The Lightness in Shaw

THE LIGHTNESS IN SHAW WHEN SHAW DIED, the press asked me if I would pay him tribute, but I declined, for I knew that no words of mine could convey my feelings for him or any idea of his greatness. Lawrence of Arabia once declared that he would rather visit the Shaws than read any book or hear any music on earth. And Einstein wrote: "By holding the mirror before us, Mr. Shaw has been able, as no other contemporary, to take from us some of the heaviness of living." If I can convey in this article something of this lightness, something of his gaiety, that "perpetual fountain of wit and intellectual energy," I feel I shall be paying him real homage. So I propose to relate a few reminiscences and to tell you something of his methods as a stage producer. In the case of a new play, he began by reading it himself to the whole company. This was a good plan, for the actors not only absorbed the shape of the play and general idea of the characters, but also much of the phrasing, rhythm, and feeling. We ~en plunged directly into rehearsals, and were given positions and moves without further preliminary discussion. Mter he had plotted the piece, and given an outline of his intention for each character, Shaw would retire to the back of the circle (with his tiny torch-pencil, which we could see, like a little firefly) and make copious notes. These he later delivered to us on the stage, and would then rehearse tirelessly with us until he had gained the desired results. He knew exactly what he wanted, and though he never imposed intonations he had the skill, vitality, and power, to make his version the obvious and only one. At the opening to the public of Ayot Saint Lawrence, Shaw's home, Dame Edith Evans, who made an otherwise moving speech, confessed tPat she had found G.B.S. "decidedly ham" as an actor, but I certainly do not agree. Neither does Sir Lewis Casson, who wrote: "Good actors at once recognise and respect a good actor (even if they dislike him, an impossibility in this case) and Shaw was a mighty good actor." Barry Jones, who played Bluntschli in the film of Arms and the Man, tells how, at rehearsal, Shaw mimicked Anne Grey so well that on turning round he was surprised to be confronted with a white beard instead of the fair Raina. Shaw's ability as a music critic is well known. It made it hard for him to abide the dreary musical evenings which he was sometimes expected to attend, and which form the background to two of my favourite stories about him. At a performance given by a certain string 130 1959 THE LIGHTNESS IN SHAW 131 quartette, his companion remarked enthusiastically: "These men have been playing together for twelve years." ·'Surely we have been here longer than that," answered G.B.S'! On a similar occasion, the hostess asked him what he thought of the violinist. "He reminds me of Paderewski," was the reply. "But Paderewski was not a violinist." "Neither is this gentleman." I myself had an experience of this impishness in Shaw when my small son Michael met him for the first time in the 1932 Malvern Festival season. The great man had invited us to tea, and our meeting took place as he stepped from the lift. Michael, who had never seen a white beard before, nor travelled in a lift, insisted that Shaw should ride up and down again with him as passengerI This they did-several times-while 1 waited in trepidation, my whole future Shavian career, I was convinced, in jeopardy, For I was still awaiting confirmation that I was to keep the part of Sweetie when Too True To Be Good opened in London. G.B.S. and Michael finally returned to terra firma, and I offered profuse apologies for the dictatorial behaviour of my offspring. "Leave the boy alone," said Shaw; "he shows a fine initiative. If he thinks I am the lift operator, let him," Michael, nodding at him approvingly , said "I like the...