The herald., 1893-06-18

play ed a great engagement together at
the Lyceum, alternating Othello and
Iago. In 1882 he acted at the Adelphi
thester, London, and in 1888 played
King Lear in English, supported by Ger
man actors, at Berlin.
After his return to America and his
usual successful tour through the pro-
vinces, Booth played Hamlet for Salvini's
benefit at the Academy OF Music in 1886,
and for Lester WallRck's benefit at the
Metropolitan Opera house in 1885 Then
Lawrence Barrett became his manager; !;
the prices were raised at most of the
theaters at which the combination ap-
peared, and Booth grew more wealthy
than ever before. At the Academy of
Music in 1888, the first premonition of
his fatal disease was noted. He fell
upon his face in the middle of a per-
formance But his condition was uri-
justly ascribed to intoxication, and he
speedily recovered. At the Lyceum
theater, Rochester, April 3, 1889, he bad
a second attack, and the audience had
to be dismissed. Lawrence Barrett, in bis
speech of apology eaid that Booth would
never act again but Booth rejoined him
IN fortnight, and they played together
until December, 1890, when Booth for
mally retired. AT Barrett's suggestion,
he bought house at Gramercy Park,
and gave free quarters to a club of play
ers and friends of the theater to amuse
him. There he has since lived, and
there he died
All these facts and figures are but the
background against which stands out
the peculiar personality of Edwin Booth.
Undoubtedly, he inherited something of
the moody madness of his father. He
looked like Hamlet, and in many re-
spects he was real Hamlet. That was
his greatest part, because he was acting
his true self. He invented no new read
ings; he tried to solve none of the
physiological puzzles; he was mad in
one scene and sane In the next, just as
Shakespeare wrote the text; but the
acutest critic in the stalls and the most
ignorant boy in the gallery agreed that
he was Hamlet. The part in which he
displayed the greatest ability as an
actor WAS Bertuccio, in the FOOLS Re-
venge. His face, voice and manner
completely disguised. his limbs de-
formed and distorted, his own individu-
ality was entirely lost in that of the poor
Jester-and this is the art of acting. As
King Lear, his legs we're never old. As
Macbeth, the contrast between his
uncouth makeup and such class
ical language as "Multitudinous
seas incarnadine' was almost
ridiculous. As Sbylock, he could
not compare with Kean, nor with his
own father as Sir Giles Overreach. As
Romeo, though he looked the part per
fectly, he could never act 1t satisfactor-
lily. As Iago, he was too obvious vii
lain, and forgot that Othello's lieutenant
had been soldier and gentleman. AS
Richelieu, he had no idea of reproducing
an historical character, and probably
never read line about the French
original. When he tried to create a
part for himself, like Richard the Sec
ond, he failed to attract the public. But
no one can think OF Hamlet without
thinking of Edwin Booth-nor of Booth
without thinking of Hamlet.
These considerations fix Booths posi-
tion upon the stage. He was a great
actor, but nothing more than an actor.
He was not educated nor did be try to
educate himself, like Edwin Forrest.
He originated nothing, and he has left
no school OF acting. He cared and did
nothing whatever for the American
drama. Instead of pgfug prince OF
players, like Irving, he knew nothing of
the social eide of art, and until his last
years, when he gave a club house to
the players, he extended no hospitaiities
to his admirers. His conversation was
| limited to theatrical affairs. He had
learned his parts by rote, and could not
quote the most familiar pAsseges from
them unless somebody gave him the
cue. In the technique Of his art he was
perfect-we think the most perfect Of
all aetors-but his perfection was me-
chanicsl. He never thought of educat-
ing other actors. Rehesrsals, in which
true artists delight, because they can
then communicate their ideas to their
associates and carry out their ideals,
were his adherence. He always
entrusted his share OF them TO his
dresser. Out OF the theater his pleasure
was to smoke and chat with an old com
rade, like David Anderson. Society
never met him off the stage. He took
no note OF the events OF contempor-
aneous human interest; in the theater
passed his spare time in his dressing
room, drinking strong tea and smoking
pipe, and his only anxiety seemed to
be in regard to the receipts. He once
wrote frankly to a friend: "Had Ma
ture fitted me for any other calling |
should never have chosen the stage,
We're | able to employ my thoughts and
labor in any other field | would gladly
turn my back upon the theater for
ever"
Booth was always under the influence
OF somebody else, and often this domi-
nation saved him from becoming q mere
money-making machine and reused him
to something like ambition. Left to
himself, he was like melancholy and
Indifferent child. His profits were
extraordinary. For years he brought
nothing into theater except himself
and his costumes, and took out OF it half
the gross receipts. leaving the manager
to pay the rent, company, orchestra and
all other expenses. He was never
known to give the usual gratuities to
the stage mechanics, although he caused
them more extra work than any other
star. The tradition that no manager
ever lost money upon Edwin Booth g
engagement is only tradition. Several
OF his New York engagements we're
financial failures so far as his managers
were concerned. The company who sup
ported him was invariably criticised /;
but no manager could afford to employ
first-class company when he was
obliged to pay Booth 80 per cent of the
gross receipts up TO $1,000, and rs Der
cent of all over $1,000. Take a $4,000
house, which is above the average. and
Booth received $1250 for one nights
work. He could draw this in Hamlet
but not in other plays. His Richard the
Second seldom paid expenses
vi IL n