ABSTRACT
Of all the shadows of the past, actors and their craft are the most shadowy. In spite of the bulldozer, the work of an architect may survive here and there; the work of the painter lingers on in galleries and country houses; that of the novelist may survive as a reflection of an age; and the diarist may paint a shining portrait of himself. All that remains of the actor’s career is a few trumpery buckles and sword knots, yellowing cuttings, and the recollections of his contemporaries.
