Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1931-10-11

this the man who has brought the whole civil
tied and uncivilized world together in laughter?
Yes, it is; and a moments thought should
rid us of our surprise. For the Muses.. when
they seek their instruments, seek blindly.
They do not choose; they take the first avail
able instrument and endow it with the powers
that shall serve their purpose and they care
nothing whether 1t Is fashioned OF lead or OF
gold. of oak or of cardboard; whether it is the
rough johnson or the tender GodSn 1t Is
therefore in the natural order of things that
the man who has delivered a genial current
through the veins of the whole world, charm
ing us, cheering us and compelling us to rec
ognize In his creation the epitome of forlorn,
loyab,e, undefeatabie humanity, should be very
much like that other genius whose place in
literature he holds the screen-Charles
Dickens; a man Of cold and querulous outlook
self-centered moody and vaguely dissatisfied
with life That is the kind of man he is.
Or nearly. For to get at" him is not easy.
At no stage can one make a firm sketch, and
say: This is Charles Chaplin: for by the
time it is done the model has moved One can
only say: This is Charles Chaplin, wasn't it?'
He's like a brilliant flashing now from this
facet and now from that-blue green, yellow
and crimson, by turns. A brilliant Is the apt
smie-he's hard and bright as that, and
his leisure is as erratic. And If you split him.
you would find, with the brilliant and as
with Dickens, that there personal
source Of those changing lights: they were the
scintinationS OF genius.
1T is almost impossible to locate hin. I doubt
If he can locate himself. He is first and
last an actor, possessed by this, that, and
the other He lives only in a role, and without
1t he is lost. If he cannot find the inner
Chaplin there is nothing him. in lonely
or painful moments to retire into he is COM
PEELED to merge himself, or be merged, in
Imagined and supe-imposed life.
When he was in England 10 years ago, he
was, with every conviction, the sad, remote.
Byronic fgure-the friend of unseen millions
and the loneliest man in the world On his
recent visit to England he had got over this.
and his role was that Of the playboy, the Tyll
Eulenspiegel of today. This also he played in
tensely, and Tyll Eulenspiegel himself never
achieved superb prank as Charles did
when he set all Mayfair to struggling for invi-
tations to his supper party and giving him all
: the amusement that his films had given them.
To the onloosers it was a perfect stroke OF
comedy. But I think he is already firing Of
the play-boy role Great artist that he is, 1t
is not an easy role for him to support. Bright
and radiating he may be, all sparkle and
me:te; but catch him in repoSe and you will
catch q drawn weary mouth and those eyes Of
steel which somebody noted in Dickens.
= Absorbing him he has sat in my room or
moved about it Il never study people by look
ing at them; 90 it better by turning my
. eyes away and absorbing them). have been
aware more than once Of a touch of that dark,
troubled quality which some people found in
those whose message was most clean-in Mo-
Fart and Shelley and Blake; and in those who
were most charming-De Quincy, Voltaire
Leonardo. There is the warm face and the
soft gray hair. There are the tiniest hands I
have ever seen on a man. There are the clear
eyes and the full-lipped. mobile mouth The
hands are forever f1uttering. the smile is for
flashing, and the gentle voice forever
sending out nervous. staccato sentences These
characteristics. crystallized by his electric per-
sonality (Which almost makes room vibrate)
could and do, win the friendship even of those
few who think they dislike him.
He is interesting enough to listen to-he is
not only a copious but stimulating talker-but
he is still more interesting to watch and absorb.
His movements piquant and precise as
a ballerinas. He is slim a faun and as
graceful; slim and light that he seems
scarcely human; and it is on recognizing this
that che is aware of that touch of the bizarre
Warm as his fascination is and sweet as he can
be- you perceive that he is withdrawn from life
He is rot really interested in people, either
individually humanity. The spectacle OF
life amuses or disturbs him. as an artist, but its
constituents are of account to him. There
is nothing, think, that he deeply cares about
But he fears death, all vital people do.
When first met, 10 years ago, 1t was at
his approach. He had read my first book,
Nights in Town. and in its author he recog-
nized duplicate of some part OF himself. He
didn't then know nor did I, that when he was
Young and / was young we were walking the
same side streets of Kensington, living similar
shabby, makeshift kind of life, and loathing it
with equal intensity. He was mixed up with
red nosed, third-rate Comedians of the minor
music halls; was mixed up with futile clerks.
But our backgrounds were much the same.
On our first meeting, which made me forever
afterward his captive, this came out, and he
understood then why he had got from Nights
in Town" something that he had not got from
any other book. Some time later wrote THE
Wind and the Rain" and with that book though