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For eight dollars a week, Wilkes Booth, at the age of twenty-two,
contracted with William Wheatley to play in any piece or part for which
he might be cast, and to appear every day at rehearsal. He had to play
the Courier in Sheridan Knowles's "Wife" on his first night, with five
or ten little speeches to make; but such was his nervousness that he
blundered continually, and quite balked the piece. Soon afterward he
undertook the part of one of the Venetian comrades in Hugo's "Lucretia
Borgia," and was to have said in his turn--
"Madame, I am Petruchio Pandolfo;" instead of which he exclaimed:
"Madame, I am Pondolfio Pet--, Pedolfio Pat--, Pantuchio Ped--; damn it?
what am I?"
The audience roared, and Booth, though full of chagrin, was compelled to
laugh with them.
The very next night he was to play Dawson, an important part in
Moore's tragedy of "The Gamester." He had bought a new dress to wear on
this night, and made abundant preparation to do himself honor. He
therefore invited a lady whom he knew to visit the theater, and witness
his triumph. But at the instant of his appearance on the stage, the
audience, remembering the Petruchio Pandolfo of the previous night,
burst into laughter, hisses, and mock applause, so that he was struck
dumb, and stood rigid, with nothing whatever to say. Mr. John Dolman, to
whose Stukely has played, was compelled, therefore, to strike Dawson
entirely out of the piece.
These occurrences nettled Booth, who protested that he studied
faithfully but that his want of confidence ruined him. Mr. Fredericks
the stage manager made constant complaints of Booth, who by the way, did
not play under his full name, but as Mr. J. Wilkes--and he bore the
general reputation of having no promise, and being a careless fellow. He
associated freely with such of the subordinate actors as he liked; but
being, through Clarke, then a rising favourite, of better connections,
might, had he chosen, advanced himself socially, if not artistically.
Clarke was to have a benefit one evening, and to enact, among other
things, a mock Richard III., to which he allowed Wilkes Booth to play
a real Richmond. On this occasion, for the first time, Booth showed
some energy, and obtain some applause. But, in general, he was stumbling
and worthless I myself remember, on three consecutive nights, hearing
him trip up and receive suppressed hisses. He lacked enterprise; other
young actors, instead of waiting to be given better parts, committed
them to memory, in the hope that their real interpreter might not come
to hand. Among these I recall John McCullough, who afterwards became
quite a celebrated actor. He was getting, if I correctly remember, only
six dollars a week, while Booth obtained eight. Yet Wilkes Booth seemed
too slow or indifferent to get on the weather side of such chances. He
still held the part of third walking gentleman, and the third is always
the first to be walked off in case of strait, as was Wilkes Booth. He
did not survive forty weeks engagement, nor make above three hundred
dollars in all that time. The Kellers arrived; they cut down the
company, and they dispensed with Wilkes Booth. He is remembered in
Philadelphia by his failure as in the world by his crime.
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