New-York tribune., 1919-12-08
BOOKS
tcopyrisht. 1917 Nsw York Thu

Nothing else in the world dies quite
so completely as an actor, and the
greater the actor the more terrifying
and abrupt is the sudden transition
from radiance to darkness. One day
he is there with all his moods and
complexities and curious glints of this
and that, and the next day there is
nothing left but few wigs and cos
tunes, perhaps volume of memoirs,
and a scrapbook of clippings in which
we learn that the dead player was
majestic in presence" that "the poise
Of his head was stag-like," that he
had "a great voice which doomed like
BELL" that he was "regal, subtle,
pathetic" and that "every one who
was ever associated with him loved and
respected him.
Ask some veteran theatergoer "What
was Booth like as Hamlet?" and he
will say, "Oh, he was wonderful" Per-
haps the face of the old theatergoer
will grow animated and Booth NAV live
again for moment in his mind, but
We who have never seen Booth will
never know anything about him. No
body can recreate and explain the art
of dead actor to the next generation.
Even men who do tricks and true magic
with words are not adept enough to
set down any lasting portrait of an
actor on the wing.
We think it is we'll to establish our
point of view before printing portion
of letter from Arthur Hornblow,
author Of "History Of the Theater in
America" In fugitive paragraph
about Mr.. Hornblow's book we con-
fessed to possessing a more acute in
terest in actors who are still alive
than in even the great ones Of the pro
fession who are dead. This statement
has been slightly, but perhaps not
seriously, misinterpreted by Mr.. Horn
blow, who writes to the editor of The
Tribune:
Il am glad that your reviewer. for
his own peace of mind, is quite salts
fled with the world as it is. 1t shows
that he has placid, easily contented
disposition. He reminds me of the un-
sophisticated country visitor to the
city, who, uninitiated in the culinary
delights Of the Ritz and Delmonico's.
is quite convinced that Childs's is the
best eating place in town. Lionel
Barrymore may be, and is, superb in
The Jest but those who have seen
the Hamlet of Edwin Booth or the
Lear of Edwin Forrest cannot helm
making comparisons.
personally, think there are MANY
things that were done better in other
periods than ours. I am filled with
reverence for the achievements of the
past-the marbles Of Greece, the stones
Of Venice. the mighty plays of Shake
speare, the world masterpieces of
music, poetry, painting and literature.
AS to the theater-I confess I would
rather read about the great dead act
ors than witness the performances of
most Of the living ones"
Mr.. Hornblow's tribute to the mas
'erpleces Oh Greece and Rome does
great credit, Of course, to his heart
and head. 1t is also inspiring in these
decadent days to hear anybody say a
good word for Shakespeare and ally
himself courageously as an admirer of
the masterpieces Of music, poetry,
painting and literature. However, the
parable about Childs and the Ritz ia
not quite to the point. It is rather
that Mr. Hornblow urges Us not to eat
and enjoy the sausages Of Childs's, but
better to sit at home and mourn over
recipe for terrapin as it was pre-
pared at Martins before the restau-
rant was torn down. It may be re-
membered that when Hedvis in "The