balcony, and there on my feet and in complete absorption, I saw in
wondrous procession _Hamlet_, _Lear_, _Othello_, _Petruchio_, _Sir Giles
Overreach_, _Macbeth_, _Iago_, and _Richelieu_ emerge from the shadow
and re-enact their tragic lives before my eyes. These were my purple,
splendid hours. From the light of this glorious mimic world I stumbled
down the stairs out into the night, careless of wind or snow, my brain
in a tumult of revolt, my soul surging with high resolves.

The stimulation of these performances was very great. The art of this
"Prince of Tragedy" was a powerful educational influence along the lines
of oratory, poetry and the drama. He expressed to me the soul of English
Literature. He exemplified the music of English speech. His acting was
at once painting and sculpture and music and I became still more
economical of food in order that I might the more often bask in the
golden atmosphere of his world. I said, "I, too, will help to make the
dead lines of the great poets speak to the living people of today," and
with new fervor bent to the study of oratory as the handmaid of poetry.

The boys who acted as ushers in the balcony came at length to know me,
and sometimes when it happened that some unlucky suburbanite was forced
to leave his seat near the railing, one of the lads would nod at me and
allow me to slip down and take the empty place.

In this way I got closer to the marvellous lines of the actor's face,
and was enabled to read and record the subtler, fleeter shadows of his
expression. I have never looked upon a face with such transcendent power
of externalizing and differentiating emotions, and I have never heard a
voice of equal beauty and majesty.

Booth taught millions of Americans the dignity, the power and the music
of the English tongue. He set a high mark in grace and precision of
gesture, and the mysterious force of his essentially tragic spirit made
so deep an impression upon those who heard him that they confused him
with the characters he portrayed. As for me--I could not sleep for hours
after leaving the theater.

Line by line I made mental note of the actor's gestures, accents, and
cadences and afterward wrote them carefully down. As I closed my eyes
for sleep I could hear that solemn chant "_Duncan is in his grave. After
life's fitful fever he sleeps well._" With horror and admiration I
recalled him, when as _Sir Giles_, with palsied hand helpless by his
side, his face distort