(O




THE GIFT OF
Dr. Frederick T. Wrigh.PW  liffmuUMMMMI




























EDWIN BOOTH




I








JUNIUS BRUTUS BOOTH, THE ELDER, AND EDWIN BOOTH, 1850.




EDWIN BOOTH
RECOLLECTIONS BY HIS
DAUGHTER
EDWINA BOOTH GROSSMANN
AND LETTERS TO HER AND
TO HIS FRIENDS


NEW YORK
THE CENTURY CO.
1902




Copyright, 1894, by
THE CENTURY CO.


THE DUEVINNS PREGIL




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
JUNIUS BRUTUS BOOTH, THE ELDER, AND EDWIN BOOTH, 1850. Frontispiece.
After a daguerreotype.
FACING PAGE
EDWIN BOOTH AND GRANDCHILD, I887..........................     8
After amateur photograph by Mr. Ignatius R. Grossmann.
MRS. MARY DEVLIN BOOTH.................................... 24
After a photograph by Case & Getchell, Boston.
EDWIN  BOOTH    IN  1852..........................................  48
After a daguerreotype.
EDWIN  BOOTH  IN  1854..........................................  8
After a photograph.
EDWIN    BOOTH   IN  I864..........................................  II2
After a photograph by Brady.
EDWIN BOOTH AS "HAMLET".................................. I44
Painted by Oliver I. Lay, I887. Original in possession of Mrs. Oliver
I. Lay.
ARTICLES BELONGING TO EDWIN BOOTH......................... 162
Drawn by Otto Bacher from originals.
I, Bauble used in " Fool's Revenge," made for and presented to
Edwin Booth. Engraved on the handle is the following
quotation:
" O noble fool, 0 worthy fool,
Motley 's the only wear."
2, Dagger used by Edwin Booth in " Macbeth."
3, Antique Roman brass lamp used by Edwin Booth in " Richelieu."
4, Cane carried in " Taming of the Shrew."




vi


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


FACING PAGE
ARTICLES BELONGING TO EDWIN BOOTH........................ I84
Drawn by Otto Bacher from originals.
I, Richly jeweled sword worn in " Richard III."
2, Crown worn by Edwin Booth in " Macbeth."
3, 4, Dagger and sheath worn by Edwin Booth in the character
of Hamlet.  Handle studded with Bohemian garnets and
topazes; steel blade engraved on one side with the Booth
motto," Quod ero spero"; on reverse side with his name and
date: "Edwin Booth, 1867."
5, Wooden pipe used in " Hamlet," in scene with Rosencrantz and
Guildenstern.
6, Ring worn by Edwin Booth in "Hamlet" during a period of
thirty years.
EDWIN BOOTH AS " RICHARD III.".............................. 208
After Jervis McEntee's oil sketch. Owned by The Players Club.
EDWIN  BOOTH  AS "' RICHELIEU "................................. 240
Painted by John Collier, R. A., during Booth's last engagement in
London. Exhibited at the Royal Academy, and presented by
Mr. Booth to Mr. William Bispham, who afterward presented it
to The Players Club.
EDWIN  BOOTH    IN  1889.......................................... 272
After a photograph by Sarony.
EDWIN BOOTH'S DRESSING-ROOM, BROADWAY THEATER, DEC., 1889. 278
OUTLINE DRAWING BY OTTO BACHER OF BACK OF MEMORIAL TO
EDW IN   BOOTH............................................  284
Designed by Stanford White.




EDWIN BOOTH




[Written in Edwin Booth's prompt-book of "Hamlet," by himself.]
"GENIUS, THE PYTHIAN OF THE BEAUTIFUL,
LEAVES HER LARGE TRUTHS A RIDDLE TO THE DULL,
FROM EYES PROFANE A VEIL THE ISIS SCREENS,
AND FOOLS ON FOOLS STILL ASK WHAT 'HAMLET' MEANS."
BULWER.




RECOLLECTIONS OF
MY FATHER
IN a letter written about the time of my mother's
death, to his friend, the Rev. Samuel Osgood,
by whom my father was married to my mother
on July 7, I860, my father said:
You have been pleased to mention my art, and to express the
hope that I may be spared to serve it long and faithfully; if it
be His will, I bow before it meekly, as I now bear the terrible
affliction He has seen fit to lay upon me; but I cannot repress
an inward hope that I may soon rejoin her who, next to God,
was the object of my devotion. Your sympathy has awakened
in my heart the firmness of my resolve to live for the dear innocent whose goodness shall be my guide to her so loved and
mourned.
So it happens that my earliest recollections are
associated with the saddest years of my dear and
honored father's life, and in him was centered all
that was most sacred to a lonely, motherless child.
For him, therefore, I entertained a more than filial
affection, and I think, indeed, that his own sorrows
made him cling more closely to the child who had
been left so suddenly in his care.




2


EDWIN BOOTH


One of my first recollections is that of feeling
myself tenderly placed in my little crib by my
father, on his returning late at night from the play,
and finding, as he afterward related, "his baby
lying asleep on the floor." Vividly I recall one
Christmas morning, when, on awakening, full of
joyful anticipations, I crept out of bed to find my
stockings generously filled with toys, and, hanging near by, my father's socks containing only his
razors, shaving-brushes, and other small accessories of his toilet. I was disappointed almost to
tears by Santa Claus's neglect of so good a father,
but my father kissed away the "water-drops," with
a merry laugh, which I can hear to this day. He
had been quietly watching me, enjoying his little
Christmas deception.
Although his natural melancholy undoubtedly
had its effect upon my early years, yet he always
endeavored to throw aside the gloom which had
settled upon his life, and would assume a gentle
gaiety,-never boisterous,-in order to amuse and
divert my solitary hours. In him I felt such close
companionship that, although without brothers and
sisters, a sense of my own loneliness did not oppress me so much as the solitude of my father,
which to my childish imagination seemed strange
and unnatural. I recall his moving me to tears by
quoting to me Tennyson's verses, "What does little
birdie say?"-the first poetry I ever heard him
recite.
It was long before I could thoroughly disassociate him from the character of Hamlet, it




RECOLLECTIONS OF MY FATHER


3


seemed so entirely a part of himself. Indeed, in
that impersonation, I think, his confined nature
and pent-up sorrows found vent.  He told me
that the philosophy of Hamlet had taught him to
bear life's vicissitudes. He inspired me with a
reverence which grew with my years, and, later on,
when fresh sorrows overtook him (which I was
then able to share with him), I assumed an almost
maternal attitude toward him, which he unconsciously developed and encouraged.
His nature was childlike, trustful, and dependent, yet he was always my wise and loving counselor. How often would he quote the following
adage to me!If your lips you 'd keep from slips,
Of these five things beware:
Of whom you speak,
To whom you speak,
And how, and when, and where.
He was essentially paternal and purely domestic,
and these qualities were never tarnished by public
favor or worldly praise. In the home he was at
his best among his favorite pipes and books, and
surrounded by his Lares and Penates.  He loved
personally to arrange the furnishings of his home,
and carefully studied its merest details. He had a
woman's taste, and his artistic touch was everywhere evident. His delight in adorning the home
never led him into extravagant display, for his
tastes were always simple, and he had no care for
ostentation.




4


EDWIN BOOTH


With boyish enthusiasm he enjoyed every detail
of farm life, and loved nothing better than to watch
the growth of the trees he himself had planted.
His love of animals amounted at one time almost
to a passion.  He felt keenly their ill-treatment,
and he once told me of his own experience with a
pet lamb, which used to follow him everywhere.
One day, when deep in the study of a new part, the
lamb endeavored to engage his attention by constantly pushing its nose against the book. My
father playfully rapped his pet on the nose with
the cover of the book, when the lamb turned away
sadly, never to come near its master again. My
father spoke of this incident with sincere regret
and- self-reproach.
He was greatly attached to his horses, and skilful in the management of them. He had several
narrow escapes while driving, one of which I witnessed as a child. It occurred at Long Branch,
behind his favorite horse Nellie, when his buggy
was overturned, and he was thrown beneath his
horse's feet. With remarkable agility and presence of mind, he picked himself up, quieted his
horse, and then, hastening to me, tenderly soothed
my alarm, and jokingly remarked that his spotless
suit of white flannels was hopelessly ruined. Years
afterward his life was again endangered. He was
driving with a friend near his home at Cos Cob,
Connecticut, when, upon reaching the brow of a
steep hill, his horses ran away, and he was thrown
violently out, striking a telegraph-pole by the wayside. As he lay partly unconscious, suffering great




RECOLLECTIONS OF MY FATHER


5


physical pain, and with the noonday's sun pouring
down upon him, he saw the friend with whom he
had been riding approach, holding a portion of the
broken reins in his hand. My father's sense of the
ludicrous overcame him, and, though suffering, he
could not restrain an impulse to laugh outright at
what appeared to him a comical situation. I recall
how he was brought home to me on a litter furnished by kind neighbors, and how, after the surgeon had bandaged his broken arm and ribs, he
asked with a faint smile for his favorite smoke.
He had a severe illness from internal injuries at
this time, when his life was despaired of.
He bore with cheerfulness the frequent discomforts he encountered in his travels, both at hotels
and in the provincial theaters, where frequently a
temporary dressing-room was all that could be had.
So far as I know, only once in all his varied experiences did his theatrical wardrobe fail to arrive
in time for the performance. This occurred in the
town of Waterbury, Connecticut. I was present
at the performance, and I wondered at his ability to
render the part so gracefully in citizen's attire, for
he had always contended that he could act only
"in costume." Annoying as this incident was, he
enjoyed the novelty of the experience, and frequently referred to it in later years.
His loyalty to his friends, his reverence and
consideration for the old, no matter in what station of life, and his manifold charities to the poor
and needy, were not the least among his many
virtues. His modesty in bestowing favors ex1*




6


EDWIN BOOTH


tended itself even to the members of his family,
and his beautiful gifts to me were offered with a
tender, shy reserve.  His unselfish devotion to
his mother and invalid sister were conspicuous
among his domestic traits. In order to spare his
aged mother the painful knowledge of a serious
accident which had rendered her helpless, he forbade any one telling her the nature of it, dreading
to add one more drop of bitterness to her cup of
sorrow; and she died unaware of what had befallen her, save to wonder at her utter helplessness.
When his leisure permitted, he never failed to pass
an hour or two daily with his mother, cheering her
lonely hours with humorous anecdotes, and with
reminiscences of his boyhood. Never spoiled by
the adulations of women, he ever held the sex
in high respect.  He was a loyal and devoted
husband, and on many occasions, after the play,
I have seen him tenderly nurse his invalid wife (to
whom he was married in I869), thus often losing
his much-needed rest.
When scandalous tongues attacked the privacy
of his home, he refused to contradict the false
reports circulated, and invariably replied to my
earnest protestations, "My daughter, all will yet
be well." His dignity of demeanor toward his
detractors won for him a host of defenders. My
intimate knowledge of his heroic sacrifices, his
early struggles and privations, his crushing sorrows and bitter disappointments, had made of my
father a hero in my eyes, and I admired his noble
manhood even more ardently than I cherished his




RECOLLECTIONS OF MY FATHER


7


genius. The public little knows of his struggles
against physical pain when rendering his difficult
r6les. How I loved to wait upon him, to rouse
him from his customary nap before the performance, to brew his favorite cup of tea, his only repast before starting for the theater! He rarely
allowed me to peep behind the scenes, but, as an
occasional treat, I was permitted in his dressingroom to see him "paint his face" for his various
characters. His method in this was artistic and
painstaking to a degree. He never exaggerated
the natural lineaments of his face, but followed
them out to suit the age and expression of the
character he was about to represent. He has told
me how, in originating a "make-up" for Richard /L., he clothed the character in his mind with
the features of the accepted portraits of Christ, and
finally concluded to adopt them as being best
suited to the person of the unhappy king.
In spite of his long-accustomed visits to the
theater, he was scrupulously punctual, and rarely
kept his audience waiting. So remarkable was
his memory, that I cannot recall ever having
seen him study from the book even such plays
as he had not acted in many years. Upon my
asking him if he did not find it necessary to
refer to the text, he replied that it never occurred to him to do so, as the lines returned to
him as clearly as though he had recited them but
yesterday. I think it is well known to all that he
spared neither trouble nor expense in enhancing
the beauty of the Shaksperian productions at his




8


EDWIN BOOTH


own (Booth's) theater, which he personally super,
intended. His knowledge of costuming was very
accurate, and his powers of observation at all
times were very keen. His eye instantly detected
the merest detail in decoration or costume.
It is needless for me to speak here of what
he achieved for the profession which he helped to
elevate; that will be told at some future time in
his biography.' His powers he was ever striving
to perfect, and his Hamlet undoubtedly mellowed
with his years; indeed, all his characters seemed
to grow in strength and beauty.
Among his varied gifts, his literary ability, both
for prose and verse, were considerable.  Unfortunately, he declined to write much for publication. He also had a decided taste and talent for
sculpture, and in the studio of his friend Launt
Thompson modeled a miniature bust in clay which
was pronounced excellent. But he never cultivated
these natural gifts.
He was exceedingly careful that I should witness only such plays as were not too advanced
for my years in childhood. To visit the theater
was a rare pleasure; indeed, I ever regarded it
as such, but during my earlier years I was permitted to indulge in theater-going only as an occasional "treat."
I have often been asked what was his favorite
character. This was a difficult question for him
to answer himself. He was undoubtedly more
1 These reminiscences were written some months prior to the publication
of Mr. William Winter's life of my father.




~LL


EDWIN BOOTH AND GRANDCHILD, 1837.








RECOLLECTIONS OF MY FATHER


9


in sympathy with the character of Hamlet, which
was generally accepted as his masterpiece, but
I have heard him say that it was not the character he most enjoyed acting.  Hamlet being
largely in monotone, I think he found a certain
relief in more robust parts. In Germany I have
heard competent critics place his Lear, lago, and
Othello first among his representations. In Berlin,
Professor Werder, an ardent admirer of his, and a
"learned judge" of dramatic art, shared with me
my private box on the occasion of his performance
of the rl6e of Othello. His enthusiasm was indeed
gratifying, and he told me afterward that my father's conception of Othello's character was more
poetic than he had ever imagined it could be. He
awarded to my father a place as a Shaksperian
actor even above the renowned Gustav Emil Devrient. The impartial approbation of his German
critics was especially valued by my father, and
often in later years he reverted to the appreciation
of his audiences in Germany as one of the crowning records of his professional career.
In spite of frequent entreaties to return to Germany, he preferred to pass his remaining years
among his countrymen, whose fidelity to him
never failed to inspire him. His temperament
was one of the most equable I have ever known,
and his sense of justice was an overruling virtue.
Generous almost to a fault, he never spoke of
his many charities, and only now that he has
passed away forever do I learn of his numerous
good deeds.




IO


EDWIN BOOTH


Every one who came into his presence felt the
charm and the lovable qualities of his nature. His
pleasures he took more soberly than his associates, although his enjoyment was equally as keen.
Hearty laughter he seldom indulged in, as it
gave him physical pain, often producing severe
asthma. For this reason he sometimes conquered
an irresistible desire to laugh, though I have seen
him affected almost to hysterics by some humorous incident or anecdote.
His absolute worship of our children, and his
evident pride in them, completed the happiness of
our home life. He never wearied of their frolics,
and he often crept about the floor, romping with
them in boyish glee. He allowed them unusual
liberties, and pulling his hair was a daily pastime with them. Even during the last summer of
his life (1892), which he passed entirely in our home
at Narragansett Pier, he never complained of the
children's noisy prattle, and their wise sayings and
childish play always amused and diverted him.
During meal-time he would gently reprove our
noisy little ones, whose voices often grew too loud,
by quoting in his exquisite and inimitable way the
words of Lear:
Her voice was ever soft,
Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman.
It was during the last summer of his life that
my father had an illness in our home, during
which I nursed him. It tore my heart-strings to
have him take my hand and say, "Daughter, you




RECOLLECTIONS OF MY FATHER


II


make me like to be sick." For, alas! I realized
that even then it might be but the beginning of
the sad end so soon to follow; and I sometimes
wonder now if, in his growing helplessness, he
too did not think so. Feeble as he had become,
he steadily refused all offers of assistance in his
toilet or daily occupations. His giant will outlived his declining physical powers, and up to the
very end he remained firm in his heroic efforts not
to yield.
It is not generally known that he possessed
a natural love and ear for music, though he did
little to cultivate his taste for it, and that he had
in his boyhood studied the violin, and could then
play upon that instrument with some skill. He
always enjoyed hearing music, especially the simpler melodies, and all ballads of a national character.
I recall one old ballad in particular which pleased
him, called "Fair Zurich's Waters," the refrain of
which contained a curious yodel, which he delighted in imitating, much to my amusement.
He indulged in this "vocal aria" during our tour
in Switzerland, and I can picture him now, upon
our reaching Zurich, yodeling forth the refrain.
In those days of our foreign travels he was
almost boyish in animal spirits, his keen sense of
the ridiculous affording us both many hours of
pleasure. The ocean-voyages seemed to give him
renewed vigor, and his striking face and figure
always attracted much attention as he paced the
deck. Although he had grown accustomed to
public recognition, yet I think he scarcely realized




12


EDWIN BOOTH


how much he was the central figure wherever he
appeared.
His self-possession in moments of danger, as in
the instance when he barely escaped a madman's
bullet, was striking. This occurred many years
ago, while he was fulfilling an engagement in Chicago. During the prison-scene in " Richard II."
the report of a pistol rang out from the theater
gallery, and in the excitement my father stepped
to the foot-lights and quietly pointed out a man
who, with pistol aimed, was about to fire again
directly at the stage. My father had heard, or
rather fell, the first bullet whiz above his head,
and instinctively knew it was intended for himself;
but with undaunted courage he continued his part,
after first withdrawing behind the scenes for a moment to soothe his anxious wife. I saw him on
the following day, and he appeared perfectly calm
and even, and defended from all blame the poor
lunatic who had so nearly ended his career. The
bullet was found lodged in the canvas of a scene
only a few inches above my father's head. This
ghastly souvenir he had mounted in a gold cartridge, and had engraved thereon his own humorous thought, "To Edwin Booth from Mark Gray"
(the name of the would-be assassin). This memento is now in my possession.
I have often regretted that I did not jot down
the many amusing anecdotes, witty sayings, and
"hairbreadth 'scapes" that were related to me
by him. Among the latter, he told me how he
and his old-time comrade, Mr. David Anderson,




RECOLLECTIONS OF MY FATHER


I3


when together in Australia, often in the heat of
noon took their dolcefar nienle beneath the shade
of cocoanut-trees. While musing thus one day,
my father remarked to his friend, as he gazed at
the huge cocoanuts above them, "What if one
should fall, and strike us on the head, and kill us?"
His friend, undisturbed, laughingly replied that
such a fate was not likely, as the fruit was yet
green; but father instantly changed his position,
and no sooner had he done so than a large nut
fell exactly over the spot where he had previously
been sitting. Throughout his life he had many
similar strange premonitions of danger, and, like
Napoleon, he had faith in his "star."
I have referred already to his modest acceptance
of the many public favors and honors showered
upon him; and his retiring nature would not permit him to speak freely of his artistic triumphs
abroad, especially during his tour in Germany.
Of his great success there, and of the many plaudits received from people in every station of life,
the world already knows; but few witnessed, as I
did, the enthusiasm of the actors of the various
supporting companies, when, upon the fall of the
curtain, they one and all surrounded him, embracing him, and in foreign style kissing him, and
addressing him as "Meister!"
I recall how, at the conclusion of his farewell performance of "King Lear" in Bremen, as he turned
to leave the stage, the entire company of players surrounded him, men and women weeping and
embracing him, while the directors read a compli



I4


EDWIN BOOTH


mentary address, presenting him at the same time
with a silver laurel wreath inscribed with the
names of the donors, the actors of the company.
What a picture it was!  Lear, standing timidly to
receive this unexpected tribute of his genius, almost ready to shed a few tears himself, in grateful
acknowledgment of such a genuine outburst.
I have witnessed similar scenes in nearly every
German theater. So heartfelt and genuine were
the expressions of sentiment on the part of the
actors, who followed him in many instances to
the railway stations, cheering and waving their
adieus, that he spoke of these experiences as unequaled by any in his long career upon the stage.
In Vienna the same enthusiasm prevailed, and
he bore thence his handsomest trophy, a laurel
wreath of silver and gold, each leaf bearing the
name of the actor that supported him. He was
good enough to present this to me on our return
to America. This, and the "Hamlet" medal presented to him upon the conclusion of his famous
"one-hundred-nights " performance of that character, I hold among my choicest treasures.
Of his stay abroad he liked to recall a morning
at the residence of Lady Theodore Martin (formerly Helen Faucit, the celebrated actress), where
he was invited to hear the charming hostess read
the part of Beatrice to Mr. Henry Irving's Benedict,
before a distinguished company of friends. A visit
from Lord Tennyson and a luncheon at Tennyson's
house in London, where the poet praised, above all
else, his performance of Lear, which he had wit



RECOLLECTIONS OF MY FATHER       15
nessed the previous night, also gave him great
pleasure, for he had grown so accustomed to having his Hamlet discussed and lauded, that it was
a pleasure and relief to him when his other characters were approved by competent critics.
He always recalled with great pleasure an excursion that he arranged for me and the members
of his company along the beach at Galveston,
Texas, in which city he was acting at the time.
After many hundreds of miles of rough and dusty
travel, through districts flooded in parts to the
axles of our car-wheels, it was a boon indeed to
escape into the open country, and to breathe pure
air once more.
On another occasion during the same trip we
drove through an old cotton-plantation in Alabama,
and were followed by some dozen piccaninnies,
barefooted and ragged, whom father showered with
pennies, and whom he further delighted, I believe,
by giving passes to the theater in Montgomery,
where he was to act that night. His youth seemed
to return during these outings, and he joined in
the general merrymaking with boyish enthusiasm.
After the continued strain, mental and physical, of
his professional labors, he was inclined to seek his
amusement where one would least expect to find
him-at some good minstrel-show, a circus, or a
burlesque performance. His enjoyment of Fox's
burlesque of himself as Hamlet and Richelieu was
great. Although a mere child at the time, I accompanied him to those clever performances, and
remember his laughing himself to tears, and say



I6


EDWIN BOOTH


ing of the famous clown-comedian, "He looks
just like me!"
He held in great esteem his brother-artist and
friend, Tommaso Salvini, with whom he had acted,
and whose farewell speech to the senate, in "Othello," he thought unequaled in poetic beauty and
musical cadence, and whose scene with lago in
the third act he considered the most powerful piece
of acting on our modern stage. His own scrupulous attention to the details of stage business, and
every significant look and gesture necessary to
the better comprehension of the character impersonated, he saw repeated in the acting of this
genius from across the seas, for whom his artistic
sympathies and admiration were alike manifest.
It has often been related with what patience and
kindly courteousness he ever treated his associates
on the stage, and I have never heard him criticize
harshly the petty annoyances of theatrical life.
His veneration for all religious subjects, his belief in the immortal life, his practical uses of the
teachings of Jesus, and his conviction that God's
will is best, never forsook him even in the midst
of his severest trials; and though often the victim of
the basest deception from so-called friends, who, in
not a few instances, cruelly imposed upon his trustful, generous nature, he remained almost childlike
in his belief in the integrity of others. Later in life
he assured me that he bore no malice toward his
would-be detractors; he had forgiven his enemies.
So I have come to revere the glory of my father's
name more for his conquests over the temptations




RECOLLECTIONS OF MY FATHER


I7


which assailed him than for the well-merited success and many triumphs of his artistic career.
His constant travel and fatigue never prevented
his writing to me, a girl plodding away at her
lessons, letters full of interest and instruction.
This devotion and tender remembrance of me,
certainly most rare in a parent so absorbed in his
profession as he was, affects me now almost to
tears. He was in the habit of sending me photographic views of the many historically interesting
places he visited, and upon each of these he wrote
a pleasing description invaluable to me now, and
an education to me then. He spared himself no
pains to help broaden and develop my ideas when
absent from him, and to stimulate my interest in
my routine of study.
Little credit was ever given to him for knowledge of business matters, and many doubtless
supposed that he lacked system; but his systematic habits about many things, the final arrangement of all his private papers and documents, and
his careful preservation of all that would be of
value to me hereafter, have proved to me how
truly he valued the maxim that "order is God's
first law."
In speaking of his travels abroad, I have omitted
to mention the trip to Oberammergau during the
Passion Play, whither I accompanied him in I880.
He had looked forward to the Passion Play with
mingled curiosity and interest, but he found it artificial and, as he termed it, "too theatrical," and
greatly bereft of its former simplicity. In wander



EDWIN BOOTH


ing through the little village on the eve of the
performance, he was impressed by the businesslike
air of the principal actors, whose photographs
were on sale. He thought it savored too strongly
of "the profession," and he regretted that things
were not a little more crude. His artistic sense
was gratified, however, by the correct and graceful
costuming, and by the stage pictures, with the sky,
mountains, and open fields as accessories.  Our
quarters at Oberammergau were not fine, owing
to some blunder on the part of our courier, who
lodged us in a peasant's hut. At night we slept
in a loft, and reposed in straw, to reach which we
had to mount a step-ladder.  Uncomfortable as
this experience proved, he saw only the humorous
side of it, and frequently laughed over it in after
years.
When visiting our Boston home, his sleepingapartment overlooked the Charles River, and he
used to sit by the window, watching the fine sunset effects upon the water, and making friends with
a white pigeon that daily perched upon his window-sill.  He always desired that our children,
then small infants, be brought to his room each
morning, and before he had risen he would playfully fondle "his babies," as he lovingly called
them. Later, at our home in New York, he enjoyed almost daily the growth and development
of his grandchildren. To give me pleasure, also,
he sometimes visited the theaters with my husband and me.   His last attendance at any play
was at the Lyceum Theater on April 1, I893, a




RECOLLECTIONS OF MY FATHER


I9


week before his last illness. The piece performed
was "The Guardsman," and in company with us
and a few friends he occupied a private box.
Although I noted with a pained heart how great
an effort it cost him to sit through a performance,
however enjoyable, yet he never complained of fatigue, and seemed all unconscious that he was the
central figure upon whom the audience admiringly
gazed between the acts.
The greatness and depth of his nature, its tenderness and simplicity, were lost to the merely
casual observer who met my father socially; for
though society, in its conventional sense, was to
him a bore and a waste of valuable time and energy, there were a dozen houses where he was a
welcome guest, and which he loved to visit. There,
in the company of congenial spirits, he came out
of his "shell."  How full of quaint and original
humor he was, those who pictured him only as
Hamlet could never realize.
It had long been his dream to make a pilgrimage to the grave of his beloved bard, and during
his holiday trip to England and the Continent in
i880 and i88I he passed a few days at Stratford
in contemplation of all that was holy ground to
him. But, alas! he was disappointed to find himself surrounded by curious sight-seers where he
had hoped to be alone-patriotic worshipers at
his own shrine, who in the home of Shakspere
petitioned for the autograph of Booth!
I essentially am not in madness,
But mad in craft.




20


EDWIN BOOTH


Herein is expressed my father's solution of the
"Hamlet mystery," and I cannot understand how
any one who has witnessed his performances of
that character could question for a moment his true
intention in portraying the r61e. Yet the question
as to Hamlet's real or assumed madness he had
to answer many times.
I discovered the above quotation written by my
father beneath an etching of himself in the character with which he has become so widely and closely
identified. Many have supposed that because of
his admirable fitness for the part of Hamlet that it
was the one he most enjoyed acting.  By force of
his own introspective and melancholy temperament
he was undoubtedly more in sympathy with Hamlet than with any other character in his large and
varied repertoire, but I have heard him tell of the
great relief it gave him after a long-continued run
of that play to change the bill to another. He
wished to forget his own identity, as it were. In
Hamlet he was less able to achieve this, so
closely was it allied with his own temperament
and mood.
He was ever ready to explain to me the subtleties of Shaksperian verse, as interpreted by himself,
and although I am aware that others are far richer
than I in the possession of his thoughts relating to
the drama, yet I am tempted to relate one or two
of his original conceptions.
I recall asking him to explain the line which
Hamlet speaks to the King upon his being sent
into England. The King says (Act IV, scene




RECOLLECTIONS OF MY FATHER


21


III), "So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes,"
and Hamlet replies, "I see a cherub that sees
them," looking intently meanwhile into the King's
eye. Therein Hamlet sees his own face reflected
in miniature, and my father, by pointing upward,
with special stress upon the word "cherub," merely
indicated Hamlet's preconceived idea of playing upon the King's superstitious fancies, and thus still
more deeply convincing him of his own madness.
My father had expressed his belief that he was
physically unfitted for the more robust heroes of
Shaksperian drama; yet his Lear, Othello, and
Macbeth must ever remain among his finest and
most poetic impersonations. It seemed to him
extraordinary that those three characters were
specially admired and applauded by his critics in
Germany during his engagements in that country.
He was agreeably surprised to receive the approbation of a nation accustomed to actors of large
physique, whose rendering of these parts was
necessarily opposed to his.
He was particularly struck with the versatility
of his foreign colleagues in Germany, who did not
hesitate to step from an important role into a
lesser one, a custom in the stock companies of
Germany. He believed this to be the true artistic
principle of acting, and modestly assured me that
he would have made a "dreadful mess" of Horatio
or of the Ghost if cast for those parts, after having
become so identified with that of Hamlet.
He considered every character in Shakspere
worthy of an artist, and of his best efforts. I think
2*




22


EDWIN BOOTH


his delineation of Othello's jealous and suspicious nature raised it above the low level, and at
one time commonly accepted idea, of the brutal
blackamoor, which my father never believed to be
Shakspere's motive.  To comprehend his conception of the Moor, one need only study his Lago,
that "fiend in human shape."
I have seen him alternate these characters successively during a long run of the piece, and I
have thus received a curiously confused impression
of his power to embody both r6les at one and
the same time. The effect produced by his acting
of each was harmonious and consistent, and yet in
each he appeared a being exactly the opposite of
the other - a peculiar proof of his marvelous versatility and wide range of power.
I cannot speak without tears of the declining
weeks of his beautiful life-of his gentle patience during his last illness (of seven weeks' duration), and of the childlike beauty of his countenance when all furrows of care and sorrow were
smoothed away, and "nothing could touch him
further." His last coherent words were addressed
to our little children, whom we had taken to his
bedside two days before he died. My boy called
gently, "How are you, dear grandpa?" and the
answer came loud and clear, in the familiar, boyish
way, "How are you yourself, old fellow?"
As he lay dying, unconscious even of my presence, or of the fearful electric storm which was
raging without, on that sad afternoon of the
sixth of June, a glory seemed to rest upon his




RECOLLECTIONS OF MY FATHER


23


loved features, and I felt, in spite of heart-breaking
grief, that he was at peace. And when the dark
curtain of night had fallen, and the storm had
ceased without, and we sat watching and waiting
for what we knew had to come, we were startled
by the sudden going out of all the electric lights
in the chamber and in the street beneath. Was
such darkness ever felt before? Alas! not for me.
My father's earlier letters to me, covering a
period of some seven years, were written chiefly
during my absence at a convent school. Written,
as they were, during his long professional tours
throughout the country, these letters helped to lift
me out of my narrow sphere, and took me into a
new and broader field, where my father was for
me always the chief actor, whether they breathed
of his professional life, of his domestic or social
experiences, or of loving advice, paternal care, and
solicitude. No matter how weary, how irritated
by conditions then unknown to me, he was sure
to send me weekly missives. Though frequently
expressed in a humorous vein, in order to entertain and divert me, I can now read between the
lines, and appreciate the noble effort he made to
throw off the burdens which during those years
must have bowed him down. Under the weight
of financial difficulties, the result of misplaced confidence and childlike trust in others, he rallied
when his paternal duty and love reminded him
of me.
I have abstained from publishing more than a




24


EDWIN BOOTH


small fraction of his entire correspondence, and
offer only such as will prove of special interest
and value in the public eye. It appears to me,
on re-reading many of these letters after a lapse of
years, that they present a side of my father's temperament and disposition hitherto concealed from
his friends, as well as from the general public.
They reveal a depth of soul, a firmness of purpose,
a high resolve to battle against life's struggles,
which make it incumbent upon me to publish
them. They constitute, indeed, a better and more
complete autobiography than that which I have
in the past so often urged upon him to write.
I fear his innate modesty and reluctance to speak
of his own triumphs and misfortunes would have
severely handicapped him in such an undertaking.
But his letters to me, and to his many friends,
speak of him as he was, without reserve, or fear
of harsh criticism.
To these same valued friends I am greatly indebted for a large part of this correspondence,
which is published not only for the benefit of the
many who have known and revered him as the
artist and interpreter of Shaksperian drama, but
as a tribute of filial respect and love.
MY MOTHER
As a necessary accompaniment to these few
reminiscences of my father, I will quote some extracts from letters written by my mother (Mary
Devlin) prior to their marriage. They prove an




MRS. MARY DRVLIN BOOTH.
1,



I




RECOLLECTIONS OF MY FATHER


25


essential chapter in the life of a man then stepping
into fame and greatness, and make more clearly
manifest the spiritual union of two sympathetic
souls so soon to be parted by death.
My father has confided to me the gentle yet
powerful influence exerted over his artistic career
by my young mother, herself an actress of no
mean capacity. Her whole being became so centered in her lover and husband, her "Hamlet,"
as she so often called him, that my father felt
the reflex of her refined intellectuality, both in
his art and in his attitude toward her in whom
he found his purest and highest ideals sweetly
embodied. Though it is my misfortune never to
have known my mother, her letters, and the recollections of her many friends, place her before
me in the sanctified light of noble womanhood
a faithful wife, a blessed mother.
In the year I86o she writes:
We must ever dwell " above the thunder," treading beneath
our feet the black clouds of dissension. You are too great ever
to descend to discord; I have too high an appreciation of the
divine spark God has gifted you with, and which you intrust
to my care, ever to cause you to seek another sphere than your
natural one.
The above extract is from a letter written during
my mother's betrothal to my father, and while she
herself was yet upon the stage. I find in another
letter, dated the same year, the following:
Last night I sat by the window thinking of you, and disturbed
only by the mournful sighing of the wind. I wondered in "this




26


EDWIN BOOTH


stillness of the world without, and of the soul within," what our
lives in the future would be; and I looked to see if upon the
clouds I could trace any semblance of it. This led me into an
odd train of thought, in which I recalled a susceptibility of yours
you once told me of. You remember, 't was that a passing wind
sometimes suggested to you the past, and, carrying you years
back, set you dreaming. It is not wonderful that you should have
such emotions - sensitive natures are prone to them; then why,
I ask myself, should my eyes have filled with tears, and trembled
lestyou should experience them again? Ah, dear Edwin, 't was
a fear that they would lead you from my side and leave me once
more alone. I am very wrong, doubtless, to have allowed so
simple a fact to impress me, and am still more to blame to
repeat it here; for have you not "died into life," as Keats
says-and I should wean you from   all remembrance of the
tomb; and so I promise to do.
These letters were written by my mother when
scarcely twenty years of age. Her death occurred
three years afterward. She constantly refers, as
in the following passage, to the sacred mission
she is about to fulfil as fiancee and wife:
This morning, in my walk, I was thinking of the being God
had given me to influence and cherish. For you have ever
seemed to me like what Shelley says of himself —"a phantom
among men " -" companionless as the last fading storm," and
yet my spirit ever seems lighter and more joyous when with you.
This I can account for only by believing that a mission has been
given me to fulfil, and that I shall be rewarded by seeing you
rise to be great and happy.
Ah! the angels surely will rejoice in heaven when that is
achieved.  Edwin, I have never told you yet, have I, of all the
odd thoughts I have had, and do have, about you? Well, on
some of the days to come, when I am influenced by your loved
presence, and after the singing of some pretty song, perhaps I
will tell you.




RECOLLECTIONS OF MY FATHER


27


My mother's love of music, and her naturally
beautiful voice, ever proved a delight to my father,
and he continued in later years to love the old
melodies she used to sing to him in the early days
of their courtship and marriage.
The purely unselfish love which my mother bore
for my father is manifested in her earliest letters to
him. His art was ever the absorbing theme, and
although so young herself, she was capable of giving him wise counsel in all things. She says
again:
If my love is selfish, you will never be great: part of you
belongs to the world. I must remember this, and assist in its
" blossoming," if I would taste of the ripe fruit. That will prove
a rich reward.
The following extract, written about I860, shows
how closely my mother observed the slightest
changes in my father's performances. He has told
me that she was always his severest, and, therefore, his kindest critic.
The improvement you have made in the " Cardinal" charmed
me. You must not forget to tell me of your studies; they interest me alike with the movements of your heart - my heart; for
't is mine. Did you not tell me so?
The conversational, colloquial school you desire to adopt is
the only true one, Edwin, for the present day; but, as you reasonably add, "too much is dangerous." For example, Miss Heron
in the beginning of her career was praised for her " naturalness,"
and deservedly so; and while she used it in moderation was successful. But now could you see her! She gives you too much of
" Mrs. John Smith," and endeavors, or labors rather, to be so
very commonplace that it is simply ridiculous, and even her




28


EDWIN BOOTH


greatest admirers see no mind in her now. Acting is an imitation of nature, is it not? Then 't is art; and the art must
be seen, too, for nature upon the stage would be most ridiculous.
My future ambition will be to see you great and good, and if
devotion of mind and intellect (but what is still more influential,
an absorbing affection) can accomplish it, you shall be everything
that the world has predicted.
In referring to some emotional immoral play
then in vogue, she says:
Is it not outrageous to see an art so holy as the drama thus
desecrated and perverted?  How glad I am that the branch
you were fitted for has not been disgraced, for though unappreciated now, the day will come when " gorgeous tragedy" will
have its sway. You are held as its only true representative in this
day, and you can, if you will, change the perverted taste of the
public by your truth and sublimity, and you must study for this.
Dear Edwin, I will never allow you to droop for a single moment; for I know the power that dwells within your eye, and
my ambition is to see you surrounded by greatness - is it not a
laudable one? Ah, you do not know how close a critic I will
be of your genius —a child who requires more nursing than
the helpless babe at the mother's breast.
It is a source of regret to me that I do not possess a single letter from my father to my mother.
These he himself must have thought best to destroy. In reading these letters from my young
mother, I realize more fully how true were the
words of her poet friend and admirer, the late Dr.
T. W. Parsons:
She was a maiden for a man to love;
She was a woman for a husband's life;
One that has learned to value, far above
The name of Love, the sacred name of Wife.




LETTERS TO HIS
DAUGHTER








LETTERS TO HIS
DAUGHTER
TOLEDO, Sept. 28, I869.
MY OWN DEAR LITTLE DAUGHTER:
It made me very happy to receive your letter, which
grandma forwarded to me —it reached me the day before yesterday, also the good report of you which your
kind teacher sent me. I shall be very happy to see my
darling again, and to find her so much improved, as I
know she will be, if she is dutiful in all things.... I am
going to Detroit in the morning, to remain there five days,
and then I take a long journey- to Boston, where I shall
stay four weeks, after which I hope to see my dear little
daughter. You must write to me very often, and give
me good long letters, for it pleases me very much to get
your little notes, all of which I keep, to show you some day
(if the good Lord wills) when you are a woman. I hope
you take care of yourself, not to take cold.... I am glad
your cough is cured —be careful.... I '11 write you
very often. Bless you, my own darling! Give my love to
dear grandma when you see her.
Y'r loving papa.
PHILADELPHIA, October 24, I869.
MY BELOVED DAUGHTER:
I '11 try my best to write plain for your special benefit.
But you see old pop is so very nervous and full of busi3x




32


EDWIN BOOTH


ness that he can't hold the pen steady enough to form the
letters correctly. You see that little picture in the corner
at the top? That is styled a monogram, which y'r teacher
will describe to you, if you ask her the meaning thereof,
better than I can do in the course of a letter of so much
importance as the present one. It is a combination of
my two initials, E. & B.-I dare say you can guess what
they stand for. 'T would serve for your letters likewise,
would it not?... In three weeks we will be in New
York - that will be near Christmas too - at which time I
suppose Edwina will be coming home for a holiday to eat
plum-pudding with her little pa n'est pas? That's a
French pun, which your French teacher must explain
-it's too hard for me.... I am afraid that I will not
have time to see my daughter as I pass through New
York this time -I have so many things to attend to; but
I '11 soon be back, and then for a kiss.... Write good
long letters, and try to write them without the help of
your teacher or any one; you must learn to compose as
well as write your letters, and you can do it very nicely.
God bless you, my darling!
Your loving papa.
BOSTON, November 14, I869.
MY OWN GIRL:
Your dear letter with the pretty book-mark ("I love
you") came safely last night, just in time. It seems there
is some doubt as to the exact date of my arrival here.
Grandma says I was born on the night of the great "star
shower" in I833, and insists that it was November 15;
but Uncle June says he remembers well —both my birth
and the "star Shower" occurred on November 13, I833.
So you see, I do not know which is the day-for, although I was there, I was too young to pay attention to




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


33


such weighty matters, and can't remember much about
it. However, your little present, which I shall always
cherish, my darling, came in good season for either
day.... I start at six o'clock this evening for New
Haven (that's very near New York), where we shall stay
two days; then we visit Worcester, Hartford, Springfield,
and other towns, before we return home. I hope to be
in New York this day two weeks. It is snowing here today, and it is very cold.... I am afraid my writing is
very cramped to-day, as the pen seems like a stick and
my hand is tired. God bless you, darling!
Your loving papa.
BOOTH'S THEATRE.
NEW YORK, November 15, I87I.
MY OWN DEAR DAUGHTER:
I arrived here last night and found your pretty gift
awaiting me. Your letter pleased me very, very much in
every respect, and your little souvenir gave me far more
delight than if it were of real gold. When you are older you
will understand how precious little things - seemingly of
no value in themselves —can be loved and prized above
all price when they convey the love and thoughtfulness
of a good heart. This little token of your desire to please
me, my darling, is therefore very dear to me, and I will
cherish it as long as I live.  If God grants me so many
years I will show it you when you are a woman, and then
you will appreciate my preference for so little a thing,
made by you, to anything money might have bought.
God bless you, my darling!
I am going to see grandma to-day as soon as I get
through my letters.
Uncle Joe went on to Baltimore the other day to see
3




34


EDWIN BOOTH


about selling grandma's farm  (the place where your old
pap was born)..
God bless you again and again!
Your loving father.
BOOTH'S THEATRE.
NEW YORK, February 5, 1872.
MY DEAR DAUGHTER:. I have been learning to skate, but I make a poor
"foot" at it. When I was a little boy I had no opportunity
to learn the different games and sports of childhood,
for I was traveling most of the time, spending my winters
in the South, where they have no sleighing or skating.
You must learn - for the exercise is very healthful, and
a great many ladies and little girls skate here on the Park
lake every day in winter.
I am very anxious that you should improve and become
a good scholar, and to make me happy you must bear
this in mind and not waste a moment of the time which
is now so precious to you. See if you cannot astonish
me when I see you next month...
Your affectionate father.
CEDAR CLIFF, COS COB, December 8, I872.
MY DEAR ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD DARLING:
I arrived here yesterday —went to the city to attend
to business and returned last night. In the morning
(your birthday) we start for Trenton, half-way to Philadelphia, where I act two nights, and shall be traveling about
until the day you come to us for the holidays. While in
town yesterday I left to be engraved and to be sent by
express to you a birthday gift-a ruby ring. Now that
1 Belair, Maryland.




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


35


you are nearing your teens and getting fast on towards
young-ladyism —quite out of the range of dolls and toys,
we must begin to replenish your stock of jewelry, I
suppose, and this ring must begin it. Accept it as my
dear love-greeting, with the heartfelt prayers and wishes
for many, many happy returns of —to-morrow. Your
pocket-money will commence also. God grant, my darling child, that your life may be good and happy, and that
as you grow in years your determination to do right will
increase in strength. I have promised that we will dine
with the Thompsons on Christmas eve, and with grandma on Christmas day. We shall pass some of the time here
in packing trunks for our trip to the West. Joe has just
telegraphed me that one of my actors, named Pike, died
yesterday - he acted and I shook hands with him at four
o'clock.  Think how near the other world we tread!
We are always walking along the narrow edge that divides ours from it. I have written very badly, and I ought
to be made to rewrite it, but as my fingers are very stiff,
I '11 send it as it is. Love and kisses, with birthday
wishes,                              Your papa.
CHICAGO, March 2, I873.
MY DEAR big DAUGHTER:
Your last letter was very jolly, and made me most
happy. Pip (the dog) is yelping to write to you, and so
is your little brother, St. Valentine, the bird; but I
greatly fear they will have to wait another week, for, you
know, I have to hold the pen for them, and I have written
so many letters, and to-day my hand is tired.
Don't you think it jollier to receive silly letters sometimes than to get a repetition of sermons on good behavior? It is because I desire to encourage in you a
vein of pleasantry, which is most desirable in one's corre



36


EDWIN BOOTH


spondence, as well as in conversation, that I put aside the
stern old father, and playpapa now and then.
When I was learning to act tragedy, I had frequently
to perform comic parts, in order to acquire a certain
ease of manner that my serious parts might not appear
too stilted; so you must endeavor in your letters, in your
conversation, and your general deportment, to be easy and
natural, graceful and dignified. But remember that dignity does not consist of overbecoming pride and haughtiness; self-respect, politeness, and gentleness in all things
and to all persons will give you sufficient dignity. Well,
I declare, I 've dropped into a sermon, after all, have n't
I?  I 'm afraid I '11 have to let Pip and the bird have
a chance, or else I '11 go on preaching till the end of
my letter.  You must tell me what you are reading
now, and how you progress in your studies, and how
good you are trying to be. Of that I have no fear. I
doubt if I shall get to Philadelphia in June; so do not
expect me until school breaks up, and then-"hey for
Cos Cob" and the fish-poles! When I was last there the
snow was high above our knees, and it was very cold;
but still I liked it better than the city. Poor Mr. Joyce
died soon after Mr. Fenno's death.    Nearly all my
company have been ill this season.
Love and kisses from Y'r grim old father.
[At the top of original letter my father drew a smallfigure of a canary bird.]
ST. VALENTINE'S DAY, Feb. 14, I874.
Tweet, tweet, how d' ye do?     Maybe you don't
know  me —I 'm Val: papa calls me Tiny, for short,
'cause I 'm short.   I 'm  a bir-r-r-r-d-a Ka-noory
bir-r-r-d; and I 'm yaller, with dark spots here and
there; I forget just where, 'cause I ain't got no lookingglass, but I 've heard 'em say I 've got dark spots, and




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


37


so, I 've heard too, has the sun, and the sun 's yaller too,
ain't it? I have the nicest seed you ever seed! Papa
whistles to me. Tweet, tweet, I'm a jolly little yaller
boy, and my name 's St. Valentine. Perhaps you don't
know I 'm your brother? Yes, I am, and Pip is my other
sister —so are you-my otherest one.   I don't like
Pip. She 's a dorg, and she snarls, and wakes me up, and
sits on her hind legs, and thinks she looks like me, 'cause
she 's got a dark spot all over her body, and has a few
dirty kind of yallerish spots on her feet and things; but
she ain't- she 's a dorg, and I 'm a bir-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-rr-rud! tweet, tweet, tweet!
Good-bye!
"Bow! yow! now! don't! Papa is pinching my unfortunate tail! I do lead the life of a dorg. What with
papa's pinching and M-'s pianering and singing (and you
know that almost gives me hydrophobia!), to say nothing
of that ugly, little, yaller, two-legged chicken in the cageI mean St. Valentine-I don't get a moment's sleep! But
you just wait till papa takes off his boots - then won't I
go for his toes! Oh, no! only wait! Ain't it jolly not to
go to school! My! don't you wish you was a-purp?
Then you 'd be punished, and would n't go to school, too.
Papa says my letter ain't half as good as Val's - I hate
Val! I hate birds and chickens, anyhow-'cept when
they 're cooked - then yow! yow! don't I loves 'em!
When I was at Long Branch I used to sneak behind the
barn and chew 'em; killed several, and then got licked!
Yow! did n't it make my fur fly! But I yelped a good
deal more 'n it hurt, just to skeer M-, who begged
pop not to whack me any more. Now, whenever dad
takes me up by the tail and lathers me for being naughty,
I just yelp and yow! wow! till the fire-bells ring, and
that skeers 'em; then I 'm let off till next time. How
3*




38


EDWIN BOOTH


does you get it? So? If you do, just yelp. I know I 'm
going to ketch it for not writing a better letter, but my
nose is out of joint now, and that yaller-backed bird gets
all the sugar. I can't do anything right any more, while
Master Val chirps and tweet, tweets without a scold. I'm
getting orful tired of playin' dorg; 't ain't funny any more.
I don't like sitting on two legs, and made to shut up
every time I want to express my feelings. Sometimes I
think I '11 stop drinking water, and' make believe' I 've got
the 'phoby,' and bite the bird; then they '11 kill it, and I '17
eat it-and then come to, and larf at 'em! Sometimes
they has br'iled birds for dinner- then I gets the bones;
but they takes all the bird off though -'fore I gets 'em!
Outch! Yow! Here comes daddy's boot! Good night.
Ki-i-ki-i-ki-yow!!!
[Picture of dog.]
This is me.
PIP.
CINCINNATI, April 28, I874.... Are you aware that this is your "salary-day"?
The "ever-welcome" is herein conveyed to you, with
many blessings and lots of love from " da-da." Not hearing anything to the contrary, I take it for granted that
the good Lord has restored my darling's health, and that
she is "Richard 's himself again," and ready, not for a
fray, but for a laugh. I forgot to tell you of our visit while
in Louisville to the orphan asylum; it was very agreeable, but rather comical. You know I don't like to make
speeches; President Grant and I are much alike in that
particular, as we are likewise in the matter of smoking.
Well, when we arrived at the asylum we were ushered
into the school-room, where several gentlemen and as
many matrons and other ladies were assembled, while a




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


39


crowd of about one hundred and eighty children - girls
and boys -many with extremely untidy noses and quizzical faces, set up a yell of "Walecoom! Weelcoom!
Weelcum!" to a lively air, and about eighteen hundred
and seventy-four verses.  Then they "spoke" speeches
of welcome in all its varied varieties of intonation; then
they sang again, and after all presented your "poorold-half-scared-out-of-his-wits" papa with bouquets of
flowers, and a picture of the asylum - from the children,
and so forth. All this was very jolly, but afterward I
had to respond, of course; and there I stood on a platform, making vain attempts to talk "goody" to the poor
little creatures, who did n't pay the least attention to my
eloquent remarks, but gaped, and showed unmistakable
signs of "wishing dinner was ready," while several little
tots fell fast asleep. This description is of course not half
so entertaining as were the noses and the queer eyes and
the general "make-up " of the precious "cherubs," and the
vocal displays in honor of your dad's arrival. Now, my
little girl, I have nearly finished my letter with chathoping you will enjoy it, and send me in return a good long
letter written in French, as of old, to "mon cher papa,"
assuring me that you are well and good and happy. The
weeks are swiftly passing into the "long ago," and I will
soon, God willing, be with you. I send a heart full of
love and tenderness for my "little girlie."
Your loving father.
CEDAR CLIFF, COS COB, November 15, I874... The slipper-case is lovely, and you calculated
perfectly the length of my "footsy-tootsy." Many thanks,
my darling; but " ou " is the French letter I am looking
eagerly for.... Grandma insists that to-day (I5th)




40


EDWIN BOOTH


is my birthday, in spite of all authority which places the
"star shower" November 13, 1833; consequently she
celebrates to-day in my honor. I am a year older than
when I wrote you last, and yet it seems but a week ago.
How Tempus does fugit!
God bless, you darling! Be good and diligent.
Your papa.
BALTIMORE, February 14, I875.
Dearest little daughter mine,
This being the silly rhymsters' season,
So, I think, a sufficient reason
For me to jingle you a line;
Nor can "Superior" think it treasonSurely, 't is no fault of thine
If papa plays "Sir Valentine."
I won't run into rhapsody,
Setting your noddle in a whirl
By styling you my "precious pearl,"
But like a plain "old nobody,"
Just say, "I love my little girl,"
Without regard to prosody,
And thus defy all parody.
For none can find in such a line
(Although my jingles are so crude),
For ridicule one grain of food,
Tho' they may laugh at my poor rhyme.
Well, let them laugh; while she is good
My little daughter shall be mine —
And I '11 be her "old Valentine."




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


4I


BOSTON, March 28, I875.
MY DEAR "EASTER EGG":
Did you get it?
Let me tell you, miss, that your sarcasmly remarks
about my little pipe have had a very terrible effect on
your antique parent; I really believe I have not smoked
more than once since-dinner, and all because you complained of my fragrant epistle.
The dates, figs, and oranges were ordered to be delivered to you not by "that dear good man who smokes
so much"; so you see that H- put the shoe on the
wrong foot: in other words, he did "fig-et" he was out
of "date." We have got some wee little squabby pigeons. What a pie there '11 be some day, somewhere!
God bless you, darling! Love and kisses from
Pop.
Cos COB, May 30, I875.
MY DEARLY BELOVED LITTLE ( RAG":
You say in your last that you have been feeling so like
one that I presume it is but fair to humor your feelings
in your (then) present distress. If your climate becomes
much more sultry we must wring you out.... Apropos
of your "Spelling Bee " and the prize, you say you do not
like suspense. No more, my child, does a man while hanging; but patience is necessary, my dear, to success in everything. We can't jump into glory with a skipping-rope;
we must walk very slowly and carefully, too, else we '11
"stump our toeses": therefore be patient, and endure
suspense heroically, and if the prize is not won, endure
the disappointment with patience still. It will surely be
yours some day-after the Lord has proved you worthy
through these little trials. I am glad you feel so much




42


EDWIN BOOTH


interest in these competitions; it stirs up your energy
and ambition. Never let them flag, but keep straight on
and upward, just as your dear mother did.
To change the theme-you say you played three times,
and that there were four pianos! Did you play on all
four (I don't mean "all fours ") at the same time, three
times? Whew! Golly, what a girl! You must certainly be a female Briareus.... Much of my life's struggle has been with myself, and the pain I have endured in
overcoming and correcting the evils of my untrained disposition has been very great;... Bear charity in your
thoughts, love in your heart for all.
"Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,
To silence envious tongues,"
says Shakspere, who says scarcely anything that is not
true and good....
It 's difficult for me to keep my wits "on edge";
they're very blunt. When your heart jumped into your
throat, and you heard it beat, and saw the paper shake,
you had what actors call "stage fright." It 's very terrible, but after a little experience it will not come again.
I always have it, though, when I sing. By the by, I have
seen silver threads among the black, but have not heard
the song you mention.
Good night, darling. God bless you!
Papa.
Cos COB, June 2, 1875.
BELOVED CHICKEN:
That is what you prefer, it seems.  Pardonnez papa,
pour oublier les... dollairs. I have been so long a
bankrupt that I really forgot that I had any assets or
"cash on hand," and your "pin-money" quite "dis



LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


43


solved " from my " intellex." If you '11 forgive the poor,
forgetful old gentleman this time, he won't do so not no
more. Is my grammar quite correct? Speaking of grammar, this is gra'ma's birthday-seventy-one! I sent her
a very pretty little straw basket filled with lovely roses
(very tiny-a French rose); we have some white ones under our parlor window. The basket also contained pansies,
smilax, lilies of the valley, and so forth. It was very
pretty, and pleased grandma very much. She looked
and felt in good health and spirits.... You say I have
not written to you lately. Goody! Gracious me! Oh,
my! I 've been doing nothing elser these parst several
weeks! One of us has been dreaming, maybe. This is
merely a scratch of the pen to keep the.. dollars
company, and to say God bless my daughter.
Papa.
Nov. 7, 1875.
MY DEAR DAUGHTER:
It is now nearly midnight,-"when half the world is
in a solemn darkness hung," as King Dick says when the
ghosts come after him at Bosworth Field.... The separation from you is necessarily hard, but I solace myself
that the time will soon slip by, and we shall be looking
back at " now" as only a little while ago, and that then,
if we are good, or strive to be so, we shall enjoy a good
long holiday trip together.  This is the way we must
look at all our crosses and disappointments; this is the
secret of my being able to withstand the many misfortunes I have had.  Then these mishaps become real
helps to us when good fortune comes: they strengthen
us to bear becomingly and with grateful hearts that which
might make us selfishly forgetful of Him from whom all




44


EDWIN BOOTH


blessings come. So, "be a man," and sing instead of
crying. Be careful of your health, and cultivate all that
is bright and joyous in your nature, so that we may chirp
all the way to California, like little chippy-birds-especially me.... Gifts are valued (or should be) for the givers' sake,
not for their own, and a simple flower often conveys more
pleasure to the recipient than a costly present, if given
with feeling and at the proper time.
Since my tobacco-scented letters brings me so near to
you, this is a strong argument in favor of my naughty
habit of smoking, so I '11 stick to pipe and " baccy." My
engagement begins to-morrow in Richard IL
NEW YORK, Nov. 14, I875... My forty-second birthday (yesterday) was passed
(day and evening) in the theatre, with Richelieu and Shylock, two weary old boys. I hoped to have photos taken
in Richard IL., the costumes are so beautiful, and your
pop appears as a blond in that character; I will give it
in Phila, so that you shall have a chance to behold my
flaxen curls. You must read that portion of English history, so as to be a little familiar with the tragedy. My
friends are enthusiastic over my performance of it. My
engagement is very fine, and could be extended here, did
I not wish to be with you as soon as possible....
RICHMOND, VA., Jan., I876.
'T was in this city, darling, just twenty years ago,
that I first met your angel mother, who now watches




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


45


over and prays for us in heaven. Twenty years make
a large gap in one's lifetime, yet they slip away very
quickly, and when gone we wonder how little we have
accomplished in so long a time. Be sure that you do
not waste a day, that you may, twenty years hence, feel
the gratification of having accomplished much good
since now. My last visit here was seventeen years ago
(before you knew me), and the people are greatly excited
over my coming. Your grandfather Booth was much
beloved here, and made his first appearance (in I82I)
before an American audience in this city. You see, I
have cause to feel much interest in Richmond...
Thoughtfulness is a virtue you must strive to cultivate;
an anxious care for the feelings of others is productive of much happiness to ourselves as well as to those for
whom we make the trifling sacrifice of a moment's comfort. Tom Hood says:
There 's much harm wrought
By want of thought
As there is by want of heart,
or something to this effect; my memory retains merely
the idea and jingle of the rhyme; the words may be differently set. It is surprising how happy we feel when we
have caused ever so little happiness in others. "Love
thyself last," Shakspere says, and what he says is about
as full of solid sense as any advice which man can
give.
NASHVILLE, Feb. 27, 1876.
Yesterday I climbed to the top of Lookout
Mountain, and had magnificent views, far and wide, of
miles of surrounding country. Much of my trip has




46


EDWIN BOOTH


been through battle-fields, where are still to be seen the
remnants of earth-works, etc., thrown up by the Confederates. The country all about us shows the sad
effects of war, altho' ten years have passed in peace since
then. You should see the crowds of idle gapers that
throng the depots at my arrival, and the swarms of females (they can't be called "ladies") that crowd the
hotel halls and parlors in every place. It is unpleasant
for me, who hate notoriety and publicity. They point
at and touch me, exclaiming to one another, "That 's
him! " "That's Booth! " To-day they tried to get on
the carriage that brought me to the hotel. Policemen
had to keep the crowds back for me to pass through.
I suppose they mean it all in kindness, but it is very
disagreeable. The night I arrived in Chattanooga I was
surrounded by a "scheechy" band. I tell you, I was
frightened! I should have made a speech and asked
them to take a glass of wine, but I did n't; I made the
hotel proprietor thank them for me...
LOUISVILLE, March 12, 1876.... I must tell you of our ride from Mammoth
Cave, that "big hole in the ground." I shall try to
relate the wonders I heard in the cavern, and describe
our jog over the stones through the forest. Our guide
was a bright young colored chap, who produced by his
imitations of dogs, cows, etc., some fine effects of ventriloquism on our way through the cave. In pointing
out to us a huge stone shaped like a coffin he would remark: "Dis is de giant's coff-in"; then, taking us to the
other dilapidated side of it: "Dis is what he coughed
out." Then we reached what they call down there
"The Altar," where some foolish folk were married




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


47


once upon a time. "De young lady swore she nebber
would marry any man on the face ob the earth, so she
came down yer and got married under de face ob de
earth. 'Spec' she wanted materomony inter de groun'."
Then he would cry out, " Hi! John! " and we could hear
the echo, as we thought, far away; then he would strike
the ground with his staff and we could hear a loud,
reverberating sound, as tho' all beneath were hollow,
though when any of us tried it, no sound would come. He
had finally to own up that he was both cause and effect.
Frequently we found in different chambers in the cave
crystallizations hanging from the rocky ceilings called
" stalactites," and others rising from the ground directly
beneath them, reaching up and often joining the ones
from above, and forming a solid pillar from floor to roof;
these latter are called "stalagmites."  William, our
guide (very serious all the time), remarked that "De
upper ones was called stalac-tite 'cause dey stuck tight
to de roof, and de odder ones stalag-mite- cause dey
might reach the upper ones, and den again dey might
n't." A facetious and comical darky, truly! One of
these columns, or pillars, had a sort of knob on it shaped
like a fat dumpling face, which is named here "Lot's
Wife." William said, "And she has n't done poutin'
about it yet." So we went laughing at his weak jokes;
for it was funny to us actors to see this fellow throwing
his wit at us, and our appreciation of his acting made
him very happy. I think I have already written about
the pretty little bats that hang about the walls and roof
of the cave in clusters, with heads down and mouths wide
open, as if laughing in childish glee at the fun they are
having in playing "upside down." As the road from the
cave to the station was too rough and shaky for a carriage, I ordered two horses, the pokiest old pacers that
could be obtained.... Away we went (M- and I) at




48


EDWIN BOOTH


the rate of at least an inch a minute, through the forest,
towards the station, as we supposed. Being told there
were no other roads, and to leave the choice to our
horses if we became confused, we felt secure. We had
ridden about two miles when we concluded there were a
great many wide paths resembling roads so closely that
it would be well to leave the choice of one to our nags,
who were traveling it daily. We did so, and of course
the brutes took us far out of the way, into the forest.
Going to the right, of course they went wrong; the road
we left was right: so we got mixed.
Three miles farther the road disappeared, so we went
back to the fork where we first diverged, and followed
the original path. Finally we smelt supper afar off,
just as the war-horse sniffs the battle, so our "makebelieve" chargers sniffed their oats.  We arrived at
supper-time, and when I was asked how I felt after my
"ride a slow horse to Cranberry Cross," I remarked, in
mournful numbers, "I feel sore-ly for it." We had
ridden about fourteen miles over the roughest, hardest
stones, up hill and down dale....
Do not be discouraged because you find your knowledge less as you grow older; it will be so until you give
up the great riddle of life, and cease to guess at it, tho'
you live to the age of Methuselah. I have only just discovered that I know infinitely less than nothing. So do
all at forty, unless they are fools. We all must live and
learn or loaf and lose (that word "loaf," however, is a
vulgarism, used here only for the sake of alliteration; do
not use it). You know I have acted Hamlet for many
years, and many hundred times. Well, I am just learning many things that were hidden all this while in the
obscurity of its wonderful depths of thought; so, when
you are 365 years old, you will give up guessing " what
it's all about, anyhow."...As for what you say about




EDWIN BOOTH IN 1852.
0F
II,




I
4
0
I




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


49


your not being patient when sick, why are not all patients
sick, and all sick people patients?
SHAKSPERE'S BIRTHDAY, April 23, I876.
MY DARLINGABUS DAUGHTERIUS:
Meus am not muchabus in Latin, butere ego amo to
scribet in lingo classical, ergo ego scribbleus thisabus
replicationem in Latinibus exempli gratia, which, the
malum inse, is a very magnum  opus for tuum Pop.
Yuum mustus ergo beum semper paratus tomeum encourageum in scribet verbatim et literatim, in lingo Latinum et Frenchium. Oh! Jam satis.
And therefore I will descend to vulgar Saxon. I dare
say, between us, we could jabber in hog-Latin, pigeonEnglish, and fishy French, to the utter confusion of all
the savans and linguists of the schools; but it 's jolly
hard work, this brushing up of one's buried and moldy
accomplishments.
When I was at Eton (I don't refer now to the dinnertable) my Greek and Latin were of such a superior quality that had it not been for an unforeseen accident I would
have carried off all the honors. The accident lay in this:
I never went to school there except in dreams. "How
often, oh! how often " have I imagined the delights of a
collegiate education! What a world of never-ending interest lies open to the master of languages!
The best translations cannot convey to us the strength
and exquisite delicacy of thought in its native garb, and
he to whom such books are shut flounders about in outer
darkness. I have suffered so much from the lack of that
which my father could easily have given me in youth, and
which he himself possessed, that I am all the more anxious
you shall escape my punishment in that respect; that
you may not, like me, dream of those advantages which
4




50


EDWIN BOOTH


others enjoy through any lack of opportunity or neglect
of mine. Therefore, learn to love your Latin, your
French, and your English grammar; standing firmly and
securely on them, you have a solid foothold in the field
of literature....
Think how interesting it will be hereafter to refer to
your journal, and see the rapid development, not only of
your mind, but of your moral growth; only do not fail to
record all your shortcomings; they will not stand as reproaches, but as mere snags in the tortuous river of your
life, to be avoided in succeeding trips farther down the
stream. They beset us all along the route, from the
cradle to the grave, and if we can only see them we can
avoid many rough bumps.
God bless my darling!       Papa.
Dec. 9, I879.
O MY EIGHTEENTH DAUGHTER!
How old you make your daddy feel! You see I've
had to purloin some of your paper (mine 's "done
gone ") on which to write my congratulations, my loving
hopes and "blessful" wishes for your future.
Deeming it most appropriate on your birthdays to give
you (what really is your own) a memento of your mother,
it was my intention to mark each year with some one
little relic; but, alas! the annuals come so quickly that,
few as the treasures are, you 'd be a Mrs. Methuselah
(according to my count, at least) before you 'd get them
all. Therefore I concluded to let you have the lot at
once to-day, being now old and large enough to wear
what you may consider appropriate, and to put by, as
dear souvenirs, such as may be of no use or too oldfashioned for the present time. Association makes them




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


5


dearer than any I could buy for such an occasion, and the
poetry of the notion pleases me better; I am sure you
will appreciate the sentiment....
God bless you, my daughter, and grant you very
many and very, very happy returns of this day!
Your loving father.
NEW YORK, June 4, I88o... You 've been so long away that I 'm tired of
writing funny.... Grandma got your letter on her
birthday; I wish I had told you of the event. She was
much pleased, of course, and says she will write you
from the Branch, whither she goes on Wednesday....
It now seems years ago since I saw you, and I long to
see "my old girl" again. I doubt if I shall recognize
you. The thought that the change has done you good,
and that you have had a jolly time, compensates me for
the separation.  Strange, I did not miss you much at
first, but as the days passed on, I began to fidget, and
wonder where you were, and so forth. Now, is n't it
queer that such an old pump as I should be worrying
about a mere girl? I ought to be ashamed of yourself!
Nothing has yet been done towards getting ready for our
departure. I hope that nothing will prevent it.  My
wits have been worried over the breakfast,l and the
speech I must make.   It is probable that McEntee's
pictures of me will be hung about the walls during the
feast. I hope so. Mr. Bispham spoke of them to-night... I felt like letting you know that you also had an
old pop that sometimes thinks of his darlin' darter....
Bless you!                          From papa.


1 This referred to a farewell breakfast which was given to my father at Delmonico's prior to his sailing for Europe.




52


EDWIN BOOTH


HARTFORD, CONN., Feb'y 17, 1885.
DARLING DAUGHTER:
I have this moment arrived from New Haven-telegraphed you from there this morning; a pleasant ride.
Prof. Weir was with me at the theatre all evening, and he
promised to breakfast with me at ten this morning....
We went to his studio, thence to his house, where I stayed
till one o'clock with his family.... Hoped to see you,
and all sent lots of loving messages to you. The plays
went finely, and the house was full in spite of the terrific
storm. I get a certainty, so do not know the amount of
money taken.   The legislature is in session, and the
good rooms of this hotel are filled: the one prepared for
me was worn and shabby, and so I asked for a larger
one, and here I am writing you while the fire is being
made and my dinner prepared. My hands are a little stiff
with cold, and my desk is the bureau for the nonce..
Here is my dinner, so I '11 stop awhile. Bye-bye!
After dinner.
Field came as I was "topping off" with cold mince-pie,
and talked business for two hours; now he is gone, and
H- is setting out my toilet articles. It is four o'clock,
and after I finish this I '11 nap it till cup o' tea time.  So
much for pop; now for my girl. How are she? I hoped
to find a letter here, but p'raps 't is yet too previous, as
the classicists say. Remember, you must send your letters
ahead, calculating by the list of dates and places that you
have. I hope, my darling, that you are well, and not
worrying about me. My time is whirled away by travel
and acting, you know, and you must occupy yours by
attention to your health and daily exercise.... Before I
nap I want to scribble a few lines to mother, dear old
soul; I intended to do so before I left. The brick-dark




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


53


head waiter here welcomed me with a hearty shake of the
hand, and kind enquiries after you. Fraternal fiend!
Being alone here takes me back twenty-five years, when
I was your mother's sweetheart, and used to sit thus scribbling to her. I can't write so many letters now, however,
as I then did. I '11 write as often as my nerves will let me,
but will wire you every day.
God bless my girl!
Papa.
PHILADELPHIA, April 7, I885.
O MY DAUGHTER!
Your dear letter was on my table with the "radicks"
and eggs this morning, and, having played upon my morning pipe, I now sit to answer it.  Darling, I do not, I cannot, allow my mind to dwell on the fact that we must be
parted.' The pain of it will be enough when it comes, yet I
am confident-like a bitter draught-it will have a wholesome effect.... I feel a strengthening faith in Ignatius's ability to make your life what I would have it - a
sunny, cheerful, homely contentment. God bless you
both!
I am in a delightful, cozy room in a small hotel, very
"uppy," and yet modest. The walls have fine pictures
on them; the mantel is bric-a-brac'd, and the "toot and
tumble" is very homelike, and the food is good.
I opened to a very large and enthusiastic house, and
acted well. Am rather tired this morning, but well.
My sole caller was young Furness, yesterday, who goes
back to Boston to-day. His father will see me this afternoon, and coax me to dine with him Sunday. He says
most affectionately that we must see something of each
other during this brief visit. Now, what am I to do? I
1 This refers to my approaching marriage.
4*




54


EDWIN BOOTH


find that the only Sunday train that I can take for New
York leaves at eight o'clock, which would necessitate rising at six, and after the double performance of Saturday
I would be loathe to leave my bed so early.  Still, it
won't kill me much; I '11 make up my mind in a day or
two. I 'm glad you went to Johnson, and I do hope he
will succeed in satisfying me with the portrait.... I
must go out while here, for the chambermaid can't have
the rooms otherwise, curtains being the dividing partition
of my bedroom and parlor. So, as the day is bright,
and 't is growing late, I '11 go, and let her come.
My love to Ignatius, with a thousand blessings from
your loving                                   Pop.
PHILADELPHIA, April 8, 1885.
DARLING:
I rec'd your second letter at breakfast-time: it is full of
goodness; I do not think that I can answer it to-day, but
while dinner is preparing I scribble a very brief acknowledgment. If Ignatius and I were both absent from you
at the same time it might tax you sorely to provide us
both with love-letters.  Perhaps he 'd be jealous if he
read mine. Bless you!
Last night the house was again crowded, and audience
very demonstrative, and I think I acted even better than
the first night. The people seemed to be far more demonstrative than any that I 've acted to elsewhere..
Have just returned from a visit to Furness, who was out;
but by agreement I sat in his library and smoked his pipe.
His father1 (whom I never met before) came in and chatted awhile, and then the eldest son. While I was there
Furness called here and left his skull,2 which I shall use to1 The Rev. Dr. W. H. Furness, the Unitarian divine, who is still preaching
at the advanced age of ninety-two.
2 A skull in the possession of Mr. Horace Howard Furness of Philadelphia.




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


55


night. This skull has been used by all the great actors
since Kean. There being some doubt as to my having
ever used it, we will make it sure to-night.
It is now raining very hard, and 't is very warm. The
"Clover Club," which meets in this hotel, invites me to
appear at their board to-morrow at five; but I cannot accept, of course, but may drop in on them after the play.
Furness also begs me to visit the "Penn Club " with him
some night after the play; he wants me to pass Sunday
with him, but spoke of the morning, not evening. God
bless you! I hope all goes well at the house. Love to all,
from your dear old                         Pop.
PHILADELPHIA, April 14, I885.
MY DARLING INFANT:
I rec'd both yours and Ignatius's pleasant letters. Tell
him that this must serve as his answer, or rather acknowledgment, as well as yours, for I really grow more incapable of the task. I should labor, for such indeed has
writing become. His letter is full of a true, manly, loving sentiment that I would have my daughter's husband
feel for her and for her father, and I am happy in the
conviction that it is the sincere and genuine expression
of a sacred love. May God bless it. May he strengthen
and preserve it through a long and happy life-through
all eternity.
Now, granny, I am not going to spend much time with
you to-day, for I arose very late, having sat up with
Othello till nearly daylight, it being my moody time for
keeping faith with Furness on the Shakspere subject, and
at such times, when I begin, I can't stop till I have had my
say.... At Furness's Sunday there came a marvelous man,
Keller, the magician, who yesterday gave Furness and
me a private exhibition of his expose of spiritualism, the




56


EDWIN BOOTH


most astounding performance I ever beheld. Had he not
assured us that 't was all a trick, both Furness and I could
not but have believed it supernatural. Furness is one
of a committee formed for the purpose of investigating the
phenomena of "spiritualism," with more than half a hope
to prove its truth, and I want him to see Mrs. Thaxter's
friend in Boston. Keller, however,-so far as physical
manifestations go,-has settled the question, unless he, as
spiritualists declare, is a medium, and calls his "wonders"
tricks for mere money-making. I don't believe it; I
think he is honest, and yet I've had such strange experiences in that direction that I 'm inclined to accept almost
everything that savors of mystery as supernatural.
I am to speak a speech 4th of May at the Art Museum about Poe -no escape for me!  Pity and pray for
me! Bye-bye; love to all. God bless you!   Papa.
HOME, BOSTON, Friday, April I5, I885.
DARLING:
I went to Haverhill at five o'clock. Acted there in a
very large, very fine, and very crowded theatre....
Everywhere thus far the houses are large and filled to
overflowing. I get a certainty, so do not know what the
receipts are,... but I am satisfied, although I do all
the work..
The hotel at Haverhill is the worst this side of the
Rocky Mountains.    Dirt and food unfit for hyenas.
This is no mawkish, fussy, old womanish complaint; the
dirt was real this time. No carpets were on the halls and
stairs, and the noise all night and early morning was
jolly. When I saw my clothes this morning I understood why the halls and stairs were bare; the carpets had
crawled away! And I 've no doubt that my clothes




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


57


would have disappeared if I had not secured them in the
dawning of this blessed day. All the companies stopped
at the same house, and they agreed that the food was uneatable and the accommodations beastly. However, I am
cozily fixed before our Franklin, writing of past horrors
with perfect peace at heart....
Before I leave Haverhill-forever, I hope!-I must tell
you of a curious little incident that occurred this morning.
The porter came for my trunk, and while my back was
toward him he exclaimed: "My! How fat ye 've got
since I see yer last! An' how's Miss Edwina? Have n't
seen her since I held her in my arrums; and ah, but she
had a nice gurrel for a nurse!" I looked at the party, but
could not recognize him....
I got your letters late last night, but fearing that my
answer may not reach New York before you leave tomorrow, I shall not mail it, but leave it here for you. I
start for Providence at 3:30, and will leave there Sunday
morning about eight, getting here to breakfast about
ten o'clock.... I would not have had you on the tour
with me for worlds, and I am told that the next week's
tour is worse, so far as theatres and hotels are concerned.  I 've known much rougher work, but of late
years I 've been too comfortable to appreciate this sort
of thing...
My theory of marriage is mental affinity: hearts may
be joined, truly so, but if the intellectual sympathy is
not perfect, no real happiness can result.  The Friar
says to Romeo and Juliet: "These violent delights have
violent ends, and in their triumphs die." Be sure that
" the marriage of true minds "only is the perfect marriage.
Between you two I have every reason to believe that
mind, and not heart alone, has influenced you, and I look
forward with confidence to a blessed partnership of life's
joys and sorrows...  Goodness, gentleness, protection,




58


EDWIN BOOTH


will satisfy the heart, and he possesses these qualities, you
are assured; I also believe it...
God bless you -bless you both! I am in great haste
now, for I've dined since I began this, as I leave at
3:30.... God's blessings on thee!          Papa.
NEW YORK, Sunday, May 24, 1885.
MY DARLING:
Since I left you Wednesday' I have been in a daze
every one endeavoring to prevent me from loneliness,
and doing in pure kindness everything to prevent what
I most wish to do.... Worse than all, I missed writing to you by yesterday's mail. I forgot the date, and
delayed too long. A note from D-   told me she had
written, and I realized how thoughtless I had been. I
must cable you to-morrow, but, unfortunately, I left my
code in Boston, and I shall therefore defer my return
home till Tuesday.... I got your message from Sandy
Hook. Darling, I can't tell you just how I feel-the
separation has been a wrench to my nerves; but when
in the midst of my selfishness the thought comes of your
happiness and the good that will come to you, I cease to
grieve, and somehow enjoy your pleasures as if I were
with you.
In a few days I shall be at work, I hope, with ShyZock,
for Furness, and I shall endeavor to keep myself interested
in such work.... I feel confident that Ignatius will
watch over your health and be very careful of you in
every way.
May God bless and guard you both! Until I know
that you are safe beyond the icebergs and other sea dangers I cannot be quite at rest. The terrible escape of the
1 This refers to my departure for Europe on my wedding-trip.




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


59


Berlin from destruction a few days ago has of course
increased my fears.... God grant that by Thursday next
I shall have good news from you. Poor grandma worries over me, of course. I shall come here in two weeks
and help her move, and stay with Bispham for a few
days.
God bless you, darling! Enjoy prudently all that
your new life and travel offer, and come back to old
pop rosy with health and happiness.
Love to I. and a kiss for my girl.      Papa.
BOSTON, May 29, 1885.
MY DARLING:
To-day I got your cablegram from Southampton. Heard
yesterday afternoon that your ship had been seen near
Southampton, so I got the good news before the evening
press could publish it. I was relieved of great anxiety,
for of late, within the week, several terrible escapes
from icebergs and one collision with great loss of life
have occurred. Now I am more at ease, and feel quite
cheerful..
Warren 1 got my invitation too late, and came about
four to smoke and stop to tea. He is now napping on
my bed while I write, and at seven I expect Aldrich to
return and tea with us. The following Saturday I will
go to New York to help mother move, to stop with
Bispham while there; the following week, June 15, I
shall open house at " Boothden." I have invited all the
folks, and they are delighted to come some time during
the summer. With so many callers, and the visits I hope
and have promised to make, the summer will slip very
quickly, I hope, till you return, which will be really my
1 The late Mr. William Warren of Boston.




60


EDWIN BOOTH


summer.... Tuesday I am to have a talk with Field
about next season, which I hope will end satisfactorily.
Every morning I find myself on the verge of asking if
daughter is up yet, or if she has had her breakfast in
her room, and frequently during the day I am about to
call you: at night I seem to feel that you're up-stairs in
bed, while I sit here in my den reading or writing, and am
less lonely, being so accustomed to sit here late by myself; through the day, of course, I can find many things
to distract and occupy my thoughts. Now that you are
safe over the sea, and the worst (my coming home) is
over, I am as jolly as a shoe-brush. You must think of
me as being anxious only to receive long letters from
you by every convenient mail, and not at all lonesome.
Love to I. God bless you, my dearest.... God guide
and guard you! Everything is lovely here; the vines
and trees, the birds and grass, and the delicious temperature, make Boston delightful now. If I had n't "Boothden " I 'd stay here in preference, and merely visit now
and then for a change. I enclose a few letters; many
others that have come are evidently cards, which are
hardly worth sending you.
God bless you both!                     Papa.
"BOOTHDEN," June 28, I885.
DARLING:
To begin: my pen is stiff and rusty-now I '11 proceed.
I have been missing you very much,.. but your letters
and messages prevent my being very selfish, so I manage to keep my mind employed with the dear thought
of your happiness, and the anticipation of "daughter's
return."  There must be a letter or cablegram in Boston
for me, which I hope to receive to-morrow.... To-day




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


we started for a walk along our shore, but as we were approaching Huntington's the rain fell in torrents, and we
took shelter at last in the fisherman's hut, till we could
get home without a drenching. Home and change of
garments succeeded, and as it is still raining, all are reading except me, who am struggling with this pale ink..
To my wish they have brought me two long and most
delightful letters from Ischl (that 's a terrible spell of it!).
Your descriptions are very interesting, and make me wish
I were with you. I presume you will not go to Italy.
Why not try the little house in Clarges St., London?
There are several such cozy places in that street; I forget the number, and the name of the people. The articles
you sent have not yet arrived...  I '11 take good care
of the photos- such careful care that, as usual, I '11 not be
able to find them when needed..... I can't give you
much of detailed account of my daily doings, for I have
fallen into the bad habit of sleeping until noon, sometimes, and again after dinner; consequently the days
slip by without any event worth recording.
In September I 'm expecting the return of my married
daughter from Europe. David and his lady companion
Miss Fanny [our horses], have both sore backs, and can't
be used, so I 'm reduced to one horse for a while.
Luckily I have no guests this week-At this point H.
called, and has gabbled an hour about lawn tennis,
which he wishes me to play with his daughter to-morrow
(" No, sir; no, sir; no, siree-sir; no, sir!) and I talked
telephone and macadamizing the road to him —he is
eager for both.... I must tea with Bishop Clark and
Mrs. Sturtevant some day this week.
Have sailed but three times this season; horsebacked
once, and that once was more like labor than fun, and so
I gave it up. See your venerable papa now behind a
pile of letters and bills, scowling at them, and promising




62


EDWIN BOOTH


to attend to them  to-morrow-"to-morrow and tomorrow and to-morrow!"
If you were here, despite the jolly times you are enjoying at Ischl and in the Tyrol, I think you would be
happy, for, now the fog and heat are gone, it is indeed
a paradise, full of calm, and all that is restful. If any
purchaser comes on such a day, I '11 not sell despite the
care of keeping such a place. My wrist aches, and I
must quit for a while.
Love to both of you. God bless you!
Papa.
"BOOTHDEN," NEWPORT, July 27, i885.
When I rec'd your despatch, asking if I were ill,
I was at the telegraph-office in town, and had not my
code-key with me; therefore, I cabled you in full....
The Barretts (Lawrence and Milly) had a splendid time,
and I enjoyed their visit. In my last, I think, I told you
of the surprise party.... After the Ist of August,
Aldrich will come, and Mrs. D- wants me before the
6th or after the I th, and I 'm afraid that I 've snarled
things, as usual, by inviting folks here just at those dates.
Must look over your letter again before I continue this; it
is just after breakfast, and I write by way of getting my
hand in while a fly is persistently investigating the tympanum of my right ear. For a day or two, here, the heat
was intense; very thick fog one day only, thus far....
I have great difficulty in keeping my glasses on, and you
cannot imagine how hard it is to write (or read) without
eyes - at least with eyes that tumble out of their sockets
every other moment, and get so blurred that when they
do stay in place for a while, 't is difficult to see with
them. I must get a pair of old-style spectacles, that will
keep their place.




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


63


The summer has flown quickly. I have missed you
very much; but being half the time in a sort of daze, the
weeks have gone into months without my being aware
of their flight, or without any particular enjoyment
of their passage. From this you may suppose I have
not been lonely. I often wish that I had some vacant
space, some little lonely time to myself, for as it is, I
have been in a whirl, as it were. Everything here is
lovely..
Newport is not very lively. 'T is not " chic " to visit
the casino, this summer; next year, perhaps, 't will be
all the rage. Ignatius did right to prevent your being
salted, and you were very proper in not donning the
miners' costume.1 I am so glad that your health keeps
good, and that all is so bright and happy for you. God
grant it may be so ever!
I think I have told you more particulars about the place
in former letters. It is lovelier than ever; the rooms in
the laundry are good-sized and comfortable, and the girls
like them; in the boat-house are also two small bedrooms
for W- and his wife.... Have sailed but thrice this
summer.... I 'm sorry that I can't give you such long
and interesting letters as you send me; "years and years
ago," I delighted in scribbling long (but, I fear, not interesting) letters to many friends, but now it is a labor to
write the briefest epistle, and I forgive I-, C-, J-,
and A- for their neglect of my letters. I have replied to
quite a number, lately, by wire, rather than to write. But
you must not lessen yours to me, for I 'm glad to receive
such good ones as you send....
I am now tired of my cramped position, and my brain
is run dry; have told you all the gossip that I know....
Adieu, my daughter! God bless you! I shall probably
know this evening where you are, in reply to my cable1 This refers to a visit to the salt-mines in Salzburg.




64


EDWIN BOOTH


gram. Dear love for you both. I enclose a little flower
from our garden, and a leaf of lemon verbena.
God bless! Cable from Geneva just come.
Papa.
"BOOTHDEN," NEWPORT, 1885.
I intended to write a page at Cohasset before I got
here, but 't is difficult to do anything when visiting, and
so two days have slipped from me. The photos caught
me there, and the one good one is, I think, the best I 've
seen of you.... The views of Pesth came yesterday,
and a message from Innsbruck has also come....
Last night we three were bathing in the moonlight,
about nine o'clock, when a wagon-load of folks came up.... A jolly surprise party.... Jefferson has sent me a
huge salmon from Canada, killed and smoked by himself.
This will not be half so long a letter as I intended. When
I can be alone for a few days, I will go over your letters,
and try to make mine more of an answer; but while I
have guests, and am visiting, it seems impossible to write
a decent letter. My next go will be to the D-'s, and
they '11 come here. I have really had no quiet or rest at
all; thus far it has been excitement all the time....
The heat has been terrific in the cities; here we have a
breeze most of the time. I must close now for want of
time.... God bless and guard you! Love for both.
Papa.
"BOOTHDEN," August 24, 1885.
DARLING:
I have just reread your letters of August I, 5, 6,
and 8 —the last from  Paris.... I naturally concluded that you hurried away from Paris, but your letter




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


65


disproves that. It may be that a letter from you will come
to-morrow....
Launt Thompson's head of the Saviour has been put
into faience and colored in Florence, and he will give one
to be placed in the chapel under your window..
This may not reach you until after you reach London.
I '11 write again, and send to the Eider s. s., which you
will take at Southampton, I fancy...
My arrangement with Barrett is a year off; 't is to be
a farewell tour of the West and South only..
The pet duckling will be cooked and eaten long before
you get home, I fear; they don't play ducklings very
long.
I am sorry this is so short and so dry a letter, but it is
the best I can do in return for your long and very interesting ones. If you should not get another at Southampton, don't feel disappointed, for unless I am in the
mood for it, writing is an impossibility to me.
I am counting the days between us now —not the
weeks or months any more. To-day next month I hope
to have you here, if not earlier.  Your ship should arrive about the 20th, I think. God bless you, dearest!
Love to both.                   Y'r loving papa.
339 WEST 23D STREET,
NEW YORK, Oct. 22, 1885.
DARLING:
Poor grandma passed away at three this morning. I
did not arrive till seven. How strange that it should be
my lot always in such cases to arrive too late! The dear
one looks better and more cheerful and much younger
than she has appeared for years.... The doctor, yesterday, did not think it necessary to send for me then.
She fell into a stupor about 7:30 last night, and died so
5,




66


EDWIN BOOTH


at three. Mrs. Anderson came, and is now gone for her
minister to hold services at four o'clock Friday. I have
sent word to Baltimore to have all ready for the burial
in father's grave, if possible, on Saturday afternoon.
Although this is a sad blow to me, I have been prepared
a long time for it, and the knowledge of her release from
suffering is a comfort. 'T is for poor Rose' I feel most
anxious. She has just sighed, barely loud enough for me
to hear, "I wish I was gone, too."  Poor, poor soul! I
must now arrange something for her. I am waiting for
the doctor and the embalmers; I can't endure the idea
of placing the body on ice.
I managed to sleep pretty well last night, and was not
at all fatigued. You must not be anxious for me in the
least. I am well, and accept this sorrow with calmness.
'T is my nature to be always expecting Death, and when
he comes, he does not much surprise me. Besides, I have
always regarded the " change" as a blessing rather than
a loss. God bless you, darling!
Papa.
BALTIMORE, November 17, 1885.
DARLING:
I am about going to dine with Gilmer Meredith, to
meet the Rev. Mr. Kirkus, who called on me at Newport.
This is the only free day I have had or will have while
here. I cannot keep my promises to others than M-,
for I am very tired, and Hamlet to-night.... Business is
very fine, and I am in good sort for my work; but I feel
the reaction greatly.... I wrote twenty letters Sunday,
and was interrupted by as many callers; consequently
several letters were left unanswered. It is clear and


1 Rosalie Booth, my father's maiden sister, who lived with her mother in unselfish devotion to the end of her days.




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


67


coolish; wear my ulster and my winter underclothes, but
't is very pleasant weather. I have just torn out a few
notices from papers. I think the "T-" said I was entertaining friends on my birthday. "Teddy"' and I were
alone all day after rehearsal, and " napped " together from
4:30 till 6: 30.
Keep well. God bless you! I shall be in New York
Sunday night, I hope. Love to both.
Papa.
BALTIMORE, January I6, I886.
DEAR DAUGHTER:
I left Phila. at eleven this A. M., and reached here by
2:30. My intention was to write you at once, and answer
several other letters that have been held over for a week
past.... 'T is now six o'clock and quite dark; by this
delay my letter may miss to-night's mail, and you '11 not
get it till Tuesday. I have two of your letters since I
wrote you. I was last night wondering if I 'd ever hear
again from McEntee, so many months have passed since I
wrote to him; I don't know what put him into my mind.
On my arrival to-day the only letter I rec'd was from
him.... It is full of jollity and hope, and he confesses
that he is happy and contented.... The two weeks
ended last night with large houses at matinee and night.
Dining every day at Furness's, and my nap after getting
back to the hotel, prevented me from writing as often as
I should have done from Phila..
As for my future, I presume it will be spent in work
as long as my harness lasts. I give no thought to it;
occupation will be the best for me, and work seems to
agree with me nowadays. I shall be contented if you
are permanently and comfortably settled in cozy quarters
and keep your health. I 've had ugly dreams about the
1 Meaning himself.




68


EDWIN BOOTH


baby of late, but your letter proves the truth of the old
saying that "dreams go by contraries." I 'm glad she 's
getting on so well. I hope you will see "Rienzi." I
want to know something of its success, etc.; Barrett will
be delighted to send you a box, I know.... To-morrow
I shall visit mother's grave at Greenmount. It has been
quite warm for several days past; very little sign of snow
here.... My health is good except my cold in the head
and occasional headaches. God bless you both!
Papa.
PHILADELPHIA, Sunday, 1886.
My first week closed last night with two tremendous houses. The matinee (" Hamlet") had the largest
crowd ever in this large theatre. Sir Giles at night tired
me pretty well, and I 've passed the morning in bed. At
three I am to dine with Furness, and I expect to remain
there all the evening. He is very hard at work, and says
he must work as long as he lives.... I am too sleepy
and stupid to write sense, and scribble merely to keep
you assured that I am well and don't forget you. I hope
it is the same with you, dear daughter. C- saw me last
night regarding the Salvini business. I have no doubt
that it will be carried out. The main point is the company. I want a great "cast," if it be possible to get one.
He has written to Gilbert for Brabantio, Polonius, etc.,
and to Agnes Booth for Amelia, the Queen, etc., Marie
Wainwright for Ophelia and Desdemona. If we can get
strong names, the press and public will be satisfied. The
idea is to play " Lear," " Hamlet," and "Othello" four
times in New York, then four in Boston, and close here
with four performances; the fourth in each case being a
matinee. No free list; so you must be prepared to shell
out your "shekels "-$5.0o per ticket. I to play Ham



LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


69


let; Salvini, the King or the Ghost; Salvini, Lear; and I,
Edgar; he, Othello; and I, iago. The performances will
not be half as well given as with an ordinary cast; but the
world will think differently.... Frank says that stage
hands and "little people" of the theatres ask him for
souvenirs of me, in the way of tights, ornaments, etc., as
used to give them.... By the by, I came near
having a German scene in New York the last night of my
engagement.1 I always give the carpenters, supers, etc.,
a present when I leave a town, and on that occasion I
"embraced" the girls in my donation; their gratitude
was so profuse that I feared they would " embrace" me
before I could get to my room. Poor creatures, they are
badly paid, and have a hard time.
My time is waning, and I must go to Furness. I have
written much more than I thought I could, and if my pen
was not like a pin, I could keep it up, had I time.
God bless you! I naturally feel anxious for you, but
will not allow myself to worry so long as you write often
and give such good report of your condition. Now I
must hurry. Good-bye. Love to both.
NEW YORK, April 27, 1886.
DEAR DAUGHTER:. I wrote and mailed a letter to you Sunday. The
great event 2 came off last night, and all went well. The
house was not packed; not so much money, either, as
Ristori and I had for "Macbeth": we had $5000; last
night but $3600. The prices are too high. I could get
but a couple of little boxes, 'way up-stairs, however, as I
was told everything else was sold; so I presume specu1 This refers to the enthusiasm shown by actors and actresses toward my
father when acting in Germany.
2 My father and Salvini acted together as lago and Othello at the Academy
of Music..   5*




70


EDWIN BOOTH


lators had a lot. If so, they were stuck. I believe the
demand is greater to-day; perhaps the Easter festivities
at other places in town hurt us. The papers are (all that
I have seen) very enthusiastic. I will send the notices.
I am so glad that you are still improving, that baby is
better..
This beastly blue water (hotel ink) is difficult to write
with. Rain and cold yesterday and to-day....
NEW YORK, Sunday, I886.
My engagement here is ended, and to-morrow I go
to Philadelphia. I have been busy all day settling accounts
with T-, and getting my odds and ends together. Yesterday I had a letter from you, and hope to find another
at the hotel to-morrow or Tuesday. A blizzard raised
"Antique Henry " with business the last two nights, and
I am still shivering while I write. I 've had a most curious experience with Brutus (" Julius Caesar "), with which
I closed my engagement. Having so recently acted it
(seven times), and with such success, I gave myself no
concern about it, but when I found myself on the stage
I could not recall more than a few lines of my speech
throughout the play. I made a " mess " of it, and yet I
was in excellent condition, otherwise. It mortified me
extremely, for I calculated on that part to give a satisfactory close to my engagement. The matinee and last
night's performance of the part were better, but I had had
a scare, and it " took the act out of me."... There is a
report here that you are very ill, but your frequent letters
assure me to the contrary, and I do not let it worry
me...
NEW YORK, Sunday P. M., 1886.
I failed to write to you Friday on account of a long
and tiresome rehearsal of " Hamlet," and therefore tele



LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


7I


graphed you yesterday, to let you know that I was well,
and telling you not to mind the scandal published about
me. I hope you saw Bispham's letter in the "Tribune,"
which was true in every particular, and also A-'s kind
note to the " Post." Other papers flew to my rescue, and
consequently I thought it best to hold my tongue, or my
pen, rather. As for the vertigo, that is exaggerated. I
was dizzy from the effects of dyspepsia, and being jerked
up from the stage by Salvini, who let me go before I had
regained my footing, I stumbled on my heels, and a rent
in the carpet laid me flat on my back. That was all of it.
The same thing has happened to me before-in Hamlet
once, in Romeo once, and on other occasions. I am very
weak on my poor little pins, and the least inequality on
the stage will make me totter-as I did the very next
performance in the "play scene " of " Hamlet."
It 's an infamous thing that one's reputation should be
at the mercy of a set of scoundrels.
Hamlet, Friday, and lago, yesterday, drew great houses,
and the applause for me was tremendous. I took Salvini
and his son to the club last night, where they met many
who spoke Italian, and they had a splendid time. There
were many of the best people there, who all came to me
with cordial expressions of sympathy, but of course the
slander is on the wing, and I must live it down, as I have
done before in many cases.... I am so glad, darling,
that you and baby are getting on so nicely.
Salvini is not a brute, but very gentle, kind, and modest.  I like him exceedingly, and, taken his view of
Othello, his acting is superb.  His Ghost was tender,
majestic, and very picturesque.... S- refused $2000
to play an extra night.
Bispham came home with me from the club last night,
and read aloud my sketches of Booth and Kean, which
are now ready for the press. He was delighted with
them, and I confess that I was gratified and rather sur



72


EDWIN BOOTH


prised. There are two or three errors, however, which
must be corrected, and Hutton is coming to-night to talk
them over. The errors, I am proud to say, are not mine....It is unfortunate that the publication of my sketches
must be delayed until the fall. Their appearance just
now would help my cause, for in each of them I refer to
the brutal censure of sick actors, or whenever an accident
befalls them, while other brain-workers are excused on
the ground of overwork and nervous prostration.... I
go to Philadelphia in the morning. Anthony says that
the reason he sent so little " asparagrass" is that he sent
all there was! A very good reason.
Love and a spank from
Grandpa.
COHASSET, MASS., August 4, i886.. I was beginning to feel a little anxious about you,
not having heard from you as early as I expected, when
your letter came. I have been here since the cruise, and
shall stay awhile longer, going to Boston now and then
for a few hours. I may go this afternoon....
I shall be at Newport during the last week of this
month; the following week must be spent in New York
at rehearsals. I hope the sudden change has not affected
you or baby-it was like winter yesterday and is quite
cool enough to-day.... I saw no one at the "Shoals";
did not go ashore till sundown, and tried to keep unknown; but a woman on the ferry-boat which took me
from Appledore to the other island where the yacht was
moored recognized me, and she no doubt told everybody
at the hotel before she went to bed that night. Several
idiotic stories have been in print regarding the cruise-all
false and unfunny. One was that Barrett fell overboard,
and I jumped after him, and we were both fished out of




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


73


the water by Robson and Crane with a boat-hook, etc.
Barrett's brother took it seriously, and wrote a letter of
congratulation before we had seen the article. In a few
days I will have the printed route, and will of course send
you one.
This is about the jolliest household I know of. Barrett
and his girls and two boys are full of romp and laugh all
day until bedtime; they ride, row, sail, and play tennis
every day. 'T is a very happy family, and they have a
cozy little home here.  Love to both, and kisses for
baby.
Papa.
DETROIT, Sept. I9, 1886.
'T is just thirty years ago that I began writing to your
dear mother, generally after the play, and always on Sunday, just as I have been, and am now, writing to you. It
seems very strange and mysterious to me; as though I
had lived all those years right on in the same rut without
interruption; and yet how many changes have occurred
during that interval! I presume you are in Boston
now..
My first week closed last night. The business here was
good, not great. Many people are out of employment;
there are too many cheap theatres; my prices were higher
than usual, and several storms interfered with play-goers.
I expect better return, henceforth. Last night I rec'd the
photos of "Boothden" that you send from Franconia.
The mill view is excellent. Why not take the baby? I
sat to a photographer Friday, but the proofs are horrid.
To-morrow, at nine o'clock, I take a short trip to Bay
City.... My health is excellent; I sleep and eat well,
and smoke first-rate. I hope all but the last is the case
with you.... The leading lady, a young and tolerably




74


EDWIN BOOTH


pretty German girl, is very good, and will become an excellent actress. Kiss baby.
CHICAGO, October 9, i886... Yours of 7th, acknowledging mine from St. Paul,
came last night. I am glad to know that baby has begun
to crawl; don't put her on her feet too soon; consider her
legs a la bow.... I closed my first week here with two
enormous houses. A hard week's work has greatly tired
me. The houses have been overcrowded all the week,
and every seat is sold for the balance of my engagement.
I dine to-night with the Dunlaps, relatives of Jefferson
and Warren.... Warren always spends his summers
with them. Jefferson called and left with me the MS.
of his reminiscences, which he has been writing. So far
as he has written it, it is intensely interesting and amusing, and well written in a free and chatty style; it will be
the best autobiography of any actor yet published if he
continues it in its present form. I sent you some book
notices from Hutton's clippings for me.... In the article I send to-day you will see that I am gently touched
on the point of the "old school"; my reference was not
to the "old style" of acting, but the old stock theatre
as a school-where a beginner had the advantage of a
great variety of experience in farces, as well as tragedies
and comedies, and a frequent change of program. There
is no "school" now; there is a more natural " style" of
acting, perhaps, but the novice can learn nothing from
long runs of a single play. The notices of my sketches
have been invariably encouraging, and the praises of my
acting immense.... I sent a curious card to baby engraved with an ordinary penknife.... My Swiss waiter
and the chef from Delmonico's at this charming hotel
almost weep because I eat so little. My waiter says:
"Ah, Misser Boo, Madame M- is a verra nice ladee,




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


75


like you. She do not eat, but she smoke all timecigarettes; but she is quiet, nice ladee." He was worried
because the "machinery" did n't work well during some
of the scenes one night, and at supper, after the play,
he abused "de missionary dat vos not goodt dere." I
thought he referred to the domonies in the hotel, of whom
I told you. I am as anxious as you are to see the book
with these sketches. I presume the publishers have sent
a copy to Boston.... My windows look out upon the
lake, and were it not for the railroad which runs along
its shore, the prospect would be charming; the noise and
sometimes the smoke are rather objectionable. The city
is as crowded as New York, and is very beautiful in
architecture. Now I must stop, for a dozen letters are
open before me, most of which must be answered today..
Professor Swing has not called, but has been at the
play several times. God bless you! Love to all. Pinch
Mildred for grandpa.
CHICAGO, October 15, I886.. I could not write as I promised either after the
play or the next day, I was so very tired. The heat has
been intense, and the theatre so oppressive, that last night
(Richard III.) I thought I would collapse several times.
To-day it rained and the wind is howling; I suppose we
shall have a freezing-spell now. Found a copy of my
"book" here: compared with Asia's' remarks on father
I think mine very poor; but the sketches have been
pretty well praised, and as nobody but a few friends will
ever read them, it's all right.... Jefferson came with
more of his MS. yesterday, which was even more inter1 My father's sister, Mrs. John S. Clarke, who had written a life of their father,
Junius Brutus Booth.




76


EDWIN BOOTH


esting than the first chapters. I start Sunday by special
train, to avoid night travel, at 10:30 A. M., for St. Louis.
I am loath to leave this hotel, where everything has
been so comfortable and homey; I 'm afraid I shall not
have such pleasant quarters again, tho' doubtless I will
find much gilded discomfort: the hotels are, all through
the West, marvelous in their show. Am in those all day
to answer letters, of which I have a deskful. I hope
baby is not suffering.... The coming man, 't is said,
will have neither teeth nor hair. Blessed coming man!
Love to all. God bless you!
Papa.
[ Written by Mr. Booth to his granddaughter, seven and a half months old.]
NEW YORK, November 13, i886.
MY DEAR LITTLE " GOO-A-GOO ":
Until I found your sweet reminder, I had not thought
how old I really am. Fifty-three-just think of it! And
try to imagine how you will look and feel when you catch
up to me, and your little granddaughter reminds you of
the fact that you are older than you are at present; and
make an extra endeavor to recall your grandad when he
was no bigger and no older than you. Ain't it funny to
think of? Lots of folk have seen your pretty little paperweight, and I 've shown them your picture, "baby on
the half-shell," just ready to be peppered and salted and
swallowed. Mrs. B- and Mrs. H- came home full of your
praises, and say that your mama is a cunning little housekeeper.... Your old fifty-three grandpa has not been
very well the past week, but is all right now, although his
head ached all day, much as it did the day he was born.
Many folks have sent me lots of lovely flowers; the room
is fully decorated with them; besides baskets of fruit,
jellies, and good things, also a poem, which you can read




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


77


quite as intelligently as I-I don't quite get the "hang
of it." One anonymous lady sent me a tapioca pudding;
perhaps she thought you were here.
I shall keep quiet on my pillows all day to-morrow,
because the doctor says my " ittle tummy" must not be
tired by sitting up or walking until Monday night, when
my work will begin again.
I have sat up quite awhile over this, for I wanted to
make it small and neat to fit you, and as it is very warm,
and my head still aches, and my fifty-three eyes are quite
dim, I must say goo-ni-a-gee pretty soon.
You and I eat just the same kind of food-plain milk
mostly, only you take it from a bottle, which I 've given
up; it 's a bad habit. Now bye-bye, ba-bee.
With kisses for mama and oo, and love for all.
Grandpa.
NEW YORK, November, i886.. I have just rec'd your letter with slips inclosed..
My reception was great last night, and a better house.
I send you a lot of notices from yesterday's papers..
The weather is lovely, but too warm for acting. Barrett
and I are going to try a double-team spurt next season;
act together on a short tour....
A- sends word that all goes well, but the " hens ain't
a-doin' much in the egg line." I shall tell him to feed
'em on " egg-plant." It 's in one sense well that baby
shows her will power, but she should be taught early
that hers must be subservient to her parents' and elders',
otherwise she '11 cause much regret. You can't begin
too early to teach children who is "boss," particularly
female babies. As in womanhood, they presume a great
deal on their sex.




7S


EDWIN BOOTH


Your idea of the album for Mildred is excellent, but I
do not think there are photos of me in character, except
Hamlet, Richelieu, and lago.
If the book with my sketches of Kean and father has
arrived, and you still have the article that I sent from "The
Evening Post," October 30, paste the letter inside the
front cover of the book, and add the name and date of the
paper; it will add interest to the volume. My dinner is
coming, and I must hurry up with this, as it is later than
I usually dine.... Newspaper reports from Boston say
that Wilson Barrett's Hamlet has captured the town, etc.
I believe that I follow him there, but at another theatre,
if he is still there, as I think he will be during my first
week.   Have not yet seen the great statue,1 which I
want to see, and must, before I leave New York.
I think that 's about all I have on board. I hope you
are well and that baby has not yet eaten the bottle. I
am very glad that your housekeeping gives you no care.
Love for all. God bless you!
Papa.
PALACE HOTEL, SAN FRANCISCO,
Sunday night, March 5, 1887.. I have just wired you of my safe arrival between
five and six this evening, having hired a special engine to
bring me here last night after the play, instead of taking
the regular train to-day, and risking delay and the great
fatigue of acting to-morrow night after several hours'
journey. Your letter of February 28 was here in answer
to mine from Houston, "on board the car."  I hope to
get later news from you, but of course could not except
by wire, and as no telegram has come, I am in hope that
all is well.
1 Statue of Liberty.




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


79...I found my room here profusely and charmingly
decorated with camellias of various hues, some I never
saw before; vines of maidenhair fern from every point
from which it could be gracefully hung; delicate vines
and tiny ferns and flowers pinned to the lace curtains and
a tall affair bearing a flag or pillow of camellias and other
exquisite flowers of various colors; "Booth" and the
word "Welcome" in massed violets upon it. I can't
describe the beautiful display. Several cards bound with
black attracted my notice, and I found that all this was
done by the mother and sister of Samuel Piercy,' you
remember, who died of smallpox in Boston, when we and
most of the company were vaccinated....
I begin with " Hamlet" (for a week's run) to-morrow,
and the box-office indications are very great.
God bless you! Kiss baby.               Papa.
BOOTH-BAY, July 27, 1887... After a fog of several days' continuance, through
which, however, we made good sailing, we reached Portland last night. We took carriages, and drove ten miles to
Scarborough, the place Barrett and I visited last summer in
a fog, and found it in just the same condition. We found
several acquaintances there, among them Mrs. Raymond
(formerly Miss Cary, the singer), and had a pleasant two
hours' visit. Then through a dense fog back to the yacht.
Started this morning, and had to anchor for a couple of
hours, when the sun came to our relief, and we sailed
through fairy-land, with beautiful islands on each hand;
then to the open sea for an hour. The fog soon reappeared, and to escape it, we came into this harbor, one of
the prettiest in the world, dotted with lovely little islands,
which contain beautiful villas. 'T is a most delightful
1 Mr. Piercy was then supporting my father as leading-man.




80


EDWIN BOOTH


place. It (this stop) defers our making Bar Harbor, where
we expected to be to-night; and if the day to-morrow is
clear, we will reach it before evening. We may stop
there two days. I expect letters there-one from you.
So far everything has been superb. Barrett, Bispham,
and Benedict sing well and much, while Aldrich is kept
at a white heat of fun by Hutton. It is very jolly and
comfortable in every way. I will not mail this until I
reach Bar Harbor; then I hope to receive your letter,
and may have more to say about the cruise. I don't
know for whom this bay and town were named, but, of
course, it is settled by the boys aboard that I am entitled
to the honor. I think the trip is doing us all much good;
the change in Barrett is really wonderful. He 's now full
of life, and sings clearly.
The fog seems to keep out of this harbor, and all is
bright, but I presume the pilot will keep us here till the
horizon is clear; as there is no haste, we shall not venture
near the shadow of risk.... After Bar Harbor, we will
go to Campobello, and then to Halifax for coal; then we
will determine if we have time for a trip to Labrador, or
must retrace our path homeward....
I hope you and the babies keep as well as when I saw
you.
BUFFALO, September 12, 1887.
"After Caesar."...As I have a rehearsal this morning I might miss
the early mail, and therefore write now to avoid delay. I
wired you Sunday, shortly after my arrival, not at all
fatigued, having slept well all Saturday night on the car.
We opened to-night to a jammed house, and the play
went admirably, all company doing well. As Antony
said, "This was the noblest Roman of them all," a mur



EDWIN BOOTH IN 1854.
OF'.
C








LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


81


mur and subdued applause went through the house. It
was not at all merited, for Barrett did far better than I,
who, unfamiliar (to a certain extent) with the part, had to
feel my way continuously and, I fancy, tamely, through
the text.  However, the audience was delighted with
everything, and we consider it a splendid beginning for
the season. Hamlet to-morrow, lago next. This is the
same room I had last year.... I hope, dear, that you
and the babies continue well, and that you will enjoy
many, many happy years in your charming little home.
Love to you all....
Good night. God bless you! It is late.
Papa.
P. S. Barrett is in the seventh heaven.
MINNEAPOLIS, September 25, 1887.... Since my despatch to you I have received your
three letters; one had been delayed at Detroit. To-day
I hope you are comfortably settled in your new home,
where I trust you may have great happiness. Last night
my engagement closed with a crowded house; it has been
an extraordinary week of great success.... We do not
leave until 8 A.M. to-morrow for Duluth. The " crickets "
[critics] here persistently "go for" my antiquity, while
praising me otherwise.... Poor Hammy1 must soon be
laid away in camphor in a dark corner cupboard....
I have a cold that checks my breathing, and I sit with
my mouth agape like a blooming idiot; I took cold here
last season about this time of year. The temperature
seems to keep time with Newport in its ups and downs.
When you wrote of clear autumnal days I wore my overcoat and enjoyed the delicious fall weather. After this
week I shall have a stop of three weeks in Chicago, with
1 Hamlet.
6




82


EDWIN BOOTH


no rehearsals and infrequent changes of bill. We hope
to get a run of " Caesar" and of " Othello "; Brutus and
lago being quiet parts, I shall have comparatively an easy
time. By doing the fifth act of "The Merchant of Venice," with some new scenes, dresses, etc., we may get
several nights and the matinees out of Shylock also, the
three easiest of my characters. This city seems to grow
more beautiful every year; one of the prettiest parks of
seventeen acres lies in the heart of the town, and the residences are very picturesque. The land is undulating,
trees are abundant, and lawns charming. The winters are
long and cold, however; but they have rare sport in
sleighing, etc. If I were twenty years younger, I would
settle here....
I want to see Florida, also, very much, and to visit Jefferson's island, too; both trips must be made in winter or
autumn.
CHICAGO, Oct. I6, 1887.
I acknowledged your tenth letter on a card, which I
inclose with some "puffs," t' other day; now I '11 answer
it....
Under the worst circumstances, try to regard the annoyances of life as merely temporary ills, and remember
that sunlight will soon dispel the clouds, and don't worry
I have seriously thought of having placed near my bed,
where I can see it when retiring and when I arise, a
placard inscribed, in glaring letters, the words "DON'T
WORRY."... It is about the last thought in my mind
at sleep-time and the first at awakening, and it is surprising what good effect it has; I sleep well and work better
for it.




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


83


CHICAGO, October 19, I887... The production of "The Merchant of Venice"
Monday night was superb and finely acted, and Miss Gale's
Portia made the comedy delightful, while the beautiful
scenery and costumes gave exquisite effect to the casket
scene, and the last act in the moonlight garden. Yet the
attendance fell off one-half, a perfect "slump," owing,
I presume, to the fact that for many years the play has
been cut down to Shylock's scenes, and has always been
given with another piece, which, of course, has weakened
its effectiveness; but I think it will soon become known
as one of our strongest plays. Barrett is very earnest
and devoted, and works like a horse over the rehearsals,
showing good taste and thorough knowledge of stage
management, and is sincerely proud of his work. The
return to "Caesar" last night brought up the receipts
again. That play should have been kept on at least two
weeks.... Have no news from you. Am now going
for a stroll with Barrett. We walk an hour each day.
God bless you! Love to all.
Papa.
KANSAS CITY, October 27, I887... Yours of 2 Ist, forwarded from Chicago, came yesterday... The New York    had an article on "Hamlet" last Saturday; if it is not "chambermaided" I '11
send it to you. It praises the performance.... I told
you in my last that the theatre here was roofless, and
otherwise unfit for use.  It was little better Tuesday
night. At nine o'clock at night there were fifty workmen removing lumber, driving nails, and doing all sorts
of work, amid a perfect whirlwind of noise, and freezing
blasts of wind. At ten o'clock a half-scene and a red
sheet were drawn aside, and the play (" Othello ") began,




84


EDWIN BOOTH


to about seventy-five people in hats, overcoats, and heavy
fur wraps, most of whom left as the play progressed, unable
to endure the cold. Not a door was in its place, and the
sky was in full view above the auditorium and part of
the stage. We could use but one scene, an interior, and
that we used throughout the entire play, out doors and
in. It was a freezing performance. Next day (yesterday) we tried " Caesar " for a matinee. This was given to
make up for the loss of Monday night. One scene (a
street) served for the Capitol, Brutus' tent, the Forum,
and the fields of Philippi-about sixteen cold boys and
girls in front. Last night we had some stoves, a tarpaulin cover for a roof, several scenes, and played "Hamlet"
to about two hundred people.
The house should not have been opened for three
months, but the wealthy   had vowed it should open
this week with Booth and Barrett, and having paid us
a large certainty, and sold a great many tickets at five
dollars per head, the promise was kept with only the
delay of one night. The hotel we are at is not much
better, but a warm wave is on, and I keep well and take
care of my bones.... I send a satin program of the
first night that was to be, and did n't.
Don't spare the spanks, and don't be too easily coaxed
into forgiveness.  Young ones are cute in such tricks.
Love to all. In a hurry.
NEW YORK, January 5, I888...  I 've seen Rose several times, and shall say goodbye to-morrow. I do all I can for her, but nothing on earth
can render her lonely life less weary, poor soul! As for
God's reward for what I have done, I can hardly appreciate it; 't is more like punishment for misdeeds (of which
I 've done many) than grace for good ones (if I 've done




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


85


any). Homelessness is the actor's fate-physical incapacity to attain what is most required and desired by
such a spirit as I am slave to. If there be rewards, I
certainly am well paid; but hard schooling in life's thankless lessons has made me somewhat of a philosopher, and
I 've learned to take the buffets and rewards of fortune
with equal thanks, and in suffering all to suffer-I won't
say nothing, but comparatively little.  Dick Stoddard
wrote a poem called "The King's Bell," which fits my
case exactly (you may have read it). He dedicated it to
Lorimer Graham, who never knew an unhappy day in
his brief life, instead of to me, who never knew a really
happy one. You must n't suppose from this that I'm ill
in mind or body: on the contrary, I am well enough
in both; nor am I a pessimist. I merely wanted you to
know that the sugar of my life is bitter-sweet; perhaps
not more so than every man's whose experience has been
above and below the surface.... Business has continued
large, and increases a little every night. The play will
run two weeks longer. Sunday, at four o'clock, I start
for Baltimore, arriving there at ten o'clock....
To-morrow a meeting of actors, managers, and artists,
at breakfast, to discuss and organize, if possible, a theatrical club like the " Garrick" of London.1
God bless you! Kiss the kids.
"ON BOARD," January 26, i888.
I am now en route to Memphis, having closed my
Nashville engagement last night. A beautiful theatre,
crowded every night with beautiful women and flowers.
Your letter " after the ball" reached me there. I am so
1 This resulted in my father's founding the Players' Club, which was ready
and inaugurated at the close of that same year.
6*




86


EDWIN BOOTH


glad it was a success, and that the young ones did not
interrupt the fun. Yes, Harry B- is a very nice fellow,
and I 've no doubt I shall enjoy his company. He and
Barrett are old friends. The car jerks me occasionally,
and it is difficult to write. Barrett and I strolled into the
open yard of President Polk's house, to read the inscription on his tomb, which stands near the front stoop (he
was buried there forty years ago), when a young man
came out and said that Mrs. Polk invited us in. (I must
give this up till the car stops-it is not possible to write
now.)
MEMPHIS, Friday.
The road was too rough for writing on the car, and
I was too tired after the play last night. To-day it is
bright and cold. I have a pain in my back and " on my
forehead here," the result of yesterday's shake and a
leaky window near my bed. It will soon pass off. Old
Mrs. Polk was most delightful. A grand, stately dame of
eighty-five, full of smiles and courtly grace, gloved and
frilled in the true old Southern style, leaning on a silver
crutch-headed cane.  Delighted with all improvements
of the age, but prefers to keep her old mansion and its
curious and interesting belongings just as they were forty
years ago, when the President died. We sent her some
flowers, and she wrote her thanks in a firmer and clearer
hand than mine. She has a lovely grand-niece, who, the
old lady whispered, had bouquets for us, etc.
We had enormous and beautiful audiences there (Nashville), and last night we opened here to a crowded house.
The papers are so crowded with our "puff" and other
dramatic stuff that I can't read 'em, and will let you have
them to pick and choose from....
This theatre is beastly, and the city a huge mud-hole,
but the hotel food is good (our breakfast was) and I get




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


87


a bath, which my car does not afford. We resume our
journey Sunday morning. I have bought a few portraits
of old actors from Mrs. Owens for the collection I intend
leaving to the Actors' Club [called "The Players"] when
a suitable house is secured for such treasures. I have no
news. Hope your babies will not be affected by the cold,
which, I am told, is very severe in Boston, and New York
also. Kiss the babies for " Ba-Ba-Boo."
Papa.
BOSTON, July I4, i888.. I passed your house the other day; the vines
nearly covered it. It is very lovely, and in a few years (I
mean the view) will be superb. "Beautiful Boston" will
surpass all other cities of the world in a-well, when Mildred's little grandson wears pants-a garment I shall then
have no need for.  I '11 be a cherub, with side-whisker
wings, but nothing to put trousers on. Alas, for the
brevity of life-and cherubs!
Barrett is gone for a week, perhaps a month, he says,
to Richfield (Sulphur) Springs.  I fear his disease is
serious to health, as well as to looks, but he seems hopeful in his letters. Have not seen him; he started before I
returned from Greenwich. Jefferson asks me to visit him
at Buzzard's Bay, not far from Newport, I believe. Love
for all. Be careful of your horse in hot weather. At
David's age he may have what is termed "blind staggers " if overheated; avoid the hot hours, and drive in
the cool evening.
Grandpa.
I6 GRAMERCY PARK, NEW YORK,
Tuesday, Sept. 19, i888... Your two letters received. Have just wired you that
I must leave Saturday at three o'clock, which will get me




88


EDWIN BOOTH


to Louisville Sunday evening, and I must have a rest before beginning Monday. Very sorry.... Ever since I
left you, I 've suffered from the heat and humidity of
the atmosphere; yesterday it was horrible, and I could
hardly pull through rehearsal - I was wet with perspiration all day and night. It is still hot and damp, but
better than it has been the last few days.
The Belair ladies sent me a panel of wood from the
old cherry-tree in whose shade I was born (planted by
my father), and the wife of the present owner of the farm
painted a sprig with cherries, and two Baltimore orioles,
on it. The letter accompanying it is very charming and
old-fashioned in its style.
Barrett's face looks more swollen than ever, but his
color is better, and he is in good condition for work.
The lumps are loose and softer, and he has confidence in
the cure; but I think he will have to go back to the
baths next season.  He sends kind regards.  Tell the
babies grandpa has been looking all over New York for
them, but can't find them anywhere.  Give them lots
of kisses for me..
CHICAGO, Sept. 24, 1888... I reached this city Sunday (yesterday) about one
o'clock, and have excellent rooms and food at the Grand
Pacific Hotel. Before leaving St. Paul I received the
news of Dr. Kellogg'sl sudden death (apoplexy); he was
buried yesterday. To-day dear Warren was put to earth.
Within a month Davidge, Wallack, Warren, and Kellogg
have made their last exeunt! One other I forgot-Newton Gothold; all actors save the doctor, and he a great
Shaksperian scholar and theatre-lover. To-night I begin
with Brutus, with some new scenic effects- burning the
1 Dr. Kellogg, Superintendent of the Asylum for the Insane, at Poughkeepsie,
New York.




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


89


body of Brutus, anthem, etc. After the play, or to-morrow, I '11 write you how it goes, or went. The production of " Mer: of Venice " next week will be superb- as
to scenery and costumes....
The fever will ruin business in the South; we do not go
nearer than Memphis to the infected district, and will not
go there if there is the least doubt of its approach; so
don't be anxious on my account....
I will now lay this by till after the play, and take my
nap, if callers will let me have it.
TUESDAY
It was too late to write after the play last night, and I
was rather weary. The house was full, not crowded; the
performance satisfactory. On the funeral pyre-after
Brutus's body had been "closed in " by a drop-scene on
which was painted an urn, inverted torches, &c.-an excellent representation of myself, in papier-mache, was discovered in profile; it was an excellent likeness, made by
our property-man. An anthem was well sung, and all
went well.... To-day is quite cold, wet, and gloomy.
We have canceled our engagement at Memphis and
Nashville on account of the fever scare, and must alter
our dates accordingly; it may bring me home earlier than
I expected; maybe not. Kiss the babies. God bless
them!...
CHICAGO, October 7, i888... This is Sunday again, and a bright lovely one it
is; even through the filthy air of this smoky place the
sun can be seen-rather a rarity here nowadays. It
is the very dirtiest of all the soft-coal cities. The " Shylock " week closed finely last night, but bad weather and
politics told against us materially. The latter will, I 'm




90


EDWIN BOOTH


pretty sure, prevent our filling the fever week. I guess
we '11 start for Boston at the close of the St. Louis engagement, and be there about the 30th of this month, for
a week's rest, before beginning the New York term....
You speak of a Mrs. somebody (I can't even guess at
the name) having called, to your surprise, and that she
looks better, etc. I 'm very glad to know it....
"Let the world slide... for we shall ne'er be younger,"
is what Shakspere advises anent the petty miseries of life.
Here 's some of mine (petty miseries, I mean): I 've had
toothache and headache, swelled jaw and dyspepsia since
I left home, until now; now I 'm physically all right, but
financially annoyed. It is likely that our first week's
earnings will be lost by the break of The Trader's Bank
here, and the chances are that some $9ooo will lessen my
bank account; a few days will decide it. The case is in
a lawyer's hands, but he thinks the concern is thoroughly
rotten. The president of the bank died the day after it
went up, but not from that cause....
It is cold enough here for winter clothes and fires.
God bless you! Kiss the babies....
NEW YORK, November 14, i888.. I could not write yesterday, as I intended, for the
whole day was a whirl until long after midnight. Your
most welcome portrait came to greet me first-the
previous day, in fact, and that pleased me very much.
It does not do you justice, but 't is a fine piece of work.
Flowers and fruits from many quarters, a little gold pencil
from D —, and some silk handkerchiefs from Barrett.
I must have had a hundred dozen silk handkerchiefs given
me at various times by different persons....
I 've had an irreparable loss in the midst of all this fun;
the dear little knife your mother gave me twenty-seven




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


91


years ago, and which I 've always carried about with me,
is gone! I think I dropped it at supper Saturday night...
at Delmonico's; they have searched in vain for it. I
never missed anything so much. The pictures of babies
amuse and delight every one that calls, and to all of
whom I exhibit them....
Our engagement has begun finely, and looks as if it
will become much better, only the upper galleries being
deficient; all good seats and boxes are engaged for days
in advance. Some flowers came from Mildred, too. My
room is a bower of roses and choicest flowers of all
sorts..
"The Players" is already popular with the very best
sort of folk, and there are more applicants for membership than we can possibly accept. I 've rambled on, and
hurriedly told you all I know, constantly interrupted while
I write. God bless you! Keep well, and don't worry
about anything. Bless the babies! Love to all....
Papa.
ELMIRA, Dec. 29, I888.. I write to-night merely to say what I forgot in
my last. A crayon of me will arrive.... It is an excellent thing, and I bought it to help the young artist
along.... That 's one thing: the next is, Collier has
sent the "Richelieu," and it is in the Custom-House; I
am required to fill out a blank of certain statements, and I
am puzzled. Can you say positively when we last returned
from England, and the name of the steamer? I forget if
it was in 1883 or 1884, and if we came on the Gallia or
the Scythia.
I am glad you had a happy Christmas, and that baby
enjoyed her tree and the chain; I was lucky in getting




92


EDWIN BOOTH


you something useful. It is so difficult to select anything
for one who has had so many toys bestowed on her.
I opened here to-night to a tremendous house-my
first visit. There was almost a serious riot in Rochester
over the sale of my tickets six days before I opened.
It was a very strange sight yesterday at Bradford -so
many derricks and oil-tanks (hundreds of them), covering
the hills and valleys for many miles in every direction, together with the natural gas-wells, horrid stuff, which is
used for lighting, heating, and cooking, too: it is so
plenty that people pay so much a month, and use as
much as they like, and waste it freely.  People there,
and here, come from distant towns by special trains to
see me, and crowd the hotels and streets. I am "booming" these towns at a terrific rate. To-morrow I start
for Scranton, a coal region, and shall soon be off the rail
for a little while in the larger cities. Good night.
Papa.
THE PLAYERS, I6 Gramercy Park,
NEW YORK, Jan. I, I889.
Happie Newe Yeare!
God bless you, darling, and all of you! The thought
of your not being well alone marred my full enjoyment
of last night's delightful success-the culmination of my
professional hopes.  I cannot describe the universal joy
that pervaded all hearts present, the sympathy expressed,
and the entire success of everything- except my speech.
I broke down towards the close of it, but it passed off
with eclat. Everything else was perfect-the clock, with
deep cathedral tones, tolled twelve in the midst of Barrett's reading of your blessed letter-just in time, as
though it had been prearranged.  White, the architect,
went into ecstasies at the success of everything, and ex



LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


93


claimed, "Even the log burned without smoking," which
we feared it would not do in the new chimney.
I suspected that Barrett had a poem to read, but the
dear letter was a happy surprise, and the wreath and your
apt quotation on the card were delightful.' You got as
much applause as I did. I wired Dr. Parsons of his success.  Several were here from Boston.  Harry Burnett
and Mr. Wendell, Fairchild and others, were prevented
from coming; so was Furness, so was Jefferson, but all
sent messages. Barrett and I got to bed about five o'clock
this A. M., but got little sleep; we both feel wretched in
consequence. The papers are full of it, but I 've not had
a chance yet to read them. Since I rose, at one o'clock,
I 've been busy packing my things at the hotel to bring
here, as we both concluded to pass the balance of the
week "at home."   When we get well set, we will have a
"lady's day" for you. My head is now in a whirl, of
course. Old Mr. Connor and Murdock, with other old
actors, were present. Judge Daly just interrupted me;
sends his love, and has ordered his lunch. Several of the
best men of New York are here, and it will, no doubt, be
the rendezvous of the choicest. Some are in the library,
reading, and it really seems as if we had been going for
years, instead of one day.  All the exclusive neighbors
in this most conservative quarter are pleased instead of
offended by the innovation of a club-house in the midst
of their respective mansions, as they were at first. All
believe, as I do, that this will be of more real benefit to
the actor than anything ever done in the world....
Only old distinguished actors are "on the free list."...
The list is overfull, and we must go slowly now, lest we
exclude the actors we want. Our list of membership is
11 had sent a wreath of laurel, asking Mr. Barrett to place it upon my father's brow on this occasion. I attached to the wreath on a card the words,
"Hamlet, King, Father."




94


EDWIN BOOTH


too small in its limits at present. The walls are filled
with pictures, mostly mine,l and my books just filled one
section of the cases, which soon will be entirely filled:
every day some gift comes. An anonymous lady sent a
fine crayon copy of a Shakspere, and other things come
from strangers. The affair has aroused the greatest sympathy for the cause, to my great surprise and delight.
This is all I can tell you now, and I am too hurried and
nervous to review my letter, so you must guess at what
my mistakes mean.
God bless you all, a thousand times!
I hope you are well again and very happy. I go to
Pittsburg from here,-one of the Baltimore weeks, as per
printed tour, then to Baltimore, then Boston. God bless
you!                                       Papa.
CLEVELAND, April 17, I889... Barrett and I both had letters from you yesterday. He hardly knows how to answer; all that he can do
to lessen my labors will be done, but what can he do?
Nothing without entailing great expense and trouble for
me. You must not allow yourself to suppose from what
others say, and print, that I am a mere tool in the hands
of others. I alone am responsible for the engagements I
have contracted, through him, with other parties; he has
no more influence now, in changing the order of those
engagements, than a dead man.
The cry has ever been against my manager: "He
works you too hard," etc. "Why don't you give up
some of the engagements for rest?" etc.-as if acting
were out of the regular order of business affairs, without
responsibilities. I do not consider it very complimentary
1 Portraits of celebrated actors, and many valuable paintings owned and presented by my father to the club.




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


95


to have my over-anxious friends blame others for leading
me by the nose, when, in fact, not a move has been made
without my full consideration and consent. This is not
meant as a " scold " for you, dear, but for the many inconsiderate ones who advise all sorts of absurdities and
impossibilities. Whatever can be done to ease up this
season shall be done. Most of the one-night stands will be
given up, and the time devoted to a visit to the Yosemite,
and wherever it is possible to cancel the "double " bill, it
shall be done.
Barrett will sail for Germany July Io.... The weather
is delightful, out of the windy quarter. The houses have
been crowded and very fashionable. I hope you continue
well, and that your jewels will arrive bright and full of
joy to you. My eyes are much better, but I am bilious;
I am too lazy to sit up properly, and am lounging on my
middle vertebrae while I scribble this.
Adieu.
DENVER, May 3, I889... Since I wrote you I have had your two letters, and
Ignatius's telegram, the latter telling me you go to New
York to-day.... I hope you did go to Mount Vernon. As
I remember it, in my boy days, it was a lovely place, but
much in decay; since then, however, it has been redeemed
and restored to its original condition by a society of ladies
who bought it. Mrs. Ritchie, wife of an editor of influence
in Richmond (formerly Mrs. Mowatt, the famous actress),
was vice-president of that society. She got up a series
of benefits to raise funds for the purpose, and your
mother and I played Katherine and Petruchio for the first
matinee performance.  Matinees were very unusual in
those days. Edward Everett delivered a grand oration,
while General Scott and his military staff sat on the




96


EDWIN BOOTH


stage. You found the mummies1: I remember them as
you describe them. Varden was the old fellow's name
who had charge of them. As for the double row of teeth,
there may have been some error regarding their peculiarity, but the professor is wrong when he denies the possibility of such a freak, for Dr. J. A. B, when he
was quite a young man, had an inner row of teeth taken
from his lower jaw, and had to wear a sort of horseshoeshaped piece of wood instead for more than a year, to
preserve the shape of his jaw. This I can vouch for;
but of the mummies' teeth, I repeat only what I heard,
and read, I think, in the book called "The Actor," and
quoted by Asia. I believe you have "The Actor," and
am pretty sure that you will find reference to the mummies there. To-day the sun shines for the first time since
I arrived. It so seldom rains here that the fine, wide
streets are not paved, the roads are so firm, and this
unusual weather has made mush of 'em.
Bispham and Harry give glowing accounts of" Lady
Day." In my room just now is a pretty easel, with a
huge open book of lilies, carnations, white and red, with
ribbons and smilax, and my name across the book, a gift
from the ladies of some hospital which I sometime helped,
I forget when.... It is very beautiful. 'T is now nearly
five o'clock, and I have smoked but one wee pipe and one
mild cigar as yet. What think you of that? I am now
reading Motley's letters, prior to beginning his "Dutch
Republic"; very interesting. I knew him slightly, and I
think your mother did also.
The rain has injured business, which, however, is very
good; my health is good, also. The lack of exercise
renders me so sleepy; it is queer that my naps2 come
1 My grandfather, J. B. Booth, had presented these mummies to the Smithsonian Institution at Washington.
2 When acting, my father always took a nap after dinner, from four to six
o'clock, and before the play.




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


97


before, instead of after, dinner, which is rather awkward.
When I have a chance to walk out in the morning, I '11
get back into my regular habit, no doubt.... Bless ye
babbies. Love to all.
Papa.
SAN FRANCISCO, May 21, I889....Yours of the I2th received... The weather here
has been about the same as yours, except that instead of
a cyclone, we had an earthquake-the first genuine
"simon pure" shock I ever felt, and the worst, 't is said,
since 1868, when a very severe one did great damage.
Strange to say, this one, so unusually violent, and of such
long duration, did no damage whatever. I was awakened
by the rumble and the rocking of my bed. I am on the
second floor; Barrett, whose room is two stories above
mine, had a greater shake, and many others in the house
were greatly scared.  It occurred about three o'clock
A. M., after an intensely hot day, and ever since it has
been cool. We are still trying to get out of our fourth
week here, and may succeed. The trouble is, the manager
can't get any attraction to fill that week, if we do not, and
he will have to close the house. Knowing we are anxious
to quit, he wants a large sum, in view of his inability
to supply our place. I don't want to stop short on the
ground of ill-health, etc., for that would set all sorts of
gossip afloat. I have no doubt there will be lots of that
because I don't go to Oregon. I '11 telegraph when we
decide the question.... I acknowledged the letter anent
your happy four years past, and wished you happy returns, etc. We go some distance into the park " on the
brow of the sea," and walk awhile in the ozone, the carriage
following. When we have our fill, we return to dinner
about 3 o'clock. This park has wonderful advantages of
7




98


EDWIN BOOTH


splendid mountains and superb ocean-views far and near,
and many miles of drives through woods and along the
seashore; it is already finer than any park I know, and
in time will be, artificially and naturally, far beyond any
in the world. I do not think it was begun when you
were here.... Still, I would n't live here if the city
were presented to me free of taxes. I hope your cottage
will be in good shape for you, and thoroughly dry before
you move in....
After all the "blow " and gush about the new theatre,
it is somewhat of a failure; the public do not appreciate
it. The prices, however, are too high, and we are a few
months later than we should be for the best people, who
are out of town.
God bless you! Love to all.
Kiss the kids for g'andpop. Just after I post this I will
receive one from you, I 've no doubt.
THE PLAYERS, August 14, I889.. I telegraphed you of my safe arrival; was too
empty (headed) and lazy to write. The trip was not
unpleasant, but I was jolly tired, and glad to get here.
Went directly to my room and had tea; saw none but
Harry till next day. Dined with Bispham yesterday at
Bispham's rooms; that 's all, to date. A letter from
Winter asks for the sketch (E. B.) I left with you, so
when you finish it, send it here to me, and I will ship it
off to Stratford, where he is fixed for several months.
Hutton writes interesting accounts of his doings, and
sends both his and his wife's good words for you, etc.
He says Winter seems ten years younger and very
happy. No word from Barrett. Winter says he has had
several letters from him, all jolly. Not very hot here, but
warm enough and damp part of the day.... Tell those




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


99


naughty children that I don't rise till nearly dinner-time
here, because they don't call me in the morning at "ten
min'ts o'cok." Well, how is the German? I hope you
had a "high-Dutch" time. Don't forget my card to the
D-s' invitation for us all to the Continental last night.
Did you know of it? No news. Have not yet begun to
sort the odds and ends, Io,ooo deep, in the way of playbills, prints, etc., that I want to straighten out before the
summer is gone.... God bless you all! Tell babies to
keep their heads out of the soup.
Your loving papa.
THE PLAYERS, September 20, 1889... It seems a month since I heard from you. I suppose you have had your hands full, and that your letter
will catch me to-morrow before I start....
The rehearsal was tedious, and altogether the day has
been a wearisome one, and to-night Daly gives a late
supper, at which I must be present; but I 've had a
good nap, and feel well.... You must go often to the
Park, and drive along the Riverside to Grant's Tomb,
etc. It is superb. Rehearsals go well.... I will write
soon on my arrival in Louisville, Sunday. Have nothing
to record beyond what I have scribbled here.... The
club goes well, and is a delightful hotel. Had a pleasant
special meeting yesterday, to settle some odds and ends;
all went smoothly. Bye-bye.
Your loving papa.
LOUISVILLE, Sept. 23, 1889.. I arrived here in the sunny South, to find a glowing and welcome fire on the hearth, about half-past
twelve this A. M., well and happy that the journey was




I00


EDWIN BOOTH


ended, but, oh, so jolly tired! Until about IO o'clock
Saturday night the road was like a table-top; then it
began to curve, and kept so all the blessed night; next
day again it leveled up awhile; then about 5 P. M.,
and till we reached Louisville, it squirmed and jolted
dreadfully. I am feeling well, but rather tired; shall loll
all day....
Barrett and his company think "Ganelon" a great
play, and that it will be a success. I hope so. He and
I have both agreed to act very little next season, I to
begin about January, and play six weeks in New York,
and four in Boston- no more, unless I should, later, go
to Philadelphia for two weeks. This will be sufficient to
occupy me; if it works well I shall continue such limited
engagements. I have serious doubts of Barrett's continuance; his face looks worse than ever, and he is fearfully sensitive. Otherwise he is in better health. Will
write again in a day or two. Love for all. Tell the babies
I am still hunting, and can't find 'em. God bless you!
Papa.
PITTSBURG, Oct. I (or nearly so), 1889.... The week closed finely at Louisville, and I opened
well here to-night. Arrived here last evening pretty
tired, but slept well all night and nearly all to-day. Csays the people were delighted with the play, but to me
it seemed very slow and dull.... Rain to-day gave me
aches, but otherwise I am very well, much better than in
Louisville. It seems strange to be without Barrett; he is
rehearsing in Chicago all this week, and begins Monday
with his new play of " Ganelon," on which he has spent
much money. As I have rehearsals every day this week
(those in New York did no good) I must write my letters
after the play; but next week I shall be free....




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


IOI


NEW YORK, Nov. 15, I889.
I shall be happy to see you again so soon.... I
have a rehearsal, and after it a committee meeting; my
only chance to see you will be at the theatre between acts;
and in my room there I have an artist at me. I enclose
tickets for the box, if you should decide to come this
evening, but I suspect you will be very tired. My birthday was a " Fourth of July " from early A. M., when your
sweet gift greeted me, till 2 A. M., when "The Players"
"suppered" me gorgeously. At the theatre the actors
"gold-badged" me - two surprises.
Papa.
NEW YORK, Nov. 17, I889.. It is not possible for me to remember anything.
I thought you were to dine out to-day. I have slept
nearly all the time, feeling utterly upset, with severe
headache and other disagreeables. Am better now, but
will stay indoors, and be with you to-morrow at dinner,
unless you are to go out. Let me know during the
morning. I shall now try to eat, and wish I had some
of your beef and cabbage. God bless you! Love for all.
Poor Florence!1 I fear his cue has come.
THE PLAYERS, NEW YORK, Wednesday,
Dec. 4, I889.... Reports from Barrett are sad. He 's canceling
engagements, and will go on to Boston from Washington,
Sunday, to rest four weeks, and consult his doctor. I do
not think he will ever act again, even if he lives. This
is entre nous. He is not hopeful now; has pain in the
1 William Florence.
7*




102


EDWIN BOOTH


throat, and hysterical feeling all the while, and his speech
is affected.... You want a motto for the ladle (I '11 look for one);
Kate Field wants one for her new paper, Lederer wants
one for a ladies' fair, and the club wants one for its
book-plate..
On Monday, 23d, I must be here to attend an official
dinner in our new dining-room, and the next day, the
24th, I go to Boston, to be with you Xmas until the
30th. This will allow me four days with you at first. I
must attend our anniversary, the 3Ist, and then, before I
go to Providence, I will be two or three days again with
you... My general health continues to improve, and I
feel better than for years, except an occasional let down
when the weather is bad. 'T is now delightfully cold, with
snow on the ground, and the bright sun shining. I 'm
glad Ignatius is well.... We have just received a quantity of books for the library, and it is nearly full, while
our income of pictures puzzles us where to hang them.... Now I leave you for my dinner. My days are very
brief, after a late breakfast and an early dinner before my
4:30 nap. Adieu.                           Papa.
THE PLAYERS, NEW YORK, Dec. 8, i889.. Yesterday I sent you flowers as my birthday
greeting.... They bear my love, and blessing, all the
same. I hope you will have a merry day, and very many
returns of it — full of health and happiness. Barrett arrived early this morning. He looks remarkably well in
every respect, except, of course, the swellings; they are
worse than ever, and the symptoms he describes are those
which I am told are very serious. He will now submit to
whatever his physician advises. To-night at ten I start




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


I03


for Auburn, a place I 've never visited. In the olden
times it was one of the principal theatre-city points; I'm
told they 've a very fine theatre there. The best quotation I can suggest for your ladle is from "Hamlet""We '11 teach you to drink deep, ere you depart."
December 31 is " Founders' Night," the anniversary of
our opening here, and the appropriate occasion for your
gift. I '11 write again in a day or two.
THE PLAYERS, NEW YORK, January 2, I890... ust as I had packed my bag, and was about starting for the station at two, Sargent the artist called, to say
that he had word from the art committee to paint my
portrait for the club. You know, I told you if it was decided he should paint it, I would stay for as many sittings
as I could give him from now till Saturday. I wired you
at once. I will start by the 3 o'clock train Saturday. Of
course this is the only opportunity to have so distinguished an artist at me; consequently I yield to the
annoyance of posing.
I hope you are all well, and that the grip has let go.
Papa.
PHILADELPHIA, Feb. I2, 1890.. I found a letter from you here. I did not leave
New York till one o'clock Monday, having a club meeting that morning. The business here, thus far, is great.... The Vincent Hospital should be encouraged. I '11
do something for it soon. At present I have my hands
full.... I wrote you before I left New York, and sent
you a present in a letter. In it I also told you of the
successful result of Sargent's work, but I did not tell you
that at intervals, while I rested, he would sit at the piano




I04


EDWIN BOOTH


and play "Racoksy "1 (is that the name and the spell of
it?) and other Hungarian airs. Zimmerman, the manager
here, gave me a magnificent crayon head of Boker, one
of God's handsomest men, finely framed. Boker was a
god in appearance, even in old age, and was a noble
fellow, too, and a great poet. Good weather thus far. I
will be at the station Friday.
Papa.
PHILA., Feb. 23, I890.... Yours of the 20th is before me, on the top of about
twenty other letters, to be answered, and echo answers-?
However, I '11 tackle yours, and do the best I may for
you; but I fear my " chat" will be a dull, flat, and unprofitable one, for my head aches, and I am tired and out
of sorts to-day, with not a word of news of any sort. The
day is blue and chilly —me too.... I came very near
having the same accident in the same play last week; I
stepped down two steps in the dark scene of " Macbeth,"
and for a few seconds I feared I had slipped something
out of place, but fortunately escaped injury.  A long
chatty letter from Barrett just arrived from Pau, and anticipates quick recovery. A Mrs. P-wants to go into
partnership with me, to build a theatre and wax museum
on some land she owns. Think of me as a "Monsieur
Too - so "! She thinks me just suited for that business
- "A man of wax!" as Juliet's old nurse says of Paris.
I mail you a copy of the Hamlet march, composed and
dedicated to me by Hassler, of the theatre. I could not
hear it, as the music every night was played under the
stage, because of the crowded orchestra. In spite of Lent,
this week has held up equal to last, and the prospect at
Baltimore is quite as good.
1 (, Rdk6czy "-a Hungarian march.




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


I05


Give my compliments to Mrs. Fields, Miss Jewett, and
the Flaglers, etc. My love to all the rest of you, except
the babies.
Papa.
P. S.-I go to Baltimore to-morrow, Monday noon.
MOUNT VERNON HOTEL, BALTIMORE,
Feb. 26, 1890....I 've just wired for news of the babies. I feel very
anxious about them, but of course they must have their
share of the ills that attend childhood. I hope they are
well, and that you are relieved of your fears. Business
here is wretched; the worst engagement I ever played
in my native city. Whether it is because of Lent, I know
not; the prospect looked fine, but the boxes don't. Until
this morning the weather was beastly; that also may
affect trade. The reason Skinner did Petruchio is I could
not wait after the "Fool," and 't was the only play we
could substitute for " Donna Diana." Madame Modjeska
sent word she would be here to-day, and ready to act
next week. I subscribed to the Vincent Hospital, and
have received a nice note from Miss Derby and one from
Phillips Brooks.... This is a very little letter, but all I
can afford to-day.
Papa.
BALTIMORE, March 2, I890.... Your last letter and telegram, with good news of
the children, gave me great relief: dear hearts, I hope
they are well now, and that your anxiety is at an end...




io6


EDWIN BOOTH


I have been quite busy all day receiving callers, so that
night has settled down without a letter yet written. The
cold came yesterday, and with it a clear day, and a good
house last night - the second decent one the entire week.... Many folk, chiefly women and girls, come on from
Washington to see the play, and stop over night; Friday
night this house was full of 'em, and when I came here
after the play about thirty of them were in the hall in
double lines, through which I had to pass. Not a word
was uttered as I stalked to the elevator, but I heard
giggles and " bumps" overhead later on. Demands for
my autograph, of course, were numerous next day. I have
not yet been to the cemetery, where I will go to-morrow
to see the new gravestones that have been erected. Dr.
Johnston called, and left kind messages for you from his
daughter, and Gil Meredith sends some from his wife
and sister, whom I have not seen. I hoped I 'd have
matter enough in me to write a letter, but you see how
utterly dull and empty I am. My health and strength
keep up to par, and the critics have been enthusiastic. A
second letter from Barrett. He is very weak, he says,
but otherwise does not complain. The wind is now howling like a blizzard, after a week of hot and foggy weather.
Barrett is enthusiastic about Pau, its climate, its beauty,
food, etc. Just the place, he says, to pass the winters.
You might try it for a change. Kind regards to the
doctors, etc. I shall order a rarebit, and go to bed.
Papa.
CHICAGO, March I9, 1890.... Your "Phlorida Phonograph Phiend" is a "phraud."
He has not my voice. I was asked (in Phila., I think) to
speak into a machine into which Stuart Robson had




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


I07


spoken, but I did not: 't is his voice they are playing off
at $12,500, on which he and I both should have a commission.... I tried to talk a message to you, and sent
two cylinders by express. In the same box I put a gift
for Mildred's " fourth " [birthday] - a ring and a brooch.... Thanks, dear, for the glass-wiper; very useful, only
I find myself using it oftener for my pen than for my
specs.... Just here the phonograph expert came with
his machine, and after listening to several musical examples (very fine), I recited Othello's and Hamlet's speeches
for you. I will send them in a day or so. They are both
excellent, much more distinct than those you have; but
of course it is impossible (for me, at least) to recite with
full feeling and warmth of expression in cold blood, as it
were; still, the effect is nearly perfect. I have an invitation to dine with the Dunlaps Sunday, but can't accept.
They have just returned from a trip to Florida; they are of
the Warren and Jefferson family, through the Rices and
Marbles. A letter from Barrett to-day gives a dismal
account of Pau at present - snow and slush. He goes to
Paris en route for a sail on the Mediterranean till the
German baths are open in April. His cheerfulness seems
forced, poor fellow.... Remember me kindly to all who
know me outside our circle; love for the rest. Kisses for
babies and their mama.
Pop.
CINCINNATI, April Io, I890..  I received your "wire-gram" last night and your
"phonogram " just now. I wired you "three cheers" for
the boy1 yester-morn. I '11 try to unwind the cylinder
to-morrow; 't is too cold and snowy for me to venture
out to-day. Day before yesterday I put on my summer
1 My little son's birthday.




Io8


EDWIN BOOTH


clothing, and found it too hot even in the shade; yesterday it cooled, and to-day 't is snowing, and a fire is in
my room, and my thickest clothes are on again. You
must be on guard for sudden changes; the old world is
on a rampage, and there is no telling where she '11 land
in her tantrums, the kittenish old thing! Mars or "JewPeter" has been winking at her, maybe. I hope my two
letters and the jumping dog for Clarence will be forwarded from the Stratford. Bob Miles, the manager
here, formerly a circus and menagerie man, told of a
monkey he once had in his show that stole a basket of
birds, and ran to the roof of a house, where he amused
himself by letting the birds escape one at a time, then
got into the empty basket, and rolled in it from the
roof to the ground. A Shaksperian coincidence: Hamlet, in his advice to his mother regarding her connection with his uncle (not spoken on the stage) refers to
some obscure episode of the kind. No scholar or antiquarian has discovered what he refers to. He speaks of
an ape that unpegged the basket on the house-top, and
let the birds fly, then got into the basket, and broke his
neck by falling. Some wise critics-who "find in Shakspere more than Shakspere knew "-declare that he foretold the telegraph when he made Puck put a girdle about
the earth in forty minutes. I wonder if he foresaw Bob
M.'s monkey trick. There was doubtless something of
the kind that amused the people of London in his time.
"History repeats itself."
I will wait now till Frank comes; he may bring me a
letter from you.-No letter, so I '11 close, as I have nothing further to tell you except that the sun is now shining
and the snow has ceased: but don't worry; it will fall
again by the time I close this epistle. Bye-bye! Business and health good.
Papa.




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


I09


DETROIT, April 14, 1890.
After the play Saturday I took the train, and had a
sleepless night, altho' the road was good. Arrived at 9
A. M. so tired that I slept off and on nearly all day. At
eight o'clock last night, as I was about to write you, a fire
broke out in the Plankinton Hotel, just across a narrow
street from this one and quite near the theatre also. The
immense crowd of people, and the noise and the sparks of
many engines all about the house till eleven o'clock, upset
my effort to write. I got ready what valuables I have
with me, expecting this house to take fire, but by midnight all was quiet. The day and the night, too, were very
hot, but toward morning a thunder-storm and heavy rain
made me close all the windows, and this morning I have a
blazing fire, and my heavy wrap about me. Why not visit
the club at " Ladye-Day," if you care to see the crowd?
Bispham is one of the reception committee. Suit your
own convenience and pleasure about it. The messages
you sent were tolerably distinct. I could recognize both
voices, altho' they seemed pitched too high, and, after
repeating the operation several times, I made out nearly
all the words.
Yes; it is indeed most gratifying to feel that age has
not rendered my work stale and tiresome, as is usually the
case with actors (especially tragedians) at my time. Your
dear mother's fear was that I would culminate too early,
as I seemed then to be advancing so rapidly. Somehow
I can't rid myself of the belief that both she and my father
helped me. But as for the compensation? Nothing of
fame or fortune can compensate for the spiritual suffering
that one possessing such qualities has to endure. To
pass life in a sort of dream, where " Nothing is but what is
not," a loneliness in the very midst of a constant crowd,
as it were, is not a desirable condition of existence, es



I IO


EDWIN BOOTH


pecially when the body also has to share the "penalty
of greatness," as it is termed. Bosh! I 'd rather be an
obscure farmer, a hayseed from Wayback, or a cabinetmaker, as my father advised, than the most distinguished
man on earth. But Nature cast me for the part she found
me best fitted for, and I have had to play it, and must
play it, till the curtain falls. But you must not think me
sad about it. No; I am used to it, and am contented.
I continue well, and act with a vigor which sometimes
surprises myself, and all the company notice it, and comment upon it. I 'm glad the babes had a jolly birthday.
Bless 'em! Love for all.
Papa.
DECATUR, April 27, I890.. It is too oppressively hot for the least exertion.
The conveniences for writing on this car are very meager,
and the materials are none of the best, so I use a pencil
as an easier means of getting through a reply to your last
two letters. We are anchored here for the day and night.
A heavy, cold rain here all day yesterday has made the
walking knee-deep, but overhead it is superb, but very
warm.... Had I given proper attention to my dollar
and cent dealings with men, I would now be at least a
millionaire, perhaps doubly so; but I never considered
that side of the question, taking from managers just what
they offered, and gratifying my desires to help impecunious and, very often, very ungrateful friends.
Now for the portrait. The pose was chosen as being so
very characteristic when off the stage, and standing in conversation, and as being so unconventional. The one suggested by-   was thought tobe too commonplace, as every
1 My father had often related that his father was opposed to his being an actor,
and desired him to learn some trade, like cabinet-making.




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


III


statesman, soldier, etc., is posed just so, one hand resting
on chair or table, and holding a scroll in the other: Washington resigning his commission, Shakspere, and a dozen
other little fellows, in marble, bronze, or paint. I was
surprised to find myself standing in the very attitude when
I asked Sargent if it was usual with me, and I find my
hands in the same position even on the stage-in Hamlet,
very frequently. By actual measurements the dimensions
are correct; but the picture, being placed so high upon
the wall, I suppose, appears as you describe it. Bispham
and all who saw it in the studio liked it, but I could not
decide positively how it impressed me.... I'm glad the
babies are so well, and make you so happy. Tell them
"Ba-Ba-Boo" will soon come to see them. God bless
you! Love to all.... Bromley has a letter from Barrett, at Stuttgart; is cheerful, but says nothing of his
health. He must now be at the baths. Bye-bye.
Papa.
THE PLAYERS, Sept. 19, 1890.
I 'm quite well, a little weak-kneed and lightheaded still, but very much better. A reporter called
yesterday to ask me about another report that I had
sciatica. The papers are all in a famine for news, and
that is why this stuff is continued. Of course when I am
seen walking so slowly and with a cane, as I do, gossipers
on the street at once conclude that I am, or have been,
afflicted in some way. Barrett will be here for a few days
next week, and we have a box to see Crane, with General
Sherman and several others; then perhaps it will be
known that the reports are false; and when Bispham
gets back from Annapolis we intend to make a round of
the theatres during my vacation. Yesterday the rain
ceased, and the weather since has been delicious; I hope




112


EDWIN BOOTH


you have as pleasant a change. You will be here soon,
and in your apartments. Have a barrel of letters on my
desk awaiting answers, which I defer from day to day.
I 'm glad you have found so good a place inland, and it
would be wise to try it every year; no doubt it would be
good for me a few weeks.... Love for all.
Papa.
THE PLAYERS, Sept. 25, I890.. I hope your athletic exercises have not been
overdone.  There is great danger in doing too. much
at first; one should always begin very gently, never
fatiguing oneself, but increase by degrees, daily and
very gradually. I 've also been rowing on dry land. I
have in my bath-room a rowing-machine and a pulley,
for exercise every morning, which I use very gently,
and feel its good effects already.... Every day I walk
with Barrett, who came Monday, and starts for Milwaukee
to-morrow. He and I went to see Wilson and also Crane,
and with Bispham I go to see Mansfield to-night, and
somewhere else to-morrow. I am become quite a dissipated showman in a double sense. These two days my
condition has been greatly improved in every respect.
Your descriptions are delightful, especially of the old folks
you met on the farm. I should much like to meet 'em.
If they had known your father's trade, I fear you would
not have been so welcome. Those old-time innocents
don't believe in play-actors. Booth-man is a new name
to me. Boothby is common enough in England, and
frequent in New England also.... Yes, my season is
pretty brief; and I have agreed to shorten it still more
by giving up my two weeks in Boston. There is a great
success at the Boston theatre, and my engagement comes




EDWIN BOOTH IN 1864.




I




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


II3


in to cut it short; and it is a pity to interrupt a run that
pays so well. T- is a good fellow, and old-time friendship induces me to let him have the time. Barrett will
go elsewhere with the company while I "loaf." By this,
however, I shall sacrifice about $8000; maybe more.
Papa.
BOSTON, MASS., December 3, I890.. It would seem that what is called "legitimate
drama" is about "played out" in classical Boston. Jefferson and Florence have just closed their engagement, and
I begin at the same theatre, with two wretched houses;
all the other theatres, I believe, where cheap prices and
poor plays are indifferently done, are well filled.  In
Philadelphia four leading theatres were giving Shakspere
at once to full houses for two weeks while I was there.
Boston is in the lower class this season, sure. It is bitter
cold; to-day we have snow, and the temperature is
moderating. My views look out on the Public Gardens,
and I see the "lake" filled with girls and boys skating.
I cannot visit when acting. This hotel is good for food
and attendance, and the front rooms, as mine are, must
be excellent in mild weather, but 't is very difficult to heat
them.... No news. Love to all.
Papa.
BOSTON, December 8, I890.... Any little change in my jog-trot, routine habits,
no matter how trifling or agreeable, puts me out, and
disables me, as it were. I 've had business anent the
club... and I can only give you a few hurried lines
of good wishes and blessings —my dear old daughter.
8




lI4


EDWIN BOOTH


Whew! how many are it? Why, I remember when you
were quite a midget, littler 'n Mildred.... 'T is bitter
cold to-day, but fortunately there is no wind, and I am
very comfortable, after a good long walk.... I hope the
bust will come to-morrow, but fear it will not for a few
days after your birthday; at all events I hope my
"flowery" greeting will be on time to-morrow morning.
God bless you, darling! With many kisses for you and
your birdies,
Your loving papa.
BOSTON, December I I, 890.. I have just got through supper (a cold woodcock
stuffed with chestnuts), after "Macbeth," a little tired, of
course, but feeling so uncommonly well that I shall not
wait till to-morrow, lest I may not feel so then.
Several times this season I have acted with vigor, but
not with my usual clear mental grasp of the character,
and always with an uncertainty of gait and a thinness
of voice —at least to my own ear. But all day to-day
I have been entirely free from light-headness, and to-night
I acted and felt throughout the play just as ever I did at
my best. Not a stagger, not a sign of feebleness in either
my gait or speech —to the surprise of Barrett, who attributes it to hard work, and to all the company, and to
my own amazement; for it has come so suddenly and
without cause.... I got your birthday letter, and it
makes me happy to know that all have been so well, and
that you had such a happy day. I 'm afraid, from what
Mr. Lawrence tells me, that the bust will not come till
Christmas, or much before....
The business has greatly increased, but still there 's
room. Dr. Parsons has called several times; sent his
love for you and babies, and he also left some verses for




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


II5


you. Good night. God bless you and the babies! Love
for all. This may be my last till I get to Providence next
week.
THE PLAYERS, January, I891.. I received your welcome message this morning,
and am delighted that you are safe at your journey's end,
and find everything so pleasant. I hope the babies do
not suffer after so long a ride, and that you all will be
very happy and well in the flowery land. All day I have
been so busy that I failed to telegraph you, and have
been prevented from writing till now-midnight. I return
to Phila. at one o'clock to-morrow.... The club seems
to be growing more popular every day, and with the best
people; it is certainly most interesting to me. It is very
quiet, and, while in my apartments, the club part of the
establishment might be a mile distant, so far as my retirement and privacy are concerned.  I must be here
next Sunday again, in order to attend a special meeting
Monday morning, and I shall try to get Furness to come
and see the club. He is a member, but does not come
to New York except on business. Don't forget the poem
for him.... I hope to get your letter to-morrow or the
day after.  No nap to-day, and sleepiness prevails; I
must to bed. Warm, rainy, narsty day and night.
On the 30th, Daly is to give me a grand dinner at Delmonico's, and I am agonizing over the speech I must
make on the occasion. O father, father, why did n't I
take your advice, and learn a trade! (My sign:) "E.
Thomas Booth, Cabinet-maker and job carpenter, Belair, Md."
Good night, dear. May God bless you and your dear
ones!


From


" Ba-Ba-Boo " and Papa.




II6


EDWIN BOOTH


THE PLAYERS, March 16, 189I... Burton, a once famous comedian, after many
years of great success, became the object of newspaper
abuse, especially in Phila., where he had been a public
idol.  He had three good daughters, who worshiped
him, and whom he idolized. The Phila. papers became
so cruel in their abuse of the old man, that he determined
to avoid all further contact with the beasts who were permitted to vent their venom on him, by refusing to act
again in that city, chiefly for his childrens' sake. He did
not want them to read such horrible scandals about their
father. 'T is childish to be so crushed by such vile
wretches, with whom no reputation is sacred, private or
public. There is no redress, no preventing the villains'
attacks. The public man (or woman) must bear the
scorn, and stand unshaken by it, as I have done. As in
Burton's case, I felt keenly the effects of these filthy attacks solely on your account, and I have hoped that you
would be advised by me, not to see or hear them. I have
long since ceased to read "theatrical news," and have
succeeded in letting my "dear friends" know that I
avoid such rot, and that it is brutal to mention it to me.
I repeat to them the remark Howells made to Aldrich
when Aldrich asked him if he had heard of some abuse
of his (Howells's) writings: " Do you suppose that I have
no bosom friends?"
Now, that seems like a cruel blow at you, daughter,
but it is not meant as such. To be frank, my child, I
knew nothing of the article which caused you so much
trouble, nor have I yet seen it, or even heard of it, except from your letter. It must have been very bad to
affect you so; yet I have not allowed myself to read it,
nor has any one told me of it. I wish that you would
studiously avoid all theatrical references in the papers.




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


i"7... I would advise you all to ignore such gossip, and
let those who offer it understand that theatrical matters
have no interest for you beyond the stage representation
of good plays, etc. As the children approach the general reading age or the gossipy stage, I'd dissuade them
from imbibing interest in such matters.  From  this
point in my career little else but abuse or pitying, faint
praise will be my portion of the dramatic critics' notice.
'T is the fate of all artists after they have reached their
zenith, and I have long expected my turn. I 'm not in
the least disturbed by these so-called critics; the public
tells a different story.... Just as I closed the last chapter of my sermon your letter of Friday came. I hope
you have one from me. I have been so long over this,
and have had so many interruptions, that the gloomy day
is much like bedtime, as to darkness. I won't attempt
much more, as it is near my dinner and nap-time. My
health is far better than it has been the past year; my
acting, so all assure me, is more and more powerful each
night. I am positive I have hit on the true cause of my
weakness. Many years ago (I876) I contracted malaria,
and at various times since I have been affected by it, but
not to such an extent until recently.... I must hurry
now, for other interruptions have delayed me; besides, I
have nothing to say beyond expressing my happiness in
all the good reports you send, and to assure you of my
own better condition in every respect.... Business fine
(better than last year), and the audiences enthusiastic.
Papa.
THE PLAYERS, Friday morning, March 20, I891.
DEAR DAUGHTER:
Wednesday night Barrett was taken so ill that he was
unable to play "De Mauprat" after the third act (Hanly
8*




EDWIN BOOTH


finishing the part), and last night was in bed with a high
fever, his wife and two doctors by his bedside. A severe
cold, with threatened pneumonia; have not heard this
morning any report from him; his wife came last evening from Boston. It so happened, as he broke down, my
strength and vigor came up as suddenly. On Wednesday night Richelieu was almost himself, and last night
Macbeth was as strong as ever he was in my treatment of
the character. Besides, owing to Barrett's illness, my
Macduffwas fresh, and I had to teach him the fight between the acts of the play. I was forced to work harder
than I ever did in Macbeth, and it did me good. I played
the entire part better than for some years, and was less
fatigued than usual, feeling well this morning. Now,
whether I owe my rather sudden improvement to Doctor
Smith's little pellets, to the many prayers which I am
daily assured of by numerous unknown correspondents,
my disuse of tobacco (I mean in the form of cigars, using
a pipe and mild tabak instead), or to a medicine prescribed
for me in Liverpool for a light form of my present
malady, I know not, but sure it is, I am as one renewed
since two days past. I would have been perfectly satisfied had you been in the box last night.... If my good
turn holds true, and I am sure it will, just because I don't
do what everybody advises, I shall be quite in trim for
work by the time my season ends, some ten days hence.
Poor Barrett! He has had a hard pull this season,
and the prospect is a gloomy, uphill one....
The weather here has been cold and clear the last few
days; to-day 't is cloudy and still very cold. I fear
damp weather in the South, and hope you may escape
what I am sure has ailed me many years at different
times-malaria.  Bless the big girl and boy, no longer
babies, in fact; but I dare say you will consider them
such so long as you three are together. I '11 drop the




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


II9


"old lady" a birthday greeting for her fifth-tiest [fifth
birthday].
Bromley's report of Barrett is not good. The doctors
are endeavoring to keep off the pneumonia; still, they
fear it. He must not leave his room for at least ten days.
The business must be rearranged for the company after
my engagement ends, week after next; till then I must
do the best I can. He may pull up after a week's rest.
My desk is one mass of unanswered letters, most of them
begging for large sums of money....
Is n't there an order of" Crutched Friars"? In old
times there was; there is an old monastery at Cripplegate, London. Ignatius might attend the ball as one of
them, with my Don Caesar's gown and cowl, and his own
crutches,' with Mildred as Maritana, and Clarence as
Don Ccsar, and you as the old Marchioness with a painted
nose. Shall I send the costumes?...
This is a long letter with nothing in it, but 't is the only
kind I can write; it is next to impossible for me to answer letters. I can only scribble, and shirk all that
smacks of business, which most of my neglected correspondence treats of. God bless you!
Papa.
THE PLAYERS, March 22, I89I.
DEAR DAUGHTER:
I'm in no mood for letter-writing to-day. The shock,2
so sudden and so distressing, and the gloomy, depressing
weather, entirely unfit me for the least exertion-even
to think. Hosts of friends, all eager to assist poor Mrs.
Barrett, seem helpless in confusion, and all the details of
the sad business seem to be huddled on her....


1 My husband was on crutches, owing to a severe accident.
2 Mr. Lawrence Barrett's death.




I 20


EDWIN BOOTH


General Sherman's son, "Father Tom," as he is affectionately called by all the family and the friends of the
dear old general, will attend. He was summoned from
Europe recently to his father's death-bed, and he happens
to be in time to perform services for his father's friend,
poor Lawrence. After the services to-morrow, at Io A. M.,
the remains and a few friends will go direct to Cohasset
for burial,-Tuesday,-where Barrett had only two weeks
ago placed his mother, removed from her New York
grave to a family lot which he had recently purchased at
Cohasset. He had also enlarged his house there, where
he intended to pass his old age in privacy. Doctor Smith
was correct in his assertion that the glandular disease was
incurable, and that the surgical operation would prolong
life only a year or so; the severe cold produced pneumonia, which Barrett's physicians say might have been
overcome but for the glandular disease still in his blood.
Mrs. Barrett knew from the first operation that he had at
most a year or so to live, and yet by the doctor's advice
kept it secret, and did everything to cheer and humor
him. She 's a remarkable woman. She has been expecting to be suddenly called to him for more than a year
past, yet the blow came with terrible force. Milly' and
her husband came last night. I have not seen Lawrence
since death; when I saw him Thursday he was in a burning fever, and asked me to keep away for fear his breath
might affect me, and it pained him to talk. He pulled
through three acts of " De Mauprat " the night before, and
sent for his wife that night. His death was very peaceful,
with no sign of pain. A couple of weeks ago he and I
were to meet General Sherman at dinner: Death came
instead. To-night, Barrett had invited about twenty
distinguished men to meet me at Delmonico's, and
again the grim  guest attends.  One of his oldest
1 Mr. Barrett's youngest daughter.




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


121


friends has just left me, after an interruption of half an
hour..
My room is like an office of some state official: letters,
telegrams, and callers come every moment, some on business, many in sympathy. Three hours have elapsed since I
finished the last sentence, and I expect a call from Bromley before I retire. A world of business matters has
been disturbed by this sudden break of contracts with
actors and managers, and everything pertaining to next
season, as well as much concerning the balance of the
present one, must be rearranged or canceled. I, of course,
am free; but for the sake of the company I shall fulfil
my time, to pay their salaries, this week here; and next
week in Brooklyn, as they were engaged by Barrett for
my engagement. After which they will be out of employment for the balance of the season.... I hope
Ignatius is nearly well, and the rest of you entirely so.
Heaven grant that the weather will be settled and favorable for your sojourn in Washington; don't risk the
journey otherwise.... My wits are about dried up
now, and I '11 cease my efforts at epistolary spelling.
I am steadily gaining strength and losing vertigo. God
bless you! Love for all.
Papa.
P. S. —I am all right, but out of sorts with the heat.
NEW YORK, Sunday night, June 24, I892.... I 've tried to write you for a week past, but
I 've given up in despair, although the weather has not
been my excuse, for several days. Sheer laziness has
overwhelmed me, and to-day especially I have simply
loafed away the day well on to midnight merely trying to
write you a line. It will be but a line or so at that, for




122


EDWIN BOOTH


I am the "king-pin " of laziness,l although I am very
much better in health, and every way feel more like my
former self, though that 's not much to boast of. Your
condition is of much more account to me. I do hope your
general health is greatly improved, and I hope the babies
will continue to thrive. Don't worry about them; so
long as they get such air and surroundings, they are safe.
Tell Miss Mildred grandpa has not forgotten her sweet
letter, and will answer it soon, but can only send her, and
"Cancy," too, lots of good-night kisses now. I 've oh
so many lots of letters on business that I must first get
rid of, and it is getting hot again. I '11 soon make up my
mind when I '11 leave town, but not yet...
THE PLAYERS, January 29, I893.
MY DARLING DAUGHTER:
So long a time has elapsed since we communicated
with each other that you must have given up all hope of
ever hearing again from me. I have been exceedingly
lazy; I can offer no other excuse. Every day for the
last month I have determined to write, but time has
passed, and my girl still neglected. Try to forgive me,
and I '11 do better after this; it is as much as I can do to
get through this, although I am in many respects far better in every way than when you left, ten days ago. I
have been out only twice in all that time, but have accepted a visit to Daly's during the week, and shall try
to go oftener during the coming week or two. I have my
Dr. R-      apply the electricity here instead of at his
office, and feel it of much benefit. Have not seen much
of Dr. S —; he has been very busy. I have Aldrich
1 My father ever attributed his condition to laziness, sleepiness, etc. His fatal
disease, unknown to himself, but feared by all who loved him, was undermining
him gradually but surely.




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


I23


and his boy Tal here at present.... My hand is so
shaky I can barely write plain, as you see. What a bad
time you had! The fire must have scared you all very
much. I hope all your troubles are over, and that the
rest of your Southern tour will be joyous. Give lots of
grandpa's love and kisses to his wee ones, and tell them
to hurry home to look after him. We have had lots of
cold but rather wet weather: it 's muggy and disagreeable to-day. The club is pretty well full all the time,
but I keep up-stairs, and see but few people. God bless
and guard you!
Papa.
THE PLAYERS, February I9, I893... I believe it is three weeks since I wrote to you.
I don't know why I have let so long a time pass; it
seems much longer-quite three months; and I can offer
no better reason for my neglect than sheer laziness,
which you, of course, attribute to illness or something
more serious. But I assure you that nothing moreonly laziness, reading newspapers, and my natural state
of loaf, are the cause of my condition; so don't worry in
the least, but scold me roundly. So it has been day after day until now, when I find myself overwhelmed by a
heap of unanswered letters, many of which I have put off
to Harry and Bispham, who have kindly written for me
while I snooze on the sofa in my back room. I can't account for it, except my lack of exercise. I do nothing
but snooze all day, and see very few to talk to, except
the doctors. I have three now, who apply electricity,
and all sorts of disagreeable, but not painful, performances
every day.... Two hours at least must have escaped
me since I began this, and yet I have n't written half a
letter; I thought I had matter enough for a good long




124


EDWIN BOOTH


letter, after so long an absence, but I find myself almost
dumb already. I '11 do better next time; I have a letter
somewhere from a two-year-old baby. I meant to send
it to our babies in reply to their sweet letter to me the
other day, but I can't find it on my crowded desk to-night.
God bless you all!
I can't do any more at present, but in a few days I
hope to do better; but the last time I tried I had to wire
you. I went with Bispham to Daly's one night; but it
did n't stir me up at all, and though I have promised to
go again in a night or two, I doubt if it will induce me
to be an actor, like Clarence or Mildred.' I '11 go downstairs to-morrow to meet him-my third visit to the club
as yet; have remained up-stairs three weeks, I think,
since I " came aboard." Harry stays with me late every
night, and so does Bispham almost every day. Good
night. God bless you! I hope all the bad weather is
gone at last.
Papa.
THE PLAYERS, February 26, I893.... Again it seems as tho' a year has passed since I
wrote to you, so long a time it seems; but I can't complain of your silence or neglect of me, for you have been
very prompt, and every now and then I receive your
welcome letters, darling, which make me very happy in my
gloomy club-room; for I seldom go out or down-stairs,
keeping up-stairs nearly all the time. Have been only to
Daly's, and shall go again there to see the "Twelfth
Night" on Tuesday. I have made my two visits, and
don't feel yet the least desire for the stage, although my
two visits have set all the managers and agents after me
for engagements, of course.... The numerous letters
1 My father had noted much dramatic talent in my little children.




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


I25


from unheard-of great actors, who have been waiting my
return to the Shaksperian stage, is overwhelming, too;
I had no idea of so many. To give you some notion of
how long it takes for me to write so slight a letter, I think
I 've been since 4 o'clock since I began scribbling this,
and have not ended yet.... Yet I am a great deal
better in many respects. LatterlyI have had a cough
that troubles me somewhat, but that is nothing much....
To-day has snowed us up, and every day or so we have
had heavy snows or summer weather. There is a great
Italian actress here, a Mile. Duse, the greatest yet, they
say. I shall see her in a few nights.... Tell "babbies"
grandpa has forgotten how to spell, and when I learn
again, I '11 write them a good letter. God bless 'em, and
tell 'em to write me another just such a sweet, long letter,
and good night. God bless 'em with all sorts of good
nights, and God bless their dear mama! Love for all.
Dear father! His health had begun to fail rapidly, and my enforced absence in the South, through
illness in my family, was a constant source of anxiety and worry to me. I longed ever to be with
him, not knowing how much longer I might have
that happiness. In a few short weeks he was taken
from me, but not before I had the joy of his loved
presence for a while in my home. The pathos of
these last letters is made more pathetic still, when
one considers the heroic and loving efforts he made
to write to me, although enfeebled physically and
mentally. It was but one more proof of his unselfish, devoted paternal love.




I26


EDWIN BOOTH


THE PLAYERS, NEW YORK, March 4, I893.
MY DEAR DAUGHTER:
After many attempts, I have "my pen in hand" for a
final one before my good night. Although I wired you
the last thing last night before going to dine with Bispham that I would write you to-day, I almost broke my
word, and failed to keep faith, and let you pass for another
week, for just as I began this several callers came to interrupt me. Another day is about gone, and Sunday
night is creeping ahead of me, and no letter mailed for
you yet.... I can't account for it...
Although I have both darlings' letters on my desk, I
can't muster energy enough to write my love for them,
but only silently wish them all sorts of good things, to
share with darling mama, with my loving thoughts. God
bless them all! I have been all day over this, stopping
every now and then to think, unable to write a decent
letter. I '11 soon do better. It 's dark almost every day,
because of the heavy snow-storms or threatened ones,
though to-day the sun shines after a heavy storm of yesterday and last night. I can't scribble even half that I
hoped for to-day, after my failure to telegraph you more
than I did yesterday. I managed to go to the play two
or three times; but it merely tired me, and gave me no
pleasure.
I 'm reading the "Journal of a Young Artist-Marie
Bashkirtseff," a remarkable book. Beginning at twelve
years of age, the girl moralizes and philosophizes like
Hamlet. Of course she died young-at twenty-four....
Good-bye. And again God bless you I
Pop.




LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTER


127


NEW YORK, March 15, I893..It seems a most difficult task for me to write a
simple letter, even to spell. I don't know what is the
cause. I certainly am much better than I was, in all
respects, until I attempt to write, when all my wits seem
to go astray, and my nerves get beyond control. Several
days have gone without my having had energy to write
more than a telegram to you, which I did also yesterday.
If I could take exercise, I believe I should gradually grow
stronger.  My 'lectric doctors are now reduced to two;
I formerly had four a day. After breakfast I take a paper
and lie on my sofa in the back room, where I get most
sunlight, till about 3:30 or 4 o'clock, when I dine a
little, and after go to Carryl's or Bispham's, or to the
play, in order to get a vain hope for an interest in the
theatre. My deafness is so much increased that I don't
hear a word that is spoken on the stage.... I won't
promise any more, but I '11 try to finish this badly begun
letter in the morning. 'T is quite late now, —eight and a
half, at least; just my bedtime, —and dear old Harry
stays with me to tuck me up, and say good night, till the
last, every night.  I miss you all very much, but am
glad you escaped this bad weather.
March I6. Good morning, my little ones! Only 't is
nearly evening again; the way I let time slip away is a
caution to babies. I left this letter to mama last night,
meaning to finish it for her this morning; but 't is now
nearly to-morrow evening ahead, and I 'm just about
awake, and have only just scratched a few lines addressed
to my good little "Babes in the Woods" 'way down South,
where 't is nice and warm, amongst the birds and flowers.
Here 't is just as cold as winter still. I 'm really cold and
shivering while I try to write.... I hope you are still
all well. If you are always as good as you are now, and




I28


EDWIN BOOTH


have been this summer, I 'm sure the good angels will take
good guard of you, and bring you all to our happy home
in New York, to see grandpa, who is anxious to see his old
babies again. Now, you see, I 've managed to write two
letters for you (you and mama in one, you see). That's
for waiting so long. Well, I 've told you about all I
know, so now good-bye.... Give 'em my love and
God bless 'em for grandpa. With many loving kisses.
THE PLAYERS,
Tuesday, 4:30 P. M., April 17, I893.
DEAR DAUGHTER:
I rose very late this morning, and brought with me an
all-night and permanent headache, which still sways me
after a long nap on the sofa till just now; I hope to
get rid of it and be soon with you for a while this evening. Will send for coupe; am sorry that I did not send
word earlier. Very sorry your cold is worse, but am
glad that you take care of it, and have stayed indoors,
for it seems quite cold here.
If I should not get out, don't worry; I am quite well,
except my stupid headache, that will perhaps keep me in
the house. Nothing worse. I hope 't is better with you,
and nothing worse with you all.
God bless you!                       Papa.
The above is my father's last letter to me. On
the following morning he was taken ill (Wednesday, April 18).
On the previous evening he came to my house,
as usual, to dinner, and, although very feeble, he
seemed bright, and spoke of his pleasure in still
being able to come to us. It was his last visit.




LETTERS TO HIS
FRIENDS








LETTERS TO HIS
FRIENDS
LETTER TO CAPT. RICHARD F. CARY.
430 FRANKLIN ST., June 30, I860.
FRIEND RICHARD:
I pray your highness to pardon my long delay in replying to your last kind letter; but the fact is, my head
is turned. I am like the chap of old who wrote to his
father, ending with this line, "I am, my dearest charmer,
ever thine." In short, my head is full of " Marry Mary
-marry-marriage."     Those are the three important
degrees at present. The second, which implies fear,
hope, regret, bliss, love, etc., being a sufficient excuse for
anything except suicide; so bear with me, Richard, and
don't " impute my silence to light love " of your delightful company, but rather to the tumultuous heavings of
that sea through which you have already passed to a joyful haven. Phew! It takes me so long to reach a period
that I almost lose the thread of my " yarn " on the journey. This day week-July 7-" young Edwin" is no
more! A sober, steady paterfamilias will then (excuse me
a moment, there 's a hand-organ playing " Love not" under my window, and I must defer this till a more appropriate air strikes up).  Half an hour has elapsed, and
"A te O Cara" swells on the air-a more inspiring melody
than the former, but still not sufficiently so to stimulate
131




I32


EDWIN BOOTH


me to the performance of a task (to me almost impossible),
that of writing a sensible letter. You see how I have
been rambling off. I 've said nothing as yet, and yet
nearly the whole of my sheet is filled. So I go. This is
a panorama of my brain at present-wandering about
from "nix " to nothing. I wonder if it will be as hot as
this next month; I hope not. I am going to Lake
George, and then shoot about the "farm "1 till I strike
the Saginaw, and return by the way of Boston, etc. I
hope I '11 see you there; will let you know when. For
the present, adieu; with all the best wishes for thee and
thine, of
Yours distractedly,        Booth.
TO RICHARD F. CARY. i 860..I 'm "orph," but whether for Italy, France, or
"Merrie England " depends upon-away, away from here
at all events. Art degenerates below the standard even
of a trade in America. My taste is becoming vitiated;
my love of it is dying out; and I need the recuperation.
Badeau speaks both languages fluently, and will be a valuable companion "du voyage."  The only trouble will be,
I shall have a wife to look after... but I dare say I
shall have ample opportunities to study art in its native
atmosphere, and to inhale enough of the latter to vivify
my future productions with something of the true and
beautiful. I can go on traveling through this country
four, perhaps five, years longer, and make a great deal of
money; but money is not what I want-nor position
either, unless I can feel within the consciousness of deserving it. Fortune has placed me in (for my years) a
high, and, many think, an enviable, position, but I feel the
1 My father's birthplace, Belair, Maryland, which he always called the "farm."




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I33


ground tremble beneath my feet, and I 'm perfectly well
aware that unless I aim at a larger circumference than the
rim of the "almighty dollar" (which one can't help in
America), I '11 go down "eye-deep " in the quicksand of
popular favor. When "vox populi" gets hoarse, gargles
won't help it, so I think I had better leave in the full cry
of " Come back to me! " as Mrs. " Bevish " wrote to Heenan. "I 've had the usual vicissitudes of the son of the
Muses " since I saw you. Nashville (barring the beautiful
ladies) disgusted me; Charleston revived, and this place
raised my expectation to such a height that, like Macbeth's
ambition, it went clean over the saddle, and fell on t'other
side-fifteen hundred dollars in one little week! I go to
St. Louis from here, then to Philadelphia, then to Hymen! Pray let me hear from you ere then. My compliments to Mrs. C., and believe me ever,
Your friend,           Booth.
TO RICHARD F. CARY.
NEW YORK, Dec. 4, i86o.
MY DEAR DICK:
I rec'd a letter from you just as I had mailed my last.
I '11 give you only a few lines this time, as I 'm ill. I send
you some notices. My engagement has not been thus far
successful, pecuniarily, but otherwise a triumph. I 've had
the best people, and the entire press yields me the palm,
particularly as Hamlet, although Richelieu has made the
mark. There are constant inquiries at the box-office for
it; just my luck..
I send you a lot of scraps Mollie has cut from the papers
for you.... Cushman is doing so-so at the Boston.
She is down on me as an actor; says I don't know anything at all about " Hamlet," so she is going to play here
9*




I34


EDWIN BOOTH


in Feb. I can't go South, sure. Hurry up and make
your fortune, that we may have a decent theatre.
The company is most atrocious here; they ruin all I
attempt. Be sure my mark is made here, and with the
best people, too. I '11 draw like a blister the next visit.
Mrs. B. sends her kind regards. Remember us at home
when you write. Yours ever,
Ned.
TO CAPT. RICHARD F. CARY.
Sunday, 30, I86I.
MY DEAR DICK:
I cannot tell you how sad I feel at your going away
without bidding you good-bye. After several ineffectual
attempts to find the camp, I yesterday succeeded. Covered with dust, "headached," and broiled, my wife and I
reached the ground just in time to see the parade dismissed, when I learned that you were absent.
I had to visit New York last week, where I found my
mother, sister, and Joe. He gives a glowing account of
the fight. Says no one was killed. Ten times the number of rebels could not have taken the fort, by any
means, had Anderson been provisioned. We all start at
7 A. M. to-morrow for Bethel, Me., where I hope to have
a quiet time for a few weeks, at the end of which I sincerely hope to be summoned to England. I 've already
received a request to visit the Haymarket, and about the
middle of July I shall know definitely. But enough of
myself. I manage, somehow, to appear very egotistical
in my letters; I write of nothing else, it seems.
My dear Dick, you will not, I hope, omit any opportunity to "post" me as to your whereabouts, etc. I shall
read with anxiety and interest every bulletin from the




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I35


seat of war, and pray ever for your safety and distinction
- of that I am sure, if you only get a chance. My wife
sends her blessings and heartfelt good-bye, and her sincere regret at not seeing you. There is no need of protestation, I trust, on my part, to assure you of the regret,
the anxiety, the hope, the fear, I feel for you, but I will
say, God in heaven bless and protect you! That you may
return unscathed and glorious shall be the constant, fervent prayer of                 Your friend
Ned.
BOSTON, Aug. 4, I86i.
MY DEAR DICK:
I was truly delighted at receiving your letter; I was
afraid I should hear nothing of you before I left for Europe. This announcement surprises you, no doubt, but so
it is, Dick; I am off for the Haymarket at last. I received
a hint ere I went to Bethel, and while there a most substantial inducement came in the shape of an offer from the
management, and I sail on the 7th (next Wednesday) on
the Arabia. You may imagine how upside down everything is with me now; having many things to buy, and
many to dispose of- among the latter is a horse which I
drove out to Camp Andrew a few days before I left town.
I wish you were a Col., I would give him to you. Your
sister called on Mollie' the other day, and promised to
see her again before we go, as it is impossible for us to go
to Nahant, as we intended. My dear Dick, how I long to
grasp your hand ere I go, but fate has ordained it otherwise, and I know that your advice would be to " go without delay." It is the grand turning-point of my career,
and though it pains me to leave my country at this time,
I look forward with a heart full of hope that I may achieve
1 My mother.




I36


EDWIN BOOTH


abroad all that you may desire for me. Here have I been
egotistically scribbling "I," " I," "I," throughout the whole
letter, and not a word for you. You know that I am not
so selfish as all that, don't you? As Hotspur says somewhere, " By God! I cannot flatter, but in my heart there
is no man holds a prouder place than Richard Cary," or
words to that effect. And I do hold you proudly, Dick;
I am proud of your friendship; and I sincerely hope and
pray that "ere the fight be o'er" your name may be
among the proudest of your country's saviors.
God bless you, my boy! Don't get tired of the hard
fare; your patriotism is not in the stomach, I know, but
stick to the flag, Dick, as I intend to do, though far away.... God bless you! Mollie joins me in love for you.
If there is a possibility of sending me a letter now and
then to the Haymarket Theatre, do so, and I '11 keep
you posted.  Adieu. May God protect you! Your
friend,
Ned.
TO MR. RICHARD CARY.
LONDON, Thursday, March 20, I862... Yesterday's mail brought me the mournful tidings of Prof. Felton's death. I know of nothing short of
your own, or of some of my family's death, that could
have shocked me more. My wife had a letter from your
sister Emma, telling us of the melancholy blow which has
deprived us of one of our proudest ornaments, and also
giving me some idea of what you have been doing. I am
delighted that you were chosen to so important a mission;
it shows what confidence is reposed in you. I suppose
by this time you are in the heat of the fray. God forbid
that another letter from Cambridge should bring me simi



LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I37


lar intelligence to the last, but that one from you will
cheer me with glorious news of yourself in particular and
of the whole army in general. The " Times " is so very
rabid against us that I left it off some time ago; but I believe it advocates a monarchy for America as the only
chance for us. It is consistent, at all events, and that is
one thing in its favor. I take such papers as give us a
fair and truthful account of things, but such papers are
called "bla'guard" sheets, of course.
I am going to Paris on Saturday; shall remain till
Tuesday morning, merely to get an idea of the place before going there with my family.... I am writing
under tenfold difficulties; my pen won't work, as you
may see, my neuralgia keeps me in a state of "worry,"
and my baby is squalling like fury. Having been vaccinated, she is suffering in consequence, and, to cap all, I
have nothing of interest to write about. I have not forgotten the "Dramatic College " periodical you spoke of, but
I can find out nothing in relation to it; I do not think it
is started yet.
I think the fall will find me in Boston again, a poorer
but a wiser man than when I left there; but do not say
aught about it. And so General Lander is dead! There 's
another heavy loss. I was not aware of his illness until
the news of his death reached us. I suppose you get
all the floating news of Boston. E. L. [Davenport] has
been astonishing the solid men with his Hamlet at the
Academy.... I see that some of the regiments have
theatrical entertainments, and that Luc Denin has been
acting f6r them. Do you ever take part? Send for Alice... and she might "do " the " Marble Heart " to perfection under canvas. God bless you, Dick! Give me a
long account of yourself and doings; tell me how you
look. I suppose your beard is quite ferocious now; you
will perceive that I have allowed my hair to grow, a la




I38


EDWIN BOOTH


Formes; quite classic, is it not?... I wonder if it
will be your lot to enter Memphis as a conqueror, or are
you destined for another point of the compass? Mrs.
Booth joins me in prayers for your dear safety, and is
as anxious as I to hear from you.
Ever your friend,        Ned.
TO MRS. FELTON, CAMBRIDGE.
NEW YORK, Sept. i I, I862.
MY DEAR MRS. FELTON:
So soon as I heard of dear Richard's death, which information I did not receive for several days after my arrival, I endeavored in a very feeble letter to his bereaved
widow to express the grief this cruel blow has caused me,
and to offer her some little consolation. I could not
realize, even while writing it, that my dear friend was
dead, and even now, although your letter has destroyed
all hope, I can but feel that I shall meet him soon.
God bless the being who paid that lovely tribute to
our dear one! But while I bless, I envy him the sacred
duty he was privileged to perform. I can but feel that,
after his family, mine was the right to first pay homage to the noble dead.   That will ever be to me a
holy spot where Richard lies, and I shall always consider it to be one of my first and most sacred duties to
visit it.
That our friendship was so well appreciated by his family, and your assurance that this friendship was a source
of happiness to him, are, and ever will be, as a glimpse of
heaven in the dark void his untimely death has caused.
But, above all, the sad, sweet relic he has left me-the




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I39


letter signed with his death-will forever be to me a
source of consolation.  It will keep forever fresh the
truth of him who thought of his friend even on the field
of battle.
Richard was always in my eyes the noblest of men,
and his conduct in the face of death proves that I was
right in my judgment of him. He was a hero born; he
acted as Richard Cary only could act-nobly, unselfishly,
bravely. I knew it would be so; I knew that he would
be loved by all about him; and I knew that if he fell, he
would be found contented, grand in death. I can appreciate the feelings of him who felt like kissing him. God,
in taking him, left for the consolation of his friends the
impress of his soul upon his face. This is why it looked
so lovely, so like an angel's.
His dear mother, so heroic in her grief, must feel her
sorrow somewhat assuaged by the conviction that her
darling is where she will meet him again; for never did a
purer soul go more calmly forth at its master's call.
From your allusion to the fight at Winchester, and the
shell bursting near Richard, I fear a letter has missed us,
for we heard nothing of it.... I will now close, my
dear Mrs. Felton, with no apology for this, knowing that
you appreciate the depth and sincerity of my feelings,
however homely they are expressed.
I need not say how anxious I am to receive dear Richard's letter...
With dearest love for you all, in which my wife joins
me, believe me ever your friend and servant, and your
brother's lover,
Edwin Booth.




140


EDWIN BOOTH


TO CAPT. ADAM BADEAU.
NEW YORK, Sept. 14, 1862.
DEAR AD.:
I 've been on the point of writing to you every day,
and have put it off for the lack of something to write
about-you can understand that sort of thing. I stay indoors all day; news is stale and scarce (I mean new news,
of course), and the consequence is, I have nought to say
but to offer up my prayers for your safety and success. I
presume you are at Memphis, as I see Sherman is there;
but I will send, as you directed, to New Orleans. To
talk about such old-time nonsense as my own affairs is
now too trivial. " The time and your intents are savage,
wild," and admit of nothing which does not smack of seriousness; therefore, I must devote what few words I have,
as I said before, to you and your holy cause. May the
God of Battles guard you, Ad., and may you persevere in
the good work so well begun.... 'T is said the enemy
is retreating. God grant it may be so, and that they
may be squelched by "Little Mac."... I have seen
no one as yet except the Stoddards.... Folks are
coming to town, however; but still the place is very
dull. 'T is not the same New York I left, is it?
Let me hear from you as soon and as often as possible,
and by that time I may be able to give you a longer and,
I hope, a more interesting letter.
Mollie and the baby are well and happy; send love to
you, and beg you to come back safe.
Write me long letters, and tell me all the war news.
With prayers for your safety, and sincerest wishes for
your promotion and success in every undertaking,
Believe me, thine as ever,
Ned.
To Capt. A. Badeau, U. S. A.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I4I


DORCHESTER, Mass., March 3, 1863.
MY DEAR AD.:
By the time this reaches you, you will perhaps have
heard of the terrible blow I have received - a blow which
renders life aimless, hopeless, darker than it was before
I caught the glimpse of heaven in true devotion of her,
the sweetest being that made man's home a something
to be loved. My heart is crushed, dryed up, and desolate. I have no ambition now, no one to please, no one to
cheer me....  You can feel my agony, I know, and if,
while I was happy, I failed to keep you advised of my
whereabouts and doings, you see I think of you in my
misery, and seek to pour out my flood of grief where I
know it will not be despised. I should not complain even
in my gulf of woe, for surely God is just, is good, is wiser
than we, and nothing has ever so impressed me with the
truth of this as Mollie's deathj I left her in bloom of
health and hope, joyful and loving, throwing kisses to me
as I parted from her; two little tiny weeks slipped by,
and I was summoned to her bedside. I came too late:
the baby-wife lay dead, after one week's illness! Can
you believe it, Ad.? I can't. I think she is somewhere
near me now; I see her, feel her, hear her, every minute
of the day. I call her, look for her, every time the door
opens; in every car that passes our little cottage door,
where we anticipated so much joy, I expect to see the
loved form of her who was my worlcfdj God only can relieve me; nothing on earth can fill the place of her who
was to me at once wife, mother, sister, child, guide, and
savior.  All is dark; I know not where to turn, how
to direct the deserted vessel now.3 My child can never
fill her place, for she was my child, my baby-wife. Every
little toy of hers, every little scrap of paper the most
worthless, are full of her because she has touched them.




I42


EDWIN BOOTH


They recall her more vividly than the baby does, although the dear little thing is full of " papa." She climbs
my knee, and prattles all day long to me; but still she is
not the baby I have loved and cherished so devotedly.
Two little tiny years, Ad., and the bright future is a
black and dismal past. 0 God! if I could only feel satisfied that she is with the blessed, if she could give me
some sign that this is not the end of all -then I could,
with the hope of meeting her again, be, if not happy, at
least composed; but a terrible nightmare, doubt, will
thrust itself between me and heaven, and my mind is on
the rack. They tell me that time and use will soften the
blow, that I shall grow to forget her. God forbid! My
grief, keen as it is, and crushing, is still sweet to me; for
it is a part of her.,Were I to live a thousand years, I 'd
ask no greater blessing than to mourn for her, to be
wrapped up in my grief as in a shroud, alone with her.
You know more of our loves and lives than any one, and
yet you cannot conceive the half; no one can. God, she,
and I only, knew the depth of our devotion. It grew
from childhood; for I go back now, for the thousandth
time, to the very first hour I ever met her, and feel that
I loved her then, although I did not know it. As she
grew to womanhood, and loved, my soul grew to hers.
Poor worm! I feel now how mean, how thoroughly nothing, I am. Where can I go to forget my lost joy?
What can I do or look upon that will not remind me of
her? All things I loved or admired she took delight in;
my acting was studied to please her, and after I left the
theatre, and we were alone, her advice was all I asked,
all I valued. If she was pleased, I was satisfied; if not,
I felt a spur to prick me on to attain the point. In this
once happy house I see on every hand bitter remembrances of her: the very pen I hold was in her hand only
three weeks ago, inditing loving words to me; the pa



LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I43


per on which I write was purchased by her for my use;
her books lie all about me; her sewing, her dresses-all
are a part of her, and every corner brings her back; for
all loved her, and all weep for her, all talk of her. I lie
awake at night, and look for her in the darkness; I hold
my breath and listen, and sometimes fancy I can feel her
speak away in somewhere-in my soul, perhaps, for I
know if it is possible for spirits to come back she '11 come
to me some night. Surely she is an angel in God's highest
court, if there is a world beyond this, if this is not the end.
On the day of the funeral I received word from Dr.
Osgood, who was on a visit here, offering to officiate.
Strange coincidence would it not have been? It was too
late, however; but Dr. Huntington performed the services.  To-day I had a beautiful letter from Osgood,
written, he says, in the very room in which he married
us. I had also a kind letter from Beecher' the other day.
I never met him; but Mollie dined at Mrs. Howes'2 once,
some six weeks ago, and he was there. Like all who
came within her atmosphere, he loved her, and says her
name is no stranger in his household; that daily and
nightly he prays for me. From several other visitors and
men of standing I have received kind words of consolation and advice; but what can they tell me? She is in
heaven, and I must live to meet her there. I know all
this at least as well as they know it; I do not need their
advice or sympathy, although it is good in them to give
it, and I appreciate it; but I do need some sign from her,
some little breath of wind, nothing more, whispering comfortable words of her. Did n't you tell me once that you
saw me standing near you when I was in reality far away?
I '11 tell you what happened to me two nights before
Mary left me. I was in New York, in bed; it was about
two in the morning. I was awake; I felt a strange puff
1 The late Henry Ward Beecher.  2 Mrs. Julia Ward Howe.




144


EDWIN BOOTH


of air strike my right cheek twice; it startled me so that
I was thoroughly aroused. I turned in bed, when I felt
the same on the left cheek-two puffs of wind-ghostkisses. I lay awake wondering what it could mean, when
I distinctly heard these words, " Come to me, darling; I
am almost frozen," as plainly as I hear this pen scratching over the paper. It made a strange impression on me,
the voice was so sad and imploring. When I was in the
cars on my way hither, little dreaming that she was so
seriously ill, I saw, every time I looked from the car window, Mary dead, with a white cloth tied around her head
and chin. I did not find her so exactly, nor in the position I saw her from the window, but I saw her as distinctly a dozen times at least as I saw her when I arrived
-dead, and in her coffin. What does all this mean?
My mother says she saw my father standing by her bedside twice during the first month of his decease; she declared she was awake, and saw him; but he vanished
before she had time to speak to him. I, who have ever
laughed at such things, now feel mystified, and half believe that such things may be. Surely they can do no
harm; for if Mary should come to me, I feel that my
soul would become purified. I should no longer have
doubt, and my life would be sweeter, perhaps, than while
she lived; for I should then follow the path I knew would
lead me to her. But then, again, I fear. Should she tell me
she was unhappy, what would be my life then? I should
go mad, undoubtedly, or rebel, as Lucifer did, as my
wicked soul is apt to do rather than be humbled. The
chief reason why I have not written to you is that I did
not wish to trouble you at such times as these with affairs so trivial as those relating to my profession, and you
know me well enough to know that that topic is my only
one. Laziness, I must confess, in a great degree had to
do with it also. Nothing more.




EDWIN BOOTH AS "HAMLET," 1887.




I




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I45


Dear Mollie sat down to write to you one day, but tore
up the letter, saying it could not interest you, and that
she 'd write some other time. This was but a few weeks before she went away. I have not the slightest idea of your
whereabouts, so shall send this to the care of Mrs. Busteed, who has doubtless told you all about this sadness.
Is there anything of Mollie's that would please you to
have? Her (your) guitar is hanging on the wall, mute and
tuneless now.  The spring is upon us, yet the ground is
white with snow-white as a shroud. Poor Mollie is lying
out at Mount Auburn, cold and lonely. Does n't it seem
hard that one so young, so full of life, devotion, and goodness, should go so suddenly? Would to God I were there
with her! But I suppose that 's wrong; I suppose I will
be there shortly. Years are but minutes when we look
back on vanished joys; but oh, how tedious they appear
when we turn our eyes the other way! Every day now
seems endless; the night seems lengthened into a century: I am in such haste to reach that beginning, or that
end of all, that I am chafed and breathless with my own
impatience. Ad., my married life has yet some touches
of the real in it, has it not? Do you think now it is possible for me to recite some passages in a play without a
something in my heart and throat? God help me! Madness would be a relief to me, and I have often thought I
stood very near the brink of it.... Total darkness
even is better than the lurid light burning in the tomb,
and that is all that I can see. It flickers before my eyes,
and shows me only the murky, joyless future, and the faded
brightness of the dead past. God bless you, Ad.! Be
brave and struggle, but set not your heart on anything in
this world. If good comes to you, take it, and enjoy it;
but be ready always to relinquish it without a groan.
Adieu; may we meet again.
Ned.
10




I46


EDWIN BOOTH


TO MISS EMMA F. CARY.1
DORCHESTER, Mass., March 5, I863.
MY DEAR MISS CARY:
I should have acknowledged the receipt of, and thank
you for, the pictures, which are indeed the most precious,
and which, Richard's particularly, I think the best I have
seen of our dear lost ones, had I not thought I should be
able to do so in person. Next week, God willing, I shall
certainly call.
Poor little Edwina cannot respond to the more enlightened Georgie;2 she cannot yet command her English
well enough; but she sends through papa a thousand
kisses to her sweet little baby friend, and shall soon see
her.  Tell Georgie she must love me, and talk to me
when I come, dear little soul.
I go to town to-day to look over the French costumes
I sent here for my dear wife's inspection. Were it not
that they require unpacking and attending to, I 'd drive
out to Cambridge; but I must defer my visit till next
week.
How sad it is to perform these offices! I purchased
these costumes merely to please her, and I am sure when
I see them for the first time I shall lose my self-control,
as I did, after calmness had settled on my heart, when
packing away her dresses and other articles that now
are so very, very dear to me, albeit of the most trivial
character.
But I must close, with good night, and with my love
to you all, and kisses to Georgie.
Ever your friend,
Edwin Booth.
1 Miss Emma F. Cary, sister of Mrs. Louis Agassiz, widow of the late Professor Louis Agassiz of Cambridge, Mass.
2 Miss Georgie Cary, only child of Captain Richard F. Cary.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I47


TO ADAM BADEAU.
NEW YORK, I07 East 17th St., May I8, I863.
DEAR AD.:
I got your letter before I left Boston some weeks
ago. You see I am now located in New York. I have
taken Putnam's house (the publisher) furnished, for six
months, during which time I shall busy myself looking
for a permanent home while on earth - something I can
leave my child in case of my departing, which God grant
may not occur until I have become worthy of being
reunited with her.... While Mary was here I was
shut up in her devotion. I never dreamed that she could
be taken from me.... As I ever have lived, so live I
now, within. You would not think I suffer were you here
with me; nor would I have you think that I do suffer constantly: it is only at times, as now. When I wrote you
last, it seems I was hopeful and patient; now I am torn
with all sorts of hateful fancies; yet but an hour ago I
might have written you a far different letter. Believe in
one great truth, Ad.-God is. And as surely as you
and I are flesh and bones and blood, so are we also spirits
eternal. I believe it beyond a doubt, and I believe, too,
that she who sat beside me only a few weeks ago is living
and is near me now. This should make me happy, should
it not? But it does not.... Ad., I never knew how
much I loved her. I do not perhaps fully realize it yet;
if I did, the loss of my Aidenn might kill me. God is
wise and just and good in this, as in all things.... I
tell you, Ad., it is not well to forget God in our prosperity; we do not when we are sinking. Infidels, heathens,
blasphemers, all think of Him then.... My feelings
are as my words, jumbled together in terrible confusion.
Let us pass..




148


EDWIN BOOTH


I am writing on Washington Irving's table-an honor,
I presume, but it is very small and inconvenient for the
purpose, and I 'd rather have more elbow-play, were it
even on a kitchen dresser. My baby-bless her!-is as
beautiful and as full of love and life as she who was born
this night. Yes; this is, or shortly will be, the nineteenth,
Mary's twenty-third year! Poor baby!...
Tell me all about the war; every time you write, enlighten me as to what is going on in this world of ours.... In the world where cruel fate has cast me -in the
theatre- I am as a child whose eye-teeth are yet uncut.. In the way of art, sculpture is flourishing, painting
also: of the former I speak selfishly, as I ever think and
speak of all things. [Launt] Thompson is doing a head
of me as Hamlet, which will surpass his "Trapper," and
that is worthy of Michelangelo.  I'd bury it if I were
he, and rot it as Buonarotti did (you see I still retain my
wit!), and swear it to be antique. Palmer and, in fact,
all artists pronounce it great.... Good night, and be
your dreams brighter than mine.
Cats are yowling and dogs are howling under my window, and it is very late; so I must go to bed and think.
I 've not seen the B.'s yet, for Thompson has all my time
from "get up" to "go to bed." Shall see them soon if in
town. Write cheerfully and at length; I need it. God
bless you, boy!                           Ned.
NEW YORK, I07 East I7th St., June 6, I863.
MY DEAR AD.:
The sad intelligence of your wound reached me through
the " Herald " this morning, and I shall endeavor to give
you a cheerful letter, sincerely hoping that you will be up
and out by the time it reaches you. A cheerful letterGreat God! where shall I find the material for such?




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


149


Truly not in my heart; not in anything the world presents to me now. I can but write as the mood is. But
I must take care and not pain you. Let what I may say,
if I get very sad, be taken seriously, not sorrowfully. We
may never meet again; you may even now be quitting
earth for the bright home I have longed for all my life,
but from which I have always turned. I sometimes, as
in my first letter to you (you say you got no other, yet I
wrote two), believe beyond a doubt of her existence and
her constant love; but then again, as in my second letter,
I feel the deadness of an outcast soul. Ad., if you do go
(don't think I speak lightly of so serious a matter; no, I
always thought of death as coolly as sleep, nothing more,
and gladly would I take that sleep were I permitted)if you go, come back to me, and assure me of the reality
of what perplexes us all so often. None need the conviction more than I. If I were sure of it in her case I 'd
be happy-but I may as well tell you, I 've been to see
Miss Edmunds (the Judge's daughter), and some marvelous things have been said and done.  I have received
communications from Mary and my father almost convincing, but I want something beyond a doubt....
I shall investigate thoroughly the subject which is of
so vital importance to me, and I know how fearful my
friends get in such matters; so keep it to your heart, and
if you remain on earth I '11 acquaint you with my proceedings; if you go to her and can come back, do so: I
will, to you. I am ashamed of my keeping away from
102, but you know how I dislike to visit, and you may
judge how painful it would now be to see those w. knew
her: we can only talk of her, and though I soi. times
fancy I can do so calmly, as though she were still here, I
find my heart swelling up into my throat when I think
of going; so I put it off from day to day. Now, I must
go. Oh, if I could get rid of that impatient longing for
IO*




I50


EDWIN BOOTH


her return! I said I 'd be cheerful, did n't I? I have
taken a pretty course, truly!...
I pray God you may not be taken away, for the world
is still beautiful to you; I hope with all my heart that
you may not be prevented from going again into action,
and that you may win renown and happiness. I feel my
duty now to be simply the accumulation of money to
leave my child, for I may go as suddenly as its poor
mother did..
You ask if you offended me in your first letter. No; I
wrote you as soon as I could after I received it: nothing
can offend me now.... By the time this reaches
you I shall be by Mollie's grave. I go there to place a
tablet over her; when that is done I shall go back to her
baby and - God knows what.
Be hopeful, cheerful, Ad.: don't let my feelings overmaster yours. You must be quiet and cheerful. I am
in a dead state to-day. Sometimes I am of the other
world, and feel there is a path on the other side of the
grave. For fear I grow worse and worse, and pain you
more than I have already done, I '11 close. I send you
cold comfort, I know. God bless you and restore you!
Write me often, and as soon as you get up. I '11 see
the B.'s to-morrow, if I 'm home.
Be hopeful and happy,
Thine,     Edwin.
NEW YORK, 107 East I7th St., June 15, I863.
MY DEAR AD.:
I doubt if I shall ever be in the proper mood to cheer
you. I got your letter to-day, and must answer it ere I
go to bed, for I may be off for Boston to-morrow. I go
there on a sad, painful errand. You must take what I send,
and count it sympathy, gloomy and cheerless as it may




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I5I


prove to be. Yes, I remember the promise she made you,
and I do not doubt she is near you at times-when you
are cheerful. I feel her by me sometimes -at least I
fancy so, but to-day has been one of my bad days....
The dear little baby is beautiful, and as full of life as
her mother was....
I'm glad you write so cheerfully. I know you feel sadly
on my account; hopeful, I trust, on your own, and I truly
hope my dullness may not add to your sufferings. Forgive me; I'm so selfish still that others' woes seem nothing to mine, and yet I struggle to be patient and cheerful too. Get well and come home, or, rather, come home
and get well. I '11 be with you as much as I possibly
can.
You must be suffering in the heat of New Orleans. I've
been there in the hot winters. Lord knows what it is now
in its broiling sun.
I told you in my last I had been to see Miss Edmunds: well, the result of my four or five visits is not
satisfactory; of course nothing I can get on earth can be;
but surely there is something marvelous in this mysterious business. My father and Mary have both been with
me there, and have written and spoken with me through
Miss E —     in a curious manner; but we cannot help
our doubts, you know, reasonable as it seems. It does
seem reasonable to me, whatever others may say or think
of it. I won't believe for the millionth part of a minute
that Mary's deep love for me is buried in her grave;
and living and loving still, why should she not seek me
even yet? Of course the only "if" in the matter is God's
permission, and in order to save mankind, I do not think
he would forbid it. So I shall dream on, believing she
is near me; hoping that one day I may receive direct intelligence from her, until I am either convinced, mad, or
disgusted. The first of these three results will save me;




I52


EDWIN BOOTH


the second will be of little moment one way or another;
the last will end me.
I do not envy you in battle, if you feel no better than I
do in Richard, for by the time the war breaks out on Bosworth's Field I feel sick at the stomach. If it was not for
the fear of doing my country more harm than good, I 'd
be a soldier, too; a coward always has an "if" to slink
behind, you know. Those cursed bullets are awkward
things, and very uncivil at times, too; and as for a bayonet
charge, I don't hesitate to avow my readiness to "scoot"
if there is a chance. I 'd be cashiered or " broke " in two
after the first day's roll-call. Bull Run would be nothing
to the run I 'd make of it. Cold steel and my warm
blood don't mingle well: I don't mind bullets so much if
they come unawares and don't hurt; if they 'd always kill
quick I might buckle up to 'em, but I guess "things is
better as they is" for all sides....
Keep a stout heart, my boy. You see how valiant I am,
so far away from danger, too. I have no idea what month
will thrust me forth into the hateful life again - September,
I suppose; till then I hope to have a quiet time in my
grave. Adieu. Be a good boy, and come back jolly. I
guess you 're rough enough: you've done something
now, and can kick the cur that snaps. I '11 be careful and
cautious, as your state deserves.
I must say good night. It is late, and I 've got a sickheadache.  God bless and prosper you! I '11 see the
B.'s to-morrow if I live. My baby will be like Mary.
God grant I may live, for her sake!
I 've bought a house in Nineteenth Street, but shall
not move into it before the fall.
Good night. Ever thine,
Ned.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I53


TO MISS EMMA F. CARY.
June 17.
DEAR FRIEND:
The package you sent reached me in safety. So precious, so dear to me, are the locket and my darling's letters
that I shall ever cherish them; even my own have now
an interest since they were regarded worthy of being
kept by her. It was so good in you to send them.
I am happy that you retain the letters you refer to;
even that may serve to keep unburied a past so dear to
all of us.
It is a very great consolation for me to know that my
poor words of sympathy have been of the slightest service
to your dear, good mother. God bless her!
My little angel daughter is in most excellent health and
spirits; she grows more and more beautiful every day.
She often speaks of Georgie, and asks to kiss her picture,
which remains just as Mary placed it in its frame. All the
big dolls are called Georgie; some of them Cary-the
lesser ones.
I have a great deal of studying to do for the next regular season (my first as part proprietor of the Winter
Garden), and shall consequently be kept in the city all
the summer, unless I find it affects the baby's health, and
then, of course, I shall take her into the country somewhere.
My eldest brother, Junius, whom perhaps your brother
may have known in California, has returned after an absence of two years. My brother W- is here for the summer, and we intend taking advantage of our thus being
brought together, with nothing to do, and will, in the
course of a week or two, give a performance of " Julius
Caesar"-in which I shall undertake Brutus instead of




I54


EDWIN BOOTH


Cassius-for the benefit of the statue we wish to erect in
Central Park.'
This is all I can tell you of myself; but of the baby I
could write volumes had I the words to describe her
beauty, her goodness, her affection. Full of her sweet
mother's soul, she brings Mary back to earth; her eyes,
voice, manner, her ringing laugh, and her joyous fun, bear
me backward in pleasurable pain to the days when I first
knew her mother. God bless my little Georgie! I hope
she is improving in every way. I know she does; I know
that she is beautiful and good, and a blessing to all. Keep
me in her memory, and also let the older children hear of
me sometimes. I am scribbling with a terrible stick, which
makes even my " hieroglyphics" more than usually difficult
to decipher.
Give my dearest love to all the family, and think of me
ever as I am,        Your true friend,
Edwin Booth.
TO MISS EMMA F. CARY.
November I.
MY DEAR FRIEND:
Will you believe? I 've not replied to — 's note yet!
I have lost the vein of writing, somehow, as it is only now
and then, when I feel at liberty to be tedious and bore a
very old friend, that I can set about it.
I have been quite ill, as I told you in my last, nor am I
yet in a condition for work; but I must soon get at it for a
long winter campaign. On Friday, the 25th, without fail,
the long-talked-of benefit " to Shakspere " will take place
at the Winter Garden, with the " Brothers Booth " -  la
1 The statue of Shakspere which now adorns the entrance to the Mall in
Central Park.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I55


Hanlon- as the mainsprings, and beginning on the following night Hamlet, in a new dress (I wish Mr. Wwere here to see it), will fret his brief hour every night
until further notice.
I see no chance of acting in Boston at all; but J. B.,
my big brother, will try a few weeks at the Howard.
According to the papers (I 've not seen him for yearson the stage, I mean) he is the Booth of the family; so I
must brush up, or lose my laurels.
Edwina asks —about daily -when she is to see her
little "sister " Georgie. This is an idea of her own, entirely, and she kisses her picture whenever she catches
sight of it on the mantel -framed just as dear Mary left
it.... I voted (for Lincoln) t' other day -the first vote
I ever cast; and I suppose I am now an American citizen
all over, as I have ever been in heart.
I forget whether you told me you had read Doran's
"Annals of the Stage." There is a good account of Booth
in it, but a better one of Betterton (no pun intended, I
assure you). He is my ideal of an actor, both on and off
the stage. He aimed at truth in his art, and lived it at
home. I wish he lived to-day, or that I had lived then.
Circumstances more than genius made Garrick famous,
while Barry was eclipsed by the former's tact almost as
effectually as was my father's modesty by Kean's dash.
'T is an interesting book, I think, and gives us a good idea
of " their Majesties' Servants." For the last four weeks
I 've suffered terribly with headaches, and while I write I
feel, as Tennyson says, "they have not buried me deep
enough " (or words to that effect; I 'm a poor hand at
quoting); every little noise seems to split my pate across.
So good night, with all my love and Edwina's, and the
usual kisses for Georgie.
Your friend,
Edwin Booth.




EDWIN BOOTH


TO MISS EMMA F. CARY.... I have just lost another dear and noble friend in
John Hopper, whose death you may have read of in the
papers. He was well known, and valued by men of worth.
Somehow I feel that Mary is less lonely there when
dear friends go thither, and instead of grief I feel a yearning to follow them. I believe they meet and bear messages to her from us, and I believe, too, that she comes
to me, and influences me in all that there is of good in me.
Some call that "still, small voice" the conscience, but I
think it is oftener the spirit of a departed dear one speaking to us; it has been too well proved in my case for me
to doubt it.
Baby has just kissed me before going out for a walk,
and when I told her I was going to send her picture to
Georgie, she looked abashed: she is very sensitive, and
does n't like to be reminded of her faults; she sends a
thousand kisses with my love to you all. I hope your
dear mother is well and happy-God bless her!
Believe me ever
Your friend,
Edwin Booth.
TO MISS EMMA F. CARY.
SAINT VALENTINE'S DAY.
MY DEAR FRIEND:
A little lull in the whirl of excitement, in which my
brain has nearly lost its balance, affords me an opportunity to write you. It would be difficult to explain the
many little annoyances I have been subjected to in the
production of " Richelieu," but when I tell you that it far
surpasses " Hamlet," and exceeds all my expectations,




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I57


you may suppose that I have not been very idle all this
while. I wish you could see it.
Prof. Peirce' has been here, and he will tell you of it.
It really seems that the dreams of my past life - so far as
my profession is concerned - are being realized. What
Mary and I used to plan for my future, what Richard and
I used laughingly to promise ourselves in our model theatre, seems to be realized —in these two plays, at least.
As history says of the great cardinal, I am " too fortunate
a man not to be superstitious," and as I find my hopes being
fulfilled, I cannot help but believe that there is a sufficient importance in my art to interest them still; that to
a higher influence than the world believes I am moved by
I owe the success I have achieved. Assured that all I
do in this advance carries, even beyond the range of my
little world (the theatre), an elevating and refining influence, while in it the effect is good, I begin to feel really
happy in my once uneasy sphere of action. I dare say I
shall soon be contented with my lot. I will tell you this
much: I have been offered from all parts of the country
the means to a speedy and an ample fortune, but prefer
the limit I have set, wherein I have the power to carry
out my wishes, though " on half pay," as it were.
I was so hurried this morning that I forget to send by
Prof. Peirce a book of " Hamlet" to you, but he will be
back in a week, and then I will think of it. He is a magnificent man: as childlike and gentle as Agassiz. I fear
he had not so favorable an opinion of me, for I was unable to show him much attention. The fact is, I am in a
state of "crazy."  Acting such parts night after night is
a dreadful drain upon the nervous system, and affords no
1 The late Professor Peirce, professor of mathematics in Harvard University,
father of Professor James Mills Peirce, who has so ably succeeded his renowned
father in the same branch of learning. Both gentlemen were old and valued
friends of my father.




i58


EDWIN BOOTH


rest either to mind or body; so that I am not myself at
any time when under their influence.
Edwina is as well and beautiful and bright as can be,
and I hope that darling Georgie is in the like condition.
I know she must be. I see little of my " bird " except at
meals, for I am seldom in the house at other times. She
is dreadfully opposed to my acting every night, and says
she " don't want any bread and butter " when I tell her it
is to supply her with it that I do so.
I don't know when I shall be in Boston again.  Not
before next fall, I fancy; for when I end my work here I
go to Philadelphia, which will terminate the season. I
hope I may be as successful in the management of the
Boston theatre; but I really fear I have too much on my
hands to do justice to all. We shall see.
Give my love to your dear mother and all the family,
with a heart full of love and kisses for Georgie.
Ever your friend,      Edwin Booth.
TO MRS. RICHARD F. CARY.
June 3, 1864.
MY DEAR, DEAR FRIENDS:
You know my heart; I cannot speak to you of'comfort.
One after another the blows have fallen so heavily that
souls unaided by God's unfaltering love, and faith stronger
than death, would have sunk in despair beneath their
crushing weight.
But in your hearts, as in hers,-dear, dear mother,
for so she always seemed to me, Mary's mother,- as in
my own, there is a light which sorrow cannot quench;
which guides us through the darkness of the grave;
which reveals to us the secret of His mysterious worksthe secret love! Oh, that I could give you the full com



LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I59


panionship of that love as I have felt it since Mary's
death, the peace that has filled my soul, and the strength
that has flowed steadily into it, since that terrible day!
Could I give you this you would rejoice for her as I do,
although my heart aches for you while I write. Oh, be
assured, dear, dear ones, that they are together; that
their knowledge now is so great that even our grief for
their departure causes them no pain, so well they know
how good it is for us to suffer.
That I was in the hearts of my noble Richard and his
dear sister while they were on the very threshold of
Home, is a joy to me past all that earth can give me. I
know I shall be welcomed there by them: they never forget us, never cease to love and care for us. When we
meet, I know that I shall wonder how I could ever miss
them, so brief will the separation then seem. If I feel
this, dear friends,-I who am so much lower in the grade
of worthiness,-how joyous must your hearts be when you
reflect how near we all are to our unseen but real home,
when you know that all that comes from Him is for our
good.
Oh, I feel such an intense love for God when sorrow touches me that I could almost wish my heart would
always ache-I feel so near to him, I realize his love
so thoroughly, so intensely, at such times.
I did not mean to write so much, but this (my love I
speak of) has carried me away. Several times I have
stopped to brush away the tears that came for you, and to
give vent to that sigh which is a yearning of the spirit to
follow its loved ones home; but I could not cease to write
until I had given utterance to all that choked my heart.
Let this be for the dear, good mother and sisters of our
dear ones as for you.
Good-bye. God bless and comfort you!
Your friend,         Edwin Booth.




i6o


EDWIN BOOTH


TO MRS. RICHARD F. CARY.
July 12, I864.
DEAR FRIEND:
I was absent from the city when your letter came, and
since receiving it I have been waiting for a chance to
have baby's picture taken for you; but it is so dreadfully
warm in the mornings and afternoons that I fear I must
put it off for a little while: but you shall have it.
I was in hopes, too, that I could arrange it so that I
might visit Boston; but now that the theatre here has
come into my hands, the two others doing and knowing
very little about the matter, I 'm kept busy looking after
the alterations and decorations of the place. Indeed, the
calculation is to keep me employed here as long as it is
possible for tragedy to be made available; and with the
exception of a few weeks at Philadelphia in September, I
fear I shall not be able to leave the city at all, when once
I fairly begin.
Indeed, I deeply feel your loss in our dear friend's absence. She was, as I have said, more like a mother in
the good she did me; I always loved her as though she
were my Mary's own mother. She was so good, so gentle,
so strong! Her faith gave me strength, and did more to
clear from my heart the sickening doubts that will come
to us the very moments we have cause to look above the
earth - I mean when we are forced to do so; and many
of us need that force, that powerful voice calling to us in
our depths of selfishness and sin. I did, and nothing but
the blow which fell upon me could have awakened me.
Through her I learned to feel it was in kindness, not
anger, that God spoke thus to me.
God comfort your dear old mother! I hope she is
well and peaceful. I feel that I shall go-should have
gone long ago -to see her, but, oh, how hard it is to




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


i6i


visit a place where she is not! It would kill me almost
to visit Dorchester, and yet I can go to Mary's grave; I
keep all her books and playthings about me, and yet I
could not go to the hotel —except to that part of it
she did not inhabit -where we passed so many happy
days. How distinctly I can see Richard and Mrs. Feltonmuch more so than I see Mary. Is n't it strange? I see
her, though, in Edwina; she is growing every day more
and more like her mother. You shall see a good picture
of her if it is possible to get one, and as soon as I can
take her out at the proper time. God bless my little
Georgie! A thousand kisses from Edwina's papa for her,
and my love to the family.
Believe me ever your friend,
E. Booth.
TO MRS. RICHARD F. CARY.
PHILA., Sept. I6.
MY DEAR FRIEND:
I have been a very long time answering Miss Emma's
letter; you must not let her think me ungrateful or negligent, but let this serve not only for you and Georgie,
but also as a remembrance of her. Baby is my only companion here, and when my long rehearsals are over I
frolic with her until the hour for my return to the theatre
at night, notwithstanding it seems I have barely time to
swallow my dinner hastily, and go to work- work.
Never since I began my theatrical career did its labors
seem so truly to resemble downright bodily, mental, and
spiritual "hammer and tongs" as now. It 's like building earthworks in the army, or, indeed, more like what
it is -digging a grave.  I feel as though the frame were
tottering beneath the weight, and the constant wear and
1I




I62


EDWIN BOOTH


tear that it is nightly, yes, and daily, too, called upon to
undergo. For the past year I have realized the hateful
truth that the human, or, rather, the mortal, part of me, is
not equal to its duties.
I 'm about closing the second week of my engagement
here, which has been highly satisfactory in every sense,
preparatory to the regular winter work at the Winter
Garden, and have about worn myself out in the preparation, as it were.
Well, I 've said enough about myself, and now a word
for the babies. You know I am always delighted to hear
of my sweet little Georgie. God bless the darling! Edwina, as I have told you, names all her dolls Georgie.
The other day a lady in the city gave her a very pretty one,
and because she (the lady) desired her to call it by some
pet name of her own choosing, Edwina would n't have it.
She speaks of it now, but calls it the "lady's doll." She
shall go with me when I go to Boston, although there
the weather will be very cold, I fear, as I may not get
there until February. I am very anxious that our babies
shall meet and love each other.
A little ring with turquoises has filled baby's head
for the past week; she evinces a great love for dress and
gewgaws in preference to dolls and playthings. Georgie
and Edwina appear to be of the same mold in other
respects: they are both wise and "little old women."
I hope dear Mrs. Felton's children are well. In answer
to a question in Emma's letter about Barton Booth, I
do not know, but I suspect, from the fact that his " arms "
(over his grave in Westminster Abbey) being the same
as those of my father's family, that he was an ancestor.
I could never learn from father, who cared so little for
such things. Tell her, too, with many thanks, that my
dear old mother is well again. With my love to all, and
a bushel of kisses for Georgie,- from both of us,- I am
ever your friend,                  Edwin Booth.




ARTICLES BELONGING TO EDWIN BOOTH.
(Drawn by Otto Bacher from originals.). Bauble used in "' Fool's Revenge," made for and presented to Booth. It
is carved by hand, and engraved on the handle is the following quotation:
"O noble fool, O worthy foolMotley 's the only wear."
a. " Bloody dagger" of rMacbeth used by Booth in that character.
3. Antique Roman brass lamp used by Booth in " Richelieu."
4. Cane carried in " Taming of the Shrew."




I64


EDWIN BOOTH


TO MISS EMMA F. CARY.
NEW YORK, August 26, I864.
DEAR FRIEND:. I have at last obtained leave of absence, and am
sent to Boston to look after some matters concerning the
theatre here...
I have been kept as busy as though I had been acting
all this while, for 't is my wish to bring out several of the
Shaksperian plays in a superior style, and the whole management of the affair is in my hands. I 've been in the
scene-room and wardrobe night and day, lately.... Everything looks fair and prosperous for the
coming season at the Winter Garden, and when I begin
(Oct. 3), it is the wish of all concerned that I be " kept at
it" until next April; so when shall I act in Boston?
Dear mother is happy with her children about her, thank
God! but she still has an absent one, the youngest boy
-strange, wild, and ever moving; he causes us all some
degree of anxiety.
Y'r friend,      Edwin Booth.
TO MISS EMMA F. CARY.
NEW YORK, 28 East i9th St., Oct. 15, 1864.
MY DEAR FRIEND:
I have wanted to tell you how delighted I was with our
friends the Allens ever since I met them, but my old
complaint -procrastination-has kept me back till now,
and now that I 'm laid up on the shelf, as it were, having
no excuse for further delay, I '11 do so.
I suppose you know that I hate stiff and formal people,
that I am at a loss when folk are not genial and jolly. You
may have noticed this perhaps if you ever saw me when




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I65


I was obliged to be "straight-laced," and you naturally
infer that I approach the professor with a tremor. But,
to my great relief, of course, he and all were what may be
termed "comfortable"; so you see you '11 be at home
when you meet them. I did not meet Mr. Fish; I 'm
sorry, for he called and expected me to dine with him.. I have just had a second pleasant letter from -,
in which he pelts me " iambics " and " accents."  Oh, I
tremble! If I was only vain and idiotic enough to believe
myself a genius, I 'd dare the worst, but, alas! my idiocy
and vanity (both of which qualities I flatter myself I do
not lack) are too weak to support me against a fullcharged scholar, ripe with lore and rich in argument.
However, I have got till next spring to "buckle on my
armor," and my honesty shall not blush in the confession
of my ignorance. I shall candidly tell him that what my
spirit bids me do, I do, but that my tfte is ever in the
muddiest of muddles when called upon for an explanation
or a solution; and perhaps he '11 let me pass as an inoffensive play-actor. Bye the bye, if I don't forget it, I '11 send
you a picture of Barton Booth, "my ancestor," and you
may the better judge if I owe all to him. I think there's
a family resemblance.
I am confined to the house, and obliged to sit upright,
with my leg in a sling; my old enemy, the neuralgia, has
made me quite lame and disagreeable; so you can pardon
my style in every sense. Whenever I am ill or very mad
I 'm apt to be ridiculous when I attempt to write, and I
am all three just now....
Some of my friends tell me I 'm a "natural." FitzHugh Ludlow says I 'm a "splendid savage." I 'm
stupidly awkward, I know, and get scared at trifles. Dear
Richard used to laugh at me when I hesitated to meet
Agassiz and Prof. Felton, and would say, "Why, my
1 Refers to the late Professor Allen of Girard College, Philadelphia.
1I*




i66


EDWIN BOOTH


dear boy, they 're just like other men"; but I can't get
over my school-boy backwardness. My darling Mary
used to say she liked it in me; but then she was always
trying to make life soft and gentle for me-she liked
everything in me. I have mentioned all of this to show
you how I dread to meet people, and that you may
judge how good our friends are.
And now about the babies - they come last as a sort
of bonne bouche - with the nuts and wine; mine, of
whom I know you are anxious to hear, is now the very
image of her mother, in face, voice, manner, affection, expression, soul.  Nothing can be added to that; for that
is all good, all I crave for her. She kept me happy while
I was in Philadelphia, and is the light of my darkened
life. All my hopes and aspirations now are clustering
like a halo about my baby's head; to rear a monument to
the mother in her child is my life-study now. I never had
an aim or a hope before, and now my life is full of both.
Now I 'm getting sentimental, and I must n't, for I am
in a bad humor, and it seems ill-timed; so kiss angel
Georgie for us both -Edwina and her "pop."  Tell her
she is in every room of this house, in every variety of
doll-baby. Give my best love to your mother and sisters
and to Prof. Agassiz...
I am withal a landowner in Philadelphia, and expect to
reap a fortune for Edwina out of the Walnut street theatre
before I die. I like the city and the people better than I
did, and shall endeavor to be as often as possible a visitor
there - particularly since I am being driven out of Boston
by successful "show pieces" and opera troupes. I endeavored to effect an engagement there the other day,
but to no purpose; so as Mr. Clarke1 is so very successful
at the Winter Garden, I must be idle until the latter part
of next month, I fear.
1 My father's brother-in-law, Mr. John S. Clarke, the comedian and manager.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I67


Pray let me hear from you oftener than my laziness
permits me to write, and
Believe me ever your friend,
Edwin Booth.
TO MISS EMMA F. CARY.... Forrest has lately acted Coriolanus both here
and in Boston. It has never been very successful on the
stage; I have never studied the character, nor should I
feel at home in it; with my physique Coriolanus would
appear more of a boaster than a man of deeds, I fear.
Richard II. I have often thought of doing; it has been
a stranger to the stage since my father's time. I never
saw him act it, but I am told it was one of his finest
impersonations....
TO MISS EMMA F. CARY.
NEW YORK, January IO, I865.
MY DEAR FRIEND:
I 've scarcely had breathing-time since I began operations at the Winter Garden. I owe all my friends something in the shape of a letter, but the professor [Felton]
only has been attended to thus far, and now for yr turn.
I 've mislaid yr last communication; so 't is impossible for
me to answer questions, unless you will take the trouble to
ask me them again. This terrible success of Hamlet seems
to swallow up everything else theatrical, and the desire I
have to follow it up with something still better done, if it
can be, in the way of costumes and scenery, keeps me far
off in fairy-land, day and night, in my dreams and in my
1 My father did not perform Richard II. until many years later- a part admirably suited to his poetic nature, but which he always contended made a better
reading than acting play.




I68


EDWIN BOOTH


days (I can't say waking hours), and time flies unheeded
by me.
I am startled to find myself in another year. It was '64
when I wrote you last. Was your Christmas a merry
one? A happy one I hope it was; and that this New
Year may be one of solace and calm enjoyment to your
souls is my most earnest wish..
My birdie talks of Georgie, and longs to see her.
But I am blessed in her good health, her cheerful disposition, and the great likeness she bears to her dear mother.
And I am grateful, too, for all this, and do not complain
of the little ills that beset her..
I believe you understand how completely I " ain't here"
most of the time. It 's an awful thing to be somebody
else all the while. But I guess I 'm better off than many
of my artist friends, some of whom (if they are as much
in their art as I am) must be bears and owls; others,
trees and rocks, while my Gifford and Bierstadt must lose
all sense of being save in the painted ripple of a lake, or
the peak of a snow-capped mountain..
For the present, good-bye. I see no chance of shaking
hands with any of you this season, not even in the spring,
unless I get a respite for a week or so, and fly thither to
visit [Mount] Auburn.
My best love to all, and believe me ever your friend,
Edwin Booth.
TO MRS. RICHARD F. CARY.
NEW YORK, February 9, I865.
MY DEAR MRS. CARY:
Pray don't speak of procrastination. Of all the idlers
that live, I verily believe I am the head and front. I was
delighted to hear from you, as I always am, of course, yet
pained to learn that dear little Georgie had given you




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I69


cause to grieve. I trust she is well and quite rid of her
cough by this time. I was in hopes of seeing Miss Cary
on her return from Philadelphia.... No, Edwina is
real; she does not indulge much in forming dreams.
She says I am her baby, and it is her only delight to kiss
her papa and be with him all the while. She is as good
and as beautiful as the angel who left her to my care.
Two years ago to-day I last saw Mary alive! But, my
dear friend, a light from heaven has settled fully and
firmly in my soul, and I regard death as God has intended
we should understand it- as the breaking of eternal daylight, and a birthday of the soul. I feel that all my
actions have been and are influenced by her whose love
is to me the strength and the wisdom of my spirit. Whatever I may do of serious import, I regard it as a performance of a sacred duty I owe to all that is pure and honest
in my nature -a duty to the very religion of my heart.
Since Mary went to join our dear Richard in Christ's dear
love, I 've grown clearer in mind and heart, faithful and
wise in soul, and fearless as to the gloomy passage they
have taken. There are thousands of dangers and temptations that beset me every hour of my life, and naught
but the eternity of my faith and love could have upborne me in the struggle these two years past. When
Mrs. Felton went to join them, I felt as though the links
were being riveted that bind my faith and draw me closer
and closer to the unseen world; so that really I feel more
familiar with it than with this, in which I find so little in
sympathy with my soul.
That sympathy and rest are needed for a soul like mine
has been painfully manifested since this day fell two years
ago; but we all have our "skeleton in the closet," and it
is not for me to obtrude the sight of mine upon those who
have enough sorrows of their own to bear. I don't know
why I have fallen into such strain. Pray pardon me.




I 70o


EDWIN BOOTH


Edwina enjoys most excellent health, and she is as full
of fun as can be. I take her out riding almost every day,
either to the park, or to visit the many little girls who all
seem to love her very much. When I go to Boston (next
March 20, I think), I shall take her and her coupe, of
which she is very fond, and she can see you and Georgie.. I am sorry I shall not be able to "do" " Hamlet"
in Boston as we do it here; it is worth seeing as a novelty
in the way of scenery, etc. It still continues to draw well,
and I hope to play one hundred nights, which will carry
me up to the date I set for going to Boston.
" Richelieu " is in preparation, and has been for several
months past; it will be more superbly done than even
" Hamlet " is. You see how I am beginning to carry out
dear Richard's and my own views in the matter, and how
splendidly the public encourage and uphold me in it. Do
you think the freed spirit loses all interest in earthly
things - all knowledge of its intellectual cravings when
on earth? May not those who yearn to see me carry out
the ideas we love to think worthy of a life's hard labor,
rejoice now to see a step made toward the fulfilment of
what is true and beautiful in art? I think they do; and
in this belief I begin to realize the usefulness of my labor,
and to appreciate that which I once deemed worthless.
I have one of dear Mrs. Felton's letters still that speaks
of the sadness I manifested once when speaking of my
profession.
Edwina has had excellent health, with the exception of
a few days after her trip to Philadelphia, and that scared
me so that I think it is wiser to keep her under her grandma's eye in the city; but when I go to Boston - Heaven
only knows when that will be - she shall accompany me.
She has grown passionately fond of her " far-r-r-ther," as
she rolls me out of her sweet little mouth. I anticipate a
joyful day when she and Georgie meet.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I 7 I.. It 's all gone now, and I believe my growth
in spirit is shown more in the appreciation of that which
God sent me here to do, than in aught else that I have
experienced in my life..
TO MRS. RICHARD F. CARY.
NEW YORK, March Io, I865.
MY DEAR MRS. CARY:
Several times I have attempted to acknowledge the receipt of your last kind letter, but fatigue and the nearness
of my visit to Boston have caused me to defer my reply.
As the time comes on, I begin to fear the risk of taking
Edwina with me. I have never opposed her grandmother
in her control of the child, and she thinks it would be a
dangerous thing to take her with me. She lost a little
girl there once, in the bleak east winds, and my loss has
given me a dread of them, too. Yet I hate to leave the
darling. She is away from me now,-in Philadelphia,
with her little cousins,- and I am as desolate and lonelyhearted as can be. I am to go there for her after my
matinee of " Hamlet" to-morrow. I shall remain in Boston three weeks only, and then resume my work at this
theatre until the spring. Oh, how I long for the spring!
Yes; our news (no news now, though) is indeed glorious.
I am happy in it, and glory in it, although Southern-born.
God grant the end, or rather the beginning, is now at
hand. For when the war ceases, we shall only have begun to live-a nation never to be shaken again, ten
times more glorious, a million times firmer than before.
I have but ten more nights to complete the one hundredth of "Hamlet's" performance this season; then I
hope to give a benefit for the " Shaksperian Statue Fund,"




I72


EDWIN BOOTH


in which I am deeply interested, and retire to pack up
my trunks for Boston....
God bless you all! Give my love and dearest wishes
to Mrs. Cary and all of her family, and ever believe me
Your faithful friend and serv't,
Edwin Booth.
TO MISS EMMA F. CARY.
Saturday, May 6, I865.
MY DEAR FRIEND:
I 've just received y'r letter. I have been in one sense
unable to write, but you know, of course, what my condition is, and need no excuses.
I have been, by the advice of my friends, " cooped up"
since I arrived here, going out only occasionally in the
evening. My health is good, but I suffer from the want
of fresh air and exercise.
Poor mother is in Philadelphia, about crushed by her
sorrows, and my sister, Mrs. Clarke, is ill and without the
least knowledge of her husband, who was taken from her
several days ago, with Junius.
My position is such a delicate one that I am obliged to
use the utmost caution. Hosts of friends are stanch and
true to me, here and in Boston. I feel safe. What I am
in Phila. and elsewhere I know not. All I do [know]
of the above-named city is that there is one great heart,
firm and faster bound to me than ever. Sent in answer
to dear Mary's prayers, I faithfully believe. She will do
what Mary struggled, suffered, and died in doing. My
baby, too, is there. Now that the greatest excitement is
over, and a lull is in the storm, I feel the need of that
dear angel; but during the heat of it I was glad she was
not here.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I73


When Junius and Mr. Clarke are at liberty, mother
will come here and bring Edwina to me.
I wish I could see with others' eyes; all my friends assure me that my name shall be free and that in a little
while I may be where I was and what I was: but, alas!
it looks dark to me.
God bless you all for your great assistance in my behalf; even dear Dick aided me in my extremity, did he
not?
Give my love to all, and kisses to Georgie.... I do
not think the feeling is so strong in my favor in Phila. as
it is here and in Boston. I am not known there..
Ever yours,          Edwin Booth.
TO MISS EMMA F. CARY.
NEW YORK, July 31, I865.
MY DEAR FRIEND:... It is a great blessing that I have had so much occupation all this while, else I should have gone mad, I fear.
My poor mother feels her woe greater than she shows,
and I fear all her life is crushed by this last terrible one....
I have no idea when, if ever, I shall act again. A letter from the Rev. Mr. Hepworth asks me "when," as he
saw by the papers it would be soon; but it rests with my
friends entirely. My heart is against it for at least a
year..
Ever truly your friend,  Edwin Booth.
TO MISS EMMA F. CARY.
NEW YORK, Nov. 24, I865.
MY DEAR FRIEND:
Pray forgive my neglect. I 've been a little bothered
of late, and could not bring my mind to a calm.




174


EDWIN BOOTH


I am glad you did not wait for me, but sent me good
news of our gentle Amazons,' and the dear ones at Cambridge.... Edwina is a perfect marvel; she is like
Mary in everything, and is a perfect little woman.
My affairs are quite unsettled. I don't know yet when
I shall act, or what I shall do next..
It seems a long time since I visited [Mount] Auburn
last. I have lost the level run of time and events, and
am living in a mist. But I am told my health is better
than it ever was. I do not realize it, but am bored by
people saying I am getting fat. I am a little Byronic
in my dislike of such compliments, because I don't feel
as I look.
Mother is very much broken, I think, poor soul!...
She seems to have still a lingering hope in her heart that
all this will prove to be a dream..
Y'r faithful friend,
Edwin Booth.
TO MRS. RICHARD F. CARY.
NEW YORK, Dec'r 20, 1865.
MY DEAR FRIEND:... Let it pass; life is a great big spelling-book,
and on every page we turn the words grow harder to understand the meaning of. But there is a meaning, and
when the last leaf flops over, we '11 know the whole lesson
by heart.
You have also, doubtless, heard that I will soon appear
on the stage. Sincerely, were it not for means, I would
not do so, public sympathy notwithstanding; but I have
huge debts to pay, a family to care for, a love for the
grand and beautiful in art, to boot, to gratify, and hence
1 Professor and Mrs. Agassiz; so called from their voyage of exploration up
the Amazon River.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I75


my sudden resolve to abandon the heavy, aching gloom
of my little red room, where I have sat so long chewing
my heart in solitude, for the excitement of the only trade
for which God has fitted me.
Edwina reached the fourth round of the dizzy ladder
on the 9th, and she went with me to have her picture
taken for Georgie. Here it is. I hope you will like it.
Her health is excellent, and she is my life.
I have no idea when I shall revisit Boston... I
shall begin January 3 (Wednesday), with Hamlet.
Give my dearest love to all.
Ever truly your friend,
Edwin Booth.
TO MISS EMMA F. CARY.
Wednesday, Sept. I9, i866.
MY DEAR FRIEND:
I am so glad you will be with me on Saturday, and
that Agassiz has consented to accompany you.
I find it impossible to sit with spirit in the daytime,
though; so you must make due allowance for that..
I saw behind Prof. Peirce, last evening, y'r sister Sallie,
and-saw I right?-Mrs. Shaw. I dare say she saw
me too.
My brother J. B. went to New York last night, and
promised to bring Edwina to me-if mother would let
her come. It was a fit of desperation on my part. I had
to send for her.
She wrote me the other day, and sent me "a little
souvenir to keep me good," in the tiniest little envelop
I ever saw.
When she comes (if she comes) I will try to take her
to Nahant (if weather permits), and, if you and she agree




I76


EDWIN BOOTH


to it, will let her remain with Georgie a day or so.
Shall I?...
TO MISS EMMA F. CARY.
TOLEDO (in the West), Sept. 27, I868.
MY DEAR FRIEND:
I was very much gratified the day I left home for my
"strolling" tour by receiving a letter from you. That
very day I placed Edwina at school near New York..
As my business will necessarily keep me "on the rail"
for several years to come, I concluded to place her where
her mental and moral culture would be attended to....
Having just received a letter from her, I am delighted to
know that she is very happy and enthusiastic on the subject of "school."... She is young in years, it is true,
(only six), but in intellect she is double that age, and it is
better to prevent the seeds from being sown than in after
years to pull out the weeds. How does this strike you?
I 've heard of Dettmer. What you say of his scene
with the Ghost I have often done, but the play, and especially that first act, is so long that I have often omitted it.
Many do not like it; others (and I among them) consider
it absolutely necessary to that magnificent scene. Omitting the burial and the rest of that scene is after the Garrick style of curtailment. He slashed unmercifully, altered
and changed scenes by wholesale to suit his ideas of stage
effect. Now I (egotist!) intend to go even beyond Chas.
Kean in my devotion to the sacred text of the late W. S.
I intend restoring to the stage (to mine, at least) the unadulterated plays of Shakspere: his " Romeo and Juliet,"
not so performed since the days of Betterton, I fancy, unless Barry, in opposition to Garrick, revived it; " Richard
III.," which Chas. Kean feared to attempt, and offered a




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I77


weak apology for retaining the Cibber version. My respect for Kean runs high up to that point; there I turn
back, and pity his feeble correction of Shakspere's geographical blunders in "Winter's Tale." He should have
ascertained the name of the town in which the wise man
lived who jumped into a brier-bush.
My affairs are greatly mixed. The theatre will be completely roofed next week, and, I hope, opened in December early (about the I4th), with as good a company as it
is possible to obtain in this country. The enterprise
swelled gigantically on my hands, and has attained such
proportions as would frighten any one whose bump of
"don't-care-a-tiveness" was less than mine. I 'm in a
very big puddle; if I can wade it, well; if not, why, as
Bunsby would say, "well, too." I trust to fate, chance,
or whoever that "sweet little cherub " be that looks out
for me. Certain it is, I have had enough vexation regarding this same theatre to drive me mad, and yet I am as
calm and as careless as though the ultimate success were
a fixed fact. It will entail a world of work and anxiety;
but would n't life be long and dreary without these little
worries and bothers?
I traveled West and South last season from Sep'r 5 until June 9; made lots of money, and paid it out as fast as
I could count it; have just begun my second tour, which
will last until my theatre opens. When I began the work,
I expected to be acting in the theatre by this time, but
the usual obstacles-weather, rock strikes, etc., delayed
it, and we are only just covering the " roof-tree."
I shall be in Boston week after next. When do you
expect to be there? Apropos of Dettmer and the King's
"picture in little," I think the allusion to the courtier's
wearing it is correct.  Barry Sullivan did the same
thing..


12




I78


EDWIN BOOTH


TO MISS EMMA F. CARY.
PROVIDENCE, Dec. I, I873.
MY DEAR MISS CARY:
Loath to intrude upon Mrs. Agassiz's grief,' and feeling
that I owe you an apology and explanation regarding a
circumstance that occurred during my recent engagement
at Boston, I venture to ask that you will convey to your
sister the assurance of my sympathy in her great affliction.
Some years ago, when friends of mine were anxious to
sustain me in one of the severest trials of my life, Prof.
Agassiz's name was solicited in my behalf. He at once
exclaimed, with great feeling, " Indeed he shall have it; I
love that boy." I need not say how dearly I prize that
autograph, or how deeply I regret not seeing him, as I
had hoped, during the few weeks I was in Boston.
I 've visited Cambridge twice; once to pass a few hours
at your home, but was so unfortunate not to find you
there; the second visit (to Aldrich, at Lowell's house) was
so entirely occupied that I could barely steal an opportunity to go to Mount Auburn. I intended to call at
your house that day, but was prevented.
The occurrence to which I refer at the beginning of this
was the " call" of a gentleman bearing a letter.... I
trust you will believe that illness alone caused the seeming rudeness. It really seems as though fate - or somebody else-forbids our meeting.... I wanted so
much to see little Georgie, who has, of course, passed on,
and left me far behind; and your dear mother also, for
whom I have always entertained a religious veneration,
for to me she is the embodiment of all that is beautiful and
sacred in mother. Indeed, I 've wanted to see you all
very much; for though I can't talk, and am excessively


' Written upon the death of Professor Agassiz.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I79


dull, I know, yet I take in a great deal of spiritual strength
and peace from certain people without opening my mouth,
and I look forward to just an hour or so of refreshment
at your cozy home.
TO MR. HORACE H. FURNESS.
PHILADELPHIA, Wednesday, January 21, I874.
DEAR MR. FURNESS:
I forgot to state in my hurried note this afternoon that
this cow-talk' to-day prevented Mrs. B. from doing
anything toward her preparations for our departure on
Friday. She has an engagement at my daughter's school,
with the teachers. On Saturday the matinee performance
will absorb all her time, and consequently to-morrow will
be the only opportunity she will have to pack six large
trunks and attend to various other little matters.
When you consider that she will do all these things
herself, and will superintend me at the theatre on all occasions, you can judge how impossible it is for her to be
at your house to-morrow.
I am " on the jump " for the theatre, and scratch this
as quickly as I can.
Hope you will be able to read it.
Yours truly,     Edwin Booth.
TO MR. WILLIAM BISPHAM.
DETROIT, Feb. 15, I874.
DEAR WILL:
Again you failed to give me your address, and I must
send you this under cover to McGonigle or Joe, and let
the directory guide it to your whereabouts.
1 Farm talk; my father wanted to buy a farm and end his days in the country;
so he said at the time to Mr. Furness.




180


EDWIN BOOTH


" If I were as tedious as a king " I could but thank you,
my dear boy, for all the good things you say to me; as
it is, " I 'm not of many words, but I thank you," briefly,
but seriously, with all my heart. You were almost the
first to send me words of sympathy, though I am sure all
my friends feel it. This is by no means the heaviest blow
my life has felt, and I shall recover from it very shortly
if my creditors have any feeling whatever.'
My disappointment is great, to be sure, but I have the
consciousness of having tried to do what I deemed my
duty. Since the talent God has given me can be made
available for no other purpose, I believe the object to
which I devote it to be worthy of self-sacrifice.
I gave up all that men hold dearest, wealth and luxurious ease; nor do I complain because that unlucky " slip
'twixt the cup and lip" has spilled all my tea.
With a continuance of the health and popularity the
good Lord has thus far blessed me with I will pay every
"sou," and exclaim with Don Casar-though in a different spirit-" I 've done great things! If you doubt me,
ask my creditors."
Of course I see some years of hard work before meall for a "dead horse," too. Not a very cheering prospect; but I '11 worry it thro', and thank God with all my
soul when I can cry " quits " with my neighbor. Adieu.
Ever thine,                Ted.
TO PROFESSOR HIRAM CORSON.
DEAR SIR:                PITTSBURG, May 3, I874.
Your "Jottings" have revived my old love for the
Folio, from which I was driven by the censure of those
whom I deemed wiser than myself in Shaksperian lore.
1 My father here makes reference to his bankruptcy and loss of Booth's
Theater.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I8I


Wishing to pursue my way quietly, without provoking
criticism, I abandoned many of the readings which, I am
glad to find, you prefer to those of the Quartos and more
modern improvements; I may particularly mention "there
is, my lord," "poor man's contumely," "these fardels,"
"dispriz'd love," as being very offensive to my critics.
The "good (or god) kissing carrion " is, I must confess,
beyond my reach. I like Staunton's idea of Hamlet's
quoting from the book he reads in order to bother the
"tedious old fool," but the many arguments the passage
has given birth to puzzle me more than Hamlet's crab
does Polonius. I believe, though, the old man really
does see the " method " of that seemingly mad remark
clearer than do the critics. The crab certainly can go
backward, as he likewise can go forward, but his usual
mode of procedure is sidewise, except when he casts his
shell (or sheds, as the "fishmonger" hath it), when, indeed, he does " go backward" out of his old self, and becomes, as it were, a young, or "soft-shell," crab.
This may be an "oft-told tale "-older than "Hamlet," perhaps (I hope it will not bore you), but it is not
generally known; it was suggested to me by Monsieur
Shedder himself while, in company with my wife and
daughter, I was "crabbing" in Shark River; if it be
true, then has Jersey contributed her quota to the army
of Shaksperian commentators.
With thanks for your kindness, believe me, with great
respect,
Yours very truly,      Edwin Booth.
TO MAURICE GRAU.
DEAR SIR:
It was my intention to perform Hamlet but twice,-on
Monday and Tuesday of next week,-but it shall be given
12*




I82


EDWIN BOOTH


on Wednesday evening also, that I may in some slight
degree manifest my respect for Signor Salvini, whom,
unfortunately, I have been prevented from seeing. I
trust that pleasure is yet in store for me, and I likewise
hope that my representation of that difficult character
may not, on the third consecutive night (for which I must
ask his indulgence), result in disappointment. Highly
gratified by the wish Signor Salvini is pleased to express
regarding me, I beg you will convey to him this feeble
expression of my appreciation of the compliment, and
believe me,
Truly yours,         Edwin Booth.
BALTIMORE, May 14, I874.
DEAR SIR:
I am not a " lecturer," but merely a " poor player," and,
consequently, the good people are doomed to disappointment.
The " march of intellect" may defeat their silly prejudices when they can gratify their curiosity with a peep at
the monster in his proper sphere, the theatre, but never,
I hope, on the "platform" of a lecture-room.
I am sorry I cannot see you. I will, doubtless, be
asleep when you call to-morrow; I am not an "early
bird."            Truly yours,     Edwin Booth.
TO MR. HORACE H. FURNESS.
PHILADELPHIA, December 24, I875.
MY DEAR MR. FURNESS:
After having dewowered your wittles t' other day, I became oblivious to everything save its delicious flavor and


I




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I83


the influence of the fumes which followed the repast,
argal -I forgot the "rubbing " you gave me.
I am doubtful if it be strict delicacy to remind you
of it, but if I do not I fear you will think I value the
rarity but lightly -I am confident your reply will be
" Ay, there 's the rub " (adding, perhaps, with reference to
my poor pun, "Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbear!"), and
send my forgotten treasure either by the bearer of this
scrawl, or before I leave the city on New Year's day,
which I hope will be to you and yours the glad forerunner
of many happy ones.
Truly yours,    Edwin Booth.
TO MRS. SANFORD.
MY DEAR MRS. SANFORD:
Your "love for Richard" pleases me very much. I
fear my desperate efforts to overcome the depressing influences of the atmosphere seriously marred the delicate
passages of the play, while the bolder ones, I fear, were
pumped out with much difficulty. I was much encouraged, however, by the interest you manifested throughout, and am sincerely gratified by your thoughtful and
kindly expression of it.
I hope Lear did not very painfully disturb the pleasing
impression made by Richard. A stiff neck and the loss
of a nap, my custom always in the afternoon, made my
performance rather queer, and distressed me somewhat.
Miss Ward2 seems to have a very ingenuous, childlike
nature. For her friends' sake, as well as the good of the
profession she has chosen, I wish her success with all my
heart. I have had but a moment to scribble this feeble
1The " rubbing" referred to was a facsimile of Shakspere's epitaph at Stratford-on-Avon.
2 Miss Genevieve Ward, the celebrated actress.




I84


EDWIN BOOTH


expression of my thanks before going to the matinee performance. You will excuse it, I am sure, and believe me
to be, with great respect,
Very truly yours,  Edwin Booth.
Feb. I2, 1876.
TO THE REV. F. C. EWER.
NEW YORK, January 21, I877.
MY DEAR FRIEND:
I am glad that I have been the cause of so much pleasure to you, and rejoice in your strong charity against
prejudice.
If the church would teach discrimination between the
true and false in my profession, instead of condemning both
as worthless, to say the least, the stage would serve the
pulpit as a loyal subject, and both go shoulder to shoulder,
not with "frowning brow to brow," through the fight.
I take much pleasure in sending seats (tickets, I should
say) for Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Please use
them.
You will miss nothing by not seeing Claude Melnotte.
Some future day for Ruty Blas and lago, I hope.
Sincerely yours,  Edwin Booth.
TO THE REV. F. C. EWER.
BROOKLYN, Feb. 2, 1877.
MY DEAR DOCTOR:
Your "After Shylock" note remains unanswered; it
was very good of you to think of me at that late hour,
and to send me such a welcome reward for the pleasure I
afforded you.
Let me thankfully acknowledge it now, and assure you,




3                    4
6i
ARTICLES BELONGING TO EDWIN BOOTH.
(Drawn by Otto Bacher from originals.)
2. Richly jeweled sword worn in ' Richard III."
2. Crown worn by Booth in " Macbeth."
3' 4. Daggerand sheath worn by Booth exclusively in thecharacterof Hamlet. ]andle studded with Bohemian garnets and topazes; steel blade engraved on one side with the Booth motto, " Quod ero spero "'; on reverse side
with his name and date: '" Edwin Booth, 1867,"
5. Wooden pipe used in " Hamlet," in scene with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
6. Ring worn by Booth in "' Hamlet " during a period of thirty years.




I86


EDWIN BOOTH


too, that I fully appreciate the sentiments you dared not
express in deference to my bashfulness, but which can be
closely read in every line.
As the actor has so surprised and gratified you, so will
he, I hope, when you know him better, be found an improvement on the "awkward" boy of long ago,' and
worthy of your friendship. Time and trials have subdued
" Ted " into a rather " poky kind of old fogy," whose sole
delight is in the retirement of home, with his wife and
child, a very few friends, and his pipe.
I hope ere many years go by to perch permanently in
New York, and cease my flight in search of wherewithal
to "pay the piper." Then shall I have some leisure for
social intercourse and enjoyment of just such as Ewerspardon the pun? Till then I must be on the wing, with
little thought for anything beyond the nightly demand of
my profession, which renders me unfit for society, save
that of my family....
Your friend ever,  Edwin Booth.
TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
PHILADELPHIA, March I I, I877.
MY DEAR DAVE:
Your worship ('s pipe) is about the last man in our
mouth ere going to bed o' nights; so don't think thou art
quite forgot. When last heard from, you were about to
reestablish the ranch at Alameda; what will-what won't
you do next? Some cycles of time beyond eternity, I
dare say, you '11 begin to settle down for a rest. As
things have turned out, and up, I 'm glad you did not
come eastward, for theatricals have been at a terrible discount; though I have every reason to be grateful, with
1 Mr. Ewer was my father's earliest dramatic critic.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I87


no cause for complaint, yet my business has been worse
than for many years, and I guess I 've done better than
any, from all I can hear. Next season will be a far
brighter one for all trades, especially ours. We may be
happy yet.
We start for dear old Baltimore at noon to-morrow
(for two weeks); then a week's rest in New York, before
going East, where I expect to do a fine business. Strange
to say, in Brooklyn, where the catastrophe1 occurred, my
houses were crowded for two weeks; elsewhere the people have not yet recovered from the shock.
Edwina gets occasional envelops full of stamps from
some one in 'Frisco; if from Edwards, as I suspect, thank
him  kindly for her and her "awful Dad."  J. and P.2
throw up Booth's, and Ames is after me to take itshall I?
Vive la Buttermilk! Adieu. God bless you both!
Ted.
TO THE REV. DR. F. C. EWER.
BOSTON, May 13, I877.
MY DEAR DOCTOR:
I've twice tried, in vain, to accomplish the promised
letter. For why? I have not matter in me for such a
purpose. Beyond the flat and insipid "just that I am
well, and business ditto," my monotonous life affords no
material worthy of note.
The present week (which I greet with joy this blessed
day) will terminate my long season's labors, and I yearn
for the good stretch I shall take..
The footlight limit is a sealed Greek book to me. I
rarely know who 's President, and that there 's a "muss
1 The burning of the Park Theater in Brooklyn, with great loss of life.
2Jarrett and Palmer.




I88


EDWIN BOOTH


'twixt the Turk and the Russ"; therefore my correspondence and conversation must needs be vapid. I sent you a
paper t' other day containing an article on "Richard II."
If you have not seen that play, I hope you will, if ever I
act it again in your vicinity. I will endeavor hereafter,
when I travel, to send you the papers that criticize and
don't abuse me; it is usually a little of the one and much
of the other, though.
Adieu. My daughter joins me in kindly greetings to
yourself and family.
Faithfully yours, Edwin Booth.
TO THE REV. DR. F. C. EWER.
ST. LOUIS, October I, 1877.
MY DEAR FRIEND:
I sent you a paper t' other day, just to let you know
that you are not forgotten by one who is positively
ashamed of his negligence.
I shall offer no excuses, but obediently extend my hand
for the merited rap for being careless. This is a desperate attempt to write you. I have braced up "each corporal agent" to this great feat; therefore be prepared to
be astounded by the wealth of information I have so long
reserved for you, and which now finds vent in these few
eloquent voids. Health and crowded houses have thus
far blessed me, and the outlook for the balance of my
Western tour is very encouraging. This is about all I
know beyond the limit of my fancy world, where I dream
my life away; therefore my letters must needs be flat and
dull; so do not think me thoughtless in my silence... The first criticism of my acting was written by
yourself, though many puffs had previously appeared, and
what you then wrote would be an interesting addition to


-




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I89


the many selections collected concerning my theatrical
career.... After six nights more of this warm St.
Louis weather, I hope to breathe fresher air in Cincinnati,
where I shall remain two weeks. Should you have an
idle hour during the next three weeks, let me have a portion of it, done up in a letter form and addressed to Robinson's opera-house, in the last-named city.  Between
rehearsals and the play we have a French class..
I have this season restored Shakspere's " Richard III."
in place of Cibber's version, and hope to secure a fixed
place for it in the acted drama. You see I am not idle.
My little one joins in kind remembrances to yourself
and family.
You must see me act again next winter at Booth's
Theatre.         Faithfully yours,  Edwin Booth.
TO THE REV. MR. EWER.
LOUISVILLE, November I, I877.
MY DEAR FRIEND:
Were I not so bad a postman, you should long ere this
have received a four-paged thanks for the valuable contribution you sent me. Had I suspected that my request would have caused you so much trouble, as I can
plainly see it did, it would not have been made. I thought
perhaps you had some old duplicates of the papers and
magazines, whose absence from the store-room would be
a relief to the good lady of your house. I know that you
will say (sincerely, too) that it pleased you to gratify my
wish, and that "the labor we delight in physics pain,"
and yet it was a labor to copy so much matter of little interest now to you, perhaps, but valuable to me.
Did I tell you that I intended to restore Shakspere's
"Richard [III.] " in lieu of Cibber's patchwork drama?




I90


EDWIN BOOTH


If not, I '11 tell you now that I have acted it several times
to the satisfaction of even adverse critics, who, while
abusing me, declare the restoration a success. I shall
endeavor to give it a good cast in New York, in order to
make it run, and thus educate the ignorant, who suppose
Cibber's bosh to be Shakspere's tragedy.
To-morrow I make my second dive into the Mammoth Cave, and expect to pass my "forty-fourth"
(Tuesday next) beneath the roots of primeval trees. This
visit is for Edwina's sake. This is my first rest since I
began work September 10, and I really feel the need
thereof.  Heavy tragedies seven times a week make
rather serious playing, and I 'm glad enough to run a
few days among the trees and caves of old "Kaintuck,"
even at this season of the year. Happily, however, the
weather is quite pleasant.
I have sent you an occasional paper, which I shall continue to do; two will start with this to-morrow.
Believe me very thankful for your kindness and happy
in your friendship.
My regards to your entire household.
Sincerely yours,     Edwin Booth.
TO HORACE H. FURNESS.
PHILADELPHIA, Tuesday.
HAIL, SIRE OF THE WIZARD,1 HAIL!
I could not send you word yesterday, owing to numerous nuisances that beset me. I arrived late, on a fast
train, with a headache caused by hunger; found my
rooms here uncomfortable, and, worse than all that's bad,
1 This refers to Mr. Furness's little daughter Polly, who had entertained my
father with a number of very clever sleight-of-hand tricks.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I9I


a bore.... I found a bore under the very roof with
me!
I '11 tell you about him when we chat.
I scratch this in hot-haste to ask you not to expect me
to-day. I have several letters to write before I leave
this house, and as I am not a very ready writer, it may
take me from now till twilight to spell 'em out.
If your cold will permit, come to my den. Will see
you to-morrow sure at two - as in ye olden time.
Love to Polly and her pa, with compliments to Miss
L — and the season's blessings for you all.  E. B.
TO HORACE H. FURNESS.
Thursday.
DEAR HORACE:
I 'm afraid to venture out to-day; my cold is better,
but as I shall require all my voice to-night, I think it
safer to nurse my throat for the occasion. Barrett also is
under the weather, and deems it best to keep close. We're
a bad lot. Will you come to the "show" to-night, or
shall we post to the "Penn" after the play and meet you
there?
To-morrow Polly must bring you, willy-nilly, if but for
a few moments. Sorry to the core that I have been kept
from you during this visit, and especially do I grieve for
my loss to-day. Adieu.
Thine ever,       Edwin.
P. S. —I omitted Barrett's regrets; he asked me to
tell you how sorry he is, and sends all kinds of good
words for you -but which I am too lazy to spell out.
E.




192


EDWIN BOOTH


BALTIMORE, April 20, I878.
MY DEAR MR. FURNESS:
Since you like the "prompt-book," I send herewith
copies of "Lear," "Richard II." and "Richelieu," for
your collection of dramatic "odds and ends "; there will
be no others issued until next fall, when I will send " Macbeth" and "Othello."  Mr. W-    apologizes for my
ruthless manipulation of the text, in better phrase than I
can put it; therefore I will say no more than that I
could n't help it.
Your letter to me is superlatively good (with three
" verys " at least). I know not how to thank you for it.
The suggestion that my wife should make some record of
my " stage tricks " is oddly apropos. Ever since our marriage she has been "takin' notes " of how and why I do
certain things in the course of my performances, but will
not be able, I fear, to accomplish what you are good
enough to say should be preserved.
She wishes me to ask a favor of you-say "no" if it
dislikes you: may she use your letter in the event of her
publishing what she is now writing for private eyes, and
for her own gratification merely? It would serve as a
good excuse for so bold a step should she, at some future
time, be tempted to take it.
Please do not bother about answering my letters (much
as I like to hear from you, for you always make me feel
my labor is not altogether lost); don't reply until some
idle day hangs heavily on your patience, and you 've
naught else to do.
Commend us both most kindly to Mrs. Furness, and
believe me


Very truly yours,


Edwin Booth.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I93


NEW YORK, 68 Madison Ave., Sept. 8, I878.
MY DEAR FURNESS:
You see I have not forgotten the precious privilege you
granted me, albeit for ages I have deferred the use of it.
My first impulse was to acknowledge your favor at
once, and assure you that your warm (covert thrust at
your patronymic) did thaw my "too, too solid " iciness;
to dispense with cold formality and to greet you familiarly-though no whit less respectfully-as a friend for
whom I entertain an affectionate admiration.
But the dread of boring you, as I am so frequently
bored, checked me, and I concluded to " give you a rest,"
as the classic gamins say; to wait till I should have some
excuse for bothering you with more of my " weary, stale,
flat and unprofitable" correspondence. (ASIDE. I will
not swear that laziness had naught to do with my
conclusions.)
All my prompt-books are prepared at last, and Whas just published "Macbeth" and "Brutus," which I
will send herewith.
See you now my "why" for writing?     "It is the
cause,- my book it is the cause! "
Do you consider me utterly idiotic for supposing that
Macbeth refers to Banquo's gory locks when he says,
"Thy hair, thou other gold-bound brow"?  They and
the "twenty mortal murders "-or trenched gashes!
whatever it is-are ever in his mind's eye. May not the
spectral kings bear upon their brows, as a spiritual birthmark, so to speak, locks of bloody hair, to indicate their
descent?
I have my ghastly super-kings so "boltered," but their
distance from the spectators in the dark cavern destroys
the (perhaps far-fetched) attempt to illustrate this questionable passage. Has this view of it ever been taken?
'3




I94


EDWIN BOOTH


My wife makes mention of it, among other queer notions
of mine own, in her memorials of my " mummery."
Oh!-she bids me thank you, ere I release you from
this infliction, for your kind permission to quote your
letter. Though frequently urged to do what she is doing,
yours is the only written suggestion she has received; it
pleased her so much that she expressed a desire to use it
as an excuse for her follies should she ever " prent 'em."
TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
NEW YORK, Jan. 26, I879.
DEAR " OLD FELLERS ":
It me rejoiceth to know that you were tickled with the
toys I sent you. If you derived from them half the enjoyment your silver spade affordeth me o' Fridays, when
with it I shovel in the sheepshead, porgies, shad, etc.,
you must indeed have been pleased with them..
Glad you enjoyed your Ist so sensibly, though I confess I should have liked just a taste o' that snowier by
way of welcoming the New Year in: mine was water.
I danced around and made calls (first time in my life),
and have since then been "at home" Saturday evenings
-in a dress-suit, playing the role of host to friends and
other callers. I am getting used to it.
All right about the "Lone Mountain.".. I believe
an enterprising man could do well by those matches in
these parts; all who see them want some. There is a
chance for you. Fetch a Chinese "match-maker" with
you, and set up a match-ri-money-all factory here. Our
weather is delightful; just brisk enough to be encouraging; with clean, dry sidewalks, and sleighs in the roadway,
it is really delightful to loaf the streets. I have sent for
a sleigh, to give Edwina her first ride in the snow. She




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I95


and I take horseback exercise, twice a week-just under the place where you and I drank lemonade, near the
park. It is a fine riding-academy now...  God bless
you!                                       Ted.
TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
68 MADISON AVENUE, NEW YORK, Friday, I879.. What a ponderous shame it is that we have seen
so little of each other..
My time has been passed in "posing" for McEntee
from nine and a half until dinner-time, on every day
that I have been able, and I have hardly had a chance to
see my mother...
You must not feel hurt, old fel, because I have been so
absent; in the course of two weeks all the portraits will
be finished, after which my time will be all my own; but
before then I must see you. Don't stand on ceremony
with Ted, but drop in as often as you can, and I '11 do
ditto as soon as I can. Give my loving welcome to your
wife, and both of you come here some evening, and have
a smoke. Did you use the National Academy tickets?
I expect to have some of the portraits I have been standing for here to-night; there are three more to be painted.
Have n't yet got all my books unpacked. My library is
still " litter-ary." Since I began this I have had my dinner-what d' ye think I had? Sheepshead. Do you
remember our castles in the air?-one of 'em was at
Sheepshead Bay, where poor old Budge longed to visit us.
Heigho, "the merry days of youth!" etc. I send this
to-day for fear I may be again prevented from calling at
your house to-morrow afternoon, as I intend to do.
Adios. Ever yours,               Ted.
1 The late Jervis McEntee, the celebrated artist, who painted my father's portraits in eleven Shaksperian characters, now the property of The Players Club.




I96


EDWIN BOOTH


TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
CHICAGO, April I3, I879.
YOU DEAR OLD RIP:
I am appalled at your condux! You don't deserve a
letter, but I must speak, else I '11 burst with my indig.
How dare you? Here have I been planning airy, fairy
fabrics for your future, and you go and plant yourself in
a living grave among the sandhills. Knob Hill, indeed!
'T will be " one for his knob" in a different sense from
that you 'd prefer when Kearney gets up again against
you bloated Knob-Hillers. Look out! When the Chayneeze do go, you '11 be obliged to take in "washee,
washee " for all your aristocratic Knobbery. Beware!...
For a few moments I seriously considered a trip to
'Frisco after I close here in May, but gave up the idea.
Unless some extra inducement (in the way of comfort as
well as coin) be offered, there is no reason why I should
go so far.... I hope all your bank troubles will be
more than doubly requited, and that some billionaire
(that 's better than your million one) may want your
shanty soon.... All I can hear of theatricals is poor,
outside of the several "Pinafore" successes, in the larger
cities. We all send love to you both. God bless you.
Ted.
TO THE REV. DR. F. C. EWER.
CHICAGO, April 27, I879.
MY DEAR EWER:
I telegraphed (by proxy) my thanks for your kind congratulations on my escape; but I 'm under the impression
that some mistake in your address occurred. I hope not.
The shock of the lunatic's freak nearly laid M -- up; we




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I97


all were, of course, terribly shaken.... But we have
received (thank God!) no further harm.
Be sure, my friend, that we are devoutly grateful to
God, whose interposition saved me. Nothing in my
eventful career has so profoundly impressed me with the
nothingness of this little life, and the vastness of God's
goodness. I hope my memory of this horror may never be
entirely deadened, but that it will remain alive to sustain
and guide me through the rest of this uncertain journey.
I can tell you no more than what the papers have already
published, except that I received to-day a scrawl from the
madman (in jail), saying he would "drop the matter" for
nine hundred dollars, or hurt me "til I dy."
The case comes up this week, and I hope that he will
be safely cared for during the remainder of his earthly
existence.
My daughter joins me in thanks to you all for your
thoughtfulness in our trouble. With love, I am,
Ever yours,       Edwin Booth.
TO E. C. STEDMAN.
CHICAGO, April 27, I879.
MY DEAR STEDMAN:
I can give you no further information concerning the
"Fool's Revenge " beyond that which the papers already
published; I sent you one as soon as I recovered from the
immediate effects of the affair.... Do not think that this
implies a lack of appreciation of the horror which has been,
by God's providence, prevented. No; my temporary
self-control gave way after a day or two to a highly nervous
excitement -a condition similar to that which I believe
Shakspere illustrates by Hamlet's frivolity after the ghost
is gone, and the terrible tension of his brain is relaxed.
I have a ghostly kind of disposition to joke about the
13*




I98


EDWIN BOOTH


affair which is hardly controllable. To-day I received a
threatening scrawl from the fellow, saying the matter
would be dropped for nine hundred dollars.... There
was never a clearer case of insanity. I am told there is
a phase of it called histriomania (such as crushed "tragedians" have, I fancy), and this appears to be his condition... The terrible shock prostrated us, and caused
us all great mental suffering, but, thank God! no further
injury is done.
I have not yet heard from Irving... Accept our
thanks for your timely congratulations, and believe me
sincerely yours,                   Edwin Booth.
TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
CHICAGO, May I, I879.
MY DEAR DAVE:..Your letter of the 24th just received. Of course
we have had a great deal of agitation since the terrible
shock of that Wednesday night, but, thank God! no real
harm was done beyond the filthy scandals which such
events give rise to. The man is some poor lunatic, and
thinks himself to be a great tragic genius.
I can well imagine the shock you and your dear wife
must have felt, when you read the despatch about Ted,
but my shock did not "set in" till a day or two after,
when the nervous strain relaxed, and I began to realize
the horror of my situation. Poor Mary suffered worse
than all, of course, owing to her physical weakness, and,
for several nights after, her dreams were all about me and
bullets. Thank the good God, who has guarded me in
so many hairbreadth 'scapes, we are all right again, and
the mad man is in safe keeping. I have hopes to send
him to an asylum, for he is dangerous, and at any time
in the far future he may be tempted to repeat the act of




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


I99


frenzy. I have since had a threatening letter signed with
his name, and one from his cousin telling a plain story of
the fellow's madness on the subject of acting, and appealing to my leniency in his (Gray's) behalf. My only object
and hope is to have him safe from harm-doing, for I
doubt if such a craze can ever be thoroughly cured. It
is sad to know that little-souled things endeavor to throw
doubt on this terrible fact, by calling it an advertising
trick. I wish them no further harm, however, than just
such a glimpse of what those bullets revealed to me. It
might make them more charitable and serious in their
thoughts and daily dealings.  I have had some dozen
deadly escapes in my time, but this one (perhaps because
I 'm older, and have other lives to think of) has impressed
me more sensibly than all the rest. Poor mother! Think
of her, and all the horrid past reviewed by this event! She
cannot rid herself of the sight of my lying dead, while all
the miseries of her great sorrow are renewed by memories
thus awakened.
But enough of this; it is of the past, though I shall
never forget it, nor my gratitude to Almighty God.
I hope you may have many years of happiness in your
new home.... I'm pressed to death by letters and interviewers, and have to scratch at you in great haste. This
is my father's birthday. I '11 never forget Shakspere's.1
Business not good - the first indifferent engagement I
ever played here. Am I playing out?
Write me often and soon. My love to all who care for
me, with loads of it for yourself and the bride. Bless 'em
both. I wish they were in New York, though. Mary
and daughter are out, and I am all alone to-day, but I
know they will echo my words of love to your folks.
Always yours,            Ted.
1 The lunatic, Mark Gray, shot at my father in the theatre on April 23,
Shakspere's birthday.




200


EDWIN BOOTH


TO MR. DAVID C. ANDERSON.
68 MADISON AVENUE, NEW YORK, June 20, 1879.
DEAR DAVY:
Beshrew me for letting thee wait so wearily for a letter! Gadzooks! my brave, I knew not I was so at fault.
Methought I owed thee one (" for his Knob "), and have oft
of late reproached my procrastinating laziness for not
writing thee; but I 've lost the run of time and circumstances lately, from no cause whatever, except downright laze. This very day I was thinking of thee, my
Davy, and determined to write thee sure by next Sabbath (day after to-morrow); but lo! I must go visiting at
Greenwich from this evening until next Monday night,
therefore I scratch this hurriedly, as much as I can squeeze
into an envelop 'twixt now and the hour of starting.
Since I began, a lovely lady came in, and checked my
rapid flight to thee, but now that she is gone " I 'm a man
again," etc...   My dear boy, the shock, though
severe at first, has left no trace of fear or nervousness.
We are as clam as calms (or wisey worsy). As for any
sound of woefulness from me regarding biz, do not heed
what I may utter. If I sh'd squash as flat as a first-class
tragic, I 'd not grieve longer 'n a inch o' time, at most.
Do try to send your address whenever you write; I have
to hunt over a barrel of papers when I want to find you.
Hope with all my heart that your new venture (whatever it may be) may be a grand success.
In a couple of weeks we shall go to Saratoga. I have
never been there, and the dry air, if not the waters, may
benefit us all; we get too much of the salt here and at
other places we visit during the summer. We are having most delightful weather; some days, indeed, are too
cool for comfort in our thin garments.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


20I


The play of "Yorick " was acted here at Daly's, and
subsequently offered to me.  It failed, while it was
generally praised, and I did not like the translation that
was sent to me. I should think Barrett could make it
go..
I am not, never was, nor ever expect to be, at Tom's
River; there now! You are another one! I hope the
dear little old lady (ouch!) takes her usual good care of
the pipes and thee, and that you are both happy and
hale (I mean hearty) as ever, and that your knob is cozy,
and just chuck full of home —which means all that is
good and comfortable. Business seems to be dull hereabout, but I so seldom go to the theatres that I know
little less than nothing of 'em. Now I must close and
run.... A bite, and a jump for the train, and away
we go. Adieu.
God bless you both! All well, and send love.
Ted.
P. S. Can't find your address, so send this haphazard to "theatre," in hopes that some one will get it
and deliver it to you.
TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
NEW YORK, Nov. I6, I879.
YOU DEAR OLD MONSTER:
Why should your thoughts be scattered between New
York and San Francisco? If you have such a dear little
home, as I hear you have, stick to it, and be joyful, in
spite of your reduced "inkum": be 'appy. "Enjoy
the present hour, nor fear the last," etc. Yes; I shall
try my British luck once more, though I have not much
faith in the lottery over there; but if I win I shall, as you
say, stay there doubtless a long time. I hope so. I 'd




202


EDWIN BOOTH


dearly like to have you two old fellows with us, in our
rambles-if we do ramble....
I am jamming the Grand Opera House every night
with "Hamlet," and may run it through the four
weeks. It seems like the old Booth Theatre days; but
of course, at the prices, there is not so much money as
then. God bless you!    Ever yours,
Ted.
TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
NEW YORK, Dec. IO, I879.
DEAR DAVY:
Imagine " Ted " the pa of an eighteen-year-old darter.
Whew! she did it yesterday, the ninth.
I don't know whether it 's your or my turn to write,
but as I want a favor done I '11 waive ceremony....
I 've had a head engraved, and I think it excellent. You must have a copy, but how to send it
without injury I know not.  The engraving was for
some dramatic memorial work, but I bought it after
letting them have an electrotype copy of the plate. I
hope you are still comfortable and contented,-calm and
'appy; stay so! I have just closed a terrific engagement
at the Opera House, and though the prices were less
than on Broadway, etc., I received my usual share of
plunder. The very best class of folks went there every
night, while a "lower layer"-which I have never
reached before-were there also in herds; could have
filled the house two weeks longer.
In June next I expect, and hope, to sail on the
Gallia for England. What will be the result?...
We are having a perfect fool of a winter; 't would just
suit your California notions of a "glorious climate "warm and springlike, with only an occasional dull, damp




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


203


day. Give me the good old-time snow-clad bufferthat used to make us wrap up close, and shiver " round
the hearth." But I forget my " I8th daughter." I 'm
getting old and "sere-y," and perhaps I should not
care to have it too cold-as once I did. My health,
however, is far better than it was. Dyspepsia no
longer troubles me (maybe I '11 have it now for bragging), and I have-comparatively-but very few aches.. Do not think the shows are doing extra well, but
know very little of them. Went last night to the Union
Square-poor house, although the papers speak of the
crowds, etc.... I shall loaf now till March, then
go to Boston, and then to Booth's for a farewell pop.
Shall I meet you on the Rhine?-Bingen? —or-or
Bier? Zwei.... Give our united loves to the guid
wife and her Davy. I have nothing of interest for
you, else I 'd write a while longer, but I 'm empty, and
dinner is in the air-I schmelle um! Myum! yum!
Think of me in your prayers, if you ever remember to
be holy, and write at length and often. I am kept pretty
busy answering -   's offers for the Frisco theatre.
Adieu.                    Yours ever,
Ted.
TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
NEW YORK, Feb. 14, i88o.
"Good morrow; 't is St. Valentine's day," with all the
et cetera, my Davy! 'Oos a' wi' ye? Are you up to
your ears in overcoats?  We ain't!  Warmish and
wet to-day, after a heavenly week of weather.  Our
winters are milder than your barbarous spring tides on
the slope. I forget if I told you I would send, or had
sent, a portrait-engraving of my 'ed-Ed's 'ed. Did I?
At all events, I ordered one boxed and mailed to Knob




204


EDWIN BOOTH


Hill, and the framer says its receipt was acknowledged,
so I suppose you have got it. Have you written me
since? I forget. My brain 's all of a buzz, and has
been so for weeks. There was no glass sent with the
frame, for fear of breakage, but that you can carbine
from  one of your kitchen windows-when the old
'ooman 's gone to market. Bye-the-bye, boy, who does
the huckstering?  Do you go, and have you regular
kidney feasts? Dost recommember how, in the hoary
days of yore, we used to set our special days for a
regular square meal of kidneys? "Ah, the merry days
of youth! what a sin you could not stay! " etc., etc.... I see that Kearney has driven all the big guns
from Frisco, and that all the wealthy ones are coming to
settle here. You 'd better pull up stakes again; but
wait till I get back from Europe.  I have secured three
passages by the Gallia for June 30; so, if nothing prevents, away we go across the blue and briny wet...
The theatres are all doing well, and Mackaye,' at the
Madison Square,-Daly's old shop on 24th street, —is
successful, as he deserves to be, for a more beautiful
theatre in every detail was never built. It is unlike all
other theatres in every respect, and is supremely artistic
and beautiful. I wish you could see it, and I wish I had
one like it-about double its size.... Lunch is just
announced and I am hungry. Wait-ah!-!-!-!-!
Feel better now. I suppose the good theatrical days
of California are of the bygone memories now. I have
sent a standing "No" to several agents who have pestered me with offers from Frisco managers.  I may
make a fly thither after I get back from Europe.
Irving has scored another grand ten-strike with " Shylock"; gave a banquet on the stage under a gorgeous
awning to many nobby guests last night, in honor of its
1 The late Steele Mackaye.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


205


hundredth night; but maybe I may get an English pat
on the back while there. I expect but little, scarce
anything, and will not be grievously disappointed, as
I fear my friends will be. I believe there 'd be a better show for me in Germany; p'raps I '11 try the Bingen.l Now, if you were there (on the Rhine) you might
manage for me. I 'm not vastly posted on theatrical
matters, and I suspect you care little for such chat;
besides, the papers keep you advised of all that is going
on... Mother and Rose are about as usual-at
the Grand Central Hotel, where the Winter Garden was... Because I choose to "loaf and invite my soul"
this season for needed rest in preference to working for
wealth, which I don't want, the papers occasionally fling
at me that illness and failing powers, etc., prevent my
filling engagements. When I played the greatest engagement yet known at the Opera House they said I was on
my last legs, and was doing fairly, etc. Now    is there,
and they all call him a grand success, and commend his
acting at such house; so the world wags. Is n't it jolly?
But, bosh! it does n't touch me in the least; I mentioned it to you merely to vent a growl for you to
lecture on. Bless thee, Davy, and thy good dame! All
our loves to you both. Live long and merrily. Would
I were as young as ye! Selah!
Ted.
1 The frequent humorous allusions to Bingen on the Rhine have reference to
the poem of that name which Mr. Anderson recited in his younger days with
much dramatic effect, and under happy circumstances known to my father and
himself when together in California.




206


EDWIN BOOTH


TO OLE BULL.
NEW YORK, 68 Madison Ave., Feb. 19, i88o.
MY DEAR MR. BULL:
Is it at all probable that you will be in this city on the
fourth of March?
I intend to give a benefit for the Irish sufferers on that
date at the Academy of Music, and your name would be
a " tower of strength " for the good cause.
If it should be a serious inconvenience (as to come
here expressly for that purpose would be), pray do not
hesitate to deny me, for I fully appreciate the distress
caused by innumerable demands of this kind that you
are subjected to,-I have my share of them,-but if
by any good chance you should be here, and would
place your name on my programme, I will owe you a
double debt of gratitude-bearing still fresh in my
memory a similar kindness you once favored me with.
Edwin Booth.
TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
March 20, i88o.
MY DERNED OLD SANDLOTTER:
How d' ye? Have the Wigilantes moved your Knob
yet? We have been wondering and worrying about
you, Davy, all the while that Reverend Kearney and
Dennis Kalloch have been shaking their fists against
your aristocratic mansion on the Hill, and expecting to
hear of yr sudden reappearance on Broadway. To-day
I closed my second week of a terrific engagement here.
I regret it is only for three; it could run on to jammed
houses for several more. I believe the box-office is to
be shut because there is nothing left to sell for next




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


207


week - something unprecedented. I go next to Booth's
(my old shop). Your reply to this had better be directed
there, where I shall remain four weeks. I am glad to
hear that peace is restored in Frisco.... This has
been a good lesson to those fellows; there '11 be no
more nihilism in Frisco.  So you may sleep in peace.
We have been having a great deal of domestic "socialism" here, in the way of teas and calls and visits.
Daughter is in great demand, and the result has been
a perfect flurry of agreeable excitement for her. While
I am acting I have excitement of a different quality, and
plenty of it. I think I told you that we expect to sail
by the Gallia on June 30..... Barrett, Florence,
Rankin, Raymond, Harkins, Mayo, and God knows
who not, are all going to Europe next spring! We '11
Americanize the "koknees" yet. My hopes are more for
health and recreation there than for professional success, though I am not at all indifferent to that, either;
but I regard it as a secondary matter..
Let me hear from you soon-if Kearney has n't Kallocked you. "K. K."-ominous letters. Ink 's out.
Ted.
NEW YORK, 68 Madison Ave., March 29, i88o.
MY DEAR MR. BULL:
Let me bore you once more. I promise you it shall be
the last time-till we meet at Tys6.1
If you have not already written your autograph on the
page that my wife left with Mrs. Bull, will you not give
a verse or sentiment in your "birth" tongue, say from
some old Norse saga, in addition to the bar of music she
asked for?
1 The late Mr. Ole Bull's estate in Norway, an invitation to which he had
kindly extended to my father.




208


EDWIN BOOTH


Now, then, I 've done.   Break your fiddlestick (but
not the magic one with its jeweled end) over my head.
'T will serve me right for pestering you so much.
We are not at all glad to be home again, for you
Cambridge and Boston folks treated us so well that we
miss you very much.
Edwina joins me in the very kindest regards to Mrs.
Bull and yourself.      Sincerely yours,
Edwin Booth.
TO WILLIAM BISPHAM.
NEW YORK, April IO, I880.
DEAR WILL:
We are here, but hardly settled yet. The confusion
of moving, while acting, has stupefied me quite. Hope
soon to see you.
What night would you like to visit the play? Let me
know a day or so in advance, that I may secure you good
seats.
If my great-grandpa made a small spoon' (as my mother says my grandfather asserted), he - the elder- was
at least fifty-nine years old when the latter was born. It
might have been. Sorry the stamps on the large spoon
are not decipherable. My sister has the debris of a small
one, on which are a lion, a head,- as of one of the
Georges, resembling those on old coins,-and two letters,
either B. C. or B. O., as nearly as I can make them out.
But I am not so spoony as to care much about 'em either
way, or really if I ever had any great-grandparents. It's
bad enough to know that I am here, howe'er I came....
1 My father's great-grandfather was a silversmith. The spoon my father speaks
of is now in my possession, a wedding-gift from my grandmother Booth. It
bears the marks of my father's baby teeth, it having been his favorite pap-spoon
when a child.




EDWIN BOOTH AS " RICHARD III."




I




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


209


TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
NEW YORK, April 25, I88o.
MY DEAR DAVY:
I have just closed my last engagement in New York
before departure; but I have a week yet in Brooklyn -
then pack up. Business has been splendid. I made no
use of my "farewell," or it would have been still splendider. During the play, one night last week, M. came
suddenly to me, and asked if I had heard of "Uncle
Davy's death."  By Jove! it staggered me! But knowing that if any such calamity had occurred, I would be
one of the first to know it, I held myself together; several
days past, no one else, save an actor or two, had heard
such a rumor, and I felt relieved.  It 's not so, is it?
By Jove! old fellow, if you are gone I know you are high
up in heaven with the good ones; but we can't afford to
"let you up " yet. The news of Younge's death sets us
all agog for more outrages in Frisco, and I dare say you
are sick of "sich." I certainly would pull up stakes and
come to a civilized place and root for aye. We are cozily
settled in this hotel, overlooking Madison Square. The
view is lovely, with the budding trees and young grass
springing. Not like your dusty brown old San Francisco....Mary has been very ill for some months past, and I
am very anxious to have her o'er the sea, 'mid fresh scenes
and pastures new, etc. Edwina continues well, and I sosoish; a heavy cold and weariness oppress me, nothing
more.... Good night, old boy and gal. Hope I '11
see you both happily settled here before I sail. God
bless you both!
Ever yours,              Ted.


14




210


EDWIN BOOTH


NEW YORK, May 13, I88o.
MY DEAR YOUNG AND LIVE DAVY:
So you ain't dead yet! Well, well, well! I thought
not, for the papers did n't say so, and you know they
cannot hatchet, though they do hatch many things what
ain't. So, so; an' you 're still a-livin'- Sho! Ale B. C.
- D. C. I mean; forgive the slip. You remember, maybe, there 's many atwix the jug and the lip, don't it?
How 's Dennis? What's a K(a-l-)lock, too? They 're
skeerin' you hitherwards again, eh? Well, it 's the best
word - any word in this town is better than Knob Hill at
this "junkter."
Hope you will be here before we sail, June 30. I know
no more of the testimonial than you do. It may not be;
I care not..
As to your acting again, you know when you were here
I advised you to stay and get into one of the theatres
here.  You require some occupation, with your active
brain and body, to steady you. Take an old hound's
advice, and keep close with the pack. Tally-ho! Yoick's!
etc. Keep in full cry till the last horn calls to quarry,
and a whipper-in sends you to kennel. Don't dismount
till you 're in at the death.  Tara-ta-ta-ta! Mary is
about the same. Edwina and I are wellish. Love to
both.                                     Ted.
TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
DUBLIN, July 15, i880.
DEAR DAVY:
Arrah Galoo! Hooroo! mabokalush faleen sockdalergerwhack, me bye!
I 'm on the sod, wid a dudeen o' the rale ould bogwood in me jaw, acushla! One week ago to-night I left




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


211


the ship at Quanestown, and have been to Cork and Killarney in a fog, then spent a fine day in the cars, and
reached here in the same old fog and rain, bad luck to 't!
Did yez iver come here? Don't! I did, but I won't
again, mavourneen. Saving the antiquities and the foul
weather, we can bate 'em in Yankeedom. Lakes and
hills and all the beautiful scenery and sights they boast of
are 'way behind us, so they are.
Anent ancientiquities, I am writin' wid a pen that 's
mightier than the swoord - videlicet - a quill, from an
old goose, or a hin, or else a fowl of some kind. A plume
o' the weather, maybe; that's fowl enough.
Three days here, and to-morrow we 're off for Belfast,
stopping en route at several points of interest. Shall not
reach London till latter part of August. Have had two
offers from there, but not being what I want, I shall wait.
Find friends and acquaintances everywhere; no trouble
or inconvenience yet. Had a sort of canal-like voyage;
no sea whatever. So far the trip has done us all good.
Don't want to think of theatre; won't till my cash runs
low. After a day or two at Belfast shall go to Glasgow,
and see a little of Scotland, before going to England and
Wales. After a week or so in London, go to the Continent. This day one month ago I was breakfasted in New
York. It seems but day before yesterday. Poor mother
is very sad and lonely now; I know that she misses me
very much. God bless her! Wish you were here with
me. IHad a "jaunt in a jolting-car" to-day, from a place
called Kingstown. Not any more in mine, I thank you.
I like a trotter, when I sit astride him, but a sidewise
bump up and down for an hour ain't handsome, not at all,
sir! How doth your bonne dame (no; that 's not Irish)
- how 's de owld 'ooman? An' how 's yersel', me darlint? I '11 write ye Scotch next toime, maybe. All our
loves to yees, all of yees.




212


EDWIN BOOTH


McCullough has secured the spring months at Drury
Lane; got ahead of me there. Irving keeps his place,
and the only other tragedy-shop has lost caste of late; so
I 'm in the cold, as before. Clarke would let me in at
the Haymarket, but I've been there onct before, ye know.
Good night, Davy. May the good God bless you and
yours! Write me soon.
Ever yours,            Ted.
TO E. C. STEDMAN.
LONDON, September 4, I880.
MY DEAR STEDMAN:
My intention was to wait until I saw Smalley before
writing to you; but it seems so far away before that
event is likely to occur, and so very long since I promised
to write, that I can hold no further restraint on my desire
to chat, if only a few words with you. After a delightful,
though rather fatiguing tour through Ireland, Scotland,
and Wales, I came suddenly to London to settle the engagement with Manager G., of which you have by this
time read something in the papers, and to prepare for
our visit to Ammergau, whither we go on Monday next.
We have been so busy and unsettled here that we concluded to keep " incog.," and see no one; therefore I have
not sought out Smalley, on whom I hope to call before I
see any others whom I hope to meet.  I shall be permanently settled at the St. James Hotel, October I, for
at least three months. Well, as to the engagement.
Before I landed I had telegraphic offers to act, but I held
off... besides I have resolved to wait until the
spring; but as I found that time at Drury Lane was
promised to McCullough, and Irving preparing a new
production, I accepted the offer made by G. to open his
theatre, which is now a mass of ruins, in October, re



LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


2I3


modeled and renovated in every respect. So it stands.
From all I hear, expectation is a-tiptoe, and we shall see
what we shall see in a few short weeks from date. The
company engaged for me is said to be an unusually
strong one. They are all strange to me, and I must, of
course, be guided by what others say; all agree as to its
superiority. As Irving is blamed here, as I am at home,
for having (with the Terry exception) a company of
sticks, I presume I shall be credited with at least the
desire to serve the Shaksperian cause, even if I fail in
other respects. It is so very warm here that the theatres are nearly empty, and 't is an effort to sit quietly
here with you; I 'm all sticky, fidgety, and "sich," but,
blessed be Allah! there are no flies and no mosquitos.
I passed nine months in a fog here many years ago, and
of course saw nothing of London but her mud and
melancholy; they have now a full-sized sun, which has
been blazing at us all the week, and I agree with you
and Winter that London is a delightful city; I never
thought so till now.... Well, bye-bye.    Mrs.
Booth's cough has been the only interruption to our
entire enjoyment; she is otherwise very well, my daughter ditto, while I am about the same as I have been for
the year past - very well, I thank you. Remember us to
wife, sons, daughter, and daddy. Will write you when I
have seen Smalley. Adieu.   Ever yours,
Edwin Booth.
TO E. C. STEDMAN.
LONDON, Nov. 13, I880.
MY DEAR STEDMAN:
I 've been and gone and done it! The cable has told
you all about it. I can but add that the feeling for me
is warming every day, and the faint praises lavished by
14*




214


EDWIN BOOTH


the press have tended rather to increase than to diminish the interest. From various high places I have kindly
words of great encouragement, and the vista looks lovely.
After the programme is changed (" Hamlet" is so hackneyed!), there will also be a change of tone in the theatrical columns of the papers. The few attempts at
criticism I have seen are very feeble and wishy-washy.
Shakspere is yet a sealed book to those who sit in
judgment on the actor.... Smalley was in Scotland
my first night, but promised to see me last evening.
The stalls I gave him were vacant, and I fear he was prevented from going to the theatre, which he wished to do,
in order to send his letter to N. Y. to-day. The weather
has been propitious, and despite a troublesome liver and
domestic cares (my wife being still an invalid), I am in
pretty good "fighting trim."  But I could not act Hamlet the first night. All was confusion and anxiety. A
new theatre, a new company (all, however, very kindly
disposed), a rather chilling audience, despite their generous reception of me.... You may judge how unlike
Hamlet I was on that occasion. But I made a mark
that is becoming deeper with every performance, and
when I write you next I am confident that I shall be
justified in saying, "I am safe!"
Smalley is very good. I dined with him one Sunday,
and met Huxley, Lady Gordon, and several other notables.
Kind remembrances to your dear ones.
Ever yours,       Edwin Booth.
TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
LONDON, Nov. 14, i88o.
DEAR DAVY:
I went in, head first, as Hamlet last Saturday night.
Since when the myriad English papers have been full




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


215


of me-all, with but a few exceptions, patting me
on the back and endeavoring to damn me with faint
praise. But the public is with me, and I received many
cordial congratulations from high-jink nobs of Britain.
As we used to say in the classic days, "Ye goose 'angs
'igh," etc., and in a few weeks I shall have had even the
"crickets" chirping pleasantly. I dare say the cable has
told you, long ere this, of my success-or failure, for it
is a toss-up how it has been reported; variously, I presume. Set it down as satisfactory, at all events. I had
to abandon my Continental tour because I saw no possible opening here for me in the spring, and this theatre
seemed to be preparing for me especially. 'T is a very
fine one, entirely new; not the best in London, though.
The Haymarket is by far the very best in London
now; you would not know it in its new shape and dress.
You must write often to me, and not wait for letters from
me, for I am just run to earth by the many cares and
bothers that absorb all my time.... No news. Love
to you both,          Ever yours,
Ted.
TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
LONDON, December I7, i88o.
MY DEAR DAVY:
Since my debut here I have received congratulatory
letters and telegraphic greetings from various parts of the
world, but not a line from thee. Now, this is not meant
reproachfully, for I know there is not a heart that throbs
on earth that doth more rejoice at my success than thine,
my Davy C., but, nevertheless, would I be happier to
have had a line of greeting to that effect. You would be
surprised and pleased as well to know that actors of every
rank from all parts of the kingdom have sent me letters
of congratulation, and those about me have been enthu



216


EDWIN BOOTH


siastic and kind to excess.  John Ryder-with tearsdeclares that I have toppled his idol (Macready) to the
ground, and is as anxious of my success as a father may
be-as you are; not the least sign of unkindness from
any! My intention was to change the bill every two
weeks, and so I took off "Hamlet" against the advice of
every one but the paper-critics, who endeavor to damn
me with faint praise, and brought on "Richelieu,"
which started even the "puffers," though some of them
still fail to see in me more than mediocrity.  But the
public is with me; so is the profession, while from many
high and nobby sources I daily receive the most encouraging marks of approval.... Titled folks that stand
very near the throne have graced my dressing-room
with their presence. The best parts of the house have
been nightly filled with noted people, but the pit and
gallery are not so well patronized, this being the worst
season for such plays as I am giving them. I 've been
fortunate in weather, very few fogs, and they slight; the
nights are really beautiful —quite American in quality.
I have met with the greatest hospitality -very like that
of the ante-bellum, Southern sort, and the higher the host
the more cordial and easy the welcome. Irving called
over, but we had very little opportunity to chat. I have
the greatest odds to battle with that an actor ever experienced, in spite of all the good in my favor that I
have mentioned. A deep-rooted love for their idol, who
certainly deserves his reward for what he has achieved
for the drama here; an unpopular theatre,- that is, unpopular with the first-class element; for years a sort of
"Bowery," given up to " Drink," " Streets of London,"
etc.,-and a sort of "Cheap John" management, with
a wretched company, and poorly furnished stage, compared with Irving's superior settings.  Business at all
the houses is only so-so; 't is what we would call




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


217


pretty bad, but in London it is considered fair, if not
positively good, for this season.  My engagement is
but for three months, which terminate February 6; but
the chances are that I will run along much longer. My
health is good, and I 'm in pretty fair trim, but could
do better if I changed the bill oftener, which can't be
done because there is not a bit of stock scenery in the
house. The next play will be " The Fool's Revenge," and
then "Macbeth." I have acted just six weeks to-night.
I find London very much Americanized, a really sensible set of people now. Twenty years ago they were
very provincial, petty, old-fogyish, and hard. My sister
is writing sketches of father and myself, to be published by Osgood of Boston, and while going over
my past experiences I had to live over our ranch life,
etc.... You may well imagine my feelings at this
late day - taking our midnight rides to " Pipesville," and
sailing the seas toward t' other side o' the globe....
My wife has been a great invalid for many months, and
under the care of an eminent physician, Dr. Mackenzie.
I am just here interrupted by an " interviewer." Wait;
he 's gone. A charming man, Joseph Hatton, just returned from America, where they feted him royally,
and he is with us in feeling, as indeed are a great many
Englishmen who formerly sneered at the Yankees. I
found this kindly feeling throughout my tour of Ireland,
Scotland, and England; not manifest in France; of Germanic feeling I could not judge, but I know they are
very anxious to have me act there. Perhaps I shall do so.
McCullough is to produce "Virginius " at Drury Lane in
May, and of course will have all the papers with him - as
elsewhere. He is so genial! I ain't, you know. John's
a good fellow, and I wish him full success. I am going to
a matinee of "Agamemnon" in Latin (our mother-tongue,
hog-latin) by the Oxford students. A Greek comedy is




2i8


EDWIN BOOTH


also being played by the Westminster students which
they say is remarkable; but as it occurs at night, I can't
attend. I see the "Passion Play" is given up, much to
my gratification. I did not relish the idea of Booth being
connected with it, nor do I think (sinner though I bePeccavi!) that such an outrage to religious sentiment
should be tolerated. I did not approve it even at Ammergau, where the superstition of those bygone people seems
to be an excuse for it. I fancy there will be no more
plays at Oberammergau; the impression produced generally was that of a show, nothing more, and all that
has been written of its awful and religious effect is bosh,
though doubtless sincerely meant by emotional and inexperienced folks, who "weep like Tom Noddy and see
poor Laertes run through the body." That 's a longago rhyme I read in babyhood.
Well, old padre, 'oos a' wi' ye, noo? Brawly, lad, I
hope. Love to the wife an' bairns, all of 'em, and their
good man and daddy. Adieu, with the good Lord's
blessing for the Christmastide and wishes for many a
Happy New Year.
From your old          Ted.
TO THE REV. DR. EWER.
LONDON, December 19, I88o.
MY DEAR EWER:
So dazed have I been of late that I really forget to
whom I have and have not written. At all events, I remember that you were among the first on my long list of
friends with whom I intended to shake hands after my
debut. I '11 take it for granted that I did so after " Hamlet"; if not, forgive my negligence. Had that play been
kept on, it would doubtless have pulled through the fog,




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


2I9


which " Richelieu" dispelled with his first breath, although
many of the so-called critics still see me through a glass
darkly, and sniff their learned noses knowingly. All goes
well, but slowly. I did not expect a sunburst, as my
friends predicted, nor did I expect such kindness from the
public, nor from private sources, as I have received.
Your water-cure, hay-fever letter is not where I can
put my hand on it just now ('t is after midnight), and
therefore, without reference to it, I may be repeating what
I said in reply to it. I hope you have entirely got rid of
that vexation, funny as it appears to be at a distance, and
that good health will attend your Christmas, with other
blessings, a hundredfold. For the first time since childhood my sister and I will (D. V.) pass that day together.
I wish our dear old mother could be with us. What a
miserable existence is the actor's, especially if he is domestically inclined! Home is something denied to him.
I 've tried to fix myself, to settle down a dozen times, yet
always comes some stern necessity to break camp and
travel. I'd rather be at home, somewhere in America,
quiet and secure from the publicity my profession brings,
than be here feted and applauded, and tired with what 's
called fame. Bosh! It 's my liver, I dare say; the doctors tell me so. I suppose I 'd be dissatisfied with any
other lot. I 'm a chronic growler, I fear. You may
judge by this that I'm not over-elated by my success here.
If I had a " pitful of kings " to act for, I should not be so.
Royalty (unless I except the Duke of Connaught) has not
yet deigned to notice my efforts; but titled nobs, and
several citizens of high standing, have shown me great
kindness. To-day we met at dinner the poet Robert
Browning, a charming man; and at the same house, on a
former occasion, Huxley. The Dowager Marchioness of
Ely, her Majesty's lady in waiting, and several lesser lights
near the throne, have shone serenely on my Yankeeship.




220


EDWIN BOOTH


Now is n't this enough to turn one's head? Yet, you see,
I 've been so accustomed to the purple; with kings and
cardinals have I hobnobbed so familiarly since my boyhood, that I 'm accustomed to these honors....
I'm inclined to think the Passion Play will not be given
at Ammergau again: it has degenerated into a mere
show. I'm glad I saw it, although at the time I was disappointed. Would not look at it again, though it were presented within easy reach; but the scene of its performance
-Ammergau - is worth a dozen visits, though so out of
the way and uncomfortable.
This is about the stupidest letter that ever school-boy
scribbled, and if you were not a holy man I 'd cuss it with
a big, big " D," and burn it; but I know my next attempt
would be no better, perhaps worse, and you sha'n't say
"Ted has forgotten his promise to write me."
Edwina and I send loving remembrances.
Ever yours,             Ted.
TO E. C. STEDMAN.
PICCADILLY, LONDON, December 24, i88o.
MY DEAR STEDMAN:
I know how " run to earth " you are, and therefore do
not expect you to write me very often. I know what
you feel for me, and shall be more than satisfied if I get
but a line of greeting only when you wish to try a new
pen. It was very good of you, my dear boy, to write
me, tired and busy as you are, and I cordially appreciate
it. Yes, " Richelieu " has warmed them up; but I believe
the houses would have been quite as full if I had kept
"Hamlet" on the bills. There is little change in that
respect. The enthusiasm is greater, of course, for the
theatrical situations of the former play compel it. I




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


221


hardly think the critics have shown me a kindly spirit,
but they are very provincial and "little" in their views
of art matters, and this prejudice is not confined to theatrical art, either. Outside of the press, however, I have
had all that one's heart could desire in the way of courtesy and encouragement. To-night I finish "Richelieu,"
and rest till Monday (boxing) night, when the " Fool"
will appear-not in a pantomime, as at other theatres,
though. The Smalleys have been very kind; dined
there twice....
H. R. H. Leopold saw the play t' other night, and
sent for my photo through Lady Ely, the Queen's ladyin-waiting, who has been very gracious to us..
Your friend,       Edwin Booth.
TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
LONDON, Jan. 9, I88I.
MY DAVY DEAR:
Some one writ o' the top o' your letter, "Can't you
give us a little more in your epistles to Dave? " I don't
know who, but there it is; and that is why I write you
again so soon, because I can't give more than I do: I
give a little often. Published accounts, even friendly
ones, give no true notion of how matters stand. My
success with the public, and with the brains of England,
was assured from the very first scene of my first night,
and Hamlet drew as well as anything I have since done;
the applause was as great as ever I received in the part
anywhere, and the play would have run for several weeks
had I chosen to keep it on; but my wish was to change
as often as possible, to do as many parts as I could, in
the few months of my engagement.... Dollars are
not plentiful, though the houses are full. What is termed




222


EDWIN BOOTH


great business here we at home would consider small;
but as I did not come for dollars, and expected a harder
fight against prejudice than I have had, I am quite satisfied, particularly as I find the impression I have made
is deepening and daily growing stronger. No; there is
no prejudice here worth noticing. Among the very best
we have met a most cordial welcome - no stiffness, and so
little formality that we are rather more at ease than with
folks of the same class at home; while with the " middlemen" and the lower classes I have found nothing but
kindly feeling. I guess they have a wholesome respect
for the Yankee nowadays.... My pronunciation
and enunciation have amazed the English, yet cultivated
Americans frequently' criticize me. Irving has lately
been very genial and attentive; he is a pleasant fellow.
Yesterday he called, and we had a pleasant hour together. He gave me a fine copy of a celebrated portrait of Richelieu, and we are to lunch together on
Wednesday at Lady Burdett-Coutts's.... She saw
the "Fool's Revenge" last night, and seemed greatly
moved by my acting. Unfortunately, my engagement,
though it has been extended six weeks, lasts only until
March 12, and I shall not. be able to produce more than
three more plays this season, unless some change should
occur in the manager's plan. Think of only three theatres for tragedy in London, while farce and burlesque
have thirty or more! The weather has been so delightful this winter that Parliament sits unusually early,already in session,-and many who do not come to
town before March are flocking hither. We 've had but
few tolerable fogs, a little spit of snow, a good share of
rain, but no really d-nable -I should say London —
weather yet. The best effect that England has had on
me is to reconcile me to the stovepipe hat and dinnerparties: I wear the one and attend the others regularly




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


223


every Sunday evening. I 'm dressed up now, waiting
for the carriage to take us to dine with our doctor, who
has been treating Mary for throat disease ever since we
came here. Her great pluck keeps her up and about,
but she is a very sick woman, having lost her voice and
much flesh, and she suffers great pain constantly; yet
people who do not know her can't believe that she is an
invalid. I 'm awfully hungry, and my swallowtail is n't
comfortable here; I love it not. Edwina has the best
time of it, dining and dancing all the time. I hardly
know what I shall do about the Continental tour; if I
could have a fair swing at London, I could act at least
two years steadily. For the Continent - or, rather, to act
in Germany, which has long been my hobby - I would
require a company, and the expense would be fearful.
I shall soon begin to feel my way, however. I hear
glowing accounts of splendid business from all parts of
the States but Frisco. I am afraid our dear old ranch is
played out, and I am sure you would be wise in getting
rid of all your interests there and settling in New York.
Actors are so scarce, I am told, that there 'd be little
fear of your not having sufficient employment, if you
needed it, in the city; for traveling companies leave
plenty of vacancies in the standard theatres..
Have just returned from "grub." 'T was very "swell,"
yet jolly enough, and I feel stomachically better than I
did. Wherever I have been, Irving and his splendid
scenery formed the chief topics of conversation. I think
the theatre is talked of here more than with us,- I mean
among the "upper crust,"- and I 'm sure that actors
are received in society more generally. With us only
very distinguished ones are invited, while here I have
met many of subordinate positions in the best houses.
The Marchioness of Ely (the Queen's "right bower ") and
my wife have corresponded about me, and Leopold saw




224


EDWIN BOOTH


"Richelieu," and sent for my photo.... A famous artist
is painting me as Richelieu, and after its exhibition at the
Academy will give it to me. Full life-size! Now, ask
that " feller " who said " give us more " if I have n't given
enough this time. I like the pressed flower that comes
occasionally from far old Frisco, o'er the seas; I try to
keep them. The last is very pretty. God bless you
both! Good night, with Christmas blessings and many
happy New Years.                            Ted.
TO E. C. STEDMAN.
LONDON, March 27, i88i.
MY DEAR STEDMAN:
At last my great London engagement is ended. Thank
God, a thousand times, again and again repeated! I never
had such an uphill drag of it in all my professional experience, to say nothing of the many annoyances connected
with the mean and tricky management of —  andI 've had dyspepsia in its worst form nearly half the time,
the result of intense anxiety on my wife's account. For two
weeks now she has been confined to her bed, just hovering 'twixt life and death. You can imagine my interest
in acting under such circumstances. On the whole, the
critics have used me well. So Irving and I are at last to
hitch together, but only for a short pull of four weeks at
"Othello."  Every seat worth securing is booked for the
greater part of the brief term of our combination, and
London is very much excited over it. Of course I live in
dread anxiety lest my wife's death, which seems certain,
may occur either at the beginning or during the engagement; and, to tell the truth, this fearful suspense makes me
wish it was canceled and off my mind. I shall not be in
1 Mr. John Collier.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


225


trim for acting under any circumstances, unless a miracle
should lift her up again. Poor Edwina bravely assumes
the duties so new to her, but I have my fears for her health
also. Our kindest regards to wife and family.
Ever yours,           Edwin.
LONDON, May 8, I88r.
MY DEAR OLD GRANDPA:
I hope you like it. Love and congratulations for all
hands, ahoy! Well, the event has "eventuated," as doubtless you have read by cablegram. All went well. The
first week is over, and the change of parts begins tomorrow. Irving, his company, and the audiences treat
me splendidly. This engagement may run till June; it is
uncertain. The houses are jammed, the play well set and
very well acted, and there 's no reason why it should not
be kept going; but as I am only a guest, I do not like even
to hint at a continuance. Don't see much of Smalley now.
My wife's illness has upset everything, and perplexes me
very much. Edwina has had charge of household and
social duties, and is kept very busy. She is wonderfully
apt, and does the work well.
I read with envy your account of " Paradise" among the
cocoanuts and bananas. In my youth I spent some happy
months at several islands in the South Pacific, and my
fancy often floats me thither; but I had no such dinners
as you had. I lived on fruits, pig, and poe-poe. Badeau was with me t' other day, and asked after Mrs.
Bierstadt.  I had forgotten your mention of her, poor
little woman! I did not know of her ill health.
Yours ever,     Edwin Booth.




226


EDWIN BOOTH


TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
LONDON, June 6, I881.
DEAR DAVY:
By the time this reaches you I shall doubtless be in
New York- we sail on the I8th, where I will find your
letter on my arrival, I hope.... My engagement with
Irving terminates on the I5th. It has been in every
respect very agreeable and ponderously successful; it
could run several weeks, if not months, longer. I have
made a solid mark here; but, as fate will have it, I must
leave in the midst of my success, I presume.... But
it does not make me miserable; my life has been so full
of ups and downs that I calmly accept any rise or fall that
may occur.... My best wishes to Lizzie,1 poor soul!
I 'm glad her friends stick to her, and hope all is clear for
her to a happy old age. I wish your own affairs were
easier, but you have the very best of all God's goods-a
gay heart, happy companionship, and, I hope, good health.
My dear old mother is nearing her end also: I think she
feels it; her letters indicate it. Edwina, thank God! is
well under all her trials. Everything has devolved upon
her since Mary's illness, and it is surprising how well she
manages social and household duties strange to her. I
suppose I must now go into constant work, for a while at
least; idleness would only intensify the sadness that is
hovering over my domestic life.
I dined with Asia to-day —the first time I have seen
her for nearly two months. Clarke is in Philadelphia,
building a splendid theatre out of a shell set up in Broad
street by the Kiralfys some years ago.... Took tea
with H. R. H. t' other day-and met the lovely Langtry
and other beauties. Hope you '11 go to New York, and
settle there for good. God bless you both!
Ever yours,              Ted.
1 Mrs. Elizabeth Saunders.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


227


TO NAHUM CAPEN.
WINDSOR HOTEL, July 28, I88i.
DEAR SIR:
I can give you very little information regarding my
brother John. I seldom saw him since his early boyhood
in Baltimore. He was a rattle-pated fellow, filled with
Quixotic notions. While at the farm in Maryland he
would charge on horseback through the woods, " spouting" heroic speeches with a lance in his hand, a relic of
the Mexican war, given to father by some soldier who
had served under Taylor. We regarded him as a goodhearted, harmless, though wild-brained boy, and used to
laugh at his patriotic froth whenever secession was discussed. That he was insane on that one point, no one
who knew him well can doubt. When I told him that I
had voted for Lincoln's reflection he expressed deep regret, and declared his belief that Lincoln would be made
king of America; and this, I believe, drove him beyond
the limits of reason. I asked him once why he did not
join the Confederate army. To which he replied: "I
promised mother I would keep out of the quarrel, if possible, and I am sorry that I said so." Knowing my sentiments, he avoided me, rarely visiting my house, except
to see his mother, when political topics were not touched
upon, at least in my presence. He was of a gentle, loving disposition, very boyish and full of fun,- his mother's
darling, —and his deed and death crushed her spirit.
He possessed rare dramatic talent, and would have made
a brilliant mark in the theatrical world. This is positively
all that I know about him, having left him a mere schoolboy when I went with my father to California in 1852.
On my return in '56 we were separated by professional
engagements, which kept him mostly in the South, while
I was employed in the Eastern and Northern States.
I do not believe any of the wild, romantic stories pub



228


EDWIN BOOTH


lished in the papers concerning him; but of course he
may have been engaged in political matters of which I
know nothing. All his theatrical friends speak of him as
a poor, crazy boy, and such his family think of him.
I am sorry I can afford you no further light on the
subject.        Very truly yours,  Edwin Booth.
TO COLONEL LAWRENCE.
May 15, I882.
MY DEAR COL. LAWRENCE:
Before I received your kind note of invitation, my
daughter had sent our regrets at being unable to enjoy
your hospitality, which I looked forward to with much
pleasure.
I have had hardly an hour that I could call my own
since I left the theatre, and the engagements already
made will inconvenience me very much, being so pressed
for time before I sail.
Believe me, I am very sorry to forego the pleasure you
kindly offer, but hope that in the future I shall have the
honor of being your guest.
On Saturday I expect to start for Pittsfield-just for a
Sunday peep into "The Box," to see how the dear ones
get on.
I wrote to Mrs. Bartlett from Newport, telling her that
next Sunday is the only day at my command, but as yet
I 've had no word from her. She was ailing from anxiety
for her children when I last heard from her, and she was
about going to Boston for a few days.
I sincerely hope that she and the children are well.
With kindest regards for you both,
I am very truly yours,
Edwin Booth.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


229


TO MISS MARY L. BOOTH.
NEW YORK, May 25, 1882.
MY DEAR MISS BOOTH:
Ages seem to have passed since I received your kind
letters, yet neither of them have I acknowledged. Forgive, and do not think me neglectful. I have been pestered and beset by numerous worries, on the heels of
which came my poor girl's sudden and serious illness;
these are my excuses for not answering either of your
kind letters.
Edwina has been in bed eleven days with pleurisy and
a slight attack of pneumonia, and her physicians say she
must remain there and be kept very quiet for at least two
weeks longer. This prevents our sailing next Wednesday, and I have deferred my London trip till June I4th;
indeed, the engagement too may have to be postponed.
By the date named, the doctor says, Edwina will be able
to travel, but not before. This will embarrass my affairs
in England very much, of course; for I have engaged a
theatre (the Adelphi) and company, and other very expensive but necessary evils, to begin June 26th. With
the best of luck I cannot be there before the 24th, which
leaves no time for preparation. If Edwina is not perfectly well I shall put off the engagement altogether, for
I will not risk her health for any consideration.
I am glad you liked my sister's book. She sent material enough for three such volumes, and I think very
much of her most interesting matter had to be omitted.
But Hutton did his very best, with great labor to himself;
for she is inexperienced in the art of book-making.
Poor fellow! His was indeed a sad loss. The dear
old lady was loved by all who knew her, I am sure. I
hope to meet him somewhere in England. I urged him
15*




230


EDWIN BOOTH


to make an effort to go with me through Germany when
I make my tour through that country. Haase, and
other Germans of note, assure me that I shall be successful there, and my sole ambition now (so far as Europe is
concerned) is to obtain the German indorsement. England has done for me all that she is likely to do, I fancy,
and as for Italy, France, or Russia, which countries I am
advised to visit, I have never entertained a professional
thought or hope.
Remember me kindly to Mrs. Wright. I hope to see
you both before I go; and with sincere regards for yourself, I am                  Truly yours,
Edwin Booth.
TO COLONEL LAWRENCE.
May 25, I882.
MY DEAR COL. LAWRENCE:
Although Edwina is not permitted to see her friends,
she cordially appreciates their many kind attentions.
Speaking of this to-day, she wondered if it would be
very improper to ask Miss Gertrude to play for her when
it is clear enough for her to call again. I do not hesitate
to ask this favor, knowing that it will please you all to
confer the kindness. But if it should cause any inconvenience, pray do not hesitate to decline it.
Edwina is improving rapidly, but her doctors say that
she must remain in bed at least two weeks longer, and be
kept very quiet.
I have deferred my departure until the fourteenth of
June, in consequence of her illness. By this delay I shall
not arrive in London till the 24th, and my engagement
begins on the 26th- rather a "close shave."
Launt has been quite ill of late, and is going to Wilton
with his brother for a few days' rest.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


23I


I do not know when I shall have an opportunity to
make my calls; my time is so occupied that days fly by
like minutes. If you should be passing the hotel any day
about four or five o'clock, I hope you will waste a little
time with me.
At all events, I must see you all before I leave the
country.
Present my compliments to Mrs. and Miss Lawrence,
and accept for yourself, as well as for them, the kind regards of
Yours truly,
Edwin Booth.
TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
NEW YORK, June Io, 1882. (Friday.)
DEAR DAVY:
To-morrow I '11 taste your gravy. If it's just the same
to you, we '11 " lap " that Irish stew, and after, with pipes
and beers, loll in easy cheers.  Wha' d'yees say, my
dears? About five, I believe, is your hour. I '11 be on
hand, and if the stew 's not ready, we '11 set it for Monday-after I get back from Philadelphia. I go there
Sunday. Sail Wednesday, 3:30, I think. Hope this will
catch you early.                            Ted.
ON DECK, 8 Bells, June 20, I882.
DAVY, AHOY!
I 'm afloat, you old bloat! I 'm afloat! Six 'n'arf
days by the log, you old dog! And a glassy sea as we
sail, nary a gale, as we sail, you old whale!
Oh, by the by, en passant, to spare the precious spoons
of Galveston, I ordered a set of (plated) silver, solid and
shiny, to be sent you for the kitchen. They '11 do till I




232


EDWIN BOOTH


get back. I hope the rooms I want for mother will be
ready for her, and that she will take them. Be on the
lookout for others for yourself, if after the winter you do
not like the ones you have. Edwina much improved.
Bad food and bad rooms; had to change Edwina's. Will
mail this at Queenstown; expect to reach there Thursday
(day after to-morrow) evening.
Love to you both. Write soon.
Always,               Ted.
P. S. Who do you suppose is on board? A stout,
gray-bearded, fat-voiced English-looking party, named
-! The chap who was so donkeyish over Laura at
Melbourne. He spoke to me the first day out; has his
wife with him-pleasant sort of body. Says he has lived
all these years in England. Asked after you, and there
our conversation dropped-my fault, I suppose. Also in
the company is a man whose name I know not; knew
us both in Australia and California; was on the police
force in Sydney or Melbourne (do your ankles ache?),
and knows everybody in Frisco, especially actors, etc.
We are scudding along finely, rolling stupidly in a
quiet sea. Sky is clouded, and the breeze is invigorating.
Everybody writing letters. To-night will be a show
of some kind for the Liverpool Sailors' Home. Why
Americans should always be called upon for this charity,
I cannot see; they never do anything for the American
sailors on these vessels. They expect me to read. I
won't, because I "carn't," else I would.
LONDON, July 3, 1882.
DEAR DAVY:
Till now I have not had a chance to write since I left
Queenstown, whence I mailed letters for you. Reception
great; business English; papers kind, weather too good




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


233


for theatres; audiences fashionable and very enthusiastic
every night. Edwina getting on splendidly. Saw Louisa'
once or twice last week; she was wild with bouquets with
the Yankee colors, and threw them to me and Mrs. Pateman, at which the papers marveled, for they don't do
such things here except for prima donnas. After I close
here I shall take a trip to Switzerland, and get back for
rehearsals first week in September; then start for the
tour till Christmas; after which for Germany.
Abbey has Langtry this fall and Irving next. Takes
all the company and scenes, and wants me to play at the
Lyceum, which he takes during Irving's absence of about
six months. Irving was with me last night till 2 this A. M.
Winter, Aldrich, and Barrett came a few days ago, and
we all dined together last night. Saturday, after the
play, we "chop" with Irving. Headache Sunday. Edwina joins me in love.
God bless you both, my boys! Write soon and often.
Always yours,       Ted.
LONDON, July 23, 1882.
DEAR DAVY:
Your delightful letter, with its inclosure, reached me
duly. It seems a month ago, but I 've not been fit for
letter-writing lately-tired, and overrun with callers and
inviters, etc....
The lakes of Lucerne and Geneva are liquid heavens.
I could n't think of beer at either place. Wrote to Edwards anent his proposition for a tour. I must try somehow to get in huge lumps of loaf in my old age, and
act only now and then-just to vary the monotony of
leisure. But how to do it when there are no regular
companies! I hope you have obtained a home job; don't
1 Mrs. Louisa Eldridge, the actress.




234


EDWIN BOOTH


dream of traveling any more, but plan little sprees, and
pass life easily. I dare say Louisa will be home by the
time this reaches you. My love to her. She '11 give you
a full account of " Yurrup," for she saw in her short stay
more than most Americans do in a year. I write now
because it may be a long while ere I get another chance,
as I shall be busy and weary after I get to work. Both
our loves to you both. God bless you, too! Adieu!
Always and ever yours,         Ted.
ROTTERDAM, Aug. 3, 1882.
DEAR DAVY BOY:
Here we are in Dutchland, on the Maas,-the most
interesting place we have seen since London. Brussels
and Antwerp are too modern, and in a few years, I fear,
this city will have lost its interest to the tourist, they are
"going ahead " so fast. (I wish they would improve their
pens.) Clean, sober, and polite are the people, and many
of them speak English perfectly. Cigars are excellent,
and cheaper than at home. Have n't yet tried their pipes,
but their beer is bully! I am full of it now! I am afraid
I shall not get my letters regularly; 't is difficult to state
the exact place and date for their transmission.
I shall try to send a greeting to you from Bingen as we
go up the Rhine. This tour is Edwina's, and I go as she
directs; but I notice that I pay all the bills! Have you
ever been here? 'T is unlike all other places (just a smack
of Venice, perhaps), and I could spend a month here in full
enjoyment of it - specially the beer! The beer is bully!
I 'm glad you find your rooms a refuge from the broiling
heat. We had it pretty warm here to-day, but yet we
wear our winter underclothes, and sleep under blankets.
Have met American tourists everywhere, and of course
they talk of me to all they can talk to; consequently I am




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


235


pretty well known as I go. We have a good courier who
speaks several languages after a fashion of his own, and
he saves us a deal of trouble in traveling and sight-seeing;
in fact we have none. He is a descendant of the great
Van Dyck, and he is very proud of his name, and therefore
I call him Vanderdeken and Van Tromp, Van Winkle and
Van Tassel, and he thinks it my mistake, of course. He
is my valet also, and looks after me like a " Dutch uncle."
His phrases are very funny: one of the most frequent is
" dem sort of kind " for " that sort of thing."  I like the
Dutch. The women are pretty, the men affable, and the
beer is bully! Here 's your " goothel"! We are all
well, and if we had six instead of one month, would be
happy. The nightmare of my provincial tour in England
still haunts me. If I had a decent pen I 'd write more
nonsense, but the only one I have doth beat the Dutch,
and they are hard to beat, specially on their beer -their
beer is Bully (with a big B this time), and don't you forget
it! Here 's your goothel unt your family's, yaw!
Ted.
Skeeters abound, but, as they 're Dutch, I like them.
BINGEN, August 17, I882.
DEAR DAVY:
Take this greeting
From a distant friend of thine:
A friend in far-off Bingen -
Your " Bingen-on-the-Rhine."
Its praise I 've heard you singin'
With many a tipsy tear,
But, Dave, I 'm disappointed
With all, except its beer.
In the midst of these rich vineyards,
I prefer the poor hop-vine,




236


EDWIN BOOTH


Lest I get " boozed " at BingenAt "Bingen-on-the-Rhine."
Yes, still to beer I 'm clingin'And, David, it is fine! -
Altho' not brewed at Bingen,
'T is safer than its wine,
Which sets my wits a-wingin',
Puts my plummet out of line:
Were you ever " boozed " at Bingen(Hic!) "Bingen-on-the-Rhine "?
If you come again, I 'm thinkin'
You '11 be so on its wineI 've drunk all the beer at Bingen -
Beerless " Bingen-on-the-Rhine "!
Confess, now (hic) —no shinin'If "Ya" (hic) don't say "Nein ";
D-n the odds! at Bingen -
(Hic) " Bingen-on-the-Rhine "!
Edwina has gone to bed weeping over this pathetic
effusion, tho' she thinks there's more poetry (!) than truth
in it. She received Aunt Davy's letter, and enjoyed it
very much, and sends love to you both. We had to skip
Amsterdam on account of the dampness of Holland, Edwina suffering from it. So we started for the Rhine at
once, and here we are at Bingen, as you perceive, full of
romantic notions and sich. From Cologne to Coblentz
the trip is very monotonous, the scenery too "samey,"
flat, and uninteresting; but from the latter place to this, in
spite of a heavy storm all day, the shores on both sides
are filled with delightful views. We enjoyed it hugely.
In acknowledgment of the leaf Edwina received, she sends
the inclosed "boquet." To-morrow we go to Heidelberg,
and if possible will take a peep Sunday at old Nuremberg,
one of the most interesting spots in Germany. One night




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


237


our "guide " had no room (the hotel being crowded), and
the maid had two beds in hers. He proposed to "but
zum skreams " around her bed, and take the other, but
she objected, although he promised to lay "kerviet as a
shile" all night. He's a character! Had a letter from
Edwards anent the proposed tour; no more tours for me,
I hope. Will write him Sunday. I am full of achescaught a severe cold in damp Dutchland.  Am very
sorry to lose Amsterdam, the chief city of Holland. How
I should like to tour Europe at my leisure! But I 'm
thankful even for the mere glimpses I get of the various
places we visit.  Good night. God bless you both!
Mother seems to be happy under the new order of things.
Thank God! She won't move to town till October. Best
love to you both.
Ted.
SCARBOROUGH, ENGLAND, Sept. 20, 1882.
DEAR DAVY:
Here 's your snowflower, with a list of the tour.
Yours in acknowledgment of my Bingen epistle just
come. After a smoky week at Sheffield, and a delightful
day at York, we arrived here yesterday-a charming
place. Just on the beach of the German ocean stands a
grand hotel, at which I am now; a splendid house, but
rather too fashionable. I opened to full and fashionable
house last night; but the theatre is so small that very
little money is received. The weather is gloomy, and
that is better for business than if it were fair. It must
be a heavenly place when the sun shines. We had a
stroll about the quaint place and on the beach, and
found the air, in spite of clouds, very soft- more so than
at Newport. Yes, indeed, my Davy; I wish you and I
1 Screens.




238


EDWIN BOOTH


could go back a few years and tramp about old Bingen
and Heidelberg. I could enjoy a month in nearly every
town I have visited in Germany and Switzerland, and
there are many in England that are, to me, full of interest and homely feeling. After we cast our slough,
and the feathers sprout, we may be able to wing our
way about the dear old places; but then we can't indulge in beer! No; I did not visit the brewery, but all
the other spots you speak of I did.
This is only a "shake"; Edwina is going to write
"Aunt Davy," and send her a slip of heather-not from
"Bonnie Scotia," but from near the Duke of Devonshire's place out of Sheffield, I believe: I get mixed at
times about details. Our united loves to you both. I
am happy that you still enjoy your little home; wish
I could "lap" with you to-day. The vision of you two
in the kitchen makes me hungry. Bless you both!
Yours ever,             Ted.
TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
HULL, Oct. 26, I882.
DEAR DAVY:
This sickly looking paper is all I have at hand, with no
envelops.
Yours, with mother's, bouquet from the Branch came
t' other day. She also wrote an account of your good welcome, and she seems to enjoy her new home, but is very
tired, she says. I fear the Boston work won't be worth
the trouble; don't be risking your precious health in such
weather as our falls and winters bring, particularly in
Boston...
My tour continues successful, so far as puffery and enthusiasm go. It is pleasant enough when the sun shines,
which is n't every day. For three weeks I have been in




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


239


ointment and bandages. A dogan stuck me on the stage
one night, and in consequence of my own doctoring I inflamed my blood and reproduced the old poison-ivy effect, though the doctors called it erysipelas; they know
nothing of our hellish weeds in this country.  Both arms
have been swollen, and given me torture by incessant
itching; but I have got pretty well over the trouble now...My girl is well and happy, and sends love to all
of you; " me too." This is a dirty, busy town, and quite
small.  The audiences are quiet and appreciative, applauding warmly and " in the proper places, too." But the
men all keep their hats on.  It looks jolly queer.  Next
week I shall spend in Leeds, where I am told the theatre
surpasses any we have in America. I go to Dublin from
there, but I do not like the idea of even a short sea-trip at
this season, as the Channel is generally rough and the
winds violent. Two weeks there, and the worst part of
my tour will be ended. I thought of spending a few
weeks' vacation (before going to Germany) in Rome, but
the journey there, and then to Berlin, would be too fatiguing, so I shall go to a few near-by places in England,
and fetch up in Paris for a rest..
Ah, my boy, I wish I could hop o'er the sea and stew
a bit wi' ye, but I have Yorkshire "poodang" for dinner,
and carn't to-day.
In York they never heard of "Yorkshire pudding"!
and a " Welsh rabbit " in Wales is a stranger! Dinner's
ready! Bye-bye!                            Ted.
TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
LEEDS, Nov. 4, I882.
DEAR DAVY:... We start for Dublin to-morrow, 7 A. M., and
cross the Channel in a storm, I fear; for it has rained,




240


EDWIN BOOTH


and hailed, and howled here all the week. A most dismal place, with the grandest theatre I ever saw anywhere,
except the Paris Opera House. It is superb and empty
all the time: had what they call here a good house last
night, but-!
What a lucky burn the Park Theatre was for Wallack;
better for Langtry, too, as it has turned out. Mother
writes cheerfully, and is much pleased with her dollhouse.
Feel measly to-day, and expect to be dreadfully seasick
to-morrow, for I am bilious.
God bless you!        Ted.
MANCHESTER, November 26, I882.
DEAR DAVY:
Yours, just after your return from the "provincial
tour," caught me here the day I arrived-last Sunday,
just a week ago. Business, like the weather, very bad
until last night, when Richard drew more money than
I have taken any night on the tour. A good one-night
stand is Manchester. I am mighty glad of your success
in Boston, and am glad, too, that you were not tempted
to quit your little "snuggery" for "the road," or even the
killing climate of Boston. Since we met I have become
a "forty-niner," as you doubtless know. I touched that
notch in Dublin, my beauty. You and I were in
Melbourne on my twenty-first birthday! I did what
they call splendidly in Dublin, two weeks, and left to
increasing business. The boys in front were quiet
enough during the play; spoke to me once or twice,
I believe, but I did not experience any of the old-time
fun I have heard and read about. In this hotel we have
the best cooking and a greater variety of food yet found
in England. A fine, busy city, beautiful theatre, and




EDWIN BOOTH AS "RICHELIEU." FROM A PAINTING BY JOHN COLLIER, R. A.


I ' ',








LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


24I


excellent hotel; and I shall be glad to get away from
'em all! The weather has been beastly. It always is
here, they say; it 's called the "watering-pot" of England. After three weeks I shall have a month's rest, but
don't know now where we '11 go. Have had several invitations from big folks here-one from John Bright's
brother Jacob, to pass this day at his place near by.
But I was too tired to go, and declined all the courtesies
offered me. Did you get a Chinese journal from me
while in Germany? It contained just such reading as
you 'd enjoy by the range, behind your pipe. I wish
Abbey had a permanent berth for you in New York, but
not at his Park. Will he rebuild?...
Now it is drawing close to my girl's "twenty-firster."
Think of it! She joins me in love to you both. God
bless you! Don't "lap" all that stew; I 'm coming.. Adieu.                                 Ted.
LONDON, Dec. 21, 1882.
DEAR DAVY:
It seems so long since I heard from or wrote to you
that I forget when. I know that I intended to send you
a Christmas card, and did n't; so here it is, though it be
late, not untimely, nor yet unwelcome, let me hope..
Next Wednesday we start for Berlin by easy stages, and
expect to arrive by January I; then as soon as possible my rehearsals will begin, and continue to the I5th,
when I open, and shut, too, perhaps. It may be a startling
fizzle.  Saw "Much Ado" - the finest production, in
every respect, I ever saw.  Terry is Beatrice herself;
Irving's conception and treatment of the part are excellent.
It's worth crossing the sea to see, D. C.
Keep dat hash hot till I git dar!
Mother says she has not seen you often of late; I fear
the dear old soul would be lonely anywhere..
x6




242


EDWIN BOOTH


TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
BERLIN, January 29, I883.
DEAR DAVE:
Yours announcing your appointment as treasurer came
some days ago. By this time you know all about my
success here; 't is solid. Glad you had happy Christmas
and New Year's. So had we, in a measure; but since
then we have had a gloomy sort of time.... Yes,
Davy, take the Den and keep it-I hope mother will do
likewise, if she likes her quarters. She told me of the
pleasant evening you all had... There 's a howler
(female) on this floor with us-yelling now. Glad you
are rid of your cold; I am suffering with a terrible one
now, and feel hardly able to get through this scrawl. The
death of the emperor's brother has upset my "Royalty"
business.  I would have been presented to the "Imperials" at a fete that some nobs were getting up, but
the court is in mourning now, and will be till I leave
Berlin. Next week I shall play lago and Othello a few
nights, and wind up with Hamlet. I shall be glad when
I get through with this tour-it is terrible work, as I
have mentally to recite in English what the Germans are
saying, in order to make the speeches fit.
Our love to you both.                    Ted.
HAMBURG, February 18, 1883.
DEAR DAVE:
Tell mother that as Edwina has just written to her, I
will let mine go over to next " Sonntag," and what I may
chance to say that Edwina has not, you can repeat to
her. My success is, if possible, increased here; the people
(and, I am told, the press) seem wild over me. The stage



LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


243


director (77), your very counterpart (I call him "Uncle
Dave"; he played Polonius with me, too), who was pupil to Ludwig Devrient (Germany's greatest tragedian),
hugs me, kisses my hand, and calls me "Meister." The
manager, who saw and well remembers Talma, does the
same, and both declare me their equal. Much for two old
fogies to admit. The actors and actresses weep and kiss
galore also, and the audience last night formed a passage
from the lobby to my carriage till I was in and off; yet I was
nearlyan hour in the theatre after the play ("Lear"). Having had a surfeit of public applause,-for it seems as though
I had it through father, being with him so long,- the
most is but as little to me; but this personal enthusiasm
from actors, old and young, is a new experience, and
still stimulates me strangely. I feel more like acting than
I have felt for years, and wish I could keep it up here
in Germany for six months at least; but alas! my time is
limited, and the old man waxeth weary in his "j'ints."
You 've heard ere this about the silver wreath and the
press testimonial in Berlin; had to make my usual
speech. Think of acting five acts of tragedy without a
hand!... merely a subdued "Bravo!" now and then;
but when the drop falls, call after call and "Bravos!" by
the bushel make it up. I dare say applause (if I ever get
it) in the midst of a scene will confuse me hereafter. A
son of Carl Formes, the once great basso,-now in New
York,-is my Grave-digger and Fool, an excellent actor,
the best in this company. I play here to-morrow and
Wednesday only (four performances), and then go to
Bremen.... Tell Edwards that I received his letter,
and congratulate him sincerely, but that I have such a
load of correspondence, and am so fatigued, and have so
little leisure, that I can give him no further acknowledgment than this. Love to "Aunt Louisa" when you see
her, and tell her Edwina and I both thank her "heaps"




244


EDWIN BOOTH


for her Christmas "kurds." This is a lovely and most interesting town, something like Geneva, and the hotel is
first-rate in every respect. Food is excellent, and the air
is doing us both a deal of good. Our love to you both
and all the dear ones. I am afraid I will lose Vienna; the
theatre bust, and time at others is filled. I may have to
go to Frankfort, where I gave "Two thousand ducats"
that "Jessica" stole from me.
Gute Nacht.        Ted.
HANOVER, March 8, I883.
DEAR DAVY:
Only a few words of "how d'ye do" and God bless
you; I am tired and full of aches to-night.  Can't remember when I last wrote to you or had a letter from you,
but mother tells me you are both well, and that 's comfort. Success continues, but no more silver wreaths since
Bremen, though flowers, laurels, and ribbons galore. I
stop here a week; then, after several days' rest, go to Leipsic; another two weeks' rest, and then for Vienna, where
I close what I regard as the most important engagement of my life. I wish I had a full year to revisit the
places I have been to, and to play other parts, but I
must rest satisfied with what I 've got, though the managers are all asking me to return. Cold and clear,
with an inch of snow, after two or three days of sleet
and slush.
Love to you both and all my folks.... Write long,
and tell me all the news. I 'm in the dark here; can't
read Dutch, and seldom see other papers. God bless you
both!
Ted.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


245


VIENNA, April 9, 1883.
DEAR DAVY:
You see I have not lost Vienna after all. My first two
roles did not seem to take the critics fully, although the
people were enthused, and I had many private commendations sent me; but as Lear, Saturday, the crowded house
went wild, and all the papers yesterday and to-day are
full of my triumph, and even begin to hint at a repetition
of Hamlet and Othello.  It seems the impression left
by those parts was stronger than they at first realized.
The result is a renewal of my engagement, and all the
tickets are gone for to-night. I shall not stay longer than
a week, however; for I want rest, and have little time to
visit the places I have promised Edwina that she shall see
- old Nuremberg, particularly. Poor old Judah! 1 She
must have been very old; I remember her from my earliest
days. The Easter cards are lovely, and came on timeblessings in return for them. Hope you are both well
and relish your victuals again. The climate of this beautiful city is worse than ours; snow and heat of summer, rain and cold winds, during a single day on several
occasions.
Have seen some excellent comedy and domestic acting;
but tragedians are on leave of absence, and I shall not
have a chance to see any of the great ones. The operas
are splendidly done in every particular; we have heard
Lucca three times, and to-night she comes to hear me
sing(!). Did you ever? You oughter, if you have n't.... Love to the dame. God bless her and her Davy!
Edwina, of course, joins me in all kind messages; she 's
well. Our loves to all up-stairs. Dinner is served, and I
must leave. Adieu. With love,
Yours forever,          Ted.
1 Mrs. Judah, a well-known actress.
~6*




246


EDWIN BOOTH


TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
PARIS, April 27, 1883.
WELL, DAVY:
Here I are! All my sojer clothes in London, stored
away till I sail, June 9. Believe me, my boy, I am jolly
glad to have a little rest after so much hard work and
excitement. My wind up at Vienna was a triumph, and
they urged me to remain longer, but I had accomplished
all I could do there, and decided to quit. We stopped at
quaint old Nuremberg, at Frankfort, and at Metz, to
ease up the long trip from Vienna to this city, where
we arrived at about eleven o'clock Wednesday night.
Found lots of letters at my banker's, one from mother and
your paper she sent.
I wonder if Salvini is aware of the proposition he is
said to have made me? Had just ten minutes of dear old
Bingen-to change tracks —after we left Frankfort; then
we left the Rhine and followed the Nar through a beautiful country till after dark.  All that I have seen of
Germany is beautiful. All that I have seen of France,
except Paris, is otherwise; the country is flat and uninteresting; perhaps in the south it may be "La belle
France," but not where I have been. I see that the
scenes and "props" of Booth's are sold to some up-town
show-shop, and that May I will terminate the theatrical
career of my "Folly."... Have declined all offers for
next season in England and America-don't know what
I shall do until I get settled in some sort of a house in
New York.... Paris is now very full and gay; the
season is just begun, and the weather is-or was-delightful ('t is raining at this moment). All the hotels are
full, and we have pretty little rooms about as big as
yours, but not so cozy and clean, facing the Tuileries




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


247


Garden: there is very little left of the old palace. We
had the same rooms last year, after our tour in Switzerland. Bernhardt has just stopped acting, and there is
nothing important at the theatres, so I shall do very little
in that line.... This is a mean sort of letter, but I am
very tired, and 't is the best I can do for you to-night; 't is
full of our loves for you both, however, so take it kindly.
Will write to mother Sunday, as usual. Dear love to her
and the family.      Ever yours,           Ted.
TO MISS MARY L. BOOTH.
36 EAST TWENTIETH STREET, June 2, I883.
MY DEAR MISS BOOTH:
Forgive my delay in thanking you most cordially for
your kind congratulations and heartfelt welcome home.
I have hardly had an hour's rest since my return, and
have been only occasionally in town. When we decide
where we will settle here, in October next, I hope to
have the pleasure of seeing both you and Miss Wright.
For the present, can only renew my sincere thanks. In
great haste.      Faithfully yours,
Edwin Booth.
TO DAVID C. ANDERSON.
NEWPORT, October 5, 1883.
DEAR DAVY:.I '11 tell you before I go to roost that the lovely
little slippers for my "petites tootsenfootsens " arrived just
as I started for Boston-whither daughter and I went
for a couple of days to look at our new home and to




248


EDWIN BOOTH


settle the particulars of sale, etc. We are both delighted
with it; so am I, and Edwina too. It is very jolly here
with the old Franklin ablaze, on either side of which we
(Edwina and I) sit and plan and spin fairy webs of future
happiness. Poor little girl, she has had her full measure
of pain for one so young and fragile, and I hope that
from this henceforth her life will be a gladsome one....
We are packing, and will start for New York Saturday
instead of the 20th, as I told you; it is better to have at
least three weeks in New York before I act. A terrible
storm here during our absence damaged the parlor and
bedrooms on that side; had I been here-!
Mother tells me it is very cold, but that she will stay
ten days longer...  Good night; love for both.
Ted.
P. S. There! I never said "Thankee, marm" for the
slickers. Mean cuss! Mucheedankee alleesamee. They
are lovely and little; I can get nearly all my toes in
them; but they polish the floors with all their soles. Sleepy.
Goo' ni'.                          Kugznrrrrrrrr!
TO MRS. F. C. EWER.1
42 EAST TWENTY-FIFTH STREET, Oct. 28, 1883.
MY DEAR MRS. EWER:
Although I have been silent on the subject so sacred to
us all, believe me, my sympathy is as profound and sincere as that which has been proffered you in words.
The sudden departure of my dear friend so soon after the
loss of my poor brother, and other sad experiences of late,
confused me so that not till I received by chance infor

1 Widow of the Rev. F. C. Ewer, to whose kindness I am indebted for the above
letters.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


249


mation of the fund about to be raised for yourself and children could I think of the sad happenings of the past few
months with other than selfish feelings.
I trust that you will not deem me indelicate or officious
in offering you some little assistance in your present embarrassment-the only aid that man can give to those
who receive in full abundance the consolation which I
know you have from Him who alone can heal the wounds
that His wisdom inflicts.
While subscribing to the fund, I desire also to render
some immediate assistance to those so dear to him who
was dear to me, and I beg that you will not deny me the
privilege of doing for you what he would have done for
mine in similar circumstances.
With profound respect and sincerest sympathy, believe
me, dear Mrs. Ewer,
Faithfully yours,  Edwin Booth.
TO WILLIAM BISPHAM.
BOSTON, November I8, I883.
DEAR WILL:.. I have had a splendid engagement, and the close
promises to be great, but I 've had to endure the tortures
of dyspepsia all the while until to-night; to-morrow, when I
resume work, I shall, no doubt, be again in agony, but I am
very thankful for this day's respite. I lunched at Aldrich's
to-day, and gorged my first square meal since I left home;
and as a doctor told me to be cautious in my diet, no
doubt I shall regret my indiscretion. [Matthew] Arnold,
[Charles Dudley] Warner, [Mark] Twain, [Oliver Wendell] Holmes, and [W. D.] Howells were the party, and
the feast was royal, as you may suppose; I both listened
and ate my fill.... I expect to dine at Pittsfield Thanks



250


EDWIN BOOTH


giving,-turkey-day,-and, if I can, will run over to
Boothden before my return to York...
I am fifty since I saw you, so old Time declares, but
I don't believe it. Maybe I will, and I did,- under the
pressure of indigestion,-but at this writing I feel fif-teen,
not fif-tee. We have had lots of life here, and it does the
daughter good in every way..
Our kindest regards to your wife and Miss Wood-you,
too. I shall be very glad to see the studio you speak of.
Good night.       Yours ever,           Ned.
TO MRS. F. C. EWER.
29 CHESTNUT STREET, BOSTON, June 8, 1884.
MY DEAR MRS. EWER:
I was greatly pleased with the very welcome letter,
and such interesting views, you kindly sent me, and for
which I am sincerely thankful. Edwina and I both regret
not seeing any of you before we left, but everything was
so hurried and confused with us for several weeks prior to
our departure that calling was deferred from day to day,
until, as is usually the case, all opportunity had passed;
consequently our friends were unavoidably slighted.
I found your son's card on my return to my rooms one
evening, and fully intended to say good-bye to you, if to
none else, the next day; but did not, although I felt it all
the same.
I cannot think of our dear and noble one as absent. I
would not if I could. A fine photograph he gave me a
few years ago stands on the shelf in my bedroom, where
I cannot avoid seeing him each night when I retire, and
every morning when I rise. His love for me was very
true and deep, and its memory is as dear to me as are the
" ruddy drops that visit my sad heart."




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


25I


Any little precious trifle that my friend may have frequently used-his pipe, for instance (if not too dear to
part with) -would be prized most tenderly by me. I mention the pipe because of the happy smokes we had together; but anything that you may prefer to give me I
will be grateful for.
I hope your new home is a comfortable one, and that it
may be for many years the abode of happiness to you and
your children.
Edwina sends her dearest love, and when the many
cares that for the time oppress her have become less
absorbing, she will write to your daughter, if she has not
already done so.
With cordial friendship,
Yours faithfully, Edwin Booth.
TO WILLIAM BISPHAM.
BOSTON, 29 Chestnut street, June 20, 1884.
DEAR WILL:
Your wife and Edwina have corresponded on the sad
occurrence of your recent affliction, and her letter (Edwina's) was as from us both to both of you. 'T is a terrible blow to the poor mother, whose grief you all share,
and for whom my profoundest sympathy is excited.
I have not had energy enough to answer your last, deferring it from day to day until now, and now I have
nothing to say in response, except that I hope Miller got
through without my help, and that the cooler is as cheerfully presented to mama as to her boy and girl. I hope
it will be a service and a comfort to the old lady; my
respects to her, to your wife and your blessed old self.
Good night.               Yours ever,
Ned.




252


EDWIN BOOTH


TO MRS F. C. EWER.
BOOTHDEN, NEWPORT, R. I., July 13, I884.
MY DEAR MRS. EWER:
I had no opportunity to acknowledge the receipt of the
precious package you kindly sent, and which reached me
just as I was leaving my Boston house for a visit to Sag
Harbor, Greenwich, and New York, before coming hither.
I was obliged to place the articles in a convenient drawer,
and hurry off to catch my train. I looked at them with
satisfaction, took your letter with me, and, after reading it,
put it with several others in my pocket, where it remained
untouched until I overlooked my apparel, after getting
things in order here.
I shall not be able to smoke the pipe or read the book
till I return to Boston, when I shall enjoy both to my
heart's content, I am sure, and the little wallet shall take
the place of one that I now carry. I am happy to know
that you have such consolation in the friendship of those
who loved the dear one gone before, and you must be
sure that your own virtues have bound them the firmer
to you.
Edwina has been considerably fatigued and not at all
well the last few weeks, but we are now settled at home
by the sea, whose breezes already begin to show their
beneficial effects on her. She joins me in sincere regards,
and sends her love to both yourself and your daughter.
With renewed thanks for the souvenirs of my dear
friend, I am, faithfully,
Edwin Booth.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


253


TO WILLIAM BISPHAM.
BOOTHDEN, NEWPORT, August 25, 1884.
DEAR WILL:
Thanks for your recipe, and for your good advice
also, neither of which, however, have I lately had occasion to use. Nevertheless, both seem to have cured me.
I hope both Mrs. Bispham and you will come, and
come before it is too cold to sail. I have bought a lovely
and a lively little yacht, and to-morrow I '11 go with her
to the pier [Narragansett], where we have a charming
little Hungarian friend who was with us last week, and
whom we accompanied thither last week. Now, if the
sky is clear, and we have a breeze, we intend to surprise
her by an unannounced " call."
I expected Jefferson to-day, but he can't come until
Wednesday, and his stay will be curtailed, and my anticipated pleasure of fishing and picnicking with him and his
folk is dashed.
Edwina is in excellent condition, and we both wish
often that you were on the yacht, and could stay for
ya'ars and ya'ars.
Good night. Both of our loves to both of you's.
Yours ever,
Edwin.
TO WILLIAM BISPHAM.
NEWPORT, October 12, 1884.
DEAR WILL:
We missed you at the "corner-stone" yesterday. It
was a great success; about one hundred were present,
and when the bishop suggested a collection for the completion of the building, the amount needed, some five or




254


EDWIN BOOTH


six hundred dollars, was subscribed. Mrs. King and her
sons gave most of it. Edwina will give a window, and I
believe there are two others promised. It was a lovely
day, and after the ceremonies about twenty folks, with
the bishop and two clergymen, came to our den and
lunched. I wish you too could have been with us. I
was surprised to see myself announced for Berlin to the
day; wonder if I 'm going? One has to consult the
papers nowadays to ascertain his private intentions. I
hardly think this report is true, for I think I shall be acting somewhere en route to Boston at the time statedFebruary next.
Daughter joins me in love for you both.
At last we have rain; the earth is parched, yet my
place has been green and fresh through it all.
Ever yours,
Edwin.
TO WILLIAM BISPHAM.
BOSTON, November 23, I884.
DEAR WILL:
Early and late rehearsals and hard night work have
prevented my writing to you since the receipt of your
letter anent Ficken and the notes and queries. The
former is of more importance than the latter just now.
I know that he is busy, and he may defer the design till too
late; I believe the church will be ready early in the spring.
If it is likely to be a bother ('t is such a comparatively unimportant thing), and interferes with his greater work, it
had better be sent elsewhere. Of course I 'd rather he 'd
do it, but I don't want to bore him with such a small job.
We are settled, and feel at home and cozy. Have just
returned from a little sociable at Mrs. James T. Field's,
where we had a very pleasant evening.
Hope you will be coming this way soon, and will




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


255


"pipe" here. Thursday I 've asked some folks to turkey with us,-the Aldrichs and others,-and hope to
hear that Hutton will fill the "left" stool at table.
Edwina joins me in dearest regards for you both.
Ned.
TO HORACE H. FURNESS.
Monday.
DEAR FURNESS:
A sleepless night caused me to keep my bed till after
one o'clock, and I am drowsy still.
I sent my dresser to explain and leave my apology
about noon. Am really sorry to miss my usual chat
with you. To-morrow we dine with your brother. Shall
I call on you first?
If the weather is at all decent, and you care to see a
portion of the play to-night, I will be happy to see you
at "Dunsinane."
Inclosed are tickets for Polly's box, and full of old
Daddy Lear's love for her.
Adieu.          Tiredly yours,
E. B.
TO DR. THOMAS W. PARSONS.
Thursday.
MY DEAR MR. PARSONS:
Pray forgive my negligence this morning when your
card came. I was very busy, and I told the bearer to
excuse me to the sender, without looking at the card.
Some time after I did look at the card, and was mad
enough to kick myself for my stupidity.
I hope to see you, as I always do when I come to
Boston; but to-day I will be busy with a rehearsal, and
afterward I go to some reception with my daughter.
Scrawled in great haste, but with sincere regards, by
Yours faithfully,  Edwin Booth.




256


EDWIN BOOTH


TO W. H. P. PHYFE.
BOSTON, April 30, '85.
W. H. P. PHYFE, ESQ.
Dear Sir: First thanking you for your book, which
has interested me, let me correct your impression that
I am well acquainted with the principles of the art of
pronunciation. I am not. But I can see enough in
your skilful treatment of the subject to appreciate its
value and to indorse your work as a most serviceable
aid to all who wish to speak our language correctly.
Yours truly,     Edwin Booth.
TO HORACE H. FURNESS.
29 CHESTNUT STREET, BOSTON, May 12, I885.
MY DEAR FURNESS:
Ever since I left you I have been pacing the " Rialto," my
gaberdine wrapped about me,' but with eyes fixed on the
"Sagittary." In other words, I have been thinking more
of lago than of Shylock. In Act III I made some remark
regarding Desdemona's boldness which, I 'm sure, does
not express my opinion of her. I was lago when I wrote
it, not my cold-blooded self; his opinion of the " guineahen " influenced me when I said " she was bolder than her
father supposed." My own notion is that in the very extravagance of innocence she exclaimed impulsively, I wish
"that Heaven had made me such a man," not appreciating
the dangerous nature of her words; and even when she
said, "if I had a friend that loved her," etc., it was in
courtesy-not inconsistent with the paddling of palms,
1 At Mr. Furness's desire, my father had aided him in compiling his Variorum
on Shakspere's plays, by explaining many subtle points in his own interpretation
of Shaksperian characters.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


257


which was a common custom of the time, and thought
innocent-except by Iago. I think that Othello, as guileless and impulsive as Desdemona, mistook her meaning for
his "cue," or "hint," to speak. I am sure, too, that she
burned with shame when she realized what she had unconsciously done in the way of wooing, and maybe cried
herself to sleep that night; but for all that she did not
refuse the suit of him whose mental beauty was affined to
her own. She saw Othello's visage in his mind; had she
not been similarly endowed she might have been fascinated, as school-girls are by actors, preachers, and the like,
asked for his autograph, giggled, and said " Yes "- to repent at leisure. She never repented her love and marriage,
not tho' it killed her father: even in her own death she
was firm in her devotion to him to whose " honors and
valiant parts" she had consecrated her very soul. (I
might say something here anent the "marriage of true
minds," but I forget the passage.) She was not the
darling " daisy " we see upon the stage, in white satin of
the latest cut, and wax pearls, gabbling the precious text
by rote; but a true woman, with a mind of her own, a
deathly devotion to the man of her choice, and as pure and
artless as a baby. 'T is absurd for me to say this to you,
who know more of Shakspere in a moment than I 've
learned in thirty years; but that note of mine (or rather
lago's comment on it) distresses me, and I want you to
understand me rightly. I am slow at expression, and get
awfully mixed at times, frequently conveying the very
opposite idea to what I intend, and often forget the very
gist of my subject. But this you will understand and believe of me: if my notions concerning the two characters
of Shakspere that I have given any thought to " have any
power to move you" to the pursuit of your great object,
I am happily rewarded, and ask " no doit of usance " for
my twaddle in the form of commendation, other than
17




258


EDWIN BOOTH


your own, privately given, proud as I would be if merely
glanced at in the progress of your work. Now 't is daylight, and I am going to bed, with my gaberdine about
me, and will cuddle up with Shylock till I lose him in
sleep. I wish I could describe to you the white-lipped,
icy smile, the piercing glance at Othello's half-averted
face, and the eager utterance with which my father spoke
the lines, "Ay, there 's the point: as to be bold with
you," etc., but I cannot; and if I could at any time, I
would not attempt to do so now - I am too sleepy.
You made Edwina happy to-day. I think she wrote
her acknowledgment of your beautiful gift. My love to
" Polly, the dearest craft in the world," and to her papa
and big brother. Present my compliments to Miss Logan, I prythee, and believe me ever and for aye,
Thine own,      Edwin Booth.
P. S. Though I have failed to mention, I have not forgotten, your good brother and his wife, to whom my
kindest regards.
TO MISS J. L. GILDER.
29 CHESTNUT STREET, BOSTON, May 27, 1885.
MY DEAR MISS GILDER:
Some weeks ago I was rash enough to promise you
that I would consider the suggestion you then made
relative to my undertaking a literary effort in the way of
a preface or introduction to some dramatic work you
are about to edit.
I have considered the subject thoroughly, and am
more convinced now than ever before that my little
talent lies not in that direction, and that it would be the
height of folly in me to attempt it. Believe me, if it were
possible for me to produce the least tolerable article, you
should have it, and I would be vainer of its acceptance




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


259


by you than any theatrical success has made me. But,
alas! I must plod along in my beaten, narrow path, nor
turn aside to gather other bays than those within the
limit assigned me by the mimetic art. This, I am sure,
you are convinced of, and will forgive, I hope, the weakness which prompted me to promise that I would even
consider the possibility of my undertaking a task so entirely beyond my ability to accomplish.
Forgive my delay in communicating with you on this
subject. I have recently had many distractions, which
have prevented me from many important duties. Trusting this may cause no serious inconvenience, I am
Sincerely and with great respect
Very truly yours,    Edwin Booth.
TO HORACE H. FURNESS.
NEWPORT, June 30, 1885.
MY DEAR FURNESS:... Since Edwina's departure, I have been somewhat depressed, of course, although I have received frequent assurances from her that she is well and very
happy, and many friends have, by visits and invitations,
done much to distract my thoughts - too much, indeed,
for I have not had an opportunity to give any attention
to Shylock.
I fear that I can be of no service to you in dealing
with the "Merchant." Somehow I can feel no sort of
inspiration or spirituality in the atmosphere of that play.
Shylock seems so earthy that the little gleams of light that
I have perceived while acting some other parts are absent,
and I can see no more than what is clear to the "naked
eye." However, I will tug at him during the summer;
in the mean time let me be assured that you are bravely
and cheerfully "pegging away" at "Othello."




260


EDWIN BOOTH


For the first time in several weeks I am alone; a batch
of guests left me this afternoon, and for three days I
shall be free to answer a vast number of letters that have
been accumulating till they "dread " me.
Give my love, with a kiss, to the dear little girl, and to
your father my sincere sympathy and condolences.
Affectionately yours,  Edwin Booth.
TO HORACE H. FURNESS.
NEWPORT, August 12, I885.
MY DEAR FURNESS:
For many days and nights your neglected letters have
glared reproachfully at me, as I have sat listlessly at my
desk, promising to answer them "to-morrow, and tomorrow, and to-morrow." In vain have I endeavored
to conjure up the spirit, though I have long longed to
write to you. Many guests and many visits have deprived me of the quiet dream-time I hoped to have this
summer, consequently I have not been able to do anything for Shylock. I must be in "harness " for that sort
of work. But I 'm really afraid that I can render little
service to you in that part. I 've had no " fancies " while
acting it. I may, perhaps, be able to give you a few traditional bits of "stage business"-nothing more.
Of course I forgot to erase "Montano," and give the
line to one of the gentlemen, as you supposed.
Your note on father's reading of the passage in the
third act is excellently put; and what you say of the
pain upon my forehead is decidedly correct; one would
not say a pain upon his heart. I must use a different
tone of voice and gesture from what I have employed for
that line. After "I '11 not believe it," I have spoken
what follows very tenderly, or sadly, rather, until (after




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


26I


leaving her as going to the dinner within) " Come, I '11
go in with thee," when my voice and manner change,
showing the fullest confidence, etc. In the other instance
I fancied that my emphasis got me out of the difficulty:
"Not knowing what is stol'n... let him not know
it," etc. But this may be grossly wrong. I thought, too,
that the repetition of a word was of frequent occurrence
in Shakspere. I like your "missing" better than "lacking," but anything rather than "wanting." I am glad that
you are progressing so bravely with " Othello." Do as
you please with my notes, and don't consider me in the
least in any way. I am only too happy to know that I
have rendered you the little aid which you so generously
acknowledge; that 's all I hoped for, and you have amply
repaid me....
Please give Walter my loving thanks for his valuable
and interesting gift, which all who have seen it covet.
Did not Mrs. Furness publish her " Concordance " to the
Sonnets, or were they printed merely for private circulation? If the former, where can I get the book? Give
the "Tomboy," from me, more kisses than the birds she
bagged, with a father's " God bless her." My own darling
sends frequent and loving messages, and promises to be
home by September 20. I long for her return.
What you say of your father is very beautiful; pray
remember me most kindly to him.
To thee and all thy household, peace and benediction.
Yours ever,     Edwin Booth.
P. S. I wish you could be here for a few days with me.
NEWPORT, September 9, 1885.
MY DEAR FURNESS:
On my return from Greenwich, yesterday, I found the
"Concordance " and two notes from you. Thanking you
X7*




262


EDWIN BOOTH


most cordially for the former, I hasten to answer the
queries of the latter-so far as I am able to do so; the
chances are that I will make a worse mess of the matter
than as it stands at present.
Act I, scene III-I think it better to omit the
scene, as it is given in my prompt-book version of the
play. Only a few lines of it are usually spoken by the
Duke, but at Booth's Theatre I introduced all the dialogue between the senators, in a front scene, for the purpose of setting the senate-room behind; but since then I
have omitted it and dropped the curtain at
" Bond slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be."
I am afraid that the prompt-book is confusing, for, if
I remember rightly, there are several transpositions; I
have no copy with me to refer to. The setting of the
stage, Act III, is meager according to prompt-book;
but I rely upon scenery, furniture, "props" that each
theatre may afford. Sometimes the scene is elaborately
set: at Booth's the stage was filled with appropriate articles, such as bales of goods, a cannon, flag-staffs, etc.;
for there I played the scene in front of the castle, simply
because I wished to save stage waits, and really had no
time to construct a proper interior. I have changed all
that. I emphasize "cause"; but I agree with White —
it is a puzzling line, to me at least.
I think Roderigo should be disguised, and at Irving's
theatre the actor did wear a beard after the first act.
But as reference to it is omitted in the acting versions,
and as Cassio and Roderigo do not meet except in a
drunken quarrel (they do not carouse together), and as
lago says, "Cassio knows you not," the disguise seems unnecessary; but it should be worn, for I think his threat
to make himself known to Desdemona refers to that.  I
1 The late Mr. Richard Grant White, the noted Shaksperian scholar.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


263


had forgotten Gould's reference to father's use of the handkerchief; all I can say of it is- G. is wrong: father never
did anything of the kind. I formerly did, and G. got confused, supposing I followed my father's business closely.
I reminded him of several points which had escaped his
memory (some of them, too, were the most striking) in
more than one play. Since Gould has noted this point
so particularly, it would be better to let my "note " pass
out, I think. I must have been very much mixed in the
last scene, if I said the noise refers to the street fight. I
think it means the noise of Desdemona's struggle with
Othello, and their voices during it (Irving referred it to
Emilia's knocking). "Shall she come in?  She (Emilia)
must have heard Desdemona's cries and Othello's angry
voice- " The noise was high," etc.
I'm glad you changed "ottoman " to " divan "; I could not
think of the proper word. As for the fight between Cassio and Roderigo, I am in a snarl: I did not think of the
danger to lago that Roderigo's trial would cause. He disabled Cassio to aid Roderigo in killing him; he was the
most important obstacle to be removed from his path, and
he " took the chances " to be rid of Roderigo later, if Cassio
failed to kill him. lago is determined that Cassio must die
that night, but it seems to me that he regards Roderigo's
case of less importance -as something to be disposed of
afterward. This is all that I can do to wriggle out of that
difficulty, and I 'm afraid I 've made the matter worse.
I 've had little opportunity this summer for thinking of
serious affairs, having had a succession of visitors when
not making visits; whenever a calm occurred, I was too
weary to read or write-indeed, I have answered most
of my correspondence by telegraph, to spare myself the
labor of writing letters.
I can well understand how much you must have suffered all this while. God bless and comfort you!




264


EDWIN BOOTH


Shylock haunts me like a nightmare: I can't mount
the animal -for such I consider Shylock to be.
I made an effort to get at him through G. F. Cooke's
notes on his own acting of the part, and was surprised to
find how he was influenced by tradition. He acknowledged having followed Macklin in much that he was
praised for in this part, and I 've no doubt that Macklin
followed his predecessors - I mean those who performed
Shylock before it was made a farce of by Lord Lansdowne,
or whoever it was that doctored the play. My effort was
a vain one. I will try again before the "call-boy" summons me to work.
I hope you will have remembered to send me the phototype you kindly promised for the "Concordance" - I
shall prize it very dearly.  A son of Dr. Francis who
had Cooke's skull-you may remember-sent me a tooth
of the great George Frederick, which I shall have set in
the frame of an ivory miniature which Cooke had painted
for old "Bobby" Maywood, who, as you know, was an
early manager in Philadelphia. His daughter gave it me
many years ago.
My love goes with this for you and all who are dear to
you.               Forever thine,  Edwin Booth.
TO MR. BENJAMIN C. MIFFLIN.
D   S      28 EAST I9TH STREET, Jan'y 5, I886.
DEAR SIR:
Pardon my delay in acknowledging your favor of Dec.
26. I appreciate your kindness, and thank you for sending me the article.
The editor's remarks upon it were very just. I deserved a
kick for torturing my friend with Miss C —'s contortions.
Please present my compliments to Col. Bartlett, and
believe me,     Very sincerely yours,  E. Booth.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


265


TO COLONEL LAWRENCE.
February 15, I886.
DEAR COLONEL LAWRENCE:
I regret not seeing you. I found your card with no
address, and therefore have not been able to acknowledge
your call (I never dream of looking in the directory till
some one suggests it); having obtained it from your
brother, I now apologize for my seeming indifference,
and ask your aid in forwarding the accompanying letter
to "little" Launt. I have not his mother's address. I
have not seen or heard of Launt for a very long time -
not since the summer when he visited me at Newport.
I was delighted to see Mrs. Lawrence and Gertrude in
Boston, but regretted that I could show them no hospitality, or even the courtesy of calling on them, my time
being so occupied and my daughter so unwell.
I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing you before I
leave the city.     Truly yours,
Edwin Booth.
TO HORACE H. FURNESS.
29 CHESTNUT STREET, BOSTON, March 23, i886.
DEAR FURNESS:
I send with this the volume containing my dear friend
Ewer's story of "Spiritism."  Mrs. Ewer sent it by her
son the day after my arrival in New York, but he would
not leave it with the servant. Not receiving it, as according to her note I should have done, I wrote her
again, fearing the book was lost. I received it here, and
have read the story; it may not be of service to you, but
I send it at all events. Will you kindly return it to Mrs.
E., New York, and charge me expressage?




266


EDWIN BOOTH


I '11 pay you when we meet again. Mrs. E. says that
her husband deeply regretted what he termed a young
man's folly in dealing so unjustly with so good a man as
Judge E. It may be of use.
Give my love to dear Polly, to W., and their papa,
with compliments to Miss L.    Yours ever,
Edwin Booth.
TO
ST. PAUL, Sept. 30, I886.
DEAR N.:
I received all your letters-three; but as I have
been flying about from town to town, living in a trunk, as
it were, I thought I would wait till I reached Chicago,
where I shall be fixed for two weeks, before I began any
correspondence with any one except my daughter, to
whom I write often.
I am very happy, dear N., that my little aid was so
timely, and I thank God that you came foremost to my
mind as I read the fearful news. Had I dreamed, however, that my letter would be published, I would have
worded it more carefully; but I know you did it for the
best, and perhaps the publicity of it induced others to "chip
in."... God grant the danger and trouble are past!
This hotel ink and paper are vexatious; if my business
continues good I '11 buy some better material. My tour
thus far has been very agreeable, and my health is good.
I have some thirty-five weeks yet to fill, and a vast deal
of travel before me.
Give my love to wife and family, and believe me,
dear N.,           Sincerely yours,
Ned.
Sorry I can't get near Charleston on my tour.
1 The "little aid " above referred to was a check for $iooo.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


267


TO HORACE H. FURNESS.
CLEVELAND, Oct. 27, I886.
DEAR "POP" OF "POLLY ":
I do not intend this to be an answer to your letter, but
merely an acknowledgment of your bag o' nuts, which, barrin' the wormy ones, were a toothsome feast.1 I hope Polly
is resigned to her fate, and has learned to like her school,
and that the travelers are home again -dogs and all.
My tour has been tediously successful, but I suspect
that my New York engagement will break the monotony
of full houses; I am not so much of a novelty there. Hard
work is doing me much good, but a wretched cold has
bothered me for many days.
With thanks to Miss L., and affectionate remembrances
for you all,
I am "fondly thine own,"      E. B.
TO OLIVER I. LAY.
BALTO., Jan. 20, '87.
MY DEAR MR. LAY:
From a conversation with Mr. Bispham, who was with
me yesterday, on his way to Washington, I learned that
he greatly admires your portrait of myself.  Wishing
to gratify him, and at the same time to be of some
slight service to you, if you will permit me, I inclose my
check for the picture, which, if not already disposed of, I
request you to send to his address, No. 12 West i8th St.,
with my compliments. I have not said a word to him
of this, and would like to surprise him on his return home.
1 This refers to a bag of chinquapins, which Mr. Booth said he had not tasted
since his childhood in Maryland, and he longed to revive the memory. As we
had several bushes at Wallingford, Miss - gathered some of the nuts and sent
them to him.




268


EDWIN BOOTH


The amount inclosed is more than he mentioned as the
price that you were willing to let him have the picture
for, but I trust that you will permit me to set the rate,
which is still much below its true value.
Sincerely wishing you success and good health,
I am truly yours,  Edwin Booth.
(After the play) Sat. night,
BALTIMORE, Jan. 22, 1887.
MY DIAR WHITRIDGE:
Your very kind note of invitation to lunch or dine with
you and Mr. and Mrs. Smith was handed to me just as I
was leaving the house to make some calls, long overdue,
and I did not get a chance to read it till on my way
in the carriage. The two performances to-day and this
evening kept me too busy to acknowledge your kindness,
which I now do, having just returned from the theatre,
very tired. I regret that I shall be far on the road to
Pittsburg to-morrow, instead of at your table. I leave
the city at 9 o'clock A. M. Pray present my thanks and
sincere regards to your son and daughter, and believe me
Truly yours,     Edwin Booth.
TO HORACE H. FURNESS.
CINCINNATI, January 31, 1887.
MY DEAR FURNESS:
Hold on! The Jew came to me last evening, just as
I was leaving Pittsburg, and stayed with me all night, on
the sleeping-car, whence sleep was banished, and I think
I 've got him by the beard, or nose, I know not which;
but I '11 hang on to him a while, and see what he '11 do
for me. I '11 have his pound of flesh if I can get it off his




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


269


old bones. I 'm jolly tired to-day, having had no sleep
(not even my nap) since Saturday night.
The business in Pittsburg was immense, and bids fair
to be the same here.
I send you all the itinerary I have left-a dirty one:
but I give thee all; I can no more.
Love to Polly and all your dear ones; kind regards to
Miss L., and a hug for yourself.  Otway says, "I never
liked these huggers " (or words to such effect): no matter,
give us a shake. By the by, how did you enjoy the
Elephant's hind legs? Made they a feast of reason, and
sich?  Well, well, well!  However, I can't blame a
Shaksperian for fleeing from Cibber to "'way down in
Dixie."
You see I had my eye on you, even from far-off
Bosworth Field.
Adieu; and may Christ be before thee, behind thee,
and round about thee!
Yours ever,     Edwin Booth.
SAN FRANCISCO, March 13
(Midnight), 1887.
DEAR H. H. F.:
Ages ago-from Memphis, I think-I sent you a
marked prompt-book of " Merchant of Venice," together
with a learned lecture on the character of Shylock. Did
you get it, and was it of any use? I suspect not. I
have just returned from a visit to two Chinese theatres,
where I hoped for a solution of the Hamlet problemor, at least, to gather points for my next attempt at that
knotty part. But the Pee-kee-wee-kins failed to elucidate, and I am still in the mist. They were, however,
quite as clear as many of that dismal gent's critics are.




270


EDWIN BOOTH


Now, don't wince; your withers are unwrung. Some
years ago I passed several days and nights in a lunatic
asylum-as a guest only-of my old friend Doctor
K —, and eccentric as the gabble and antics of the
patients were, they afforded me more edification than did
these playfellows of mine give me this night. First the
tragedy theatre, then to the comedy house. I could not
decide which was the more doleful and ludicrous. The
noise and stench of both were barbaric in the extreme,
but their costumes were gorgeous.  I and my party
mingled with the actors on the stage, and smoked (as did
the large audience) while the play was in progress. From
the stages of each theatre we went below, to cellar under
cellar, and entered their opium-dens, kitchens (which,
strange to say, were clean), and I was amazed to see the
filth and the mere closets, with no ventilation, in which
these animals lived.  No women, except the family of
half a dozen which occupied a side box of the one tier
above the pit. Then to several gambling-holes.
I shall smell of opium and horrid odors till I get rid
of my clothes; 't will require more than an ounce of
civet to sweeten my imagination.  I "topped off" my
night's debauch with some delicious tea in a respectable
and finely decorated Chinese restaurant, where some fine
heads and handsome faces greeted us politely, while we
boorishly gaped at several groups at dinner.
How would we like a set of foreigners to intrude thus
on our privacy!  I mentally d-d myself the while,
and doubtless our victims cursed us aloud during our
visit: they certainly were very animated in conversation, but smiled graciously. No more Chinamen in mine,
I thankee.
I thought it my bounden duty to see my brethren of
the sock and buskin at their work, and am quite satisfied
that they do these things better in France and elsewhere:




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


27I


at the Baldwin Theatre, for example, where my horde of
mummers disport to the detriment of Wm. the Shaxper.
My tour through Texas, in the private car "David
Garrick," was, on the whole, very pleasant. The towns
are well worth a visit as embryo cities of wealth and
beauty; the theatres excellent, hotels ditto, and the audiences very cultured and in full dress.
A superb mirage (of water and islands and snowcapped mountains) rendered the long trip over the hot
sandy desert quite interesting. Cow-boys, cactus, and
greasers are plentiful thereabouts; but from what I saw
of them, I should say the cactus is the most dangerous
of the three nuisances.
Great crowds greeted me at every place, and I was
showered with flowers (and begging letters) wherever I
acted. My great wealth and unbounded munificence had
preceded me; but I was treated royally.
Here, the nursery of my professional babyhood, the
enthusiasm is tall, 'way up, and it makes me wonder
whether I 'm a diva, and don't know it, or a mere
mummer.
"Hamlet," all last week, packed the theatre at larger
prices than ever paid except for opera, and they want
more of it, in spite of my antique appearance as the
"youthful Prince." I must go back to Denmark after
this week. Is Shakspere dead? Is the drama utterly
depraved, or overwhelmed by the high jinks of varietyshows and the maudle of society plays? Nein, my littel
fre'n'; nein, ag'in, nine times ofer! Now, don't think the
Chinaman's tea has diseased my wit.
Good night. Love to your loved ones, et vous.
E. T. B.




272


EDWIN BOOTH


TO MRS. ELIZABETH SAUNDERS.
SAN FRANCISCO, April I, 1887.
DEAR 'LIZ'BETH: 1
Since you 're 1887 years old Monday, I just thought I
would leave behind me a little birthday reminder for you,
you dear old party!
Hope you '11 have a long lifetime of just such happy
months as you say this has been, and then, when I
return next season, I shall find you just as young and
chipper as now you "is."   Affectionately,
Ted.
TO HORACE H. FURNESS.
LYNN, June 28, 1887.
DEAR FURNESS:
At last my house is empty, scrubbed, and locked, the
keys in the office of an agent, who will sell the property
for me, and I am here for a few days with A-.
The pipe, dug up on the site of the " Mermaid Tavern," and sent to me by a friend in London, so delighted
me that I could find no vent for my feelings save through
the medium of my forecas'le pun, which so mystified you.
The precious relic is a joy to me. Of course it 's genuine, that I know; the darling "mermaid" is no meerscham (ouch!). Although 't is but a bit o' senseless clay,
I '11 treasure it as something rich and rare.
A double-headed grandad sends his blessings and congratulations to you and your dear children - my love
to them; I sent yours to mine, who are well and happy
at Newport. Thanks for the Seybert report; it is very
amusing. Now for a blast from the spirits for you.
1 Mrs. Elizabeth Saunders, one of the oldest actresses in the country (now retired and living in California), and one of my father's earliest friends.




EDWIN BOOTH IN i889.


OF'
I-.~CN%








LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


273


I 'm glad you found something useful in my notes
anent Shylock.
Have you read Irving's paper in the "Nineteenth Century "? I liked it very much, and am pleased (and amused)
to find his idea of Shylock accords with mine, as expressed
in a brief reference to the character, toward the close of
his article, and quite different from the opinion formed by
Mr. C  -- from I —'s performance of the Jew. I was in
Philadelphia three weeks ago, for a day only, to see my
brother-in-law C-, who is in this country on business.
Daughter has purchased a house (formerly H —'s)
on Beacon street, and I shall return to New York, where I
own a " flat," and there reside when not "on the road."
About the Igth of September, Barrett and I start together for an extended tour of the South and West, repeating my last season's trip, visiting Philadelphia, of
course, when we hope to have a seance with you. I
coaxed A-    to taste some buttermilk to-day, and he
wryly exclaimed, "'T is like kissing a baby!" Is n't
that as good as Thackeray's remark about the American
oyster? Now I '11 let you up. I have punished you
enough for your bad conduct. With a kiss for Polly and
love for you all, I am always yours,
Edwin Booth.
Have you ever heard "enow" used in modern talk for
"enough"? An old Yankee "gent" was here yesterday, and so pronounced the word. I never met it (eno')
out of blank verse.
TO OLIVER I. LAY.
HOFFMANN HOUSE, Dec. 26, 1888.
MY DEAR MR. LAY:
I have heard that some of my friends among The
Players desire to compliment me by placing a portrait
I8




274


EDWIN BOOTH


of myself (in character) on the wall of the club readingroom as a surprise for me on the opening night, and that
your Hamlet has been suggested for that purpose.
On some other occasion I could not decline such a
manifestation of good feeling, but under present circumstances - while the house is yet my own, to be presented
by me to others-I shrink from the indelicacy I should
be guilty of were I to permit any conspicuous portrait of
myself to be exhibited. Therefore I request your noncompliance with the wishes of my over-zealous friends,
who, no doubt, will consider me morbidly sensitive on the
subject. I may be so, but 't is my nature, and no effort
of mine can overcome my aversion of anything suggestive
of self-glorification which a prominent portrait of myself
on such an occasion would evince.
Since the secret has "leaked out," and I am no longer
a stranger to their diabolical (I) plot, I shall request the
gentlemen who are interested in the well-meant compliment to spare my blushes till some future time, when the
property will be theirs to decorate as it may please them
best. I have written to acquaint you with my feelings on
this subject, which I am sure you will respect.
Very truly yours,  Edwin Booth.
TO COLONEL LAWRENCE.
THE PLAYERS, I6 Gramercy Park, Jan. 4, '89.
MY DEAR COLONEL LAWRENCE:
I want to see and chat with you, but am so pressed for
time that I cannot set any hour for that purpose.
This will be my abiding-place in New York for all
future time that may be mine, and I hope to see you
here as a member of The Players. Why not? I 'm
sure you 'd like it. I leave town Sunday A. M., and till




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


275


then I have engagements every hour. We must defer
our chat till my return to New York, when I hope to
find you one of us.
I hope your family and Maria are well. I owe her a
letter.
Have not seen or heard of Launt for many months.
Adieu. In great haste.       Yours truly,
Edwin Booth.
TO MISS TOPHAM.
PITTSBURG, Jan. 8, '89.
MY DEAR MISS TOPHAM:
I am much to blame for not acknowledging your
former letter, which reached me duly, but which I somehow lost or destroyed, in the hurry of frequent packing
and moving from one end of the continent to the other
so often. Until now I 've had to defer response to your
second, of December 27th, so busy and weary have I
been these many months.    The absurd report anent
my grandson's eyes1 has no foundation whatever; both
children are perfect in every particular -full of health,
beauty, and baby charms. Edwina is still delicate, but is
as happy and as well as, I fear, she will ever be. She
has a cozy little house on the Charles River, fronting on
Beacon St., Boston, and a pretty cottage at Narragansett
Pier. I am again a resident of New York: The Players
Club is my home. I trust that Miss McComb is restored
to health, and that you all are well at dear old Baywood.
When I go to Greenwich to visit Mr. Benedict, I find it
very difficult to leave his piazza, except to sail with him
about the Sound, and consequently I neglect my "neighbors," visiting no one; but next time I hope to call on
1A sensational report had been in circulation that my little son, Clarence
Edwin Booth, had been born blind.




276


EDWIN BOOTH


you, Miss Jeannie, and Madge, of whose success I am
very glad to be informed.
My poor sister's 1 death was a relief to her. She had
been a great sufferer from gout for many years.
With thanks for your sympathy, and kind regards for
you all, I am        Very truly yours,
Edwin Booth.
TO MRS. WILLIAM YOUNG.
NARRAGANSETT PIER, R. I., August 7, '89.
Dear Madam: I must express my happiness in being
so greatly honored by the ladies of Belair. I can only
say that I most gratefully thank you all for what I considerfirst of the many favors that Fortune has bestowed
on me.
To associate my father's name with Belair, his loved
home, by some substantial memorial has long been one
of my dreams. Although the generous action of your committee has made the son the recipient of that honor-the
fact that the name established by the sire will be so nobly
perpetuated more than realizes my ambition's dream, and
makes me doubly grateful.
You have my full consent to use my autograph for the
benefit of your bazaar, and I regret that I have no portrait, save a few photographs made some years ago.
Gutekunst, of Arch street, Phila., may have photographs
of more recent date. I will write to him on the subject.
Apologizing for my delay in acknowledging the gracious
action of my Hartford friends,
I am sincerely your grateful servant,
Edwin Booth.


1 Mrs. John S. Clarke.




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


277


TO ---   THOMAS.
NEW YORK, Aug. 28, '89.
MY DEAR MR. THOMAS:
I was surprised to learn that your engagement with
Mr. Barrett is terminated, and am sorry for the cause,
altho' I believe the result will be to your advantage.
Your chances for promotion will be better in a company
that is not confined to so limited a repertoire as mine, in
which so few opportunities occur for the proper exercise
of youthful talent. A frequent change of role, and of the
lighter sort,-especially such as one does not like forcing
one's self to use the very utmost of his ability in the performance of,-is the training requisite for a mastery of
the actor's art.
I had seven years' apprenticeship at it, during which
most of my labor was in the field of comedy,-" walking
gentleman," burlesque, and low comedy parts, —the while
my soul was yearning for high tragedy. I did my best
with all that I was cast for, however, and the unpleasant
experience did me a world of good. Had I followed my
own bent, I would have been, long ago, a "crushed
tragedian."
I will, as you request, give you a line to Mr. Palmer,
and I hope you may obtain a position that will afford
you the necessary practice. With best wishes,
Truly yours,     Edwin Booth.
To MRS. YOUNG, Prest.; MISS SPICER, V. Prest.
THE PLAYERS, 16 Gramercy Park, N. Y.,
Sept. 7, '89.
Dear Ladies: The precious souvenir of my birthplace
which you kindly sent me was an agreeable surprise on
my return to the city yesterday. I thank you for it most
x8*




278


EDWIN BOOTH


sincerely. The tree was planted by my father, and my
earliest memories are associated with it. The selection
of the panel, with its appropriate device, was a happy
thought of the artists, and its decoration a delicate and
generous one on the part of the ladies who have so favored
me-no other token of appreciation of my slight service
could have pleased me so much. It shall be placed beneath the portrait of my father which now faces me, on
the wall above my desk, as a constant reminder of my
happy association with those who cherish his memory.
Congratulating you on the result of your undertaking,
and with cordial wishes for its entire success,
I am respectfully yours,     Edwin Booth.
TO WILLIAM BISPHAM.
CINCINNATI, April 9, I890.... My heart aches for poor Lay. Let the inclosed
go toward helping him toward his home; it should
have gone yesterday. I hope his case is not so desperate.... So hot yesterday I put on my summer
duds, and was uncomfortably warm in the shade; to-day
it is all shade, and too cold for open windows-so I 've
had it for several weeks; in St. Louis I had the heaviest
snow-storm and the hottest day of the season in one week.
Edwina has got as far as Washington, and has concluded
to remain there till she goes to New York instead of
stopping in Philadelphia. To-day her boy is three years
high; the girl touched four in St. Augustine two weeks
ago. "Darling, I 'm growing old."
Barrett is now at Nice, will go to Stuttgart for a few
days, and then to the German baths, which open on the
I8th. He complains of weakness, but is cheerful, and
hopes to be with us on June Ist.




I iI,l
F y
I,
'\     if
it;


11                  iiif;frB;   
r' i
' %~ /
I?


EDWIN BOOTH'S DRESSING-ROOM, BROADWAY THEATRE, DECEMBER, I889.
Drawn by Arthur Jules Goodman.




280


EDWIN BOOTH


Have no news for you. Business and me is well, but
both are somewhat tired; we pick up toward the close of
the week, I notice.
Your and Harry's club reports delight me. "Would I
were with thee o' Ladye Daye"; tell the girls my
heart 's among 'em, anyway. I 'm too bashful to appear
in "propy-persony."  Adieu.
Love for all at home.                Nedwin.
DETROIT, April I5, I890.
DEAR WILL:... You have done nobly for poor Lay, like the
dear, noble old boy that you are-" you know you are."
Bless thee! I do hope the club will buy the picture; it
would complete his happiness in that respect. The "Burr"
is a superb picture, and would always be a feature in the
Century. Put me down for whatever the deficit may be
in the $2500 you hope to get for it. I return Warren's
letter and the telegram....
Heavy rain and thunder about 3 A. M. brought winter.
Monday I friz; since when it has been lovely, crisp, and
just such weather as I 'd choose for all seasons. You just
wait till I make a world and see. When will " Cent. Dic.
3rd" be out?
Love to you. Adieu.           Yours ever,
Ned.
TO HORACE H. FURNESS.
16 GRAMERCY PARK, NEW YORK, June 28, '90.
MY DEAR OLD RELIC:
So many eons have passed since your precious fist
lost my eye, that I was quite staggered by it last night-it
came so "round-about-ly." Your note to B —, dated




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


28I


May 27, had somehow been delayed (he 's in Europe),
was opened through mistake by one of his family, and
sent to me last night, June 27- a month from Eighteenth
street to Twentieth street! The latter is my permanent
address, and whenever you wish to catch me quick, send
to No. I6 Gramercy Park, which is allee samee East
Twentieth street, and "don't you forget it! "  Is it possible that you let dear little " Polly " go to Europe? And
if you did, you surely came here to kiss her off; and if
you did, why did n't you come to see The Players?
Heartless one!  If I 'm wrong in this, I forgive you.
I'm afraid that the portrait has escaped me; if so, I 'm
sorry, but 't is a mistake to advertise it as " the only portrait of Booth before his nose was broken." I have two
(Richard and Hamlet) by the Tom Sullys, father and son,
and C —     has one (Brutus) by Nagle, Sully's son-in-law,
and my brother J — has a Richard, by Shoosmith of
England, from which the engraving in my sister's sketch of
my father was taken. I never heard of Robert Sully until
some months ago, when I received a letter from a gentleman of that name (in Chicago), stating that a mistake had
been made in crediting his uncle Thomas with the portrait
of my father now in the club, and that it was painted
by his father-Robert. He was thinking of the portrait
(Lear) of which you write. The Hamlet by Thomas the
Elder is a masterpiece, a superb work, and has a history
associated with our war- at the fall of Richmond.' The
one I have of Richard, by the younger Thomas, is not
so good.
There is another Sully -Booth in Richard (before the
broken-nose period), which I failed to see while there,
three years ago- which I was informed had little merit.
1 During a raid upon the house in which my grandfather's portrait hung, one
of the eyes was injured by a saber-thrust. This my father had repaired most
successfully by his friend Eastman Johnson.




282


EDWIN BOOTH


Notwithstanding, I 'd like to get the Lear, and will write
to the auctioneers about it.
Many thanks and much love to you. Bless thee!
Edwin.
TO WILLIAM BISPHAM.
BELOVED WILL:                      July 3, I890.
If you get here before I do (for I 'm going a-sailing), why- "you 're welcome, welcome, Gramercy, welcome! " all the same. (That was the burden of one of
poor Ned Adams's Irish songs; do you remember it?)
Y'r letter came this A. M. I go for my annual sail on
ye Sound with E. C. B..
Will return on Monday for a few days, then to the
Pier, when you shall have Carryl all to yourself-either
here or at No. 12, "as you like it."  That "play" on
the play is made "by cause" both William and Charles
are characters into it. Blessings on thee and all yourn!
Edwin.
TO MR. MAURICE LAUPHEIMER.
DEAR SIR:             BALTIMORE, Nov. 15, I890.
I have so many people to care for that I cannot assist
all for whom I entertain sincere sympathy, L-  among
the number.
You once mentioned a subscription among his friends,
to which I will gladly give my aid, but the demands
upon my purse are so numerous and so urgent that I
cannot alone render him much assistance.
Please send the inclosed to him, as I have not his full
address.          Truly yours,
Edwin Booth.
(The inclosed above referred to was a check for
$5oo.-M. L.)




LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS


283


TO HORACE H. FURNESS.
BOSTON, December 5, '9o.
DEAR HORACE:
Thanks for your remarks on the Garrick "Hamlet";
I did not find 'em till I got here.
Apropos of your reference to the "dram of Eale"has e'il (for evil) been suggested? I forget, and have no
Shakspere with me. Mr. A. W, who sent me a copy
of his "Baconian Facts," is under the belief that 't is
original. Is it? Consult the Furness Variorum, and let
me know, please. Hope you 're all well. I 'm much
better. Love for all.                     Ned.
TO HORACE H. FURNESS.
THE PLAYERS, NEW YORK, April 24, '9I.
DEAR HORACE:
God bless you for your solicitude in my behalf! Your
letter did me good, and it should have been acknowledged
without delay, had it not been for the confounded inertia
which overmasters me at times, and renders me incapable
of even so little exertion as the mere writing of a letter.
Much as I 'd like to see you, and have you see our clubhouse, I would not have you come so far for a mere peep
at us, knowing how busy you are; and I am almost half
mad at B-'s scaring you anent my ailing: he is overanxious, dear fellow, especially since poor Barrett's death,
about my health, and tries all methods to lift me up: but
indeed his fears are exaggerated; I 'm steadily gaining
strength, and, having canceled my next season's engagements, shall devote my entire time to "playing" off the
stage, after so long a frolic on it.




284


EDWIN BOOTH


So don't be alarmed in the least concerning me, but
when you have leisure to pass at least a couple of days
in New York, do come and loaf a little in the quiet of
Gramercy Park with your "Players."
Yesterday was our third annual fete-"Ladye Daye";
and, as usual, the house was given up to the ladies and
flowers and ice-creams, and all the other sweets that this
blessed season brings. Here I 'm interrupted by my
daughter, who has just returned from Florida, where she
has passed the winter with her babies, so I must leave
you for the present.
Give my respectful regards to your good father, my
compliments to the ladies-except " Polly," to whom, and
her blessed pa, I tender my tenderest love.
Yours ever and everly,      Nedwin.
FAME.
"Death makes no conquest of this conqueror;
For now he lives in Fame, though not in life."




111"'O Ar IM, 2",
MoaffAvAm
1",,' 07LSFE
IS =' I
Lockheed, UI/ R
OUTLINE DRAWING BY OTTO BA(,HER OF
BACK OF MEMORIAL TO EDW'IN BOOTH
DESIGNE', BY srANFORD WHITE.








INDEX








INDEX
Abbey, Henry E., 233, 241.         Boker, George H., 104.
Academy of Music, 206.             Booth, Agnes, 68.
"Actor, The," 96.                  Booth, Barton, 162, I65.
Adams, Ned, 282.                   Booth, John Wilkes, 153, 227.
Adelphi Theatre, 229.              Booth, Junius Brutus, 45, 71, 78, 96,
"Agamemnon," 2I7.                     IIO, 151, 153, 155, 172, 173, 175,
Agassiz, Prof. Louis, I57, 165, I66, I74,  I99, 227.
I75, 178.                      Booth, Mrs. Junius Brutus, 32, 39,
Aldrich, T. B., 62, 80, II6, 122, I78,  43, 51, 65, 68, 172, I99, 208, 227,
233, 249, 255.                     238, 240, 248.
Allen, Prof., 164, I65.            Booth, Miss Mary L., letters to, 229,
Amelia, 68.                           247.
Anderson, David C., 12; letters to, Booth, Rosalie, 66, 84, 208, 276.
i86, I94, 195, I96, 198, 200, 201, Booth's Theatre, 7, 187,189, 203, 246,
202, 203, 206, 209, 210, 214, 215,  262.
221, 226, 231, 232, 233, 234, 235, Brabantio, 68.
237, 238, 239, 240, 241, 242, 244, Bright, Jacob, 241.
245, 246, 247.                  Brooklyn Theatre, I87.
Anderson, Mrs. David C., 66.       Brooks, Phillips, I05.
Antony, 80.                        Browning, Robert, 2I9.
Arnold, Matthew, 249.              Brutus, 70, 82, 84, 88, 89, 153, I93,
282.
Badeau, Adam, letters to, 140, 141, I47, Bull, Ole, letters to, 206, 207.
148, 150, 225.                 Burdett-Coutts, Lady, 222.
Banquo, 193.                       Burton, W. E., xI6.
Barrett, Lawrence, 62, 65, 68, 72, 73,
77, 79, 8o, 8I, 83, 84, 86, 87, 88, 90, " Cesar, Julius," 82, 83, 84, 153.
93, 94, 95, 97, 98, I00, I01, 102, I04, Capen, Nahum, letter to, 227.
Io6, I07, III, 112, 113, 114, 117, Cary, Miss, 79.
ii8, II9, 120, 121, I96, 201,207, Cary, Miss Emma F., I36, I6i, 162,
233, 271.                          I69; letters to, 146, 153, 154, 156,
Barrett, Mrs. Lawrence, 119, 120.     164, I67,169, 172, 73,175, I76,178.
Barrett, Wilson, 78.               Cary, Capt. Richard F., letters to, 131,
Bashkirtseff, Marie," Journal " of, 26.  132, 133, 134, 135, 136, 138, 146,
Beatrice, 14, 241.                    157, 159, I6i, 165, I69, 170, 173.
Benedict, 14.                      Cary, Mrs. Richard F., letters to, 158,
Benedict, E. C., 80, 275.            I6o, I6i, I68, I7I.
Bernhardt, Sarah, 247.             Cassio, 262, 263.
Betterton, 155, 176.               Cassius, 154.
Bierstadt, Albert, I68.            Childhood, lack of sports in, 34.
Bierstadt, Mrs., 225.              Chinese actors, 270.
Bispham, William, 51, 59, 71, 80, 96, Christ, portraits of, as type for " make98, IO9, III, 112, 123, I24, 127;  up" of Richard II., 7.
letters to, 179, 208, 249, 25I, 253, Clark, Bishop, 6i.
254, 279, 280, 282.             Clarke, John S., 166, 173, 212, 226.


19


289




290


INDEX


Clarke, Mrs. John S., 75, 96, 172,217, Florence, William, IoI, 113, 207.
219, 226, 229.                  "Fool's Revenge, The," 187, 217, 221,
Claude Melnotte, 184.                 222.
Collier, John, 91, 224.            Formes, Carl, son of, 243.
Comedy, acting in, 36.             Forrest, Edwin, 167.
Connaught, Duke of, 219.           "Founders' Night" at The Players,
Connor, Mr., 93.                      103.
Cooke, G. F., 264.                 Fox's burlesque of Hamlet and RicheCoriolanus, I67.                      lieu, 15.
Corson, Prof. Hiram, letter to, I80.  Francis, Dr., son of, 264.
Crane, Mr. William H., 73, III, I12. Friar, the, 57.
Critics in England, 22I.           Furness, H. H., 53, 54, 55, 58, 67, 69,
Critics in Germany, 9.                93, 115; letters to, 179, 182, 190,
Cushman, Miss Charlotte, I33.         19I, 192, I93, 255, 256, 259, 260,
261, 265, 267, 268, 269, 272, 280.
Daly, Augustin, 99, 115.           Furness, the Rev. Dr. W. H., 54.


Jaly, Judge, 93.
Daly's Theatre, 122, 124, 201.
Davenport, E. L., I37.
Davidge, Mr., 88.
"De Mauprat," 117, 120.
Derby, Miss, 105.
Desdemona, 68, 256, 257, 262, 263.
Dettmer, F. S., 176, 177.
Devlin, Mary (Mrs. Booth), letters
of, 24.
Devrient, Gustav Emil, 9.
Devrient, Ludwig, 243.
Don Ccesar, I80.
" Donna Diana," 105.
Doran's "Annals of the Stage," 155.
Drury Lane Theatre, 212, 217.
Duke of Connaught, 219.
Dunlaps, the, 74, 107.
Duse, Mile. E., I25.


Gale, Miss, 83.
"Ganelon," 0I.
Garrick, David, 155, I76.
Ghost, the, 21, 69, 71, 176.
Gifford, R. S., I68.
Gilbert, John, 68.
Gilder, Miss J. L., letter to, 258.
Giles Overreach, Sir, 68.
Gordon, Lady, 214.
Gothold, Newton, 88.
Gould, Mr., 263.
Graham, Lorimer, 85.
Grand Opera House, 202, 205.
Grant, Gen., 38, 99.
Grau, Maurice, letter to, 181.
Grave-digger, 243.
Gray, Mark, 12, 196, 197, I99.
Grossmann, Edwina Booth, letters to,
31-I28.


Edgar, 69.                         Grossmann, Ignatius R., 54, 59, 63,
Edmunds, Miss, 149, 151.              95, I02, 119, 121.
Eldridge, Louisa, 233, 234.        "Guardsman, The," 19.
Ely, Dowager Marchioness of,219,221,
223.                            Haase, Herr, 230.
Emilia, 263.                       Hamlet, 2, 3, 8, 9, 15, 19, 20, 21, 25,
Everett, Edward, 95.                  48, 66, 68, 70, 71, 78, 79, 8i, 83,
Ewer, the Rev. Dr. F. C., letters to,  84, 107, Io8, III, 126, 133, 137,
84, I87, 188, 189, 196,218.        148, I55, I56, 157, I67, 170, 171,
Ewer, Mrs. F. C.,letters to, 248, 250,  I75, I8oI8I, 197, 202, 214, 2I6,
252.                               218, 220, 221, 242, 245, 269, 271,
274, 281.
iFaucit, Helen. See "Martin."       "Hamlet Medal," 14.
Felton, Prof., 136, I65, 167.      Hanly, Mr., 117.
Felton, Mrs., letters to, 138, i6i, 162, Hassler, Mr., 104.
I69, I70.                         Hatton, Joseph, 217.
Fenno, Mr., 36.                    Haymarket Theatre, 135, 212, 215.
Ficken, Mr., 254.                  Hepworth, the Rev. Dr., 173.
Field, Kate, 102.                  Heron, Matilda, 27.
Fields, Mrs. J. T., 105, 254.      Holmes, O. W., 249.
Fish, Mr., 165.                    Hood, Thomas, 44.
Flaglers, the, 105.                Hopper, John, I56.




INDEX


29I


Horatio, 21.                      Macready, William, 216.
Howard, the, I55.                 Madison Square Theatre, 204.
Howells, W. D., II6, 249.         Mansfield, Richard, 112.
Huntington, the Rev. Dr., I43.    Martin, Lady Theodore, 14.
Hutton, Laurence, 72, 74, 80, 98, 229, Mayo, Frank, 207.
255.                           Maywood, Robert, 264.
Huxley, T. H., 214, 219.          "Merchant, The, of Venice," 82, 83,
89, 269.
lago, 9, I6, 21, 69, 71, 78, 8I, 82, 184, Meredith, Gilmer, 66, io6.
242, 256, 257, 262, 263.       Mifflin, B. C., letter to, 264.
Irving, Henry, 14, 198, 212, 216, 222, Miles, Robert, io8.
223, 224, 225, 233, 241.       Modjeska, Mme., 105.
Irving, Washington, 148.          Motley, John Lothrop, 96.
Mowatt, Mrs., 95.
Jarrett and Palmer, 187.          " Much Ado about Nothing," 24I.
Jefferson, Joseph, 64, 74, 75, 87, 93, Murdock, James E., 93.
113, 253.
Jewett, Miss, 105.                Nagle, 281.
Johnson, Eastman, 54.
Johnston, Dr., io6.               Oberammergau, 17, 218, 220.
Joyce, Mr., 36.                   Ophelia, 68.
Judah, Mrs., 245.                 Osgood, the Rev. Samuel, letters to, I,
Juliet, I04.                         143.
Othello, 9, I6, 21, 22, 55, 68, 69, 7I,
Katherine, 95.                       82, 83, 107, 192, 224, 242, 245, 257,
Kean, Charles, 54, 71, 78, I55, I76,  258, 259, 261, 263.
I77.                           Overreach, Sir Giles, 68.
Keller, Mr., 55.                  Owens, Mrs., 87.
Kellogg, Dr., 88, 270.
King, Mrs., 254.                  Paris Opera House, 240.
King, the, 20, 69, 177.           Park Theatre, 240, 241.
Kiralfys, the, 226.               Parsons, Dr. T. W., 28,93, II4; letter
Kirkus, the Rev. Mr., 66.           to, 255.
Passion Play, the, 17, 218, 220.
Lander, Gen., 137.                Pateman, Mrs., 233.
Langtry, Mrs., 226, 233, 240.     Peirce, Prof., I57, I75.
Lansdowne, Lord, 264.             Petruchio, 95, 105.
Laupheimer, Maurice, letter to, 282. Phyfe, W. H. P., letter to, 256.
Lawrence, Colonel, letters to, 228,230, Piercy, Samuel, 79.
265, 274.                      Pike, Mr., 35.
Lay, Oliver I.,279; letters to, 267,273. "Pip," 35, 37.
Lear, 9, 13, 14,21, 68, 69, 183, 192, 243, Players Club, The, 85, 87, 91, 92, IOI,
245.                              273, 274, 275.
Lederer, Mr., 102.                Poe, E. A., 56.
Leopold, H. R. H., 221, 223.      Polk, Mrs., 86.
Lincoln, Abraham, 155, I72, 227.  Polk, President, 86.
Lowell, J. R., 178.               Polonius, 68, I8I, 243.
Lucca, 245.                       Portia, 83.
Ludlow, Fitzhugh, 165.            Puck, 108.
Lyceum Theatre, I8, 233.
Queen, the, 68.
Macbeth, 21,69, 104, 114, I8, 193, 217.
McCullough, John, 212, 217.       Rankin, Mr., 207.
Macduff, 18.                      Raymond, John T., 207.
McEntee, Jervis, 5I, 67, 195.     Raymond, Mrs., 79.
Mackaye, Steele, 204.             Richard II., 7, 12, 44, 167, I88,-192,
Mackenzie, Dr. Morell, 217.          240, 281.
Macklin, Charles, 264.            Richard III., 43, 75, I52, 176, 189.




292


INDEX


Richelieu, 44, 78,91, II8, 133, 156, 170,
192, 216, 219, 220, 221, 222, 224.
"Rienzi," 68.
Ristori, 69.
Ritchie, Mrs., 95.
Robson, Stuart, 73, Io6.
Roderigo, 262, 263.
" Romeo and Juliet," 176.
Ruy Bias, 184.
Ryder. Tohn, 2I6.


Thompson, Launt, 8, 35, 65, 148, 230,
265, 275.
Tennyson, Lord, 14, 155.
Terry, Ellen, 213, 241.
Topham, Miss, letter to, 275.
Twain, Mark, 249.
"Twelfth'Night," I24.
Union Square Theatre, 203.


"Valentine, St.," 35, 36.
Salvini, Tommaso, 16, 68, 69, 71, 182, Varden, Mr., 96.
246.                           "Venice, The Merchant of," 82, 83, 89,
Sanford, Mrs., letter to, 183.       269.
Sargent, John S., 103, III.       Virginius, 217.
Saunders, Mrs. Elizabeth, 226; letter
to, 272.                       Wainwright, Marie, 68.
Scott, Gen. Winfield, 95.         Wales, the Prince of, 226.
Shakspere, 19, 21, 42, 45, 90, 94, 108, Wallack, Lester, 88, 240.
III, 113, 154, 176, I77, 189, I97, Walnut Street Theatre, I66.
199, 214, 257, 26I, 271.       Ward, Miss Genevieve, 183.
Shaw, Mrs., 175.                  Warner, Charles Dudley, 249.
Sherman, the Rev. Thomas, I20.    Warren, William, 59, 74, 88.
Sherman, Gen. W. T., III, 120, 140. Weir, John F., 52.
Shylock, 44, 58, 82, 83, 89, 256, 258, Wendell, Mr., 93.
259, 260, 264, 268, 269, 273.  Werder, Prof., 9.
Skinner, Mr., 105.                White, Richard Grant, 262.
Smalley, G. W., 212, 213, 214, 221, White, Stanford, 92.
225.                           Whitridge, Mr., letter to, 268.
Smith, Dr., 120.                  Wilson, Francis, 112.
Spicer, Miss, letter to, 277.     Winter, William, 98.
Stedman, E. C., letters to, 197, 212, Winter Garden, the, 153, 154, I62,
213, 220, 224, 225.               164, I66, 167, 205.
Stoddard, R. H., 85.              "Winter's Tale, The," 177.
Sturtevant, Mrs., 6I.             Wood, Miss, 250.
Sullivan, Barry, 177.             Wright, Miss, 247.
Sully, Robert, 281.               Wright, Mrs., 230.
Sully, Thomas, 281.
Swing, Professor, 75.             "Yorick," 201.


Talma, 243.
Thaxter, Mrs., 56.
Thomas, Mr., letter to, 277.


Young, Mrs. William, letters to, 276,
277.
Zimmerman, Mr., 104.
































A73
A~3
I 9O0