Lincoln the Shakespearean critic?

[Tom Bogar]

To answer both items, from my American Presidents Attend the Theatre:
Re Lincoln and Shakespeare: Actor James H. Hackett had sent Lincoln a personalized copy of his book, Notes and Comments upon Certain Plays and Actors of Shakespeare. Lincoln responded with a letter that included a self-deprecating disclaimer: “I have seen very little of the drama. The first presentation of Falstaff I ever saw was yours. . . . Perhaps the best compliment I can pay is to say, as I truly can, I am very anxious to see it again.” He expressed his preference for Lear, Richard III, Henry VIII, and especially Macbeth—“I think nothing equals Macbeth. It is wonderful!”—and ventured an opinion on Hamlet: “Unlike you gentlemen of the profession, I think the soliloquy in Hamlet commencing ‘O, my offence is rank’ surpasses that commencing ‘To be, or not to be.’ But pardon this small attempt at criticism.” Further stroking Hackett’s ego, he closed with a wish “to hear you pronounce the opening speech of Richard the Third. Will you not soon visit Washington again? If you do, please call and let me make your personal acquaintance.” Hackett wasted no time publishing the note as a broadside entitled “A Letter from President Lincoln to Mr. Hackett,” ostensibly for his friends alone, disingenuously subtitled “Printed not for publication but for private distribution only.” It was of course quickly picked up by newspapers and ignited a firestorm of denigration mocking the President’s pretensions to dramatic criticism. Particularly vicious was the New York Herald. Disdaining Lincoln’s “awkward speech” and “decidedly self taught” grammar, it accused him of being one of a “crowd of arrogant pretenders to taste.” The man who in six weeks would compose the Gettysburg Address was scolded for using words that were devoid “of vigor and originality.” What will come next? it asked. “Discussing divinity with political preachers, debating plans of campaign with military heroes, . . . arguing questions of Constitutional law?” Hackett professed ignorance, being “vexed” at the leak (but telling the President, “I felt assured that as a man of the world now and an experienced politician you were not likely to be so thin skinned.”) Lincoln’s response (boldly marked “private”) is a model of forbearance: “Give yourself no uneasiness on the subject mentioned. . . . My note to you I certainly did not expect to see in print; yet I have not been much shocked by the newspaper comments upon it. Those comments constitute a fair specimen of what has occurred to me through life. I have endured a great deal of ridicule without much malice; and have received a great deal of kindness, not quite free from ridicule. I am used to it.”

Re Edwin Booth: National Theatre owner Leonard Grover had been sending letters to the White House, proffering a double private box for the Friday, February 26, 1864, evening double bill of Edwin Booth as Shylock in The Merchant of Venice and the title role in Augustin Daly’s version of Don Caesar de Bazan. The President finally accepted and that night walked over with Seward and Brooks. At the theater, Lincoln “was in a remarkable flow of spirits,” Brooks observed, providing his guests with comic running commentary: “As we sat, two or three of the supernumeraries in scarlet hose were constantly in the line of sight. Finally, the President said: ‘I wonder if those red-legged, pigeon-toed chaps don’t think they are playing this play? They are dreadful numerous.’ Just before the act drop went up each time, he consulted his programme and said, ‘This is Act two eyes,’ or ‘Act eye V,’ as the case may be. And as we went home, he said: ‘It was a good performance, but I had a thousand times rather read it at home, if it were not for Booth’s playing. A farce or a comedy is best played; a tragedy is best read at home.”