Patrick Bade
Great Monologists: Ruth Draper, Bea Lillie and Joyce Grenfell
Patrick Bade - Great Monologists: Ruth Draper, Bea Lillie and Joyce Grenfell
- I’m talking today about three very remarkable women, who perfected the art of the monologue and went on to have international careers with one woman shows. On the left, you’ve got Bea Lillie, in the middle, Ruth Draper, and on the right, Joyce Grenfell. So we have an American with Ruth Draper, a Canadian with Bea Lillie, and the British, Joyce Grenfell. At the oldest is Ruth Draper. She was born in 1884. And she was born into a wealthy, highly cultivated, very well-connected New York family. They also had strong British connections and before the First World War that she came to stay with her aunt, Muriel Draper, who’s also quite a well-known figure. She was an author and a liberal and left-wing activist who later got into big trouble with the notorious House of Un-American Activities in the 1940s. So Muriel, her aunt, was living in London before the First World War in a house in Chelsea. And she was one of those women who attracted other, many talented people. And she had something like a salon. So I want to begin by reading an extract from Arthur Rubinstein’s wonderfully entertaining autobiography, “My Early Years”, and I’m going to read you this partly ‘cause he conjures up such an extraordinary picture, really, of cultural life before the First World War, but also because it’s so, he’s describing his first encounter with Ruth Draper as a performer and the impact that she had. So he turns up, It can’t have been a very big house, I suppose, a terrace house in Chelsea, but there was an incredible lineup of guests on that occasion, including the American writer, Henry James, the painter, John Singer Sargent, and a number of very distinguished musicians, Lionel Tertis, Frederick Salmond They were very famous viola and cello player all the time.
Of course, Rubinstein himself. Pierre Monteux turns up. At the time he was a viola player, but he was to become one of the great conductors of the 20th century. So there was an amazing array of talent and the musicians spontaneously played chamber music together. And then according to Rubinstein, “Now Muriel announced very loudly, 'My sister-in-law,’” yes, it’s her sister-in-law, not her niece, “‘My sister-in-law, Ruth Draper, will do a monologue.’ There was a moment of a general consternation; here we were ready to play great music, and the Drapers were going to impose upon us some prattle fit for a family celebration at Christmas or for grandpa’s birthday! Ruth fetched a worn brown shawl and threw it over her head and tucked it under her chin. Then she explained quietly, ‘An old Irish immigrant arrives in America to live with her daughter, whom she has not seen for 25 years. She expects to find her ashore waiting, but the daughter does not turn up.’ Suddenly she was the old woman standing, watching the crowd with keen eyes, in anxious expectation of the happy reunion. She asks people for information, but they do not understand her Irish twang. In time, her face and her body seemed to shrink. She begins to dread the outcome, until at last, the woman, now a fragile figure, expresses in only a faint murmur, her fate of loneliness, dejection, and poverty in a strange land.
Ruth took off her shawl. We all had lumps in our throats. Henry James stuttered, ‘My dear, you are a genius.’ Ruth smiled and announced cheerfully, ‘I will now do an English lady showing off her garden to friends.’ And she gave a smoothing to her hair and became at once the fastidious British aristocrat.” And so on and so on. So everybody in the room was absolutely blown away by her absolute extraordinary talent. And another guest and friend, great musician Paderewski, said to you, “My dear, you must become an actress.” And she did make her debut on Broadway in a play as an actress in 1916. But that was not really to be her destiny. Her destiny was to do these monologues, which she wrote herself. She invented these characters, obviously based on people that she had observed. And she had a 40-year career doing this around the world. Got two drawings of her here by John Singer Sargent as she was herself, a rather elegant, beautiful, young, aristocratic woman on the right-hand side, very typical drawing by Sargent. And in one of her roles on the left-hand side. Oh, here this is, here she is again as a poor peasant woman drawn by Sargent in one of her roles. On the left is a painting by the American artist, Romaine Brooks of her sister-in-law, Muriel Draper. Interesting, I mean, Romaine Brooks was also the centre of a kind of international group of women artists and intellectuals, mainly lesbian. That portrait suggests to me that also that probably Muriel Draper, although married, was bisexual, if not lesbian. So she, as I said, she travelled the world. She travelled around America with just a trunk, with an absolute minimum of props, coats, a couple of coats, different hats, shawls. That was enough for her. That she could just sit alone on a stage and she became all these different people as you see in the photograph on the left hand side.
And this, she counted many, many famous artists and writers amongst her admirers. One of them was Agatha Christie who, in the Poirot novel, “Lord Edgware Dies,” she based one of the characters on Ruth Draper. It’s a woman who has such an uncanny ability to take on the personality of someone else, that she impersonates another woman at a dinner party amongst all her friends, and nobody notices. Doesn’t do her any good in the novel. She gets bumped off. So I’m going to start with one of her most famous monologues, which is the Italian lesson. And here she becomes a New York socialite who has somehow become overwhelmed by her busy life and has really lost her way. And this is such an amazing portrayal. I’ve known, you know, many women just like this actually, over the years. I think I came to know a few of them when I used to work at Christie’s. Basically a nice woman. But as I said, she’s really lost her way. And so in this, her Italian teacher arrives and the Italian lesson consists of reading “Dante’s Divine Comedy.” And the lesson is supposed to be an hour, but they never get beyond the very first lines because life overtakes her. She’s constantly interrupted by visitors, by servants, by her children, by telephone calls, and so on. You’ll get the, I’m just going to play you first of all, the opening of this where she, with a deliberately of course, terrible Italian accent. She’s reading the opening lines of the “Divine Comedy,” and I think you’ll very quickly understand what is going to happen.
[Ruth] Come in, come in, signorina. Oh, I’m so glad you’ve arrived. I can’t tell you how excited I am. To think that we’ve arrived at last or that-
[Patrick] Oops, sorry. Do that again.
[Ruth] Come in, come in, signorina. Oh, I’m so glad you’ve arrived. I can’t tell you how excited I am. To think that we’ve arrived at last at the Divine Comedy. I’m really very proud. And I must tell you, signorina, I read a little last night just before I went to bed, and you know, I understood quite easily. So I think we’re going to right through it. You have your book and shall we start and read a few lines as we always do and then translate? Oh, this is thrilling. Dante at last. What? Oh. What wonderful lines, aren’t they marvellous? Now let’s see. Nel mezzo, let me see. Nel means in the middle, doesn’t it? In the middle. And means of the road, in the middle of the road. That’s not very poetical, is it in English? No, well, we can take certain liberties, don’t translate as always. I mean, take certain liberties in order to maintain the beauty of it and save time. And for example, we could say, instead of saying in the middle, we could say midway. And instead of saying of the road, say along the pathway, don’t you think that sounds better? Midway along the pathway, . Me, myself, I found of course, we say I found myself, we’d have to change that preposition, found myself in a forest dark. And of course we say dark forest, don’t we? I found myself in a dark forest. What’s Kay doing there? Oh, I see. They think it means , short for , I see. Found myself at a dark forest because the direct way, , was, . Wait a minute, don’t tell me. Such a funny word. I knew it on Monday. means, oh, it’s on the tip of my tongue. It means lost, doesn’t it? Lost, what wonderful lines, signorina. Midway along the pathway of our life, I found myself in a dark forest because the direct way was lost. They’re so wonderful, signorina.
[Patrick] Right now, my favourite episode in this monologue is when the telephone rings, and it’s a society portrait painter, clearly based on John Singer Sargent, who was an admirer and a friend of Ruth Draper. And so the woman, it makes me shudder, this little excerpt I got to play you. The way she talks to this artist, her total lack of comprehension really, of art and what a portrait should be. And she clearly, this is based on conversations she’s had with Sargent. Now Sargent, just when he first met Ruth Draper, he had recently given up taking commissions for society portraits. The head you see at the top is one of his very last commission portraits of Aline de Rothschild. She was Lady Sassoon. and she infuriated Sargent by saying, “Woo, I think there’s something not quite right about the mouth.” And shortly afterwards, when somebody said to Sargent, “Why have you given up taking these extremely lucrative commissions for society portraits?” And Sargent said through gritted teeth, he said, “Because a portrait is just a picture of somebody where there is something not quite right about the mouth.” So clearly Ruth Draper knew this story and she includes it in this conversation with the artist about a picture she has commissioned of her daughter. Don’t make any noise, the telephone, hello? Oh, good morning, Count Bluffsky. Quiet children, watch him, watch him. Can you manage? Good morning, Count Bluffsky, good morning. Yes, Count Bluffsky I left a message. Well, I was so anxious to speak to you because I wanted to tell you that the portrait has arrived. Look up here, you heard me? Yes the portrait has arrived and is hanging in the drawing room in the place that you selected near the window. And the light is lovely on it.
And we are all crazy about the frame. Well, it really is a great work of art and everyone admires it enormously. But I was wondering, Count Bluffsky, if you would mind if I made one or two tiny suggestions? Well, my husband and I were looking carefully at the picture last night, and we put the child up on top of the piano so that she should be on a level with the picture. And we both think that you’ve got her a little bit thin. You think you could make her a little fatter? Look out, watch it children. Yes, exactly. And then there’s something not quite right about the mouth Count Bluffsky. Well, could you make her smile a little bit, perhaps? And then I forgot to tell you that in the summertime when she plays and gets very hot, there’s the most lovely wave in her hair and I wondered if you, well a little curls about her temples. I wonder if you thought it would be all right to paint her as though she were hot? In that case, her cheeks would be pink. And if her cheeks are pink, you see, I would prefer blue hair ribbon. I think it would be more of a coming. Now please don’t think we don’t love the picture. Oh, it’s a real work of art. And it’ll be absolutely perfect if you make those little changes.
[Patrick] Bet he was cursing at the other end of the telephone, but for me, the most moving of the monologues she recorded, the most astonishing, really, is one in which she plays three members of a family, three different generations, a grandmother, a daughter, and a granddaughter. And they’re talking to a judge in a court that specialises in family disputes. And I think what she’s trying to do in this is to convey the experience of immigration. The grandmother tells us that her name is Anna Abrams, which might suggest the family is Jewish. But she’s actually quite careful to avoid any specific ethnic or religious references. I think she wants to convey that a more universal experience of what it’s like to immigrate to America or another country, and how it affects the different generations. But so well, the oldest, the woman of course, has come from her native country. So she still has a very strong accent. And she has a very old voice.
[Ruth] Monica, eh, my name is Anna Abrams. Anna Abrams I’m 79 year old. 79, well next week I’m 80. 80 years old, but now I’m 79 years old. I live at 164 Watch Street, New York City. 164, that’s right. Not just 64, for 25 years I lived here. That’s my home, 25 years. I come here this morning, judge please, to ask her to tell my granddaughter, she got to stay home and work. Oh, she wants to marry. She wants to marry and go to the west and leave her mother and meet a salvation! I’m an old woman, I’m 80 years old. You couldn’t expect me go and work. And my daughter, she’s getting heart trouble. She couldn’t work now. She’s too sick she couldn’t work. And we couldn’t live without Rosie. She keep us now for two years. And now she wants to go away and get married!
[Patrick] Now we hear the daughter and it was such an amazing illusion for people that all she would do was whip off the hat or the veil and become another generation and another person. And this is the daughter who’s really caught in the middle between her mother and her daughter.
[Ruth] Good morning, your honour. My name, my name is Sadie Greenman. Sadie Greenman, yes. I’m 47 years old. I’m 25 years married. I have three children, two sons, and one daughter. Yes sir. Well, one son, he has got tuberculosis. Yes sir, and he couldn’t work. He’s in the sanitarium, yes, sir. And my other son, he ran away. I don’t know where he is, he ran away. He doesn’t write and I don’t know where he is. Yes, sir my daughter Rosie supports me and my mother for two years now she has kept us, yes. My husband? Oh, he’s dead. Oh, my husband is dead now, 14 years dead. Yes, sir. Me? Work? Yes, sir, I did work. I worked for 12 years in a box factory. But now I couldn’t work no more. Oh I’ve got very bad heart trouble. Yes, sir. I am very weak from my heart and my arm is paralysed. I couldn’t work no more.
[Patrick] Now we move on to the bright young granddaughter who’s born in America. She’s bright, she’s optimistic, and she wants, she’s looking forward to a new life. She wants to move to the west coast with her new husband.
[Ruth] Good morning, your Honour. Good morning. My name? Rosie. Rosie, oh, I beg your pardon. My name is Rose Elizabeth Greenman. I always forget because everybody calls me Rosie. Generally when anyone asks me my name, all I say is Rosie. Yes sir, everybody calls me Rosie. I’m 19 years old, but I’m going to be 20 next week. Yes sir, I’m going to be 20 the very same day that my grandmother is going to be 80, I am going to be 20, yes sir. It seems funny. We always celebrate together. My grandmother is exactly 60 years older than I am. And we always have a party every year. Yes sir. We do, we live together. Yes the three of us, we live together 164 Arche Street, New York City. Yes there is a very nice little flat. I do, I support them, for two years now I have kept them. Yes, sir. I am a stenographer. I have, I got a very good job. Yes, sir I’ve been very lucky. Yes, I do, I get a very nice salary. Yes, sir my boss is very nice. Oh, I love my work. Yes, sir I certainly do, I enjoy it. I think it is very interesting work. Pardon me? Happy? You mean happy home? Oh, yes, sir I’m always happy. Yes, sir Indeed we get along fine. Oh, I am, I am devoted to my mother. Yes, sir, yes, my grandmother too. Oh, we get a lot of fun. Yes, sir we get along fine together. Pardon me? Oh, yes sir, I do. That’s true too. Yes, sir, I do. I want to get away from here and get married. And you see, I wanted my mother and my grandmother, she go to this home for old people and they do not care to go.
[Patrick] Now we move on to Bea Lillie, who was born in 1894. And she had a very brilliant international, transatlantic I would say in the 1920s, alternating between London and Broadway. And she was billed as the funniest woman in the world. And after the war, well, in a very long career, she appeared in cameo roles in movies. And she also, she like Ruth Draper, she developed a one woman show. And I’m grateful to two friends who sent me these images today. On the left is photographed by Angus McBean of Bea Lillie with the great comedian and actor Vic Oliver, on the left hand side. And on the right, it is a programme from the early 1950s. It’s telling you what’s on in London, Hippo dancing, Bell Book and Candle, and so on. And at the Globe Theatre, an evening with Beatrice Lillie. Quite a remarkable thing. I mean, there weren’t that many men who’d really could hold an audience and hold the stage for a whole evening. And there were, apart from Ruth Draper, I’m not sure if any other woman had done that beforehand. This is Bea Lillie’s very entertaining autobiography. And as you can see, the title of it is “Every Other Inch A Lady”. Because in real life she was Lady Peele, which was not quite as grand as it sounded. She married Sir Robert Peele. He was a direct descendant of the famous Robert Peele, Prime Minister in the 19th century. But he was a cad and a bounder and a gambler and a secondhand car salesman.
So not really such a great chap. Despite being a baronet, he wasn’t really such a wonderful catch. They had one son together, also called Robert, who Bea Lillie adored. You can see them together with a few years interval. This on the right hand side, you can see like his father, he became very, very tall. And tragically he was very, he was a real daredevil. And he was fighting in the Far East. And he was on a kind of secret sabotage mission. And he went missing in action. And in fact was never found. So unlike Ruth Draper, Bea Lillie, I think on the whole, did not write her own monologues. But she’s such a wonderful performer. She’s one of those performers, it’s all to do with timing, emphasis, nuance. She can completely transform the material that she’s given. And she’s wonderful at putting in sort of sly suggestions. Somebody else performing the same material would be totally different. I would compare Mae West, of course had that ability. Murray Lloyd earlier, and more recently probably my favourite British comedian is Frankie Howard. I mean, he had it to an extraordinary degree. You know, if you really analyse Frankie Howard’s material, It’s absolute rubbish. But he could just by saying, ooh, or um, he could reduce an audience to complete hysterical laughter. So I’m going to play you a monologue entitled “The Gutter Song with Bea Lillie”.
[Bea] While walking down the street the other day, I’m feeling kind of shaky from the night before. I ran into a girl I didn’t want to because that girl is barely the town bore. I saw they’d ask about her eldest sister, who is at least the good old 46. Well, it seems that sister hasn’t stayed at home nights and has learned to do a lot of filthy tricks. Well, she’s resting in the gutter and she loves it. The bed just won’t appease her anymore. Because she sort of loves to putter in the gutter, yeah. And she’s been there putting since the night before. She doesn’t seem to mind about the weather. It can rain or snow or be just dark and grey. She can wear a hat with or without a feather. But the gutters where she’s held bent, she will stay. The whole affair has driven me to drink, for the last few nights I haven’t slept a wink. Because when she gets sober, which is usually in October, her condition isn’t what you’d call the pink. Now they’ve moved her trunk over by the sewer, but she won’t get up for very long to stay. And everyone, whoever really knew her, says the gutter’s going to get her moved away. Well, she’s rested in the gutter for so long now that the gutter resting record is her goal. She’s made the country rather gutter conscious. So the little digest going to start a poll. I think it’s time we turn the lady over, her hip has gone to sleep, it might have died. Then too I think it’d be rather nice for the gutter, sort of have a look at the lady’s other side.
[Patrick] And I’m now going to play, I played a short excerpt from this in a previous lecture a few weeks ago. But I’d like to play you the whole thing ‘cause I think it’s is so brilliant and so hilarious. This is “A Marvellous Party”. And this is a monologue that was written for her by Noel Howard. Noel Howard, who’s going to be the subject of my next lecture. And it’s about the life of the rich, frivolous rich, on the between the wars. And it’s really a celebration of the new found sexual freedom of the 1920s. Looking back, it seems to be a kind of heroic age of sexual liberation, at least in certain places like Berlin, Paris, and the Coat, as you probably to some extent in London and New York. But it was quite a daring piece I would say, when you think that Noel himself was homosexual, but couldn’t be openly so because right up till the 1960s in Britain, any kind of same sex, sexual activity was criminalised at least between men. So this is pretty naughty stuff for the 1920s.
[Bea] Quite for no reason, I’m here for the season, and high as a kite . Living in error with Maude at Castella, which couldn’t be right. Everyone’s here frightfully gay, nobody cares what people say, though the Riviera seems really much queerer than Rome at its height. Yesterday night, I went to a marvellous party with Nunu and Nada and Nel. It was in the fresh air, and we went as we were, and we stayed as we were, which was hell. Poor Grace started singing at midnight, and she didn’t stop singing till four. We knew the excitement was bound to begin, when Laura got blind on Dubonnet and gin and scratched her veneer with a Cartier pin. Ha ha ha ha! I couldn’t have liked it more. I’ve been to a marvellous party, I must say the fun was intense. We all had to do what the people we knew would be doing a hundred years hence. Dear Cecil arrived wearing armour some shells in a black feather boa, poor Millicent wore a surrealist comb made of bits of mosaic from St. Peter’s in Rome. But the weights were so great that she had to go home! Ha ha ha ha! I couldn’t have liked it more. People’s behaviour, away from Belgravia would make you aghast. So much variety watching society scampering past. If you have any mind at all, Gibbon’s divine decline and fall, seems pretty flimsy, no more than a whimsy. By way of contrast, Saturday last I went to a marvellous party. We didn’t start dinner till 10. And young Bobby Carr did a stunt at the bar with a lot of extraordinary men, mmm. Dear Baba arrived with a turtle, which shattered us all to the core. The Grand Duke was dancing a rumba with me when suddenly Cyril screamed “Fiddle-de-de!” and ripped off his trousers and jumped in the sea. Ha ha ha ha! I couldn’t have liked him more. I’ve been to a marvellous party, Elyse made an entrance with May. You’d never have guessed from her fisherman’s vest that her bust had been whittled away. Poor Lulu got fried on Chianti, and talked about esprit-de-corps. Maurice made a couple of passes at Gus, and Freddy, who hates any kind of a fuss, did half the big apple and twisted his truss. Ha ha ha ha! I couldn’t have liked it more.
When the second World War broke out, Bea Lillie Lee joined NSA. NSA was an organisation that intended to take, it was supposed to be a morale boosting thing for troops. And it brought entertainment to the troops. And they followed the British Armed Forces around the world, often very close to the frontline, often enduring very difficult conditions and great danger. And there was one particular troop, which was called Spring Party. And you can see Bea Lillie gets top billing with the singer Dorothy Dixon and the film star, and actress Vivian Lee. Ynderneath her and on the right hand side, you can see how they travelled around in a Jeep. You can spot Bea Lillie there. She’s the second woman in, in the front of the car. And here is the company. And again, you can spot Bea Lillie raising her arm, arriving in Gibraltar in 1943. And sometimes they were appearing to enormous numbers of troops in huge venues. And sometimes they were in the desert, and they might be performing to a very small number of people. And while she was doing this, she heard the terrible news that her son was missing in action. But she declared I’ll cry tomorrow. And she carried on regardless. And Noel Coward actually was present at one of her performances in North Africa shortly after she had discovered that her son was probably dead. And this is how he described it. “Bea Lillie gave the most spectacularly brilliant performance I have ever seen her give.
She never condescended or overplayed. She played to these men with goodwill and a shining heart. And I need hardly add tore the place up.” She describes a rather bizarre, amusing incident in her autobiography on this trip of going to a hospital. And she went round the hospital performing in the different wards. And this is what she says. “I spent an hour or so in one ward wondering why every patient had such an odd look in his eyes and why they laughed so hard at the line, 'Suppose I move in’. As I left, I said to the medical officer at the door, oh, they’re so wonderful, these poor men who’ve sacrificed so much for us. What ward is this? ‘Venereal diseases’, he answered cooly.” Now we move on to Joyce Grenfell. So as I said, we’ve got an American, a Canadian, and a Brit. And the British listeners, I imagine probably the best, well best known of these three will be Joyce Grenfell. She was a very, very much loved TV personality in the later part of her life. She came from a very aristocratic, posh background. In fact, she was a niece of Ruth Draper and I think she really modelled herself in some ways on the art of Ruth Draper. After the war she took part in cameo roles in what might be regarded as a kind of golden age of English comedy in the Centrillions movies, as you can see on the left hand side. But my favourite though is, and I do recommend it, it’s such a wonderful film. Really it’s one of those films which is just perfect. I dunno how those films happen. Like of course Casablanca is a perfect film.
Everybody in it is perfectly cast. And this is “The Best Days of Our Lives”, which is a comedy set in an English boarding school with the brilliant Margaret Rutherford and Alistair Sim. And Joyce has, I suppose, a secondary role, but she’s absolutely wonderful in that movie. And so I’m going to play you two of her sketches. Now, she had also, I think she honed her skills as a monologuist and as a performer with NSA, again, with this organisation to take entertainment to the troops. And she followed the eighth army all the way across Africa and landed up in the Middle East, and again, performing in often under very difficult circumstances. And she did something that she was not supposed to do, which that is, she kept a diary. It was actually strictly, I think you had to even sign a contract with NSA saying you would not do so for security reasons. They didn’t want people keeping diaries of their activities. In fact, her wartime diary was only published much, much later after her death. But it’s brilliant. It’s such a clever piece of writing. Much better, I would say, than the contemporary diary kept by Noel Coward who was actually following same route. So they’re often describing the same people and the same things. So she had a very, very acute ear for accents. Look, one of the things about the Second World War is the way, it caused this an unprecedented movement of peoples. I think I’ve mentioned before, because my parents, my mother and my father, they were both part of the Armed Forces. They would never have met without the second World War. They actually met in Palestine. So all these people were meeting people that they would never have come across in normal life before First World War.
And there was also a tremendous shakeup of the class system. And I do think that the class system is one of the real bug bears of my country. Even to this day, to to some extent, it’s a curse. And a class in England, you are immediately identified by the way you speak, by your accent. And George Bernard Shaw famously said, “When one Englishman opens a mouth, another in his mouth, another Englishman will immediately despise him.” And I much though I love Joyce Reel’s book, and I think she’s an extraordinarily acute and brilliant woman. I’m a little uncomfortable with some of her observations about people’s accents. I can’t help feeling there is a sort of some element of snobbery in it, but all you could say no well, it was, she had a professional reason to listen to people’s accents. She was gathering material for her monologues. So for those, well Brits listening to this will know exactly that the kind of person that she’s imitating in the next extract I’m going to play you, which is I suppose a lower middle class accent in England. And that the people, it’s extraordinary how English people pigeonhole each other instantly within a few words of them speaking. So here we have Joyce Grenfell herself, of course, very, very posh talking like a lower middle class housewife.
[Joyce] Good evening, Madam President and Fellow Institute members. This evening I’m going to tell you a little bit about my useful and acceptable gifts. These gifts are not only easy to make, but ever so easy to dispose of. I see that several of you ladies have your eye on the boutonniere on my left lapel. It is pretty, isn’t it? And I’m going to tell you how to make one just like it. First, you must obtain some empty beach nut husk clusters. These are to be found under beach trees almost anytime from the middle of September onwards. Cleanse your husks thoroughly and then wire them onto stalks or stems. You’ll find six or eight ample for a boutonniere. Now, before you colour, you must decide what flower it is you are making. Mine are woo enemies shell without and a deeper rose within. Sometimes I like to add just the suspicion of gold or silver. I like to think we take nature’s gifts and make them even lovelier. Now, when you are making husk flowers, do not confine yourselves to boutonniere. Be bold about it. Make great sprays of delts or loofs. Next I want to tell you about a more useful gift, really. Waste paper baskets, or I should say more accurately, waste paper basket tins for they are made from manufacturer’s biscuit tins large size. To obtain these, you must fake love to your grocer and weedle him into giving them to you. Cleanse your tin thoroughly, and remove all appetising matter. In order to achieve my unusual mosaic design, you must secure some patterns of wallpaper samples. I fancy the buff tones myself, but you can do what you choose. Tear your paper into scraps the rougher the better. And then paste them all over the outside of the tins here and there. Higgledy piggledy, in a crazy paving design. When your scraps are quite firm, outline each one in black Indian ink and you will find you have not only a useful waste paper basket, but a decorative piece of modernistic furniture as well.
Joyce Grenfell’s most famous monologue is her depiction of an infant school teacher. This is so famous with British people. Everybody can quote it. And particularly her pained way of saying George, don’t do that. Which is a kind of refrain all the way through the piece has become a kind of catchphrase in the English language. I was actually quite surprised to discover today I was touring around on the internet on the wonderful YouTube, which is such a sort of a rich source really. And I was looking up for film of Ruth Draper and there is, there are bits of film of Ruth Draper in particular, one of her monologues, which is called a “Children’s Party”. So I recommend that you go on to YouTube and you watch that. And as soon as I saw it, I realised actually Joyce Grendel’s famous infant school teacher is closely based on her aunt’s “Children’s Party”. There’s a catchphrase rather similar, keeps on coming back through it to “George, don’t do that”. In this case, it’s “Herbert, please take your fingers out of your mouth”. It keeps on coming back through the whole piece. But here is the immortal Joyce Grenfell in her most famous monologue as an infant school teacher.
[Joyce] Children pay attention please. Everybody turn around this way, please. We’ve got a lovely surprise this morning. We’ve got a visitor. Isn’t that nice? Yes it is, Sydney. And what do we say to our visitor? We say, good morning, visitor. No, Peggy, our visitor hasn’t got a funny hat on. That’s her hair. I’m so sorry Mrs. Hingle, I’m afraid we are a trifle outspoken sometimes. Well you find us having a free activity period this morning, and in our free activity periods, each little individual chooses his or her own form of occupation. Get out from under the table there please, Sydney. Yes some of us paint and some of us do plasticine work or go to a sand table over there. We feel that each little individual has got to get to the bottom of himself and learn what he wants of life. Who is making that buzzing noise? Well, stop it, please Neville. Hazel dear, come away from the door and get something to do. I do love to see them all so happily occupied, each little one expressing his own personality.
George, don’t do that. And this is my friend Caroline, and Caroline’s painting such a lovely red picture, aren’t you Caroline? I wonder what it is. Perhaps it’s a lovely red orange, is it? Or a sunset? Oh, it’s a picture of Mummy. Oh, for a moment I thought it was an orange. But now that you tell me, I can see it’s Mummy. Aren’t you going to give her any nose? No? No nose. I think it’s so interesting the way they see things, don’t you? Sydney stop blowing at Edgar and get something to do. Yes, I know I said you could choose what you’re going to do, but you cannot choose to blow at Edgar. Well, because I don’t think it’s a good idea. Well, because, I’m not going to discuss it with you Sydney. Now go over there and join Susan at her sand table. Yes, there is room, Sue. There’s heaps of room. Just move up, Susan, we never bite our friends. Now say you are sorry to Sydney. No, you needn’t kiss him. No, you needn’t hug him. Susan, put him down. Sydney, uhuh. I’m afraid some of our egos are a little on the big side today Ms. Hingle. Hazel dear, I don’t want to have to tell you again. Please come away from that door. Why can’t you? Well you shouldn’t put your finger in a keyhole and then it wouldn’t get stuck in there, would it? Children, I don’t think there’s any need for everybody to come and look just because poor Hazel’s got her finger stuck in a keyhole. Now back to your places everybody right away. David, David, turn round, right round please David. Use your hanky, and again, and again, and wipe. Thank you David. Now then Hazel, why did you put your finger in a keyhole? To see if it would go in? Well, let’s see if we can get it out, shall we? Oh, it is stuck in, isn’t it?
No Sydney, I don’t think Hazel’s finger is stuck in the keyhole forever and ever. And I don’t suppose for a moment we shall have to get the fire brigade to come along and take the door down so that we can get poor Hazel’s finger out. You do exaggerate Sydney, don’t you? Well, if we don’t get her finger out by dinnertime, she’ll have to have her dinner here, won’t she? And her tea, and her supper, and stay the night. But we are going to get it out, aren’t we Hazel? That’s right, who is making that buzzing noise? Neville, I don’t want to speak to you again. Yes, I know you are a busy bee, but I don’t want to hear you buzzing. No, not even very quietly. I can still hear you, Neville. Neville. I should think so. He’s such a musical child and you know, one doesn’t like to discourage them. Sydney, please take that paintbrush out of your ear and give it back to Lavinia. Yes, you do want it, Lavinia. Yes you do, you love painting! Yes you do. Yes, dear you do you love painting. George, don’t do that. Now then Hazel, dear it is stuck, isn’t it? You know, Mrs. Hingle, this child’s finger is really stuck in the keyhole. Well, I think the fire brigade are the best in an emergency, don’t you? Yes, I have, I’ve got a telephone in my office, would you? Oh, I am grateful. Thank you so much. Well, I’ll just tell the children. Children, I want everybody to be very grown up and very sensible. We are going to see if we can get one of those nice firemen along to help us to get Hazel’s finger out of the key. Oh, you’ve got it out. Oh, well done Hazel. Mrs. Hingle, she’s got it out! Oh, isn’t that lovely? Sydney, you are not to go near that door. Sydney, you’ll not to put your finger! Sydney, I spoke too soon Ms. Hingle. Oh, Sydney.
- [Patrick] Right, let’s see.
Q&A and Comments:
Reminds you of Hyacinth, Hyacinth Bucket. Yes, I suppose so. So Hyacinth Bucket of course is pretentious, isn’t she? She’s getting above her station. Whereas I think the woman played by Ruth Draper is of course very grand.
Q: Would I consider Robin Williams in the same category?
A: I don’t know, I’ve only, I’m not sufficiently familiar with him. I know he’s considered to be very brilliant but I’ve only seen him in a couple of movies.
The portrait on the right resonates with Lady Di. Yes, the charcoal. I see what you mean, the Sargent charcoal. I’ll have another look at that. Orchard Street, Jewish East Side, green man. Yes, almost certainly. I think there is, there are clues that it is the Jewish family, but she doesn’t emphasise that I would say.
Victoria Wood, yes, she is absolutely brilliant. What I particularly, my favourite Victoria Wood, again, I do recommend you go on YouTube, is her parody of brief encounter of Noel Coward.
This is Barbara, she saw Joyce Grenfall’s one woman show in Auborough, which I’m sure that was wonderful. And this is Betty, as a child, I remember watching Joyce Grenfell on the Ed Sullivan show. Every family in the US and Canada was glued to the TV on Sunday night at eight o'clock, we loved her. Popular funeral poem by Joyce Grenfell is poignant parting note to family and friends.
Oh yes, this is very famous. I should have quoted it. “If I should go before the rest of you, break not a flower nor inscribe a stone. Nor where I’m gone speak in a Sunday voice. Weep if you must. Parting is hell, but life goes on so sing as well.” Yes, it’s a very charming epitaph for herself.
I don’t, Lillie Tomlin, Carol Burnett. I’ve watched, I don’t know Lillie Tomlin apart from the name, Carol Burnett I’ve watched a few things on YouTube. I found her a bit, well I wouldn’t call her subtle. I found her a bit crude compared with the ladies I’ve been playing you tonight.
This is Ron. I saw Bea Lillie in her last broadcast role, Madam Akarti in High Spirits, the musical version of Live Spirits, she was about 70. Her physical comedy was unbelievable and earned her attorney nomination for best actress in a musical. A happy lifelong memory. I wonder if there is any recording of that. I bet she was simply fabulous as Madam Akarti.
I think Joyce did write her own monologues, yes, I think not, I think she did, yes. And Victoria Wood, I don’t know enough, but as I said, do watch her fabulous parody of a brief encounter. It’s absolutely hilarious. Thank you Lorna.
And Herbert saying George Carlin, that’s not even a name I know. And so I’ll look, that’s something I probably need to look out.
And yeah, Ron’s quite right, she was in a number of films. Ages since I’ve seen stage fright. I don’t remember her in that. Thank you Barbara, very kind of you.
Anna Russell, oh God, why didn’t I include Anna Russell? I should have done, well, of course the, the Anna Russell’s ring cycle, although it has to have a health warning. If you ever listen to Anna Russell’s monologue on Wagner’s ring cycle, in a way it ruins the Wagner for you forevermore. There are certain things in the ring when I watch it. I can’t get Anna Russell out of my mind.
Oh, Aurelia, George says his father took him to watch Ruth Draper in the 1950s and his mother was a great friend of Joyce Grenfell, who lived on the other side of the river in the cottage at Clifton. Well, nice, wonderful memories to have. I didn’t see Maureen Lipman’s show about Joyce Grenfell.
And that seems to be it. Thank you all very, very much. And onto Noel Coward next time.