I was to lecture in the Town Hall of a large town in the North of England, and my most charming and agreeable host was chairman. Just before we left the house for the hall he said to me gaily:
“We’ve got you a splendid lanternist. The last one wasn’t a success, but this new one is super-excellent, I am told, and I am sure you’ll find him so.”
I replied nonchalantly, for I was not accustomed to have any trouble, and didn’t see why I should begin now. So on interviewing the much-extolled lanternist I merely showed him which end of the box to begin, told him that the slides were all upside down and faces forward, and arranged the signal—all as usual. Then I thought no more about the matter, but at the appointed time faced a very large and enthusiastic audience, and after the chairman’s brief introduction plunged into my subject. In time-honoured phrase, all went well until the fourth slide, which should have been about the twentieth, and was, besides, upside down. In a subdued tone I asked the lanternist to give me the next slide, hoping that this inopportune appearance was just an accident, probably an oversight of my own. Alas! no, the next slide was from another part of the box, and was, moreover, on its side. Begging the audience to bear with me a moment, I leapt off the platform, and ran to the lantern—to find the lanternist stupid with drink, and my slides mixed up in most gruesome fashion.
The sweat poured off me as I hurriedly replaced them in order, then begging the operator to put them in just as I had left them, I regained the stage, and was greeted with a hearty round of applause. I picked up the thread of my discourse at once, and four slides succeeded each other properly. Then chaos came again. Again I asked the audience to excuse me, again I visited the lanternist. I found the slides all jumbled up as before, and to add to my trouble, when I asked indignantly what he was doing, he replied sturdily that he was putting them in the carrier just as I gave them into his hands.
Well, that was a lecture, to be sure. Fortunately I did not lose my temper or my head, and the audience rose to the occasion, treating the whole business as a huge joke. Five times did I go down to that lantern, and rearrange those slides, and always after the first one or two placed correctly, the jumble would begin again. At last, with the audience almost in hysterics, I gave up all hope of getting anything shown that I wanted, and treated the rest of the lecture in a go-as-you-please fashion, making as many jokes as I could, until I found that the used pictures began to appear again, and, of course, that meant a sort of circular arrangement which would not end. So, finding that the time was up, I appealed to the man in charge of the lights to turn them up, and, disregarding the lanternist altogether, wound up with the audience rocking and shouting with laughter.
The chairman was as bad as the rest, so there were no votes of thanks, and, still laughing, the crowd dispersed. Feeling utterly done up and wet through with sweat, I made my way to the anteroom, where I was received with great gusto by the committee, the chairman especially, who said:
“Well, Mr. Bullen, we have never had a lecture before that we have enjoyed so much. I have laughed until I am sore all over. And yet it didn’t seem to be a funny subject.”
“I congratulate you,” I replied, “but as far as I am concerned it would take a very few more of such lectures to be the death of me. I haven’t a dry thread on me, and I feel as if I had been fighting for my life. I can only hope that when the next lecturer comes you will endeavour to see that the lanternist is sober. It is not at all just to the lecturer to have such a burden thrown upon him as I have supported this evening.”
It is hardly credible, but, nevertheless, a curious tribute to my ability in hiding the lanternist’s delinquencies, that all of them disclaimed any idea that there had been anything wrong with the lanternist, nor did a sudden searching aroma of whisky as that individual brought my slides in enlighten them. Of course he had left the last slide in the carrier, but that was only to be expected. What I did not expect was a sudden coolness on the part of the committee towards me after my statement, and I was never invited to that society again.
An extraordinary thing befell me once at St. George’s Hall, London, on a Sunday afternoon, showing how a little carelessness on the part of an experienced man may cause much trouble. Those lectures were very well paid, well patronised, and limited to an hour, which allowed of no time being cut to waste. So I went ahead at my best, and was three-parts through my address when the light went out. Having had similar things happen to me before, I went on talking, thinking that a picture would soon reappear, but the darkness remained, so I presently stopped my address and asked the lanternist how long it would be before the next picture came on.