Booth
is calling you!"
I turned, but stood still. He beckoned, then came to me, took my hand,
and saying: "My dear, we must not keep them waiting _too_ long!" led me
before the curtain with him. I very slightly bent my head to the
audience, whom I felt were applauding _Hamlet_ only, but turned and bowed
myself to the ground to him whose courtesy had brought me there.
When we came off he smiled amusedly, tapped me on the shoulder, and said:
"My Gertrude, you are very young, but you know how to pay a pretty
compliment--thank you, child!"
So, whenever you see pictures of nymphs or goddesses floating on pink
clouds, and looking idiotically happy, you can say to yourself: "That's
just how Clara Morris felt when Edwin Booth said she had paid him a
compliment."
Yes, I floated, and I'll take a solemn oath, if necessary, that the whole
theatre was filled with pink clouds the rest of that night--for girls are
made that way, and they can't help it.
In after years I knew him better, and I treasure still the little note he
sent me in answer to my congratulation on his escape from the bullet
fired at him from the gallery of the theatre in Chicago. A note that
expressed as much gentle surprise at my "kind thought for him," as though
I only, and not the whole country, was rejoicing at his safety.
He had a wonderful power to win love from other men--yes, I use the word
advisedly. It was not mere good-fellowship or even affection, but there
was something so fine and true, so strong and sweet in his nature, that
it won the love of those who knew him best.
It would seem like presumption for me to try to add one little leaf to
the tight-woven laurel crown he wore. Everyone knows the agony of his
"Fool's Revenge," the damnable malice of his _Iago_, the beauty and fire
of _Antony_, and the pure perfection of his _Hamlet_--but how many knew
the slow, cruel martyrdom of his private life! which he bore with such
mute patience that in my heart there is an altar raised to the memory of
that Saint Edwin of many sorrows, who was known and envied by the world
at large--as the great actor, Edwin Booth.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIRST
I Digress, but I Return to the Columbus Engagement of Mr. and Mrs.
Charles Kean--Their Peculiarities and Their Work.
Before one has "arrived," it is astonishing how precious the simplest
word of encouragement or of praise becomes, if given by one who has
"arrived." Not long ago a lady came up to me
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