loneliness

By James Barr Fugate

२

The bitter sea hath buried "coronets of rusted gold" Kissed round by dead men's hair.

Thy soul hath known the sea pulse of despair And the "secret burden of the long-dragnets."

Thy hands have touched immortal things;

Thy lips have kissed the dead,

NOT seeing WHAT death brings.

Thine eyes have gazed not understanding.

Fate manned or womaned thee,

And gave thee Love for curse and Genius for an evil star

As though thou were a wandering thought of God

That slipped before the discord harmonized.

But, were I God I would return to earth

And claim us to His heart,

God's O so lonely children.

HELENE C.M. CARLYLE

(Originally published in London in 1920. Printed here with special permission of the author.)

mattachine REVIEW

bold that curtain... JULIET'S STILL

AS WITH MOST of my tastes.

by the popular norm of criticism I may be an odd duck in my choice of theatre too.

For instance, though I never saw Sarah Bernhardt, I am convinced that she may have been the greatest actress the world has seen; certainly she was one of its first show-women, and personally the difference is negligible so long as my spine behaves like an overloaded electric circuit while watching the particular performance. People who did see her before her death in 1923, (and you'd be surprised at the number when you dare go beyond the 50-year-limit in seeking companionship and good conversation,) seem to agree with me in everything I insist on attributing the The Divine Sarah. Again and again the word MAGIC comes to the surface, too frequently from well educated people to be coincidental. To these people, I imagine I'm something of a nuisance for I beg, badger, trick and harangue bits of information from them at every opportunity. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to write yet another biography of the legendary woman.

(And speaking of legends and biographies, can anyone tell me how this great personality has escaped being stretched beyond all recognition on the rack of Cinemascope and vistavision at least half a dozen times

SHAVING!

thus far? Or is she one of the few historical figures who can still hold off the steadily projecting frontages of those prize-winning milksops that would inevitably be chosen to mimic her on the screen? IF she is, then there may still be some hope for an eventual weaning of the American moviegoer to, artistically, more adult feeding habits.)

Within my own span of years, my admiration runs to individual petformances rather than actresses' individually. To name but a few, I remember with deep nostalgia Frances Farmer (before her overwhelming tragedy) in THUNDER ROCK; Jessica Tandy's "Blanche Dubois," Eva Le Gallienne with the American Repertory Theatre, and Cornell's "Cleopatra"

Off hand I can think of only three actresses I'd take at face value in purchasing an orchestra seat, but. for these I'd travel half around the world. to see them walk on a stage. The first would have to be Tallulah, "of course, who, like Mae West can always be counted on for a good evening's show if she had to rig a trapeeze. and hang by her heels with a company of trained hyenas.

Then there would be Cornelia Otis Skinner, who must have reached an all time high of versatility with her recent, PARIS, '90.

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