Laurence Hutton

There is a grim, almost grotesque, irony in the fate that couples so generally the name of “Larry” Hutton with the collection—remarkable as it is—of death masks which he gathered, sifted, and gave to the Princeton University. That an individuality, so vital, so cheerful, so brimming over with courage and energy and light-hearted challenge of any and every fortune should so conspicuously be associated with a sort of memento—interesting and revealing, no doubt, but redolent of the charnel house—is a queer trick of the Providence that shapes our ends. His friends —their name is legion and many among them are of The Century list—will prefer, one likes to think, to remember him in some part by those faithfully wrought and ingenious “Literary Landmarks” of London, Edinburgh, Oxford, Venice, Florence, Rome, even Jerusalem, for the marshalling of which his keen and sincere interest in letters was the motive. In still greater part, perhaps, they will remember him by his numerous and sympathetic appreciations of players and plays which were the outgrowth of his catholic, yet discriminating, love of the things of the stage. But more potent even than these in keeping fresh his memory will be the knowledge, obtained in direct intercourse, of his sound and sweet character, the loyal kindness of his friendship, the generous bestowal of his rare gifts.

Edward Cary
1905 Century Association Yearbook