popularity. The introduction of Aboan, his back bleeding from the driver's lash, is one of those revolting spectacles that come within the prohibitory canon of the poet: "Multaque tolles Ex oculis quæ mox narret facundia præsens;" and were there no other causes of exception, would remain an insuperable one, as exciting emotions not merely painful, but disagreeable. Ben Jonson arraigns Shakespeare on the score of taste in suffering Desdemona to be smothered in sight of the audience, which he condemns as simply "horror;" and it was Coleridge's observation, that whilst terror, the legitimate passion of tragedy, touches the heart, horror makes a descent, and affects the stomach. Kean had bestowed great pains on the study of the part, and, though more unequal than his Sir Edward Mortimer, gave a masterly delineation of the noble African. In his calm submission to his fate his demeanour was still princely, and his reproaches struck deeper from the temper with which they were uttered. Among the effective passages with which his performance abounded, I could instance as one, from his mode of delivery, never to be forgotten, his prayer for his Imoinda. After replying to Blandford, "No, there is nothing to be done for me!" he remained for a few moments in apparent abstraction, then with a concentration of feeling that gave emphasis to every word, clasping his hands together, in tones most tender, distinct, and melodious, he poured out, as if from the very depths of his heart, his earnest supplication: “Thou God adored! thou ever-glorious sun! If she be yet on earth, send me a beam Of thy all-seeing power to light me to her! may stand With all his extraordinary power he would often descend to court applause by trickery, at the expense of correctness, as in Such scenes Withdrawn should be from the spectator's eye, And spoken narrative the plot supply. HORACE, Art of Poetry.-ED. TRANS. 1816-17. BOOTH AS RICHARD THE THIRD. 139 this play, against the remonstrance of Rae, the stage-manager, he altered the text, "What, is he gone?" to win the clapping of "the groundlings" by a trick of voice, "Where is he? Eh! Eh! gone!" These were littlenesses which a man so wonderfully gifted could well afford to have held himself above. An event now occurred, that could not fail to act in some measure as a discouragement to a young actor circumstanced like myself, who for the ultimate recognition of his claims placed his single reliance on severe and honest endeavours in the mastery of his art. I had now to discover, what experience has since made familiar to me, that notoriety has a charm for "the fond many," outvaluing for a time (though only for a time) the more solid pretensions of artistic truth. A report had reached the managers of Covent Garden of a Mr. Booth (who in figure, voice, and manner so closely resembled Kean that he might be taken for his twin brother) acting Richard the Third at Brighton and Worthing with the greatest success. An appearance at Covent Garden was offered to him with the promise of an engagement if successful. Accordingly on the 12th of February (1817) he appeared in Gloster, and certainly on his first entrance on the stage, with a similar coiffure and dress, he might have been thought Kean himself. With considerable physical power, a strong voice, a good deal of bustle, some stage experience, and sufficient intelligence to follow out the traditional effects of the part, he succeeded in winning the applause and favour of his audience, and repeated the performance on the following night. He was announced in consequence again for the 17th, but in the interim the question of his engagement was mooted. The managers offered him £8 per week, which he declined, and withdrew his name. This, together with the reported similarity of his figure and manner to Kean's (with whom his admirers ventured to compare him), made some little stir in the theatrical world. Kean, who was supposed not to feel complimented by the comparison, drove to Booth's lodgings, and in the most friendly manner informed him that he had procured an engagement for him from the committee of Drury Lane, and that his carriage was waiting to take them to the theatre, where all would be settled at once. Booth readily went with him, an engagement at £10 per week was agreed on and signed, and Booth was immediately advertised to appear in Iago to Kean's Othello on the 20th of February. The theatre was crowded to the very ceiling on that night, which was often spoken of long afterwards for the extraordinary effect produced by Kean's acting. He seems to have put forth all his power, and according to the testimony of Hazlitt, Procter, Hamilton, Reynolds, and other excellent judges, he never acted as he did on this occasion. My brother, who had not before seen him, could only obtain standing room in a corner of the slips, but, despite his inconvenient position and consequent weariness, returned in raptures of admiration at the performance. Booth was not only obscured, but hidden; no one seemed to give a thought to him. The question of comparison was completely set at rest. The tragedy was announced for repetition on the 22nd, but Booth was not well enough to appear. He sent a note about three o'clock on that day, stating that he was very ill and ordered to leave town for change of air. On inquiry at his lodgings his wife neither knew that he was ill nor that he had left town. On the evening of the same day he addressed a letter to the committee, to the effect that he could not appear in his own characters at Drury Lane, and that he had in consequence renewed his engagements with Covent Garden. Briefly, he broke his engagement with the Drury Lane committee, and returned to Covent Garden, where he resumed the part of Richard III. on the 25th. By this breach of contract, which was circumstantially given. with his letters in the Drury Lane playbills, the indignation of the public was raised to such a pitch, that Covent Garden Theatre, where before he had played to scant audiences, was now filled with persons exasperated against him. The tumult was so great, that not a word of the play was heard. The house was again filled on March the 1st to the same play, and with the same result. Apologies and appeals, which * The Times on Othello.-Kean and Booth.-" As Iago Mr. Booth was highly respectable. But the chief éclat of the performance was due to Mr. Kean. This great actor excelled on the present occasion all his preceding efforts . . There were scenes in this play which we had never yet beheld so ably represented, and there were improvements in Kean's acting of which we did not think the tragedian's art had been susceptible.", 1816-17. BOOTH AT COVENT GARDEN. 141 could not be heard in the theatre, were made in the playbills, and at length silence was obtained, but from comparatively deserted benches. With the subsidence of "the row" the attraction diminished. The Drury Lane committee brought an action against Booth and the Covent Garden managers, but afterwards dropped it. Kean wrote a letter to the papers, stating that "The Wolves" club no longer existed-a proof it had existed-and so the squabble ended. But the Covent Garden managers, hoping still to draw some profit from the notoriety it had given birth to, determined to push their experiment with Booth to the utmost. Sir Giles Overreach (in which Kean had made quite a sensation) was his second part, in the last scene of which he resorted to a manœuvre which was severely commented upon. One of the attendants who held him was furnished with a sponge filled with blood (rose-pink), which he, unseen by the audience, squeezed into his mouth to convey the idea of his having burst a blood-vessel. It is not by such means as these that the dramatic poet is to find support from the artist. Persisting, in the theatrical phrase, in trying to "keep him up," the managers gave Booth Sir Edward Mortimer, Posthumus in Cymbeline,' and Fitzharding in Tobin's play of 'The Curfew.' It would scarcely be expected that I should look with much complacency on the preference they showed, though little or no advance resulted in the public estimation from their policy.* In 'The Curfew' I volunteered to act the part of Robert, in which is one scene of considerable power, and its effect answered my expectations. But now came on a trial to submit to which required all my nerve and power of endurance. A new play, called The Conquest of Taranto, or St. Clara's Eve,' written by Dimond, was read in the manager's room. An original part is justly considered (as Kemble before me, and as I myself in the Slave had already proved) of the greatest service to an actor; and the hero of this piece, Rinaldo, with the hope and purpose of establishing him firmly in the highest fayour with the public, was allotted to Booth. Young had, of course, a very prominent * Morning Herald on The Curfew.'-Booth.-"That the gentleman does possess some talent we have already expressed our belief; but that it is not of that extent which his friends would have us imagine the public voice has more than once unequivocally declared." character, Egerton an important one; Miss Stephens, Sinclair, &c., were among the dramatis personæ. A part called Valentio was forced upon me, the managers refusing to accept the forfeit, thirty pounds, which I would willingly have paid for my release. There was scarcely a line of passion in it-one of the meanest, most despicable villains that a romancer's invention ever teemed with. I looked on myself as inevitably ruined by the exposure to such a degradation. But there was no redress, no escape. I could not, sensitive and indiscreet as I was, suppress at the rehearsals expression of the bitterness I felt, and was unwisely stung to anger by Mr. Booth's sneering observation one morning, "I think your part is as good as mine." "Will you change with me?" was my reply, sufficiently answered by his significant and triumphant smile. The day of representation came on, and I went from the rehearsal to my lodgings sick with nervousness and apprehension, where I lay down to steady my nerves and prepare myself for the disapprobation that already seemed to ring in my ears. The play proceeded rather tamely to the second act, in which Young roused the audience by his splendid declamation. From that point it flagged in interest (Booth making no impression), and was indeed drooping, when his greatest scene came on. This was in the last act, in which he had to relate in frantic rage to Valentio, his pretended friend, the treachery that had been practised on him, with denunciations of the act, and of the unknown villain (Valentio) who had so basely ensnared him. Here was the anticipated climax of his triumph; but the interest of the scene took altogether a contrary direction. The agitation of the traitor, as with averted face he stood shuddering under the imprecations on his guilt, and the expression of his shame and remorse, so completely engrossed attention and excited the spectators, that loud and frequent applauses broke forth, interrupting and drowning the concluding words of Rinaldo's speeches, so that the effect of the dialogue was directly the reverse of what the author had intended and the managers expected.* With Morning Herald on The Conquest of Taranto.'-" There were some good scenes, particularly one between Mr. Macready and Mr. Booth, which probably saved the piece. Mr. Macready's acting was excellent throughout, and mainly contributed to the success of the piece." |