mountain tops. As a whole, one of the few conservative and prosperous countries. I left there in 1918 for South America. Have been back twice since. I also served two terms in the Swiss Army. Born in St Gallen, eastern part of Switzerland. I have one younger brother in Berne and one in St. Gallen.
The very best wishes to all of you.
Respectfully yours, Henry.
All those who worked for me in California were still on salary, but I could not afford to continue paying them now that I was domiciled in Switzerland. So I arranged for their severance pay, giving them each a bonus, which total amounted to eighty thousand dollars. Edna Purviance, besides receiving her bonus, remained in my employment up to the day she died.
During the casting of Monsieur Verdoux, I had thought of Edna for the important part of Madame Grosnay. I had not seen her for twenty years, for she never came to the studio because her weekly cheque was mailed to her by the office. She confessed afterwards that when she received a call from the studio she was more shocked than thrilled.
When Edna arrived, Rolly, the cameraman, came into my dressing-room. He, too, had not seen her in twenty years. ‘she’s here,’ he said, his eyes glistening. ‘Of course, she’s not the same – but she looks great!’ He told me that she was waiting on the lawn, outside her dressing-room.
I wanted no emotional reunion scene, so I assumed a matter-of-fact manner as if it had been only a few weeks since I last saw her. ‘Well! Well! We’ve eventually got round to you,’ I said cheerily.
In the sunlight I noticed that her lip trembled as she smiled, then I plunged into the reason why I had called her, and told her enthusiastically about the film. ‘It sounds wonderful,’ she said – Edna was always an enthusiast.
She read for the part and was not bad; but all the while her presence affected me with a depressing nostalgia, for she was associated with my early successes – those days when everything was the future!
Edna threw herself into the role, but it was fruitless – the part required European sophistication, which Edna never had – and after working with her three or four days I was forced to admit that she was unsuitable. Edna herself was more relieved than disappointed. I did not see or hear from her again until she wrote to me in Switzerland to acknowledge her severance pay:
Dear Charlie,
For the first time I am able to write my thanks for your friendship down the years, and for all you have done for me. In early life we do not seem to have so many troubles and I know you have had your share. I trust your cup of happiness is full with a charming wife and family.…
[Here she described her illness and the terrific expense of doctors and nurses, but she finished as she always did with a joke:]
Just a story I heard. A chap was sealed in a rocket ship and shot upwards to see how high he could go – was told to keep track of the altitude. So he kept counting 25,000 – 30,000 – 100,000 – 500,000… When he got this far he said ‘Jesus Christ I’ to himself, and a very silent soft voice answered back: ‘Yessss –?’
Please, please, Charlie, let me hear something from you in the near future. And please come back, you belong here.
Sincerely your truest and best admirer,
Love, Edna.
Through all the years I had never written a letter to Edna; I always communicated with her through the studio. Her last letter was an acknowledgement of the news that she was still on the payroll:
November 13th, 1956.
Dear Charlie,
Here I am again with a heart full of thanks, and back in hospital (Cedars of Lebanon), taking cobalt X-ray treatment on my neck. There cannot be a hell hereafter! It all comes while one can wriggle even a little finger. However, it is the best known treatment for what ails me. Hope to be going home at the end of the week, then can be an outside patient (how wonderful!). Am thankful my innards are O.K., this is purely and simply local, so they say – all of which reminds me of the fellow standing on the corner of Seventh and Broadway tearing up little bits of paper, throwing them to the four winds. A cop comes along and asks him, what was the big idea. He answers: ‘Just keeping elephants away.’ The cop says: ‘there aren’t any elephants in this district.’ The fellow answers: ‘Well, it works, doesn’t it?’ This is my silly for the day, so forgive me.
Hope you and the family are well and enjoying everything you have worked for.
Love always, Edna.
Shortly after I received this letter she died. And so the world grows young. And youth takes over. And we who have lived a little longer become a little more estranged as we journey on our way.
So now I shall end this Odyssey of mine. I realize that time and circumstances have favoured me. I have been cosseted in the world’s affections, loved and hated. Yes, the world has given me its best and little of its worst. Whatever were my ill vicissitudes, I believe that fortune and ill-fortune drift upon one haphazardly as clouds. Knowing this, I am never too shocked at the bad things that happen and am agreeably surprised at the good. I have no design for living, no philosophy – whether sage or fool, we must all struggle with life. I vacillate with inconsistencies; at times small things will annoy me and catastrophes will leave me indifferent.
Nevertheless, my life is more thrilling today than it ever was. I am in good health and still creative and have plans to produce more pictures – perhaps not with myself, but to write and direct them for members of my family – some of whom have quite an aptitude for the theatre. I am still very ambitious; I could never retire. There are many things I want to do; besides having a few unfinished cinema scripts, I should like to write a play and an opera – if time will allow.
Schopenhauer said happiness is a negative state – but I disagree. For the last twenty years I have known what happiness means. I have the good fortune to be married to a wonderful wife. I wish I could write more about this, but it involves love, and perfect love is the most beautiful of all frustrations because it is more than one can express. As I live with Oona, the depth and beauty of her character are a continual revelation to me. Even as she walks ahead of me along the narrow sidewalks of Vevey with simple dignity, her neat little figure straight, her dark hair smoothed back showing a few silver threads, a sudden wave of love and admiration comes over me for all that she is – and a lump comes into my throat.
With such happiness, I sometimes sit out on our terrace at sunset and look over a vast green lawn to the lake in the distance, and beyond the lake to the reassuring mountains, and in this mood think of nothing but enjoy their magnificent serenity.
THE FILMS OF
CHARLES CHAPLIN
THE KEYSTONE FILMS
1914
Making a Living (1 reel)
Kid Auto Races at Venice (split reel)
Mabel’s Strange Predicament (1 reel)
Between Showers (1 reel)
A Film Johnnie (1 reel)
Tango Tangles (1 reel)
His Favourite Pastime (1 reel)
Cruel, Cruel Love (1 reel)
The Star Boarder (1 reel)
Mabel at the Wheel (2 reels)
Twenty Minutes of Love (1 reel)
Caught in a Cabaret (2 reels)
Caught in the Rain (1 reel)
A Busy Day (split reel)
The Fatal Mallet (1 reel)
Her Friend the Bandit (1 reel)
The Knockout (2 reels)
Mabel’s Busy Day (1 reel)
Mabel’s Married Life (1 reel)
Laughing Gas (1 reel)
The Property Man (2 reels)
The Face on the Bar-room Floor (1 reel)
Recreation (split reel)
The Masquerader (1 reel)
His New Profession (1 reel)
The Rounders (1 reel)
The New Janitor (1 reel)
Those Love Pangs (1 reel)
Dough and Dynamite (2 reels)
Gentlemen o
f Nerve (1 reel)
His Musical Career (1 reel)
His Trysting Place (2 reels)
Tillie’s Punctured Romance (6 reels)
Getting Acquainted (1 reel)
His Prehistoric Past (2 reels)
THE ESSANAY FILMS
1915
His New Job (2 reels)
A Night Out (2 reels)
The Champion (2 reels)
In the Park (1 reel)
The Jitney Elopement (2 reels)
The Tramp (2 reels)