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Jack and John Barrymore
61
boy at Mrs. Astor’s ball. That would harden the memory — make it useless. You couldn’t keep on conjuring up the same thing. You have to have different things to get the same emotion. All this sounds horribly queer, doesn’t it?”
“Yes; but horribly believable, too. What do you think of — sometimes — when you are choking Colonel Ibbetson, preparatory to beaning him with the stick?”
“At times I think of my own mother — putting me to bed — how sweet she was. Then I can put a lot of gusto into choking the old rascal.
“One time — when my brother Lionel played him — I had him get some horrible, some cheap and nasty, perfume. A whiff of that and I could feel a fine frenzy. Not that I ever actually whiffed it. But the idea of this old stinker smelling like what he really was — you understand — or maybe you don’t at all — I’m afraid I’m a bum psychologist.”
“It’s as plain as Peter feeling he can whistle one of the smells of old Paris.”
“Yes — just.”
“But,” he goes on, “you don’t need Gorgonzola to make you act when you’re acting with Lionel. Playing with him is like riding a bicycle behind a Rolls Royce — you make better time. One reason why I want to play more with him is that — well, hang it! you’ve got to be good to play with Lionel.”
“What’s your next piece?”
“I’m not quite certain yet. My favorite mascot manager has just offered me a play of three acts and a prologue and — this will make you laugh ! — two parts. But I’m afraid it’s too wonderful. Only two have been born who could fill that cast — Lieutenant Prince, the ventriloquist, and Jesus Christ.”