rfect in its
kind, but one kind exceeds another in glory.

We have two pictures before us. One, on paper yellow with the moth of
years, is the portrait of an actor in the costume of Richard III. What a
classic face! English features are rarely cast in that antique mould.
The head sits lightly on its columnar neck, and is topped with
dark-brown curls, that cluster like the acanthus; the gray eyes are
those which were justly described as being "at times full of fire,
intelligence, and splendor, and again of most fascinating softness"; and
the nose is of "that peculiar Oriental construction, which gives an air
of so much distinction and command." Such was the countenance of Junius
Brutus Booth,--that wonderful actor, who, to powers of scorn, fury, and
pathos rivalling those which illumined the uneven performances of Edmund
Kean, added scholastic attainments which should have equalized his
efforts, and made every conception harmonious with the graces of a
philosophical and cultured soul. In structure the genius of the elder
Booth was indeed closely akin to that of Kean, if not the rarer of the
two, notwithstanding the triumphant assertion of Doran, who says that
Booth was driven by Kean's superiority to become a hero to "transpontine
audiences." Each relied upon his intuitive, off-hand conception of a
given part, and fell back to nature in his methods, throwing aside
conventionalisms which had long ruled the English stage. But the former
was capable of more fervid brightness in those flashes which
characterized the acting of them both. Still, there was something awry
within him, which in his body found a visible counterpart. The shapely
trunk, crowned with the classic head, was set upon limbs of an ungainly
order, short, of coarse vigor, and "gnarled like clumps of oak." Above,
all was spiritual; below, of the earth, earthy, and dragging him down.
Strong souls, thus inharmoniously embodied, have often developed some
irregularity of heart or brain: a disproportion, which only strength of
purpose or the most favorable conditions of life could balance and
overcome. With the elder Booth, subjected to the varying fortunes and
excitements of the early American stage, the evil influence gained sad
ascendency, and his finest renditions grew "out of tune and harsh." In
depicting the pathetic frenzy of Lear, such actors as he and Kean, when
at their best, can surpass all rivals; and the grotesque,
darkly-powerful ideals of Richard an