The half-plate daguerreotype on offer here depicts a young man, most likely still a teenager, sitting confidently for the camera, wearing a Shakespearean outfit that could be that of Hamlet, or another leading character. There is a medallion on the chest of the youth, and he holds an open book. The hand-tinting on the daguerreotype is subtle and transformative, with delicate flesh-tones in the cheeks, and a warm yellow tone to the ribbon of the medallion.
For Josephine Cobb, the legendary archivist and historian who owned and safeguarded this daguerreotype for decades, the identity of the sitter was clear. It was unmistakably a young John Wilkes Booth, before he sported his signature moustache, captured by light on silver plate as a daguerreotype sometime around 17 years old, which would date this plate to approximately 1855. He is clothed in a Shakespearean costume most likely owned by his illustrious theatrical family.
Josephine Cobb (1906-86) herself is a fascinating connection to this daguerreotype. In an article by Mark Pohlab (at Friends of the Lincoln Collection website), he writes that:
“ Cobb occupied positions at the National Archives for thirty-six years as a cataloger, specialist in Civil War subjects, and later as Chief, or Archivist-in-Charge, of the Still Picture Branch. For nearly ninety years there were no known photographs of Abraham Lincoln at Gettysburg. That changed dramatically in 1952 when the intrepid Washington, D.C., archivist Josephine Cobb went searching—and found him. She enlarged a mislabeled glass plate negative until she identified Lincoln’s face in the crowd. ... Her discovery is the closest thing we have to an actual visual record of the Gettysburg Address—one of Lincoln’s, this country’s, and democracy’s finest moments.”
Pohlab conveys the following recollection of Cobb as told by researcher Harold Holzer, a former senior vice president for external affairs at The Metropolitan Museum of Art who had a memorable experience as a young scholar in her presence.
“Once,” he recalled, “Miss Cobb pressed her forefinger to her lips as if to hush our conversation, then slowly opened a drawer in her old wooden desk, whispering: ‘I am going to show you a rare daguerreotype. If you can tell me who it portrays, I will consider that you have graduated into a real student of Civil War photography.’ And then, almost conspiratorially, she handed me a small plate, covered completely in wax paper and secured by an orange rubber band. ‘But I can’t see it, I protested. It’s wrapped in wax paper. May I remove it?’ ‘Of course not,’ she snapped, snatching it back and replacing it in her drawer. ‘That would make it too easy.’ So much for graduating.”
According to the Maillets, the most enigmatic daguerreotype in Miss Cobb’s large photography collection, the one which she kept tightly under wraps in every sense of the word, was precisely this portrait of the youth she staunchly believed was a teenage John Wilkes Booth who would have been around 17 years old at the time.
The name Booth resonates through American history primarily for a single tragic act—the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln by John Wilkes Booth on April 14, 1865, when the actor was 26 years of age. Yet this infamous moment obscures what was, for decades prior, one of the most celebrated theatrical families in American and British stage history. The Booth family's story is one of remarkable talent, fierce rivalry, and ultimately, profound tragedy.
The theatrical legacy began with Junius Brutus Booth Sr., born in London in 1796 to a lawyer with republican sympathies who named his son after the Roman republican Junius Brutus. Though his father intended him to pursue law or printing, young Junius found himself irresistibly drawn to the stage. He made his professional debut at London's Walworth Theater in 1813, and within a few years was performing at Covent Garden alongside the legendary Edmund Kean. Junius quickly developed a reputation for his intense, passionate acting style and remarkable vocal talents, excelling particularly in Shakespearean roles such as Richard III, Iago, and Shylock.
In 1821, Booth abruptly left England for America. He settled in rural Maryland where Booth purchased a farmhouse named "Tudor Hall," and continued performing in theaters throughout the United States. Despite his small stature, Booth commanded attention with his powerful voice and electrifying presence. By the time of his death in 1852—while traveling by steamboat from New Orleans to Cincinnati—Junius Brutus Booth Sr. had established himself as one of the most celebrated actors in America and laid the foundation for a theatrical dynasty.
This dynasty would reach its artistic pinnacle through his second son, Edwin Booth. Born in 1833, Edwin initially served as his father's dresser and made his stage debut at the age of 13. Following his father's death, Edwin emerged as a star in his own right during the 1850s. His landmark 100-night run as Hamlet at the Winter Garden Theatre in New York in 1864-65 cemented his reputation as the preeminent Shakespearean actor in America. He later founded the Players Club, on Grammercy Park, New York City, which still functions today.
John Wilkes Booth, born in 1838 as the ninth of ten children and the third son of Junius Brutus Booth Sr., inherited his father's dramatic intensity and physical grace. He made his stage debut in 1855 in Baltimore, performing as the character Richmond in Richard III—a Booth family specialty.
Author Stanley Kimmel, in his 1940 book The Mad Booths of Maryland, offered this description of his first performance:
“On the evening of August 14, 1855, a seventeen-year-old stripling by the name of John Wilkes Booth made his début as Richmond, in Richard III, with a Mr. Ellis in the title role, at the Charles Street Theatre in Baltimore. In one notice he was incorrectly announced as J. M. Booth. It was a benefit for his sister Asia's beau, John Sleeper Clarke, who was winning laurels as a talented young comedian, and on this night appeared in an afterpiece entitled Toodles. Wilkes, as he was now beginning to be known, was billed as the son of ... Junius Brutus Booth.”
Could this daguerreotype portrait, depicting a youth in Shakespearean garb, have been made to commemorate Booth’s theatrical debut? It is entirely conceivable that it was.
Unlike the more cerebral Edwin, John Wilkes became known for his physical, energetic performances and his romantic appeal. Contemporary accounts frequently mention his striking good looks—his dark hair, intense eyes, and athletic physique. By the early 1860s, John Wilkes had established himself as one of the most successful actors in America, reportedly earning around $20,000 annually—equivalent to over $500,000 today—a testament to his tremendous popularity.
This popularity coincided with the early flourishing of photography in America, and John Wilkes Booth became one of the theatrical world's most photographically reproduced figures. He was keenly aware of the power of a striking photographic portrait, and many autographed examples of carte de visite are extant.
Most of the portraits of Booth were taken between 1860 and his death in 1865. The standard reference book for the subject of known portraits of John Wilkes Booth is a single volume titled John Wilkes Booth Himself (Hired Hand Press, MA, 1979). By the mid to late 1850s, photographic studios were producing paper prints. The forty images published in that study were gathered by Richard J. S. Gutman and Kellie O. Gutman, noting that, “if John Wilkes Booth had his picture taken as a child, the photo would have been a daguerreotype.”
While this image is not included in their volume, it is not known if the Gutman’s were aware of this image and chose to exclude it, or more likely, they were simply unaware of the existence of the portrait. When Floyd and Marion Rinhart published their book, The American Daguerreotype (University of Georgia Press, GA 1981), two years later, the picture makes an appearance on p. 375 in a section titled “Portraits of an Age.” The caption is simply “Actor, ca. 1855,” and is noted as “courtesy Josephine Cobb.” While any identification is withheld, of all the works accessible to the Rinharts for their publication, it is telling that they chose to include this fine example.
According to the Maillets, Cobb’s hesitancy to disclose the true identity of the sitter was one of embarrassment. “She was ashamed,” recalled Yann Maillet, “and as a well-known Lincoln scholar, she didn’t want to appear to be glorifying Booth or his horrendous act.” Likewise, the Gutman’s share similar motivations surrounding a set of photographs of Booth made in 1861 and which bear a connection to the family of the owners of the works which are now held in the McLellan Lincoln Collection at the Brown University Library in Providence, Rhode Island. Harry Ellsworth Baker, a noted one-time curator of the Lincoln Fellowship of Southern California, offered the following explanation:
Booth was “persuaded ... to pose for the series of pictures...A few years passed by and Booth’s mad act gave ample reason for the destruction of the pictures, but instead they were hidden away where none but the family knew of their existence, and now, after the lapse of nearly eighty years, they are brought to light.”
The maker of the present half-plate daguerreotype is unknown; the city where this was made or photographic studio is likewise unknown. Yet the resemblance is strong; the pose is confident; the costume undoubtedly Shakespearean. And with a final flair of possible identification, inscribed onto the raw metal of the verso of the plate are haunting, loosely cursive, scrawled initials that appear to read JWB.
The Booth family's theatrical accomplishments constitute a significant chapter in American cultural history, elevating stagecraft and planting the seeds of a love of Shakespeare. Yet this remarkable artistic legacy would forever be overshadowed by the actions of John Wilkes Booth on that fateful night at Ford's Theatre. While Edwin worked tirelessly to rebuild the family name through artistic excellence and philanthropy, founding the Players Club and supporting numerous charitable causes, he could never fully escape the shadow of his brother's crime. When Edwin Booth died in 1893, newspapers noted his brilliance as an actor but invariably mentioned the family's connection to Lincoln's assassination.
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