Gerald: A Portrait

Gerald: A Portrait

Daphne du Maurier

Language: English

Pages: 174

ISBN: B0075PMV5A

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Sir Gerald du Maurier was the preeminent actor-manager of his day, knighted in 1922 for his services to the theater. Published within six months of her father's death, Daphne du Maurier's frank portrait was considered shocking by many of his admirers—but it was a huge success, winning her critical acclaim and launching her career. Here, Daphne captures the spirit and charm of the charismatic actor who played the original Captain Hook, amusingly recounting his eccentricities, his humor, as well as his darker side.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

duchesses were plentiful enough, and a few countesses and that sort of thing—they were so common I lost all my native respect for them. Grisi sang very well, so did Mandin, I refused to sing after such swells, at which Pem was disappointed! ‘We went on to the Haden’s. Mrs H. played and madame Lehman sang exquisitely. ‘Then home in a cab with the Poynters, delighted with our evening and with everybody.’ For all his eye worry and consequent mental anxiety, there was a sense of tranquillity and

to that of men. Feminine but not effeminate, he laid too great a stress on a woman’s values. He had a woman’s eager curiosity about other people’s private lives, a woman’s tortuous and round-about methods of getting to a certain point, a woman’s appreciation of gossip, a woman’s love of intrigue and drama, a woman’s delight and absorption in little mysterious flirtations that last a day. He would have made an ideal courtier to a Valois prince, toying with poisoned glove in the presence of

Hollywood and started life all over again, with a villa in Beverly Hills and a swelling bank balance, but he had long ago taken one of his famous oaths about America, and not even the shrillest demands from the Inland Revenue would have persuaded him to cross the ocean. Besides, he was tired; his energy and his restlessness were beginning to forsake him at last; the monotony of making up his face and saying the same line night after night began to strike him as another form of hell. He had said

Hollywood and started life all over again, with a villa in Beverly Hills and a swelling bank balance, but he had long ago taken one of his famous oaths about America, and not even the shrillest demands from the Inland Revenue would have persuaded him to cross the ocean. Besides, he was tired; his energy and his restlessness were beginning to forsake him at last; the monotony of making up his face and saying the same line night after night began to strike him as another form of hell. He had said

had not seen as far, their range was limited, and the lights were not so bright nor yet so many. They had been contented with obscurity; they had not ventured far, and had dreamed dreams amongst the firelight and the shadows. Guy had seen this view as a boy; with his chin cupped in his hands he looked beyond the lights, beyond the murky chimney-pots and roofs, to the unseen spaces and the distant hills. Trixie and Sylvia, as little girls in striped petticoats, pressed their noses against the

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