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diff --git a/old/61348-8.txt b/old/61348-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0806b7c..0000000 --- a/old/61348-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,17264 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Life of Edwin Forrest, Volume 1 (of 2), by -William Rounseville Alger - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Life of Edwin Forrest, Volume 1 (of 2) - The American Tragedian - -Author: William Rounseville Alger - -Release Date: February 9, 2020 [EBook #61348] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE OF EDWIN FORREST, VOL 1 *** - - - - -Produced by David Edwards, Alan and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was -produced from images made available by the HathiTrust -Digital Library.) - - - - - - - - - - Transcriber's Note: - - The tables of contents and steel plates reflect future volumes. - - See end of text for further notes. - - - - -[Illustration: EDWIN FORREST. ĘT 45] - - LIFE - OF - EDWIN FORREST, - THE AMERICAN TRAGEDIAN. - - BY - WILLIAM ROUNSEVILLE ALGER. - - "All the world's a stage, - And all the men and women merely players." - - VOLUME I. - - PHILADELPHIA: - J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. - 1877. - - - - - Copyright, 1877, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. - - - - - TO - - JAMES OAKES, - - THE - - TRUE PYTHIAS - - IN THE REAL LIFE OF THIS - - DAMON, - - THE FOLLOWING BIOGRAPHY - - IS INSCRIBED. - - - - -PREFATORY NOTE. - - -THE AUTHOR of the following work apologizes for the delay of its -publication on the ground of long-continued ill health which unfitted -him for mental labor. He has tried to make amends by sparing no pains -in his effort to do justice to the subjects treated. The plan of the -ensuing biography is that of a philosophical history, which adds to the -simple narrative of events a discussion of the causes and teachings of -the events. The writer has interspersed the mere recital of personal -facts and incidents with studies of the principal topics of a more -general nature intimately associated with these, and has sought to -enforce the lessons they yield. His aim in this has been to add to -the descriptive interest of the work more important moral values. -The thoughtful reader, who seeks improvement and is interested in -the fortunes of his kind, will, it is believed, find these episodes -attractive; and the frivolous reader, who seeks amusement alone, need -not complain of disquisitions which he can easily skip. - -The author foresees that some opinions advanced will be met with -prejudice and disfavor, perhaps with angry abuse. But as he has written -in disinterested loyalty to truth and humanity, attacking no entrenched -notion and advocating no revolutionary one except from a sense of duty -and in the hope of doing a service, he will calmly accept whatever -odium the firm statement of his honest convictions may bring. Society -in the present phase of civilization is full of tyrannical errors -and wrongs against which most persons are afraid even so much as to -whisper. To remove these obstructive evils, and exert an influence -to hasten the period of universal justice and good will for which the -world sighs, men of a free and enlightened spirit must fearlessly -express their thoughts and breathe their philanthropic desires into -the atmosphere. If their motives are pure and their views correct, -however much a prejudiced public opinion may be offended and stung to -assail them, after a little while their valor will be applauded and -their names shine out untarnished by the passing breath of obloquy. It -is, Goethe said, with true opinions courageously uttered as with pawns -first advanced on the chess-board: they may be beaten, but they have -inaugurated a game which must be won. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - CHAPTER I. PAGE - - PRELUDE 13 - - - CHAPTER II. - - PARENTAGE AND FAMILY 32 - - - CHAPTER III. - - BOYHOOD AND YOUTH 55 - - - CHAPTER IV. - - PSYCHOLOGICAL ORIGIN, VARIETY, AND PERSONAL USES OF THE - DRAMATIC ART 76 - - - CHAPTER V. - - THE DRAMATIC APPRENTICE AND STROLLING PLAYER 96 - - - CHAPTER VI. - - LIFE IN NEW ORLEANS.--CRITICAL PERIOD OF EXPERIENCE 113 - - - CHAPTER VII. - - BREAKING THE WAY TO FAME AND FORTUNE 140 - - - CHAPTER VIII. - - GROWTH AND FRESHNESS OF PROFESSIONAL GLORY: INVIDIOUS ATTACKS - AND THEIR CAUSES 156 - - - CHAPTER IX. - - SENSATIONAL AND ARTISTIC ACTING.--CHARACTERS OF PHYSICAL AND - MENTAL REALISM.--ROLLA.--TELL.--DAMON.--BRUTUS.--VIRGINIUS. - --SPARTACUS.--METAMORA 193 - - - CHAPTER X. - - TWO YEARS OF RECREATION AND STUDY IN THE OLD WORLD 262 - - - CHAPTER XI. - - PROFESSIONAL TOUR IN GREAT BRITAIN 294 - - - CHAPTER XII. - - MERIDIAN OF SUCCESS AND REPUTATION.--NEW ROLES OF FEBRO, MELNOTTE, - AND JACK CADE 323 - - - CHAPTER XIII. - - SECOND PROFESSIONAL TOUR IN GREAT BRITAIN, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. - --THE MACREADY CONTROVERSY AND RIOT 387 - - - CHAPTER XIV. - - NEWSPAPER ESTIMATES.--ELEMENTS OF THE DRAMATIC ART, AND ITS TRUE - STANDARD OF CRITICISM 432 - - - CHAPTER XV. - - PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC LIFE.--FONTHILL CASTLE.--JEALOUSY.--DIVORCE. - --LAWSUITS.--TRAGEDIES OF LOVE IN HUMAN LIFE AND IN THE DRAMATIC - ART 482 - - - CHAPTER XVI. - - PROFESSIONAL CHARACTER OF THE PLAYER.--RELATIONS WITH OTHER - PLAYERS.--THE FUTURE OF THE DRAMA 523 - - - CHAPTER XVII. - - OUTER AND INNER LIFE OF THE MAN 549 - - - CHAPTER XVIII. - - PRIZES AND PENALTIES OF FAME 582 - - - CHAPTER XIX. - - FRIENDSHIPS.--THEIR ESSENTIAL NATURE AND DIFFERENT LEVELS.--THEIR - LOSS AND GAIN, GRIEF AND JOY 606 - - - CHAPTER XX. - - PLACE AND RANK OF FORREST AS A PLAYER.--THE CLASSIC, ROMANTIC, - NATURAL, AND ARTISTIC SCHOOLS OF ACTING 639 - - - CHAPTER XXI. - - HISTORIC EVOLUTION AND SOCIAL USES OF THE DRAMATIC ART.--GENIUS - AND RELATIONSHIP OF THE LIBERAL PROFESSIONS.--HOSTILITY OF THE - CHURCH AND THE THEATRE 671 - - - CHAPTER XXII. - - FORREST IN SEVEN OF HIS CHIEF ROLES.--CHARACTERS OF IMAGINATIVE - PORTRAITURE.--RICHELIEU.--MACBETH.--RICHARD.--HAMLET. - --CORIOLANUS.--OTHELLO.--LEAR 720 - - - CHAPTER XXIII. - - CLOSING YEARS AND THE EARTHLY FINALE 795 - - - APPENDIX. - - I. THE WILL OF EDWIN FORREST 849 - - II. THE FORREST MEDALS AND TOKENS 855 - - - - -LIST OF STEEL PLATES. - - - PAGE - - Portrait of EDWIN FORREST ętat. 46. Engraved by _Fred. Halpin_ - (Frontispiece). - - " " " 21 Engraved by _Fred. Halpin_ 262 - - EDWIN FORREST as VIRGINIUS " _W. G. Jackman_ 230 - - " METAMORA " _Jas. Bannister_ 237 - - " SPARTACUS " _Fred. Halpin_ 249 - - REBECCA FORREST " _R. Whitechurch_ 424 - - EDWIN FORREST as SHYLOCK " _D. G. Thompson_ 738 - - " MACBETH " _Augustus Robin_ 739 - - " RICHARD III. " _H. B. Hall & Sons_ 746 - - " HAMLET " _G. H. Cushman_ 751 - - " OTHELLO " _G. R. Hall_ 769 - - " KING LEAR " _G. H. Cushman_ 781 - - Portrait of EDWIN FORREST ętat. 66 " _H. B. Hall & Sons_ 795 - - FORREST MEDALS " _Samuel Sartain_ 855 - - -The engravings of Mr. Forrest in character are after photographs by -Brady. - - - - -LIFE OF EDWIN FORREST. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -PRELUDE. - - -EDWIN FORREST has good claims for a biography. The world, it has -been said, is annually inundated with an intolerable flood of lives -of nobodies. So much the stronger motive, then, for presenting the -life of one who was an emphatic somebody. There is no more wholesome -or more fascinating exercise for our faculties than in a wise and -liberal spirit to contemplate the career of a gifted and conspicuous -person who has lived largely and deeply and shown bold and exalted -qualities. To analyze his experience, study the pictures of his deeds, -and estimate his character by a free and universal standard, is one of -the fittest and finest tasks to which we can be summoned. To do this -with assimilating sympathy and impartial temper, stooping to no meaner -considerations than the good and evil, the baseness and grandeur of -man as man, requires a degree of freedom from narrow distastes, class -and local biases, but rarely attained. Every effort pointing in this -direction, every biographic essay characterized by a full human tone -or true catholicity, promises to be of service, and thus carries its -own justification. The habit of esteeming and censuring men in this -generous human fashion, uninfluenced by any sectarian or partisan -motive, unswayed by any clique or caste, is one of the ripest results -of intellectual and moral culture. It implies that fusion of wisdom and -charity which alone issues in a grand justice. One of the commonest -evils among men is an undue sympathy for the styles of character and -modes of life most familiar to them or like their own, with an undue -antipathy for those unfamiliar to them or unlike their own. It is -a duty and a privilege to outgrow this low and poor limitation by -cultivating a more liberal range of appreciation. - -There is still lingering in many minds, especially in the so-called -religious world, a strong prejudice against the dramatic profession. -Analyzed down to its origin, the long warfare of church and theatre, -the instinctive aversion of priest and player, will be found to be -rooted in the essential opposition of their respective ideals of life. -The ecclesiastical ideal is ascetic, its method painful obedience and -prayer, its chief virtues self-restraint and denial; the dramatic -ideal is free, its method self-development and culture, its ruling -aims gratification and fulfilment The votaries of these distinctive -sets of convictions and sentiments have from an early age formed two -hostile camps. Accordingly, when one known as a clergyman was said to -be writing the life of an actor, the announcement created surprise -and curiosity and elicited censorious comment. The question was often -asked, how can this strange conjunction be explained? It is therefore, -perhaps, not inappropriate for the author of the present work to state -the circumstances and motives which caused him to undertake it. The -narrative will be brief, and may, with several advantages, take the -place of a formal preface. Conventional prefaces are rarely read; but -the writer trusts that the statement he proposes to make will be not -only interesting to the reader but likewise helpful, by furnishing him -with the proper key and cue to the succeeding chapters. It may serve -as a sort of preparatory lighting up of the field to be traversed; a -kind of prelusive sketch of the provinces of experience to be surveyed, -of the lessons to be taught, and of the credentials of the author in -the materials and other conditions secured to him for the completion -of his task. This statement is to be taken as an explanation, not as -an apology. The only justification needed lies in the belief that the -theatrical life may be as pure and noble as the ecclesiastical; that -the theatre has as sound a claim to support as the church; that the -great actor, properly equipped for his work, is the most flexible -and comprehensive style of man in the world, master of all types of -human nature and all grades of human experience; and that the priestly -profession in our day has as much to learn from the histrionic as it -has to teach it. - -In the winter of 1867, a man of genius, a friend in common between -us, having been struck by paralysis and left without support for his -family, I encountered James Oakes engaged in the benevolent business -of raising funds for the relief of the sufferers from this calamity. -Propitious conditions were thus supplied for the beginning of our -acquaintance in respect and sympathy. There were characteristic -cardinal chords in our breasts which vibrated in unison, and, in -consequence, a strong liking sprang up between us. - -For forty years James Oakes had been the sworn bosom friend of Edwin -Forrest. He regarded him with an admiration and love romantic if not -idolatrous. He had, as he said, known him as youth, as man, in all -hours, all fortunes; had summered him and wintered him, and for nigh -half a century held him locked in the core of his heart, which he -opened every day to look in on him there. He resembled him in physical -development, in bearing, in unconscious tricks of manner, in tastes and -habits. Indeed, so marked were the likeness and assimilation, despite -many important differences, that scores of times the sturdy merchant -was taken for the tragedian, and their photographs were as often -identified with each other. - -No one could long be in cordial relations with Oakes and not frequently -hear him allude to his distinguished friend and relate anecdotes of -him. Besides, I had myself recollections of Forrest warmly attracting -me to him. He was one of the first actors I had ever seen on the stage; -the very first who had ever electrified and spell-bound me. When a -boy of ten years I had seen him in the old National Theatre in Boston -in the characters of Rolla, Metamora, and Macbeth. The heroic traits -and pomp of the parts, the impassioned energy and vividness of his -delineations, the bell, drum, and trumpet qualities of his amazing -voice, had thrilled me with emotions never afterwards forgotten. I had -also, in later years, often seen him in his best casts. Accordingly, -when, on occasion of a visit of Forrest to his friend in Boston in the -early autumn of 1868, the offer of a personal interview was given me, I -accepted it with alacrity. - -There were three of us, and we sat together for hours that flew -unmarked. It was a charmed occasion. There was no jar or hindrance, -and he without restraint unpacked his soul of its treasures of a -lifetime. The great range of experience from which he drew pictures -and narratives with a skill so dramatic, the rare ease and force of -his conversation, the deep vein of sadness obviously left by his -trials, the bright humor with which he so naturally relieved this -gloom and vented his heart, the winning confidence and gentleness -with which he treated me, no touch or glimpse of anything coarse or -imperious perceptible in that genial season,--all drew me to him with -unresisted attraction. I seemed to recognize in him the unquestionable -signals of an honest and powerful nature, magnanimous, proud, tender, -equally intellectual and impassioned, harshly tried by the world yet -reaping richly from it, capable of eloquent thoughts and great acts, -not less fond and true in friendship than tenacious in enmity, always -self-reliant, living from impulses within, and not, like so many -persons, on tradition and conventionality. - -Such was the beginning of my private acquaintance with Forrest. Between -that date and his death I had many meetings and spent considerable -time with him. He took me into his confidence, unbosomed himself to -me without reserve, recounted the chief incidents of his life, and -freely revealed, even as to a father confessor, his inmost opinions, -feelings, and secret deeds. The more I learned of the internal facts -of his career, and the more thoroughly I mastered his character, -constantly reminding one--as his friend Daniel Dougherty suggested--of -the character of Guy Darrell in the great novel of Bulwer, the more I -saw to respect and love. It is true he had undeniable faults,--defects -and excesses which perversely deformed his noble nature,--such as -frequent outbreaks of harshness and fierceness, occasional superficial -profanity, a vein of unforgiving bitterness, sudden alternations of -repulsive stiffness with one and too unrestrained familiarity with -another. Still, in his own proper soul, from centre to circumference, -undisturbed by collisions, he was grand and sweet. When truly himself, -not chafed or crossed, a more interesting man, or a pleasanter, no one -need wish to meet. - -Oakes had long felt that the life of his friend, so prominent and -varied and comprehensive, eminently deserved to be recorded in some -full and dignified form. He was seeking for a suitable person to -whom to intrust the work. With the assent of Forrest he urged me to -assume it. I did not at first accede to the proposal, but took it into -consideration, making, meanwhile, a careful study of the subject, and -arriving finally at the conclusions which follow. - -I found in Edwin Forrest a man who must always live in the history -of the stage as the first great original American actor. This place -is secured to him by his nativity, the variety, independence, vigor, -and impressiveness of his impersonations, the important parts with -which he was so long exclusively identified, the extent and duration -of his popularity, and the imposing results of his success. Other -distinguished actors who have had a brilliant reputation in this -country have been immigrants or visitors here, as Cooke, Cooper, -Conway, Kean, Booth; or have been eminent only in some special part, -as Marble, Hackett, Setchell, Jefferson; or have enjoyed but a local -celebrity, as Burton, Warren, and others. But Forrest, home-born on -our soil, intensely national in every nerve, is indissolubly connected -with the early history of the American drama by a career of conspicuous -eminence, illustrated in a score of the greatest characters, and -reaching through fifty years. During this prolonged period his massive -physique, his powerful personality, his electrifying energy, his -uncompromising honesty and frankness, his wealth, the controversies -that raged around him, the unhappy publicity of his domestic -misfortune, and other circumstances of various kinds, combined, by -means of the newspapers, pamphlets, pictures, statuettes, caricatures, -to make him a familiar presence in every part of the country. -Therefore, whatever differences there may have been in the critical -estimates of the rank of his particular presentments or of his general -style of acting, it is impossible to deny him his historic place as the -first great representative American actor. He likewise _deserves_ this -place, as will hereafter be recognized, by his pronounced originality -as the founder of a school of acting--the American School--which -combined, in a manner without any prominent precedent, the romantic and -the classic style, the physical fire and energy of the melodramatic -school with the repose and elaborate painting of the artistic school. - -It cannot be fairly thought that the great place and fame of Forrest -are accidental. Such achievements as he compassed are not adventitious -products of luck or caprice, but are the general measure of worth and -fitness. Otherwise, why did they not happen as well to others among -the hundreds of competitors who contended with him at every step for -the same prizes, but were all left behind in the open race? If mere -brawniness, strutting, rant, purchased favor, and clap-trap could -command such an immense and sustained triumph, why did they not yield -it in other cases, since there were not at any time wanting numerous -and accomplished professors of these arts? A wide, solid, and permanent -reputation, such as crowned the career of Forrest, is obtained only by -substantial merit of some kind. The price paid is commensurate with the -value received. - -The common mass of the community may not be able to judge of the -supreme niceties of merit in the different provinces of art, to -appreciate the finest qualities and strokes of genius, and award their -plaudits and laurels with that exact justice which will stand as the -impartial verdict of posterity. In these respects their decisions are -often as erroneous as they are careless and fickle; and competent -judges, trained in critical knowledge, skilled by long experience to -detect the minutest shades of truth and falsehood, beauty and ugliness, -desert and blameworthiness, will not hesitate to overrule the passing -partialities of the contemporary crowd, and rectify their errors for -the record of history. But the multitude are abundantly able--none more -so--to respond with admiring interest to the impression of original -power, recognize the broad outlines of a sublime and fiery soul, thrill -under the general signs of genius, and pay deserved tribute to popular -exhibitions of skill. And when this great coveted democratic tribute -has been given to a public servant, in an unprecedented degree, for -half a century, throughout the whole extent of a nation covering eight -millions of square miles and including more than thirty millions of -inhabitants, securing him a professional income of from twenty to -forty thousand dollars a season, and filling three dozen folio volumes -with newspaper and magazine cuttings composed of biographic sketches -of him and critical notices of his performances,--to undertake to set -aside the overwhelming verdict, as deceived and vulgar, is both idle -and presumptuous. To account for a career like that of Edwin Forrest -it is necessary to admit that he must have embodied force, intellect, -passion, culture, and perseverance in a very uncommon degree. And -in perceiving and honoring the general evidences of this the great -average of the people are better judges, fairer critics, than any -special classes or cliques can be; because the former are free from the -finical likes and dislikes, the local whims and biases, the envy and -squeamishness which prejudice the feelings and corrupt the judgments of -the latter. - -The historic place and power of Forrest are of themselves one good -reason why his life should be fully and fairly written while all the -data are within reach. For it can hardly be a matter of doubt that -the theatre is destined in future ages to have in this country a rank -and a space assigned to it in the education and entertainment of the -public such as it has not yet known. The interest in types of human -nature, in modes of human life, in all the marvels of the inner world -of the soul, will increase with that popular leisure and culture which -the multiplication of labor-saving machinery promises to carry to an -unknown pitch; and as fast as this interest grows, the estimate of -the drama will ascend as the best school for the living illustration -of the experience of man. It is not improbable that the scholars and -critics of America a hundred or two hundred years hence will be looking -back and laboring with a zeal we little dream of now to recover the -beginnings of our national stage as seen in its first representatives. -For then the theatre, in its splendid public examples and in its -innumerable domestic reduplications, will be regarded as the unrivalled -educational mirror of humanity. - -Of no American actor has there yet been written a biography worthy -of the name; though scarcely any other sphere of life is so crowded -with adventure, with romance, with every kind of affecting incident, -and with striking moral lessons. The theatre is a concentrated nation -in itself. It is a moving and illuminated epitome of mankind. It is -a condensed and living picture of the ideal world within the real -world. It has its old man, its old woman, its king and queen, its -fop, buffoon, and drudge, its youth, its chambermaid, its child, its -fine lady, its hero, its walking gentleman, its villain,--in short, -its possible patterns of every style of character and life. On the -surface of that little mimic world play in miniature reflection all -the jealousies and ambitions, hopes and fears, joys and sorrows, plots -and counterplots, of the huge actual world roaring without. A clear -portrayal of this from the interior, or even a constant suggestion of -it in connection with the history of one of its representatives, must -be full of interest and edification. - -It is very singular, and lamentable too, that while there are hundreds -of admirable and celebrated biographies of kings, generals, statesmen, -artists, inventors, merchants, authors, there is said not to exist a -single life of an actor which is a recognized classic, a work combining -standard value and popular charm. This is especially strange when we -recollect that the genius of the player has an incomparable claim for -literary preservation, because the glorious monuments of the deeds -of the others remain for the contemplation of posterity, but the -achievements of the actor pass away with himself in a fading tradition. -Architect, sculptor, painter, poet, composer, legislator, bequeath -their works as a posthumous life. The tragedian has no chance of this -sort unless the features and accents of the great characters he created -are photographed in breathing description on the pages that record his -triumphs and make him live forever, who otherwise would soon become a -bodiless and inaudible echo. - -The highest value and service of histrionic genius consist herein; that -the magical power of its performances evokes in the souls of those who -throng to gaze on them the noblest thoughts and sentiments in a degree -superior to that in which they experience them in ordinary life. They -thus feel themselves exalted to a grander pitch than their native one. -If the great impersonations of Forrest can in a permanent biography be -pictured adequately in the colors of reality, each copy of the book -will perpetuate a reflex Forrest to repeat in literature on succeeding -generations what he did so effectively in life on his contemporaries; -namely, strike the elemental chords of human nature till they vibrate -with intense sympathy to sublimer degrees than their own of the great -virtues of manly sincerity, heroism, honor, domestic love, friendship, -patriotism, and liberty, which he illustrated in his chief parts. - -Furthermore, every actor who excelling in his art maintains a high -character and bearing, and wins a proud social position and fortune, -exerts an effective influence in removing the traditional odium or -suspicion from his class, and thus confers a benefit on all who are -hereafter to be members of it. His example deserves to be lifted into -general notice. In the case of Forrest this consideration received an -unprecedented emphasis from the fact of his devoting the vast sum of -money amassed in his laborious lifetime to the endowment of a home for -aged and dependent members of his profession, and of a school for the -public teaching of the dramatic art. - -Besides, he was a man of extraordinary strength and originality of -character, an imperious, self-defending personality, living steadfastly -at first hand from his own impulses, perceptions, and purposes, not -shiftily in faded reflections of the opinions and wishes of other -people at the second or third remove. He was a standing refutation of -the common prejudice against actors, that simulating so many fictitious -traits they gradually cease to have genuine ones of their own, and -become mere lay figures ready for every chance dress. If any man ever -was true to his own fixed type, Forrest was. The study of such a -character is always attractive and strengthening, a valuable tonic for -more dependent and aimless natures. - -He lived a varied, wide, and profound life. He travelled extensively, -mingled with all sorts of people, the noble and the base, the high -and the low, observed keenly, reflected much, was exposed to almost -every sort of trial, and assimilated into his experience the principal -secrets of human nature. The moral substance of the world passed into -his soul, and the great lessons of human destiny were epitomized -there. He knew the inebriating sweetness of popular applause, and the -bitter revulsions consequent on its change into public disfavor and -censure. He wore the honors, suffered the penalties, and proved both -the solidity and the hollowness of fame on its various levels, from the -wild idolatry of ignorant throngs to the admiring friendship of gifted -and refined spirits. There are swarms of men of dry and contracted -souls, and of a poor, wearisome monotony of conventional habits, with -no spiritual saliency or relish, no free appropriation of the treasures -of the world, whose lives if written would have about as much dignity -and interest as the life of a dorbug or a bat. But when a man's -faculties are expansive, and have embraced, in a fresh, impulsive way, -a great range of experiences, the story is worth telling, and, if truly -told, will not fail to yield matter for profitable meditation. - -In addition, Forrest always showed himself a man of sterling integrity, -inflexible truth, whose word was as good as his bond, who toiled in the -open ways of self-denial and industry to build his name and position. -He bribed no one to write him up, bought no one from writing him -down, stooped to no startling eccentricities or tricks to get himself -talked about, arranged no conspiracies to push his own claims or hold -others back, but by manly resolution, study, and effort paid the fair -price for all he won, triumphantly resisting those insidious lures of -indolence, dissipation, and improvidence so incident to a theatrical -career, and steadily raising himself to the summit of his difficult -profession, where he sat in assured mastery for two generations. There -was a native grandeur about him which attracted admiring attention -wherever he moved. - -The life of one who for so long a time and in so great a degree -enjoyed the favor of his countrymen may be said to belong to the -public. The man who has been watched with such eagerness in the -fictitious characters of the stage kindles a desire to see him truly -in his own. It is proper that the story should be told for the -gratification of the natural curiosity of the people, as well as -for the sake of the numerous lessons it must inculcate. The lesson -of an adventurous and ascending career surmounting severe hardships -and obstacles,--the lesson of a varied, fresh, full, racy, and -idiosyncratic experience,--the lesson of an extraordinary knowledge of -the world, transmuting into consciousness the moral substance of the -sphere of humanity,--the lesson of self-respect and force of character -resisting the strongest temptations to fatal indulgence,--the lesson -of strong faults and errors, not resisted or concealed, but unhappily -yielded to, and the bearing of their unavoidable penalties,--the lesson -of resolute devotion to physical training developing a frail and feeble -child into a man of herculean frame and endurance,--the lesson of -talent and ambition patiently employing the means of artistic mental -improvement by independent application to truth and nature,--the lesson -of a brilliant fortune and position bravely won and maintained,--these -and other lessons, besides all those numerous and highly important ones -which the theatrical world and the dramatic art in themselves present -for the instruction of mankind, have not often been more effectively -taught than they may be from the life of Edwin Forrest. - -The subject-matter of the drama, understood in its full dignity, -is nothing less than _the science of human nature and the art of -commanding its manifestations_. The exemplification of this in the -theatre in our country, it is believed, will hereafter be endowed -with a personal instructiveness and a social influence greater than -it has ever had anywhere else. For the moral essence and interest of -representative playing on the stage ultimately reside in the contrasts -between the varieties of reality and ideality in the characters and -lives of human beings. All spiritual import centres in the conflict -and reconciliation of actuals and ideals. In this point of view -the biography of the principal American as yet identified with the -histrionic profession assumes a grave importance for Americans. Such a -narrative will afford opportunity to show what are the elements of good -and bad acting both in earnest and in fiction; to contrast the folly of -living to gain applause with the dignity of living to achieve merit; -to exhibit the valuable uses of competent criticism, the frequency -and ridiculous arrogance of ignorant and prejudiced criticism; to -expose the mean and malignant artifices of envy, jealousy, and ignoble -rivalry. It will, in a word, give occasion for illustrating the true -ideal of life, the harmonious fruition of the full richness of human -nature, with instances of approaches to it and of departures from it. -To get behind the scenes of the dramatic art is to get behind the -scenes of the sources of power, the arts of sway, the workings of vice -and virtue, the deepest secrets of the historic world. - -In the distinguishing peculiarities of his structure and strain -Edwin Forrest was one of those extraordinary men who seem to spring -up rarely here and there, as if without ancestors, direct from some -original mould of nature, and constitute a breed apart by themselves. -Alexander, Cęsar, Demosthenes, Mirabeau, Chatham, Napoleon, draw their -volitions from such an unsounded reservoir of power, have such latent -resources of intuition, can strike such all-staggering blows, that -common men, appalled before their mysteriousness, instinctively revere -and obey. In the primeval time such men loomed with the overshadowing -port of deities and were worshipped as avatars from a higher world. -One of this class of men has, if we may use the figure, a sphere so -dense and vast that the lighter and lesser spheres of those around -him give way on contact with his firmer and weightier gravitation. -Wherever he goes he is treated as a natural king. He carries his royal -credentials in the intrinsic rank of his organism. There is in his -nervous system, resulting from the free connection and uninterrupted -interplay of all its parts, a centralized unity, a slowly swaying -equilibrium, which fills him with the sense of a saturating drench of -power. His consciousness seems to float on his surcharged ganglia in an -intoxicating dreaminess of balanced force, which, by the transcendent -fearlessness and endurance it imparts, lifts him out of the category -of common men. The dynamic charge in his nervous centres is so deep -and intense that it produces a chronic exaltation above fear into -complacency, and raises him towards the eternal ether, among the -topmost heads of our race. Each of these men in his turn draws from -his admiring votaries the frequent sigh of regret that nature made but -one such and then broke the die. This high gift, this unimpartable -superiority, is a secret safely veiled from vulgar eyes. Fine spirits -recognize its occult signals in the pervasive rhythm of the spinal -cord, the steadiness of the eye, the enormous potency of function, the -willowy massiveness of bearing, and a certain mystic languor whose -sleeping surface can with swift and equal ease emit the soft gleams of -love to delight or flash the forked bolts of terror to destroy. This -gift, as terrible as charming, varies with the temperament and habits -of its possessor. In Coleridge its profuse electricity was steeped in -metaphysical poppy and mandragora. In our American Samuel Adams it -was gathered in a battery that discharged the most formidable shocks -of revolutionary eloquence. In Sargent S. Prentiss, one of the most -imperial personalities this continent has known, it stood at a great -height, but his body was too much for his brain, and, as in a thousand -other melancholy examples of splendid genius ruined, the authentic -divinity continually gave way to its maudlin counterfeit. Where the -spell of this supernal inspiration has been inbreathed, unless it -be accompanied by noble employment and gratified affection, either -the mind topples into delirium and imbecility, or the temptation to -drunkenness is irresistible. It can know none of the intermediate -courses of mediocrity, but must still touch some extreme; and one of -the five words, ambition, love, saintliness, madness, or idiocy, covers -the secret history and close of genius on the earth. - -In his basic build, his informing temperament, the habitual sway of -his being, Forrest was a marked specimen of this dominating class -of men. The circumstances of his life and the training of his -mind were unfavorable to the full development of his power, in the -highest directions; and it never came in him to a refined and free -consciousness. Had it done so, as it did in Daniel Webster, he would -have been a man entirely great. Webster was scarcely better known by -his proper name than by his popular sobriquet of the godlike. He and -Forrest were fashioned and equipped on the same scale, and closely -resembled each other in many respects. The atlantean majesty of Webster -seemed so self-commanded in its immense stability that the spectator -imagined it would require a thousand men planting their levers at -the distance of a mile to tip him from his poise. When he drew his -hand from his bosom and stretched it forth in emphatic gesture, the -movement suggested the weight of a ton. It was so with Forrest. The -slowness of his action was sometimes wonderfully impressive, suggesting -to the consciousness an imaginative apprehension of immense spaces -and magnitudes with a corresponding dilation of passion and power. -His attitudes and gestures cast angles whose lines appeared, as the -imagination followed them, to reach to elemental distances. And it -is the perception or the vague feeling of such things as these that -magnetizes a spell-bound auditory as they gaze. The organic foundation -for this exceptional power is the unification of the nervous system -by the exact correlation and open communication of all its scattered -batteries. This heightens the force of each point by its sympathetic -reinforcement with all points. The focal equilibrium that results is -the condition of an immovable self-possession. This is an attainment -much more common once than it is in our day of external absorption and -frittering anxieties. Its signs, the pathetic and sublime indications -of this transfused unity, are visible in the immortal masterpieces of -antique art, in the statues of the gods, kings, sages, heroes, and -great men of India, Egypt, Greece, and Rome. It is now excessively -rare. Most of us are but as collections of fragments pieced together, -so full of strictures and contractions that no vibratory impact or -undulation can circulate freely in us. But Forrest had this open and -poised unity in such a degree that when at ease he swayed on his centre -like a mountain on a pivot, and when volition put rigidity into his -muscles the centre was solidaire with the periphery. And he was thus -differenced from his average fellow-men just as those two or three -matchless thoroughbred stallions who have so startlingly raised the -breed of horses in this whole country were differenced from their -plebeian brothers in the dray and at the plough. - -The truth here indicated is one of surpassing importance. However -overlooked by the ignorant multitude, it was blindly felt by them, and -it was clearly seen by all who had the key to it, especially by women -of rich intuitions. With these Forrest was always an especial favorite. -Not only did the magnetizing signs of his power so work upon hundreds -of men all over the land that he was imitated by them, his habitudes of -bearing and voice copied and transmitted, but they also wrought more -deeply still on more sensitive imaginations, producing reactions there -to be transmitted thence upon their offspring and perpetuate his traits -in future generations. This is one of the historic prerogatives of the -potent and brilliant artist, one of the chosen modes by which selective -nature or providence improves the strain of our race. No biography can -have a stronger claim on public attention than one which promises to -throw light on the law for exalting the human organism to its highest -perfection,--a secret which belongs to the complete training of a -dramatic artist and the fascination with which it invests him in the -eyes of sensibility. - -Still further, Forrest has a claim for posthumous justice as one who -was wronged in important particulars of his life and misjudged in -essential elements of his character. Outraged, as he conceived, in the -sanctities of his manhood, he bore the obloquy for years with outward -silence, but with an inner resentment that rankled to his very soul. -Endowed with a tender and expansive heart, cultivated taste, and a -scrupulous sense of justice, shrinking sensitively from any stain on -his honor, he was in many circles considered a selfish despot addicted -to the most unprincipled practices. His enemies, combining with -certain sets of critics, incompetent, prejudiced, or unprincipled, -caused it to be quite commonly supposed that he was a coarse, low -performer, merely capable of splitting the ears of the groundlings; -while, in fact, his intellectual vigor, his conversational powers, his -literary discernment, and his sensibility to the choicest delicacies of -sentiment were as much superior to those of the ordinary run of men as -his popular success on the stage was greater than that of the ordinary -stock of actors. Betrayed--as he and his intimate friends believed--in -his own home, he was, when at length, after long forbearance, moved to -seek legal redress, himself accused, and as he always felt, against -law, evidence, and equity, loaded with shameful condemnation and -damages. Standing by his early friends with faithful devotion and -open purse, he was accused of heartlessly deserting them in their -misfortunes. A penniless boy, making his money not by easy speculations -which bring a fortune in a day, but by hard personal labor, he gave -away over a quarter of a million dollars, and then was stigmatized -as an avaricious curmudgeon. Cherishing the keenest pride in his -profession and in those who were its honor and ornament,--bestowing -greater pecuniary benefactions on it than any other man who ever -lived, and meditating a nobler moral service to it than any other -mere member of it has conferred since Thespis first set up his -cart,--he was accused of valuing his art only as a means of personal -enrichment and glorification, and of being a haughty despiser of his -theatrical brothers and sisters. As a result of these industrious -misrepresentations, there is abroad in a large portion of the community -a judgment of him which singularly inverts every fair estimate of his -deserts after a complete survey. It seems due to justice that the facts -be stated, and his character vindicated, so far as the simple light of -the realities of the case will vindicate it. - -Two definite illustrations may here fitly serve to show that the -foregoing statements are to be regarded not as vague generalities, -but as strict and literal truth. One is in relation to the frequent -estimate of Forrest as a quarrelsome, fighting man. Against this may be -set the simple fact that, with all his gigantic strength, pugilistic -skill, and volcanic irritability, from his eighteenth year to his death -he never laid violent hand in anger on a human being, except in one -instance, and that was when provocation had set him beside himself. -The other illustration is concerning his alleged pecuniary meanness. -When he was past sixty-five, alone in the world with his fast-swelling -fortune, under just the circumstances to give avarice its sharpest -edge and energy, he set apart the sum of fifty thousand dollars for an -annuity to an old friend, to release him from toil and make his last -years happy. Even of those called generous, how many in our day are -capable of such a deed in answer to a silent claim of friendship? - -One more element or feature in this life, of public interest, of -attraction and value for biographic use, is its strictly American -character. All the outlines and setting of Forrest's career, the -quality and smack of his sentiments, the mould and course of his -thoughts, the style of his art, were distinctly American. His immediate -descent, on both sides, from European immigrants suggests the lesson -of the mixture in our nationality, the providential place and purpose -of the great world-gathering of nationalities and races in our -republic. His personal prejudice against foreigners, with his personal -indebtedness to the teachings and examples of foreigners,--Pilmore, -Wilson, Cooper, Conway, Kean,--brings up the question of the just -feelings which ought to subsist between our native-born and our -naturalized citizens; that true spirit of human catholicity which -should blend them all in a patriotism identical at last with universal -philanthropy and scorning to harbor any schismatic dislikes. And then -his intimate relations, at critical periods of his life, with the -most marked specimens of our Western and Southern civilization, bring -upon the biographic scene many illustrations of those unique American -characters, having scarcely prototypes or antitypes, which have passed -away forever with the state of society that produced them. - -His experience arched from 1806 to 1872, a period perhaps more -momentous in its events, discoveries, inventions, and prophetic -preparations than any other of the same length since history began. -He saw his country expand from seventeen States to thirty-seven, and -from a population of six millions to one of forty millions, with its -flag floating in every wind under heaven. Washington, indeed, and -Franklin, were dead when the life of Forrest began; but Jefferson, -Adams, Madison, Marshall, and a throng of the Revolutionary worthies -were still on the stage. When he died, every one of the second great -cluster of illustrious Americans, grouped in the national memory, with -Clay, Calhoun, Webster, Irving, Cooper, and Channing in the centre, was -gone; and even the third brilliant company, Emerson, Hawthorne, Bryant, -Bancroft, and their peers, was already broken and faltering under the -blows of death and decay. During this time his heart-strings stretched -out to embrace, the vascular web of his proud sympathies was woven -over, every successive State and Territory added to our domain, till, -in his later age, his enraptured eyes drank in the wondrous loveliness -of the landscapes of California. By his constant travels and sojourns -in all parts of the land, by his acquaintance with innumerable persons -representing all classes and sections, by the various relationships -of his profession with literature, the press, and the general public, -there are suggestive associations, for more than fifty years, between -his person, his spirit, his fortunes, and everything that is most -peculiar and important in the historic growth and moral changes and -destiny of his country. - -The composition of a narrative doing justice to a life with such -contents and such relations may well be thought worth the while of any -one. And if it be properly composed, if the programme here laid down -be adequately filled up, the result cannot fail to offer instructions -worthy the attention of the American people. - -For the reasons now explained, the most intimate friends of Forrest -had often tried to induce him to write his own memoir. They knew that -such a work would possess extreme interest and value, and they felt -that he had every qualification to do it better than it could be done -by anybody else. But their efforts were vain. Pride in him was greater -than vanity. He had as much self-respect as he had self-complacency. -He was, therefore, not ruled by those motives which caused Cicero, -Augustine, Petrarch, Rousseau, Gibbon, and a throng of lesser men, -to take delight in painting their own portraits, describing their -own experiences, toning up the details with elaborate touches. To -the reiterated arguments urged by his friends, he replied, "I have -all my life been surrounded, as it were, by mirrors reflecting me to -myself at every turn; subjected to those praises and censures which -keep consciousness in a fever; accompanied at every step by a constant -clapping of hands and stamping of feet and pointing of fingers, with -the shout or the whisper, 'There goes Forrest!' I have for years been -sick of this fixing of attention on myself. I can enjoy sitting down -alone and recalling the scenes and occurrences of the past, regarding -them as objects and events outside. But to call them up distinctly as -parts of myself, and record them as a connected whole, with constant -references to the standards in my own mind and the prejudices in the -minds of my friends and my enemies,--I cannot do it. The pain of the -reminiscences, the distress of the fixed self-contemplation, would be -too much. It would drive me mad. Give over. No persuasion on earth can -induce me to think of it." - -Every attempt to secure an autobiography having failed, the author of -the present work was led, under the circumstances before stated, and -with the promise that every facility should be afforded him, to assume -the task. In the first conversation held with him on the undertaking, -Forrest said, "Tell the truth frankly. Let there be no whitewashing. -Show me just as I have been and am." As he thus spoke, he took down -from a shelf of his library the first volume of the "Memoirs of -Bannister the Comedian," by John Adolphus, and read, in rich sweet -tones mellowed by the echoes of his heart, the opening paragraph, which -is as follows: "A friendship of many years' duration, terminated only -by his death, impels me to lay before the public a memoir of the life -of the late John Bannister. In executing this task I am exempted from -the difficulties that so frequently beset the author of a friendly -biographical essay: I have no vices to conceal, no faults to palliate, -no contradictions to reconcile, no ambiguities of conduct to explain. I -purpose to narrate the life of a man whose characteristic integrity and -buoyant benevolence were always apparent in his simulated characters, -and who in real life proved that those exhibitions were not assumed for -the mere purposes of his profession, but that his great success in his -difficult career arose in no small degree from that truth and sincerity -which diffused their influence over the personages he represented." As -the admiring cadence of his voice died sadly away, he laid down the -volume and said to his auditor, "For your sake, in the work on which -you have entered, I wish it were with me as it was with Bannister. -But it is otherwise. My faults are many, and I deserve much blame. -Yet, after every confession and every regret, I feel before God that -I have been a man more sinned against than sinning; and, if the whole -truth be told, I am perfectly willing to bear all the censure, all the -condemnation, that justly belongs to me. Therefore use no disguising -varnish, but let the facts stand forth." - -Such were the words of Forrest himself; and in their spirit the author -will proceed, sparing no pains to learn the truth, neither holding -back or trimming down foibles and vices nor magnifying virtues, -recording his own honest convictions without fear or favor, hoping to -produce as the result a book which shall do justice to its subject, and -contain enough substantial worth and interest to repay the attention -its readers may bestow on it. The work will be written more from the -stage point of view than from the pulpit point of view, but most of -all from that popularized academic or philosophic point of view which -surveys the whole field of human life in a spirit at once of scientific -appreciation, poetic sympathy, and impartial criticism. - -It is to be understood that the acts or traits herein described which -reflect particular credit on Edwin Forrest have not been paraded -or proclaimed by himself, but have either been drawn from him by -questioning or been discovered through inquiries set on foot and -documents brought to light by friends who loved and honored him, knew -how grossly he had been belied, and were determined that his true -record should be set before the public. The writer hopes his readers -will not here take a prejudice, imagining that they spy that frequent -weakness of biographers, a tendency to undue laudation. All that he -asks is that a candid examination be given to the evidence he adduces, -and then that a corresponding decision be rendered. While he tries to -do justice to the good side of his subject, he will be equally frank in -exposing the ill side and pointing its morals. - -The sources of information and authority made use of are as follows: -First, conversations and correspondence, for five years, with Forrest -himself; second, conversations and correspondence with his chief -friends and intimates; third, half a dozen biographical sketches -of considerable length, several of them in print, the others in -manuscript; fourth, magazine articles and newspaper notices and -criticisms, extending through his entire career, and reaching to the -number of some twenty thousand; fifth, the mass of letters and papers -left by him at his death, and made available for my purpose by the -kindness of his executors. I must also make grateful acknowledgment, in -particular, of valuable suggestions and aid from Gabriel Harrison and -T. H. Morrell, two enthusiastic admirers of the player, whose loving -zeal for him did not end with his exit. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -PARENTAGE AND FAMILY. - - -[Illustration] - -EDWIN FORREST made his first appearance on the stage of this world the -ninth day of March, 1806, in the city of Philadelphia. His father, -William Forrest, was a Scotchman, who had migrated to America and -established himself in business as an importer of Scottish fabrics. -He was of good descent. _His_ father, the grandparent of the subject -of this biography, is described as a large, powerfully-built man, -residing, in a highly respectable condition, at Cooniston, Mid-Lothian, -Edinburgh County, Scotland. In the margin is a copy of the family -coat of arms. It was discovered and presented to Mr. Forrest by his -friend William D. Gallagher. The motto, "Their life and their green -strength are coeval," or, as it may be turned, "They live no longer -than they bear verdure," happily characterizes a race whose hardy -constitutions show their force in vigorous deeds to the very end. He -who, in America, plumes himself on mere titular nobility of descent, -may be a snob; but the science of genealogy, the tracing of historic -lineages and transmitted family characteristics, deals with one of -the keenest interests of the human heart, one of the profoundest -elements in the destiny of man. And the increasing attention given to -the subject in our country is a good sign, and not the trifling vanity -which some superficial critics deem it. It deals with those complicated -facts of crossing or mingling streams of blood and lines of nerve out -of which--and it is a point of immeasurable importance--the law of -hereditary communication of qualities and quantities, influences and -destinies, is to be formulated. - -William Forrest, after a long struggle against pecuniary -embarrassments, gave up his mercantile business, and obtained a -situation in the old United States Bank. On the closing of that -institution, in connection with which his merits had secured him the -friendly acquaintance of the celebrated millionaire Stephen Girard, he -received a similar appointment in the Girard Bank. This office he held -until his death, oppressed with the debts bequeathed by his failure, -supporting his family with difficulty, and leaving them quite destitute -at last. - -Mr. Forrest was much esteemed for his good sense, his dignified -sobriety of demeanor, his strict probity, his modesty and industry. -Reserved and taciturn in manners, tall, straight, and slender in -person, he was a hard-working, care-worn, devout, and honest man, -who strove to be just and true in every relation. He had a pale and -sombre face, with regular features, which lighted up with strong -expressiveness when he was pleased or earnestly interested. He was -somewhat disposed to melancholy, though not at all morose, his -depression and reserve being attributable rather to weariness under his -enforced struggle with unfavorable conditions than to any native gloom -of temper or social antipathy. - -Edwin, in his own later years, dwelt with veneration on the memory -of his father, and was fond of recalling his early recollections of -him, deeply regretting that there was no portrait or daguerreotype of -him in existence. He was wont to say that among the sweetest memories -that remained to him from his childhood were the rich and musical -though plaintive tones of his father's voice, the ringing and honest -heartiness of his occasional laugh, and the singular charm of his -smile. He said, "I used to think, when my father smiled, the light -bursting over his dark and sad countenance,--its very rarity lending it -a double lustre,--I used to think I never saw anything so beautiful." -The light of love and joy broke over his sombre features like sunshine -suddenly gilding a gray crag. - -The unobtrusive, toilsome life of this worthy man, unmarked by any -salient points possessing general interest for the public, glided -on in even course to the close, darkened by the shadows of material -adversity, but brightened by the serene lights of domestic happiness -and self-respect. In his poverty he knew many mortifications, many -hardships of self-denial and anxious forethought. But in his upright -character and blameless conduct, in his retiring and religious -disposition, in the kind and respectful regard of all who knew him, he -experienced the supports and consolations deserved by such a type of -man,--a type common in the middle walks of American society, and as -full of merit as it is free from all that is noisy or meretricious. -He was not an educated man, not disciplined and adorned by the arts -of literary and social culture. But his virtues made him eminently -respectable in himself and in his sphere. He came of a good stock, with -noble traditions in its veins, endowed with sound judgment, refined -nervous fibre, a grave moral tone, and persevering self-reliance. He -died of consumption, in 1819, in the sixty-second year of his age. -In the death of his youngest son his blood was extinguished, and the -fire went out on his family hearth. No member of his lineage remains -on earth. The recollections of him, now dim threads in the minds of -a few survivors, will soon fall into the unremembering maw of the -past. Herein his life and fate have this interest for all, that they -so closely resemble those of the great majority of our race. Few can -escape this common lot of obscurity and oblivion. Nor should one care -much to escape it. It is not possible for all to be conspicuous, -famous, envied. Neither is it desirable. The genuine end for all is -to be true and good, obedient to their duty, and useful and pleasant -to their kind. If they can also be happy, why then, that is another -blessing for which to thank God. Beyond a question the most illustrious -favorites of fortune, amidst all the glitter and hurrah of their -lot, are often less contented in themselves and less loved by their -associates than those members of the average condition who attract so -little attention while they stay and are forgotten so soon when they -have gone. And, mortal limits once passed, what matters all this to -the immortal soul? The rank of a man in the sight of God and his fate -in eternity--which are the essential things alike for the loftiest and -the lowliest--depend on considerations very different from the tinsel -of his station or the noise of his career. One may be poor, weak, -obscure, unfortunate, yet be a truly good and happy man. That is the -essential victory. Another may be rich, powerful, renowned, enveloped -in the luxuries of the earth. If his soul is adjusted to its conditions -and wisely uses them, this is a boon still more to be desired; for he -too has the essential victory. The real end and aim of life always lie -within the soul, not in any exterior prize: still, the best outward -conditions may well be the most coveted, although there is no lot which -does not yield full compensations, if the occupant of that lot is what -he ought to be. - -The foregoing sketch, brief and meagre as it is, presents all for which -the constructive materials exist. - -In turning from the father to the mother of Edwin Forrest, the data are -as simple and modest as before, and a still more genial office awaits -the biographer. For she was an excellent example of a good woman, -gentle, firm, judicious, diligent, cheerful, religious, ever faithful -to her duties, the model of what a wife and a mother ought to be. Her -son growingly revered and loved her to the very end of his life, as -much as a man could do this side of idolatry; and he was anxious that -her portrait should be presented and her worth signalized in this book. -Ample opportunities will be afforded for doing this. - -Rebecca Forrest was, in every sense of the words, a true mate and -helpmeet to her husband. He reposed on her with unwavering affection, -respect, and confidence, and found unbroken comfort and satisfaction -there, whatever might happen elsewhere. Through twenty-five years of -happy wedlock she shared all his labors and trials, joys and sorrows, -and survived him for a yet longer period, fondly venerating his memory, -scrupulously guarding and training his children. Her maiden name was -Lauman. Born in Philadelphia, she was of German descent on both sides, -her parents having migrated thither in early life, and set up a new -hearth-stone, to continue here, in a modified form, the old Teutonic -homestead left with tears beyond the sea. - -William Forrest and Rebecca Lauman were married in 1795, he being at -that time thirty-seven years old, she thirty-two. Seven children were -born to them in succession at quite regular intervals of two years. The -nameless boy who preceded Edwin in 1804 died at birth. The remaining -six were all baptized in the Episcopal Church of Saint Paul, on Third -Street, in Philadelphia, by the Rev. Doctor Pilmore, on the same day, -November 13, 1813. The names of these six children, in the order of -their birth, were Lorman, Henrietta, William, Caroline, Edwin, and -Eleanora. - -The first of these to die was Lorman, the eldest of the family. He -was a tanner and currier by trade. He was over six feet in height, -straight as an arrow, lithe and strong, and of a brave and adventurous -disposition. He left home on a filibustering enterprise directed to -some part of South America, in his twenty-sixth year, and nothing was -heard of him afterwards. The following letter, written by Edwin to his -brother William, who was then at Shepherdstown, in Virginia, announces -the unfortunate design of poor Lorman: - - "PHILADELPHIA, August 1st, 1822. - -"DEAR BROTHER,--I received your favor of 29th July, and noted its -contents. I am sorry to hear you have such ill luck. Your business in -this city is very good. - -"Lorman has returned from New York, and intends on Monday next to -embark on board a patriot privateer, now lying in this port, for -Saint Thomas, and from thence to South America, where, in the patriot -service, he has been commissioned 1st lieutenant, at a salary of -eighty dollars per month. He screens himself from mother by telling -her he is going to Saint Thomas to follow his trade, being loath to -inform her of the true cause. A numerous acquaintance accompany him on -the said expedition. He wishes me to beg of you not to say anything -when you return more than he has allowed himself to say. It is a -glorious expedition, and had I not fair prospects in the theatric line -I should be induced to go. - -"Come on as early as possible. You may stand a chance of getting a -berth in the Walnut Street Theatre, or, which is most certain and -best, work at your trade. - -"Mrs. Riddle has removed her dwelling to a romantic scene in Hamilton -Villa. John Moore, advancing above mediocrity, performed Alexander -the Great for her benefit. Please write as early as possible. Till -then adieu. In haste, your affectionate brother, - - "EDWIN." - -The expedition proved an ill-starred one, and Lorman perished in it -in some unrecorded encounter, passing out of history like an unknown -breath. It seems fated that the paths to all great goals shall -be strewn with the wrecks of untimely and irregular enterprises, -unfortunate but prophetic precursors of the final triumphs. It has been -so in the case of the many premature and wrongful attempts to grasp for -the flag of the United States those backward and waiting territories -destined, perhaps, as the harmonies of Providence weave themselves -out, spontaneously to shoot into the web of the completed unity of the -Western Continent. - -Many a gallant and romantic fellow, many a reckless brawler, many -a coarse and vulgar aspirant, many a crudely dreaming and scheming -patriot, half inspired, half mad, has fallen a victim to those -numerous semi-piratical attempts at conquest which have in the eyes -of some flung on our flag the lustre of their promise, in the eyes -of others, planted there the stains of their folly and crime. But if -there be a systematic plan or divine drift and purport in history, -every one of these efforts has had its place, has contributed its -quota of influence, has left its seed, yet to spring up and break into -flower and fruit. Then every life, buried and forgotten while the -slow preparations accumulate, will have a resurrection in the ripe -fulfilment of the end for which it was spent. Meanwhile, the brief and -humble memory of Lorman Forrest sleeps with the nameless multitude of -pioneers the forerunning line of whose graves invites the progress of -free America all around the hemisphere. - -William, the second son, expired under a sudden attack of bilious -colic, at the age of thirty-four. He was a printer, and worked at this -trade for several years, buffeted by fortune from place to place. The -mechanical drudgery, however, irked him. The lack of opportunity and -ability to rise and to better his condition also disheartened and -repelled him; and before he was twenty-one he abandoned the business -of type-setting for an employment more suited to his tastes. He -adopted the theatrical profession and entered on the stage, of which -he had been an amateur votary from his early youth. Their common -dramatic aptitudes and aspirations were a strong bond of fellowship -between him and his youngest brother, and they had a thousand times -practised together at the art of acting, in private, before either -made his appearance in public. This coincidence of talent and ambition -between the brothers seems to reveal an inherited tendency. The local -reputation of the elder, once clear and bright, has been almost utterly -lost in the wide and brilliant fame of the younger. It is fitting that -it be here snatched from oblivion, at least for a passing moment. For -he was both a good man and a good actor, performing his part well -alike on the scenic stage and on the real one; though in his case, -as in that of most of his contemporaries, the merit was not of such -pronounced and impressive relief as to survive in any legible character -the obliterating waves of the half-century which has swept across it. -Yet his accomplishments, force, and desert were sufficient to make -him, in spite of early poverty and premature death, for several years -the respected and successful manager of the leading theatre, first of -Albany, afterwards of Philadelphia. - -The following tribute was paid to him in one of the papers of his -native city on the day of his burial: - -"When we are awakened from the dreams of mimic life, so vividly -portrayed by histrionic skill, to the fatal realities of life -itself, the blow falls with double severity. Such was the effect -on Monday evening, when, on the falling of the curtain at the Arch -Street Theatre, after the first piece, Mr. Thayer stepped forward, -announced the _sudden death_ of Mr. William Forrest, the Manager, and -requested the indulgent sympathy of the audience for the postponement -of the remaining entertainments. A shock so sudden and so profound -it has seldom been our lot to record. Engaged in his duties all the -morning, it appeared but a moment since he had been among us, in the -full enjoyment of health, when the hand of the unsparing destroyer -struck him down. Mr. Forrest was a great and general favorite among -his associates, to whom he was endeared by every feeling of kindness -and affection. Few possessed a more placid or even disposition, and -few won friends so fast and firmly. In his private relations he was -equally estimable, and the loss of him as a son and as a brother will -be long and severely felt." - -He was also spoken of in the same strain by the journals of Albany, one -of them using these words: "Our citizens will regret to read of the -death of Mr. William Forrest. He was known here not only as a manager -of much taste and enterprise, but as an actor of conceded merit and -reputation. He was also esteemed here, as in Philadelphia, by numerous -acquaintances for his personal worth and social qualities. The tidings -of his decease will be received with sorrow by all who knew him." - -So, on the modest actor, manager, and man, after the short and -well-meant scene of his quiet, checkered, not unsuccessful life, the -curtain fell in swift and tragic close, leaving the mourners, who would -often speak kindly of him, to go about the streets for a little while -and then fade out like his memory. - -The three daughters of the family--none of them ever marrying--lived to -see their youngest brother at the height of his fame, and always shared -freely in the comforts secured by his prosperity. They were proud -of his talents and reputation, grateful for his loving generosity, -devoted to his welfare. In his absence from home their correspondence -was constantly maintained, and the only interruption their attachment -knew was death. Henrietta lived to be sixty-five years old, dying -of liver-complaint in 1863. The next, Caroline, died from an attack -of apoplexy in 1869, at the age of sixty-seven. And the youngest, -Eleanora, after suffering partial paralysis, died of cancer in 1871, -being sixty-three years old. - -No one among all our distinguished countrymen has been more thoroughly -American than Edwin Forrest. From the beginning to the end of his -career he was intensely American in his sympathies, his prejudices, -his training, his enthusiasm for the flag and name of his country, -his proud admiration for the democratic genius of its institutions, -his faith in its political mission, his interest in its historic men, -his fervent love of its national scenery and its national literature. -He was also American in his exaggerated dislike and contempt for the -aristocratic classes and monarchical usages of the Old World. He did -not seem to see that there are good and evil in every existing system, -and that the final perfection will be reached only by a process of -mutual giving and taking, which must go on until the malign elements of -each are expelled, the benign elements of the whole combined. - -In view of the concentrated Americanism of Forrest, it may seem -singular that he was himself a child of foreign parentage, his father -being Scotch, his mother German. But this fact, which at first appears -strange, is really typical. Nothing could be more characteristic -of our nationality, which is a composite of European nationalities -transferred to these shores, and here mixed, modified, and developed -under new conditions. The only original Americans are the barbaric -tribes of Indians, fast perishing away, and never suggested to the -thought of the civilized world by the word. The great settlements from -which the American people have sprung were English, French, Dutch, and -Spanish. To these four ethnic rivers were added a dark flood of slaves -from Africa, and vast streams of emigration from Ireland and Germany, -impregnated with lesser currents from Italy, Sweden, Portugal, Russia, -and other countries, adding now portentous signal-waves from China and -Japan. - -The history of European emigration to America is, in one aspect, a -tragedy; in another aspect, a romance. When we think of the hardships -suffered, the ties sundered, the farewells spoken, the aching memories -left behind, it is a colossal tragedy. When we think of the attractive -conditions inviting ahead, the busy plans, the joyous hopes, the -prophetic schemes and dreams of freedom, plenty, education, reunion -with following friends and relatives, that have gilded the landscape -awaiting them beyond the billows, it is a chronic romance. The -collective experience in the exodus of the millions on millions of men, -women, and children, who, under the goad of trials at home and the lure -of blessings abroad, have forsaken Europe for America,--the laceration -of affections torn from their familiar objects, the tears and wails of -the separation, the dismal discomforts of the voyage, the perishing -of thousands on the way, either drawn down the sepulchral mid-ocean -or dashed on the rocks in sight of their haven, the long-drawn -heart-break of exile, the tedious task of beginning life anew in a -strange land,--and then the auspicious opening of the change, the rapid -winning of an independence, the quick development of a home-feeling, -the assuagement of old sorrows, the conquest of fresh joys and a -fast-brightening prosperity broad enough to welcome all the sharers -still pouring in endless streams across the sea,--the perception of all -this makes the narrative of American immigration at once one of the -most pathetic and one of the most inspiring episodes in the history of -humanity. This tale--as a complete account of the emigrant ships, the -emigrant trains, the emigrant wagons, the clearings and villages and -cities of the receding West, would reveal it--stand unique and solitary -in the crowd of its peculiarities among all the records of popular -removals and colonial settlements since the dispersion of the Aryan -race, mysterious mother of the Indo-European nations, from its primeval -seat in the bosom of Asia. All this suffering, all this hope, all this -seething toil, has had its mission, still has its purpose, and will -have its reward when the predestined effects of it are fully wrought -out. Its providential object is to expedite the work of reconciling the -divided races, nations, parties, classes, and sects of mankind. The -down-trodden poor had groaned for ages under the oppressions of their -lot, victims of political tyranny, religious bigotry, social ostracism, -and their own ignorance. The traditions and usages of power and caste -which surrounded them were so old, so intense, so unqualified, that -they seemed hopelessly doomed to remain forever as they were. Then the -Western World was discovered. The American Republic threw its boundless -unappropriated territory and its impartial chance in the struggle of -life open to all comers, with the great prizes of popular education, -liberty of thought and speech, and universal equality before the law. -The multitudes who flocked in were rescued from a social state where -the hostile favoritisms organized and rooted in a remote past pressed -on them with the fatality of an atmosphere, and were transferred to a -state which offered them every condition and inducement to emancipate -themselves from clannish prejudices, superstitions, and disabilities, -to flow freely together in the unlimited sympathies of manhood, and -form a type of character and civilization as cosmopolitan as their -two bases,--charity and science. The significance, therefore, of the -colonizing movement from the Old World to the New is the breaking up -of the fatal power of transmitted routine, exclusive prerogative and -caste, and the securing for the people of a condition inviting them to -blend and co-operate on pure grounds of universal humanity. In spite of -fears and threats, over all drawbacks, the experiment is triumphantly -going on. The prophets who foresee the end already behold all the -tears it has cost glittering with rainbows. - -America being thus wholly peopled with immigrants and the descendants -of immigrants, our very nationality consisting in a fresh and free -composite made of the tributes from the worn and routinary nations -of the other hemisphere, the distinctive glory and design of this -last historic experiment of civilization residing in the fact that -it presents an unprecedented opportunity for the representatives of -all races, climes, classes, and creeds to get rid of their narrow and -irritating peculiarities, to throw off the enslaving heritage imposed -on them by the hostile traditions and unjust customs of their past, no -impartial observer can fail to see the unreasonableness of that bitter -prejudice against foreigners which has been so common among those of -American birth. This prejudice has had periodical outbreaks in our -politics under the name of Native Americanism. In its unreflective -sweep it is not only irrational and cruel, but also a gross violation -of the true principles of our government, which deal with nothing -less than the common interests and truths of universal humanity. And -yet, in its real cause and meaning, properly discriminated, it is -perfectly natural in its origin, and of the utmost importance in its -purport. It is not against foreigners, their unlimited welcome here, -their free sharing in the privilege of the ballot and the power of -office, that the cry should be raised. That would be to exemplify -the very bigotry in ourselves against which we protest in others. It -is only against the importation to our shores, and the obstinate and -aggravating perpetuation here, of the local vices, the bad blood, the -clannish hates, the separate and inflaming antagonisms of all sorts, -which have been the chief sources of the sufferings of these people in -the lands from which they came to us. In its partisan sense the motto, -America for those of American birth, is absurdly indefensible. But the -indoctrination of every American citizen, no matter where born or of -what parentage, with the spirit of universal humanity _is_ our supreme -duty. Freedom from proscription and prejudice, a fair course and equal -favor for all, an open field for thought, truth, progress,--this -expresses the true spirit of the Republic. It is only against what is -opposed to this that we should level our example, our argument, and our -persuasion. The invitation our flag advertises to all the world is, -Come, share in the bounties of God, nature, and society on the basis of -universal justice and good will, untrammelled by partial laws, unvexed -by caste monopolies. Welcome to all; but, as they touch the strand, -let them cast off and forget the distinguishing badges which would -cause one portion to fear or hate, despise or tyrannize over, another -portion. Not they who happened to be born here, but they who have the -spirit of America, are true Americans. - -The father and mother of Edwin Forrest were thoroughly Americanized, -and taught him none of the special peculiarities of his Scottish or -German ancestry. So far as his conscious training was concerned, in -language, religion, social habits, he grew up the same as if his -parentage had for repeated generations been American. This was so -emphatically the case that all his life long he felt something of the -Native American antipathy for foreigners, and cherished an exaggerated -sympathy for many of the most pronounced American characteristics. Yet -there never was any bigotry in his theoretical politics. His creed -was always purely democratic; and so was the core of his soul. He was -only superficially infected by the illogical prejudices around him. -Whatever deviations he may have shown in occasional word or act, his -own example, in his descent and in his character, yielded a striking -illustration of the genuine relation which should exist between all -the members of our nationality, from whatever land they may hail and -whatever shibboleths may have been familiar to their lips. Namely, they -should, as soon as possible, forget the quarrels of the past, and hold -everything else subordinate to the supreme right of private liberty and -the supreme duty of public loyalty, recognizing the true qualifications -for American citizenship only in the virtues of American manhood, the -American type of manhood being simply the common type liberalized and -furthered by the free light and stimulus of republican institutions. -Overlook it or violate it whoever may, such is the lesson of the facts -before us. And it is a point of the extremest interest that, however -much Forrest may sometimes have failed in his personal temper and -prejudices to practise this lesson, the constantly emphasized and -reiterated exemplification of it in his professional life constitutes -his crowning glory and originality as an actor. He was distinctively -the first and greatest democrat, as such, that ever trod the stage. -The one signal attribute of his playing was the lifted assertion of -the American idea, the superiority of man to his accidents. He placed -on the forefront of every one of his celebrated characters in blazing -relief the defiant freedom and sovereignty of the individual man. - -Thus an understanding of the ground traversed in the present chapter is -necessary for the appreciation of his position and rank in the history -of the theatre. Boldly rejecting the mechanical traditions of the -stage, shaking off the artificial trammels of the established schools -of his profession, he looked directly into his own mind and heart and -directly forth upon nature, and, summoning up the passionate energies -of his soul, struck out a style of acting which was powerful in its -personal sincerity and truth, original in its main features, and, above -all, democratic and American in its originality. - -But though the parents of Edwin did not try to neutralize the influence -of purely American circumstances of neighborhood and schooling for -their child, they could not help transmitting the organic individual -heritage of their respective nationalities in his very generation -and development. The generic features and qualities of every one -are stamped in his constitution from the historic soil and social -climate and organized life of the country of the parents through whom -he derives his being from the aboriginal Source of Being. Certain -peculiar modes of acting and reacting on nature and things--modes -derived from peculiarities of ancestral experience, natural scenery, -social institutions, and other conditions of existence--constitute -those different styles of humanity called races or nations. These -peculiarities of constitution, temper, taste, conduct, looks, -characterize in varying degrees all the individuals belonging to -a country, making them Englishmen, Spaniards, Russians, Turks, or -Chinese. These characteristics, drawn from what a whole people have -in common, are transmitted by parents to their progeny and inwrought -in their organic being by a law as unchangeable as destiny,--nay, -by a law which _is_ destiny. The law may, in some cases, baffle our -scrutiny by the complexity of the elements in the problem, or it may -be qualified by fresh conditions, but it is always there, working -in every point of plasma, every fibril of nerve, every vibration of -force. The law of heredity is obscured or masked in several ways. -First, the peculiarities of the two lines of transmitted ancestry, from -father and from mother, may in their union neutralize each other, or -supplement each other, or exaggerate each other, or combine to form new -traits. Secondly, they may be modified by the reaction of the original -personality of the new being, and also by the reaction of the new -conditions in which he is placed. Still, the law is there, and works. -It is at once the fixed fatality of nature and the free voice of God. - -Edwin Forrest was fortunate in the national bequests of brain and blood -or structural fitnesses and tendencies which he received from his -fatherland and from his motherland. The distinctive national traits of -the Scottish and of the German character, regarded on the favorable -side, were signally exemplified in him. The traits of the former are -courage, acuteness, thrift, tenacity, clannishness, and patriotism; of -the latter, reasoning intelligence, poetic sentiment, honesty, personal -freedom, capacity for systematic drill, and open sense of humanity. -These two lines of prudential virtue and expansive sympathy were marked -in his career. The attributes of weakness or vice that belonged to -him were rather human than national. So the Caledonian and Teutonic -currents that met in his American veins were an inheritance of goodness -and strength. - -Nor was he less fortunate in the bequeathal of strictly personal -qualities from his individual parents. Those conditions of bodily -and mental life, the offshoot of the conjoined being of father and -mother, imprinted and inwoven and ever operative in all the globules -of his blood and all the sources of his volition, were far above -the average both in the physical power and in the moral rank they -gave. His father was a tall, straight, sinewy man, who lived to his -sixty-second year a life of hardship and care, without the aid of -any particular knowledge of the laws of health. His mother was of an -uncommonly strong, well-balanced, and healthy constitution, who bore -seven children, worked hard, saw much trouble, but lived in equanimity -to her seventy-fifth year. From the paternal side no special tendency -to any disease is traceable; on the maternal side, only, through the -grandfather, who was an inveterate imbiber of claret, that germ of the -gout which ripened to such terrible mischief for him. In intellectual, -moral, and religious endowments and habits, both parents were of a -superior order, remarked by all who knew them for sound sense, sterling -virtue, unwearied industry, devout spirit and carriage. The good, -strong, consecrated stock, both national and personal, they gave their -boy, alike by generative transmission, by example, and by precept, was -of inexpressible service to him. He never forgot it or lost it. It -stood him in good stead in a thousand trying hours. Amidst the constant -and intense temptations of his exposed professional life, it gave him -superb victories over the worst of those vices to which hundreds of his -fellows succumbed in disgraceful discomfiture and untimely death. It -is true he yielded to follies and sins,--as, under such exposures, who -would not?--but his sense of honor and his memory of his mother kept -him from doing anything which would destroy his self-respect and give -him a bad conscience. This inestimable boon he owed to the moral fibre -of his birth and early training. - -The thoughtful reader will not deem that the writer is making too much -of these preliminary matters. Besides their intrinsic interest and -value, they are vitally necessary for the full understanding of much -that is to follow. In the formation of the character and the shaping -of the career of any man the circumstance of supremest power is the -ancestral spirits which report themselves in him from the past, and -the organific influences of blood and nerve brought to bear on him -in the mystic world of the womb previous to his entrance into this -breathing theatre of humanity. The ignorance and the squeamishness -prevalent in regard to the subject of the best raising of children are -the causes of indescribable evils ramifying in all directions. It has -been tabooed from the province of public study and teaching, although -no other matter presents such pressing and sacred claims on universal -attention. It cannot always continue to be so neglected or forced into -the dark. The young giant, Social Science, so rapidly growing, will -soon insist on the thorough investigation of it, and on the accordant -organization in practice of the truths which shall be elicited. When -by analysis, generalization, experiment, and all sorts of methods and -tests, men shall have ransacked every other subject, it may be hoped, -they will begin to apply a little study to the one subject of really -paramount importance,--the breeding of their own species. When the same -scientific care and skill, based on accumulated and sifted knowledge, -shall be devoted to this province as has already been exemplified with -such surprising results in the improvement of the breeds of sheep, -cows, horses, hens, and pigeons, still more amazing achievements may -be confidently expected. The ranks of hopeless cripples, invalids, -imbeciles, idlers, and criminals will cease to be recruited. The -rate of births may perhaps be reduced to one-fourth of what it now -is, with a commensurate elevation of the condition of society by the -weeding out of the perishing and dangerous classes. And the rate -of infant mortality may be reduced to one per cent. of its present -murderous average. The regeneration of the world will be secured by the -perfecting of its generation. - -These ideas were familiar to Forrest. He often spoke of them, and -wondered they were so slow to win the notice they deserved. For the -hypocrisy or prudery which affected to regard them as indelicate and -to be shunned in polite speech, he expressed contempt. In his soul the -chord of ancestral lineage which bound his being with a vital line -running through all foregone generations of men up to the Author of -men, was, as he felt it, exceptionally intense and sacred. And surely -the whole subject of our consanguinity in time and space is, to every -right thinker, as full of poetic attraction and religious awe on one -side as it is of scientific interest and social importance on the other. - -Each of us has two parents, four grandparents, eight -great-grandparents, sixteen great-great-grandparents. In every receding -generation the number doubles, from thirty-two to sixty-four, then -to one hundred and twenty-eight, and so on; so that at the twentieth -remove, omitting the factor of intermarriages, one has over a million -ancestors! So many threads of nerve thrilling into him out of the dark -past! So many invisible rivulets of blood tributary to the ocean of his -heart, the collective experiences of all of them latently reported in -his structure! His physiological mould and type, his mental biases and -passional drifts, his longevity, and other prospective experiences and -fate, are the resultant of these combined contributions modified by his -own choice and new circumstances. What can be conceived more solemnly -impressive, or to us morally more sublime and momentous, than this -picture of an immortal personality, isolated in his own responsible -thought amidst the universe, but surrounded by the mysterious ranks -of his ancestry, all connected with him by spiritual ligaments which -lengthen and multiply, but never break, as he tracks them, further -and further, through the annals of time, through prehistoric ages, -incapable of solution or pause till his faith apprehends the beginning -of their tremulous lines in the creative fiat of God! - -Indulge in whatever theories we may, whether of continuous development -or of sudden creation, it is through our parents that we receive our -being. It is through our ancestry, spreading ultimately back to the -limits of the human race, that each of us descends from God. By them it -is that the Creator creates us. Well may the great Asiatic races, the -soft and contemplative Brahmins, the child-like Chinese, the pure and -thoughtful Parsees, worship their unknown Maker in forms of reverential -remembrance and adoration paid to their known ancestors, gathering -their relics in dedicated tombs or temples, cherishing their names and -examples and precepts with fond devotion, celebrating pensive and glad -festivals in their honor, preparing, around their pious offerings of -fruits and flowers, little seats of grass, in a circle, for the pleased -guardian spirits of their recalled fathers and mothers invisibly to -occupy. Let not the reckless spirit of Young America, absorbed in the -chase of material gain, and irreverent of everything but sensuous good, -call it all a superstition and a folly. There is truth in it, too, and -a hallowing touch of the universal natural religion of humanity. - -America, in her hasty and incompetent contempt for the dotage, fails to -appropriate the wisdom of the Orient. More of their humility, leisure, -meditation, reverence, aspiration, mystic depth of intuition, will do -us as much good as more of our science, ingenuity, independence, and -enterprise will do them. The American people, in their deliverance -from the entrammelling conditions of the over-governed Old World, and -their exciting naturalization on the virgin continent of the West, -have, to some extent, erred in affixing their scorn and their respect -to the wrong objects. In repudiating excessive or blind loyalty to -titular superiors and false authority, they have lost too much of the -proper loyalty to real superiors and just authority. They are too much -inclined to be contented with respectability and the average standard, -instead of aspiring to perfection by the divine standard. They show -too much deference to public opinion, and are too eagerly drawn after -the vulgar prizes of public pursuit,--money and social position,--to -the comparative neglect of personal reflection and culture, personal -honor, and detachment in a self-sustaining insight of principles. -They think too subserviently of what is established, powerful, -fashionable,--the very vice from which the founders of the country fled -hither. They think too meanly and haltingly of the truth and good which -are not yet established and fashionable, but ought to be so,--thus -turning their backs on the very virtue which heaven and earth command -them in especial to cultivate, namely, the virtue of an unflinching -spirit of progress in obedience to whatever is right and desirable -as against whatever wrongfully continues to govern. The best critics -from abroad, and the wisest observers at home, agree that the most -distinctive vice in the American character is described by the terms -complacent rashness and assumption, crude impertinence, disrespect to -age, irreverence towards parents, contempt for whatever does not belong -to itself. This rampant democratic royalty in everybody has proved -sadly detrimental to that spirit of modesty and docility which, however -set against oppression and falsehood, is profoundly appreciative of -everything sacred or useful and sits with veneration at the feet of -the past to garner up its treasures with gratitude. The American who -improves instead of abusing his national privileges will maintain his -private convictions and not bend his knee slavishly to public opinion, -but he will treat the feelings of others with tenderness, bow to all -just authority, and reverently uncover his heart before everything that -he sees to be really sacred. - -On these points, it will be seen in the subsequent pages, the subject -of the present biography, as a boldly-pronounced American citizen, was -in most respects a good example. If occasionally, in some things, he -practised the American vice,--self-will, unconscious bigotry intrenched -in a shedding conceit,--he prevailingly exemplified the American -virtue,--tolerance, frankness, generosity, a sympathetic forbearance in -the presence of what was venerable and dear to others, although it was -not so to him. While withholding his homage from merely conventional -sanctities, he never scoffed at them; and he always instinctively -worshipped those intrinsic sanctities which carry their divine -credentials in their own nature. The filial and fraternal spirit in -particular was very strong in him, and bore rich fruits in his life and -conduct. - -The conspicuous relative decay of the filial and fraternal virtues, or -weakening of the family tie, among the American people, the precocious -development and self-assertion of their children, wear an evil aspect, -and certainly are not charming. Yet they may be inevitable phases in -the evolution of the final state of society. They may distinguish a -transitional stage through which all countries will have to pass, -America being merely in the front. In ancient life the political -and social unit was the family. The whole family was held strictly -responsible for the deeds of each member of it. The drift marked by -democracy is to make the individual the ultimate unit in place of -the family, legally clearing each person from his consanguineous -entanglements, and holding him responsible solely for his own deeds -in relation to entire society. The movement towards individuality is -disintegrating; but, when completed, it may, by a terminal conversion -of opposites, play into a more intimate fellowship and harmony of -the whole than has ever yet been realized on earth. Thus it is not -impossible that the narrower and intenser domestic bonds may be giving -way simply before the extruding growth of wider and grander bonds, the -particular yielding merely as the universal advances. If the destiny -of the future be some form of social unity, some public solidarity -of sympathies and interests in which all shall mutually identify -themselves with one another, then the temporary irreverences and -insurgences of a democratic régime may have their providential purpose -and their abundant compensation in that final harmony of co-operative -freedom and obedience to which they are preparing the way out of -priestly and monarchical régimes. - -Either this is the truth, that the youthful insubordination and -premature complacency, the rarity of generous friendships and the -commonness of sinister rivalries, which mark our time and land are -necessary accompaniments of the passage from individual loyalties -to collective loyalties, from an antagonistic to a communistic -civilization, or else our republicanism is but the repetition of a -stale experiment, doomed to renewed failure. There are political -horoscopists who predict the subversion of the American Republic and -its replacement by a monarchy. Thickening corruption and strife between -two hostile parties over a vast intermediate stratum of indifference -prompt the observer to such a conclusion. But a more auspicious faith -is that these ills are to be overruled for good. It is more likely -that both republicanism and monarchy, in their purest forms, are to -vanish in behalf of a third, as yet scarcely known, form of government, -which will give the final solution to the long-vexed problem, namely, -government by scientific commissions which will know no prejudice, but -represent all in the spirit of justice. - -The exact knowledge, co-operative power, and disciplined skill -chiefly exemplified hitherto in war, or in great business enterprises -conducted in the exclusive interests of their supporters against -all others,--this combination, universalized and put on a basis of -disinterestedness, seeking the good of an entire nation or the entire -world, will furnish the true form of government now wanted. For no -government of the many by the few in the spirit of will, whether that -will represents the minority or the majority, can be permanent. The -only everlasting or truly divine government must be one free from -all will except the will of God, one which shall guide in the spirit -of science by demonstrated laws of truth and right, representing the -harmonized good of the whole. - -In view of such a possible result, the trustful American, comparing -his people with Asiatics or with Europeans, can regard without fear -the apparent change of certain forms of virtue into correlative forms -of vice; because he holds that this is but a transient disentwining of -the moral and religious tendrils from around smaller and more selfish -objects in preparation for their permanent re-entwining around greater -and more disinterested ones, when private families shall dissolve into -a universal family, or their separate interests be conformed to its -collective interests. All humanity is the family of God, and perhaps -the historic selfishness of the lesser families may crumble into -individualities in order to re-combine in the universal welfare of this. - -Meanwhile, it may well be maintained that the repulsive swagger of -self-assertion sometimes seen here is a less evil than the degrading -servility and stagnant spirit of caste often seen elsewhere. The -desideratum is to construct out of the alienated races and classes -of men here thrown together, jarring with their distinctions and -prejudices, yet under conditions of unprecedented favorableness, a new -type of character, carrying in its freed and sympathetic intelligence -all the vital and spiritual traditions of humanity. There are but -two methods to this end: one, the intermingling of the varieties in -generative descent; the other, the personal assimilation of contrasting -experiences and qualities by mutual sympathetic interpretation and -assumption of them. This latter process is the very process and -business of the dramatic art. The true player is the most detached, -versatile, imaginative, and emotional style of man, most capable of -understanding, feeling with, and reproducing all other styles, best -fitted, therefore, to mediate between hostile clans and creeds and -reconcile the dissonant parts of society and the race in its final -cosmopolite harmony. - -Consequently, among the public agencies of culture destined to educate -the American people out of their defects and faults into a complete -accordant manhood--if, as is fondly hoped, that happy destiny be -reserved for them--the dramatic art will have an unparalleled place -of honor assigned to it. The dogmatic Church, so busy in toothlessly -mumbling the formulas of an extinct faith that it loses sight of the -living truths of God in nature and society, will be heeded less and -less as it slowly dies its double death in drivel of words and drivel -of ceremonies. But the plastic Stage, clearing itself of its abuses and -carelessness, and receiving a new inspiration at once religious in its -sacred earnestness and artistic in its free range of recreative play, -will become more and more influential as it learns to exemplify the -various ideals of human nature and human life set off by their graded -foils, and presents the gravest teachings disguised in the finest -amusements. - -In the democratic idea, every man is called on to be a priest and a -king unto God. Church and State, in all their forms and disguises, have -sought to monopolize those august rōles for a few; but the Theatre, in -the examples of its great actors, has instinctively sought to fling -their secrets open to the whole world; and, when fully enlightened by -the Academy, it will clearly teach what it has thus far only obscurely -hinted. It will reveal the hidden secrets of power and rank, the just -arts of sway, and the iniquitous artifices of despotism. And it will -assert the indefeasible claim of every man, so far as he wins personal -fitness and desert, to have open before him a free passage through all -the spheres and heights of social humanity. The greatest player is the -one who can most perfectly represent the largest scale of characters, -keeping each in its exact truth and grade, yet passing freely through -them all. That, too, is the moral ground and essence of democracy, -whose basis is thus the same as that of the dramatic art,--namely, a -free and intelligent sympathy giving men the royal freedom of mankind -by right of eminent domain. The priesthood and kingship of man are -universal in kind, but endlessly varied in degree, no two men on earth -nor no two angels in heaven having such a monotonous uniformity that -they cannot be discriminated. Each one has an original stamp and relish -of native personality. The law of infinite perfection, even in liberty -itself, is perfect subordination in the infinite degrees of superiority. - -These opposed and balancing truths found a magnificent impersonation -on the stage in Edwin Forrest, and made him pre-eminently the -representative American actor. All his great parts set in emphatic -relief the intrinsic sovereignty of the individual man, the ideal of a -free manhood superior to all artificial distinctions or circumstances. -He showed man as inherent king of himself, and also relative king over -others in proportion to his true superiority in worth and weight. -When Tell confronted Gessler, or Rolla appeared with the Inca, or -Spartacus stood before the Emperor, or Cade defied the King, or -Metamora scorned the Englishman, the titular monarch was nothing in -the tremendous presence of the authentic hero. Genuine virtue, power, -and nobleness took the crown and sceptre away from empty prescription. -This was grand, and is the lesson the American people need to learn. It -enthrones the truth, while repudiating the error, of vulgar democracy. -That error would interpret the doctrine of equal rights into a flat -and dead uniformity, a stagnant level of similarities; but that truth -affirms an endless variety of degrees with a boundless liberty around -all, each free to fit himself for all the privileges of human nature -according to his ability, and entitled to enjoy those privileges in -proportion to the fitness he attains. The principle of order, rank, -authority, hierarchy, is as omnipotent and sacred in genuine democracy -as it is in nature or the government of God. The American idea, as -against the Asiatic and European, would not destroy the principle of -precedence, but would make that principle the intrinsic force and merit -of the individual, instead of any historic or artificial prerogative. -It asserts that there must be no horizontal caste or stratum in society -to prevent the vertical any more than the level circulation of the -political units. It declares that there shall be no despotic fixtures -reserving the most desirable and authoritative places for any arbitrary -sets of persons, but that there shall be divine liberty for the ablest -and best to gravitate by divine right to the highest places. That is -the American idea purified and completed. That, also, is the central -lesson of the dramatic art in its crowning triumphs on the popular -stage. And in the half-inspired, half-conscious representation of it -lay the commanding originality of Edwin Forrest, our first national -tragedian. - - * * * * * - -The foregoing thoughts put us in possession of the data and place us -at the point of view for an intelligent and interested survey of the -field before us. And we will now proceed to the proper narrative of the -biographic details, and to the critical delineation of the professional -features suggested by the title of our work. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -BOYHOOD AND YOUTH. - - -WHEN Edwin was born, his father, encumbered and oppressed by the debts -which his failure some years before had entailed on him, was serving in -a bank, at a small salary. The family, consisting then of the parents -and five children, were forced to live in a very humble style, and -to practise a stern economy. For many years they endured the trials -and hardships of poverty almost in its extremities. Yet, by dint of -industry, character, and tidiness, they managed to maintain respectable -appearances and a fair position. Both the father and mother were -exemplary members of the Episcopal Church, under the pastoral charge -of the Rev. Doctor Pilmore, on whose Sunday services they, with their -children, were regular attendants. - -What they most lamented was their inability to give their boys and -girls the education and accomplishments whose absence in themselves -their strong judgment and refined sensibility caused them deeply to -regret. But they sought to make such compensation as they could by -example, by precept, by directing in the formation of their habits -and the choice of their associates, and by keeping them at the public -schools as long as possible. - -Lorman, the eldest son, when of the proper age to earn his living, was -apprenticed to a tanner and currier. William, at a later period, was -set at work in a printing-office. Henrietta, the eldest daughter,--as -could not be avoided,--was early taken from under the rule of the -school-mistress to the side of her mother, to help in the increasing -labors of the household. Edwin went constantly to the public school -nearest his home, from the age of five to thirteen, together with his -eldest sister, Caroline, and also, for the last six years, with his -youngest sister, Eleanora. - -During this period the life of the family presents little besides that -plain and humble story of toil, domestic fidelity, social struggle, -self-denial, and patience familiar in our country to a multitude of -families in the middle and lower walks. In the mean while, duties were -done, simple pleasures were enjoyed, plans were formed, hopes were -disappointed, the seasons came round, the years moved on, changes -occurred, experiences accumulated, as will happen to all, whether rich -or poor. - -The youngest son gave more striking signs of talent than any of the -rest, and naturally the fonder anticipations of his parents centred -in him. They meant, at any cost, if it were a possible thing, to give -him such an education and training as would fit him for the Christian -ministry. They were led to this determination by the counsel of their -pastor, by their own pronounced religious feelings, and by the most -distinctive gift of the boy himself. That gift was the marked power -and taste of his elocution. It is interesting, and seems strange, as -we look back now, to think of the destiny of Forrest had the original -intention of his parents been carried out. Perhaps he would have -become a bishop, and a judicious and influential one. It is certainly -not impossible; so much do circumstances, companions, aims, duties, -the daily routine of life, contribute to make us what we are. The -essential germ or monad of the personality is unextinguishable, but -its development may be amazingly fostered and guided or twisted and -stunted. The coin of manhood remains what it is in itself, but its -image and superscription are determined by the mould and die with which -it is struck. - -Edwin had a sweet, expressive, vigorous voice, with natural accent and -inflection, free from the common mechanical mannerisms. His superiority -in this respect over all his comrades was signal. With that unsparing -tendency to let down every superiority, to level all distinctions, -which is so characteristic of the rude democracy of the school-yard and -the play-ground, his fellows nicknamed him the Spouter! - -From his very first attendance at church, when a mere child in -petticoats, he was much impressed by the imposing appearance and -preaching of Dr. Joseph Pilmore. Father Pilmore was a large man, with a -deep, rich voice, a manner of emphatic earnestness, his long powdered -hair falling down his shoulders after the fashion of an Addisonian wig. -The boy would not leave the pew until the old pastor came along, patted -him on the head, and gave him a blessing. He would then go home, make -a pulpit of a stuffed semicircular chair with a pillow placed on the -top of its back for a cushion, mount into it, and preach over from -memory parts of the sermon he had just heard,--with his sisters, and -such other persons as might be at hand, for an audience. At such times, -before he would consent to declaim, he used to insist on having his -costume, namely, a pair of spectacles across his nose, and a long pair -of tongs over his neck, their legs coming down his breast to represent -the bands of the preacher. - -To the end of his life he retained a most grateful remembrance of his -first pastor. The picture of him as he used to appear in the pulpit -always remained in his imagination, a venerable image, unfaded, -unblurred. One favorite gesture of the reverend orator, a forcible -smiting of his breast, took such hold of the young observer that it -haunted him for years after he had gone upon the stage; and he found -himself often involuntarily copying it, even in situations where it was -not strictly appropriate. - -Such were the grace, propriety, and vigor displayed by the infantile -declaimer, that when he went, as he often did, to see his brother -Lorman in the tannery where he was employed, the workmen would lift -him upon a stone table designed for dressing leather, listen to his -recitations, and reward him with their applause. - -Among the most valued friends of the Forrest family at this time was -an elderly Scotchman, of great cultivation of mind, gentle heart, and -charming manners, who had seen much of the world, was an intense lover -of nature, possessed of fine literary taste and a rare natural piety -of soul. He delighted in talking over with his friend their common -memories of dear old Scotland, often quoting from Ferguson, Burns, -and other Caledonian celebrities. This was no less a person than the -famous ornithologist, Alexander Wilson; a man of sweet character, whose -pictures of birds, descriptions of nature, and effusions of sentiment -can never fail to give both pleasure and edification to those who -linger over his limpid and sinless pages. The little boy, fascinated by -the gentle personality, as well as by the picturesque conversation, so -different from that of the business or working men he usually heard, -was wont, on occasions of these visits, to draw near and attend to what -was said. One day his father exclaimed, "Come, Edwin, let us hear you -recite the speech of the Shepherd Boy of the Grampian Hills." Wilson -at once recognized the remarkable promise of the lad, and from that -time took a deep interest in him. He often heard him read and declaim, -corrected his faults, gave him good models of delivery, and called his -attention to excellent pieces for committing to memory. He taught him -several of the best poems of Robert Burns. Among these were the Dirge -beginning - - "When chill November's surly blast - Made fields and forests bare," - -and the exquisite verses "To Mary in Heaven,"-- - - "Thou lingering star with lessening ray, - That lov'st to greet the early morn." - -When the eager learner had mastered a new piece, he was all alive until -he could recite it to Wilson, who used to encourage and reward him -with gifts of the plates of his great work on American Ornithology, -which was then passing through the press. The service thus rendered was -of inestimable value. The picture is beautiful: the wise and loving -old man leaning in spontaneous benignity and joy over the aspiring -and grateful child,--forming his taste, moulding his mind and heart. -In a case like this, nothing can be more charming than the relation -of teacher and pupil. It is that proper and artistic relation of -experienced age and docile youth immortalized by antique sculpture in -the exquisite myth of Cheiron and Achilles. Forrest never forgot his -indebtedness to his early benefactor, but in his last days was fond of -citing, with admiring pathos, the dying words of his old friend: "Bury -me where the sun may shine on my grave and the birds sing over it." - -Things were going on with the Forrest household in this modest and -hopeful way, when the heaviest calamity it had ever known befell it. -The death of its head, and the consequent cessation of his salary, left -the family destitute of the means of support. The good and judicious -mother showed herself equal to the emergency. Drying her tears and -holding her heart firm, she undertook to fulfil the offices of both -parents. With such help as she could get, she bought a little stock -or goods and opened a millinery-shop. In the mean time the two older -sons were earning a little at their trades, and the two older daughters -assisted their mother. They made bonnets, and various articles of -needle-work, while she worked, in her spare hours, at binding shoes. -In the later years of the proud fame and wealth of Forrest, as these -scenes floated back into his memory, his heart visibly swelled under -his breast, and tears filled his eyes. - -The youngest daughter, then eleven, was kept at school. But it was -found necessary to abandon the plan of educating Edwin for the clerical -profession. Reluctantly his mother took him from school, and put him -at service, first, for a short time, in the printing-office of the -"Aurora," under Colonel Duane, where he was known as "Little Edwin," -then in a cooper-shop on the wharf, and finally in a ship-chandlery -store on Race Street. This was in 1819, when he was thirteen years old. - -Several years previously his taste for dramatic expression had directed -his attention to the stage. He had developed a keen love for theatrical -entertainments, and he let no opportunity of attending the theatre -go by unimproved. He found frequent means of gratifying this desire, -although his parents strongly disapproved of it. He also, in company -with his brother William, joined a Thespian club, composed of boys and -young men possessed with the same passion for theatricals as himself, -and gave much of his leisure time to their meetings and performances. -Many a time he and his fellows performed plays in a wood-shed, fitted -up for the purpose, to an eager audience of boys, the price of -admittance being sometimes five pins, sometimes an apple or a handful -of raisins. - -The place he most delighted to visit was the old South Street Theatre, -long since passed away, with its great pit surmounted by a double row -of boxes. The most prominent object, midway in the first tier, was what -was called the Washington Box. This was adorned with the insignia of -the United States, and had often been occupied by Washington and his -family in the days when Philadelphia was the capital of the nation. -The boy used to regard this box with intense reverence. It was in this -theatre, then under the management of Charles Porter, that Forrest, -a lad of eleven, made his first public appearance on any stage. The -circumstances were amusing. He was in the street, playing marbles on -the pavement with some other urchins, when Porter came along, and said -to him, "Can you perform the part of a girl in a play?" "Why?" asked -Edwin, looking up in surprise. "Because," replied the manager, "the -girl who was to perform the character is sick." "Do you want me to -take the part?" "Yes. Will you?" "When is it to be played?" "To-morrow -night." "I will do it," answered the inconsiderate youth, triumphantly. -Porter gave him a play-book, pointed out the part he was to study, and -left him. - -Edwin began forthwith, and was soon quite up in the part. But how to -provide himself with a suitable costume for the night! This was a great -difficulty. At length, bethinking him of a female acquaintance of his, -whose name was Eliza Berryman, he went to her and borrowed what was -needful in general, but not in particular. - -Night came on, and the boy, as a substitute for a girl, was to take -the part of Rosalia de Borgia, in the romantic melodrama of Rudolph, -or the Robbers of Calabria. He went to the theatre and donned the -dress. Finding himself in want of a bosom, he tore off some portions -of scenery and stuffed them about his breast under the gown, and was -ready for the curtain to rise. He had been provided by the kind Eliza -with a sort of turban for the head, and for ringlets he had placed -horse-hair done into a bunch of curls. The first scene displayed -Rosalia de Borgia at the back of the stage, behind a barred and grated -door, peering out of a prison. As she stood there, she was seen by the -audience, and applauded. They could not then well discern her rugged -and somewhat incongruous appearance. Pretty soon Rosalia came in front, -before the foot-lights. Then at once rose a universal guffaw from the -assembly. She looked about, a little disconcerted, for the cause of -this merriment. To her intense sorrow and disgust, she found that her -gown and petticoat were quite too short, and revealed to the audience a -most remarkably unfeminine pair of feet, ankles, and legs. - -He stood it for a time, until a boy in the pit, one of his mates, whom -he had told that he was going to play, and who was there to see him, -yelled out, "The heels and the big shoes! Hi yi! hi yi! Look at the -legs and the feet!" Forrest, placing his hand over his mouth, turned -to the boy, and huskily whispered, "Look here, chap, you wait till the -play is done, and I'll lick you like hell!" Then the boy in the pit -bawled out, "Oh, she swears! she swears!" The audience were convulsed -with laughter, the curtain came down, and poor Rosalia de Borgia, all -perspiration, was hustled off the stage in disgrace. - -This ludicrous failure was his first, and, with one exception, his -last, appearance in a female part. - -But he was not of a strain to give up in discomfiture. He determined -to appear again, and in something which he knew he could do well. -Accordingly, having prepared himself thoroughly in the famous epilogue -written by Goldsmith for Lee Lewis in the character of Harlequin, he -asked the manager to allow him another chance on the stage of the South -Street Theatre. Porter replied, rather roughly, "Oh, you be damned! you -have disgraced us enough already!" Deeply aggrieved by this rebuff, -young Forrest yet resolved to speak his piece at any rate. So, one -night, dressed in tight pantaloons and a close round jacket, he went -behind the scenes, got some paint of the scene-painter, and painted his -clothes, as well as he could, with stripes and diamonds, in resemblance -of a harlequin. Then, watching an opportunity, in the absence of -the manager from the stage, at the ringing down of the curtain he -suddenly sprang before the foot-lights, and, to the astonishment of the -audience, began,-- - - "Hold, prompter, hold! a word before your nonsense; - I'd speak a word or two to ease my conscience. - My pride forbids it ever should be said - My heels eclipsed the honors of my head." - -At the word "heels" the audience took the joke, and, recognizing the -boy, loudly applauded him. Encouraged thus, he went on, and spoke the -whole epilogue in a most creditable manner, with thunders of applause -from the audience, and from manager Porter too, who had now come in. -Concluding with the last line,-- - - "And at one bound he saves himself--like me,"-- - -Forrest turned a hand-spring and a flip-flap, and made his exit, to the -complete amazement of everybody in the theatre. He was vociferously -encored, again made his appearance, turned his flip-flap, and spoke his -piece even better than before. Encored still again, he did not come -back, but betook himself to his home as soon as possible, rejoicing in -the belief that the glory of his present triumph would offset the shame -of his previous fiasco. - -Somewhat later he was duly announced in the bills, and repeated the -performance between the play and the after-piece, with as good success -as on the first occasion. - -He kept his word with the boy in the pit, whose pointed remarks and -loud laughter had so much annoyed and provoked him. He inflicted the -promised thrashing, though--as he said, in relating the incident -more than fifty years later--it was one of the toughest jobs he ever -undertook. As soon as the combatants were satisfied, the victor and the -victim made up, shook hands, and remained ever afterwards firm friends. - -A little domestic scene which occurred about this time may fitly -be introduced here, as illustrating the character and influence of -the mother, and also, as will appear in a subsequent chapter, the -assimilating docility of the child. It was a Sunday afternoon, in -the summer. The tired and careful mother sat at the open window, the -sunshine streaming across the floor, gazing at the passers in the -street, and musing, perhaps, on times long gone by. Edwin was turning -the leaves of a large pictorial copy of the Bible. A sudden explosion -of laughter was heard from him. "What are you laughing at, my boy? It -seems unbecoming, with that book in your hands." "Why, mother, I cannot -help it; it is so absurd. Here is a picture of the grapes of Eshcol; -and the bunches of them are so big and heavy that it takes two men, -with a pole across their shoulders, to carry them along! Is it not -funny?" "Edwin, come to me," replied the mother, with calm seriousness. -Taking his hand in hers, and looking steadily in his eyes, she said, -"Do you not think it very presumptuous and conceited in you, so young, -so ignorant, knowing only the climate and fruits of Pennsylvania, to -set yourself up to pronounce judgment in this way on the artist who -most likely had at his service the experience of travellers in all -countries? It is more than probable that in those tropical climes where -the Bible was written the vines might grow almost into trees, and bear -clusters of grapes ten times larger than any you ever saw. Modesty -is one of the best traits in a young person. I want you to remember -never again to laugh at the fancied ignorance and absurdity of another, -when perhaps the ignorance and absurdity are all your own." However -often he may have failed to practise the lesson, yet when, fifty-five -years afterwards, the old actor related the incident, the beating of -his heart, the tenderness of his voice, and the moisture in his eyes, -turned reverently towards the portrait of his mother on the wall, -showed how profoundly the influence of that hour had sunk into his soul. - -When Master Forrest was in the first part of his fourteenth year, -he chanced one evening to be in the audience of a lecturer, in the -old Tivoli Garden Theatre, on Market Street, who was discoursing on -the properties of nitrous oxide, or, as it is more commonly called, -laughing-gas. The lecturer invited any of his auditors who desired to -come forward and inhale the exhilarating aura. The chance was one just -suited to the disposition of our hero. He stepped up and applied his -mouth and nostrils to the bag. In a moment, as the air began to work, -his ruling passion broke forth. Striking out right and left, to the no -slight consternation of those nearest him, he advanced to the front -of the stage, and declaimed a famous passage from the stage-copy of -Shakspeare,-- - - "What ho! young Richmond, ho! 'tis Richard calls: - I hate thee for thy blood of Lancaster,"-- - -with extraordinary energy and effect. John Swift, an eminent lawyer of -that day, and a very cultivated and generous man, was so struck by the -dramatic talent and force of the lad that he took the pains to seek him -out and make his acquaintance, befriending him in the noblest manner, -and often thereafter giving him kind counsel and assistance. - -Despite his constantly-growing zeal and devotion to dramatic matters, -Edwin kept his situation in the ship-chandlery store, and was tolerably -faithful to its duties. But his heart was not in the business. The -counter and the ledger had no charms for him. All his young enthusiasm -was for the play-book and the stage. His employer often found him -in a corner conning Shakspeare, or in the back office practising -declamation. He said to him one day, with a shake of his wiseacre head, -"Ah, boy, this theatrical infatuation will be your ruin! The way to -thrive is to be attentive to trade. Did you ever know a play-actor to -get rich?" But all this prudential advice, this chill preaching of -the shop, was utterly ineffectual on the strong imaginative bent and -passionate ambition it encountered. - -While carrying parcels home to the customers of the firm, he sometimes -met with such adventures as a boy of his high and pugnacious spirit -would be likely to meet with in those times, when wrestling and -fighting were much more common, especially among boys, than they are -now. On a certain occasion, jostled and jeered by an older and bigger -boy than himself, he said, "You wait till I can deliver this bundle -and get back here, and I will fight you to your heart's content." -The fellow agreed to it. Away hied Edwin, and deposited his goods. -He then ran home and put on an old suit of clothes, to be in better -fighting trim. His mother asked him what he was going to do; and when -he explained, she begged him not to go, and used such arguments as she -could command to impress him with the wickedness and vulgarity of such -brutal encounters. But all in vain. "Mother," he said, "I have pledged -my word; I must do it. It would be mean not to." And he tore away, -repaired to the rendezvous, and, after a tough bout, gave his insulter -a terrible thrashing, and went quietly back to the ship-chandlery. It -must be confessed that, though inwardly tender and generous, he was -rough, easy to quarrel with, and not slow to go to the extremes of -fists and heels. - -But one of the severest traits in him, all his life, one of the deepest -characteristics of his individuality, was the barbaric intensity of -his wrath against those who wronged him, the Indian-like bitterness -and tenacity of the spirit of revenge in his breast when aroused -by what he thought any wanton injury. He never laid claim to the -spirit of saintliness, but rather trod it under foot, as affectation, -pitiful weakness, or hypocrisy. This marked a gross limit of his moral -sensibility in his own personal relations, though he could keenly -appreciate the finest touches of abnegation and magnanimity in others. -To justice, as he saw it, he was always loyal. But, when his selfhood -was wounded, the pain of the bruise not rarely, perhaps, made him a -little blind or perverse. Two anecdotes of his boyhood throw light -on this point. In the one example he was, as it would seem, morally -without excuse; in the other, pardonable, but scarcely to be approved. - -He was eating an apple in the street, when he came to a horse attached -to a baker's cart, standing beside the curb-stone. He amused himself -by holding the apple under the horse's nose, and, as often as the -animal tried to bite it, suddenly snatching it away, and fetching him -a blow on the mouth. At that mischievous moment the driver of the cart -came up, and, crying out, "What are you doing there, you damned little -scoundrel?" gave him a piercing cut across the leg with his whip. The -little fellow limped off in excruciating pain, but carefully marked -his enemy. The passion for revenge burned in him. He kept a sharp -lookout. Within a week he spied the driver a short distance ahead. He -picked up a stone, took good aim, and, striking him on the back of the -head, knocked him from his cart into the street. He then dismissed the -subject from his mind, satisfied that he had squared accounts. Many -would hold that, instead of squaring accounts, he had only made a bad -matter worse. But such was his way of regarding it; and the business of -a biographer is to tell the truth. - -The other instance is impressive in its teaching. On a cold winter -morning he was trundling along the sidewalk a wheelbarrow loaded with -articles from the store. A Quaker, very tall and portly, dressed in -the richest primness of the costume of his sect, meeting him, ordered -him, in a very authoritative tone, to move off into the street. He -apologized, expostulating that he was weary, the load was hard for -him to carry, the sidewalk was much easier for him, and was amply -wide enough for the few people then out. Without another word the -sanctimonious old tyrant seized hold of the wheelbarrow, tipped it over -into the street, and, pushing the boy aside, walked on. The blood of -young Forrest boiled with indignation so that his brain seemed ready -to burst. The ground was covered slightly with snow. He sank on his -knees on it and tried in vain to pull up a paving-stone, to hurl at -his tormentor. Weeping bitterly with baffled rage, he gathered his -scattered load together and started on, cursing the cruel injustice to -which he had been forced to submit. For years and years after, he said, -the association of this outrage was so envenomed in his memory that -whenever he saw a Quaker he had to make an effort not instinctively to -hate him. Such wrongs as this, inflicted on a sensitive child, often -leave scars which rankle through life, permanently embittering and -deforming the character. No generous nature but will take the warning, -and considerately try to be ever just and kind to the young. In the -bearing and effect of early experiences on subsequent character, it is -profoundly and even wonderfully true that as the twig is bent the tree -is inclined. - -The kind friend and patron young Forrest had won by his exhibition -at the Tivoli Garden did not forget him, but continued to give him -good advice and encouragement. About a year afterwards he introduced -him to the managers of the Walnut Street Theatre, Messrs. Wood and -Warren. In consequence of this friendly intercession, and of his own -promise, he was enabled to make his formal début, on the stage of the -Walnut Street Theatre, on the evening of November 27th, 1820, in the -character of Norval. His success was decisive. The leading Philadelphia -newspaper said, "Of the part of Norval, we must say that it was as -uncommon in the performance as it was extraordinary in just conception -and exemption from the idea of artifice. We mean that the _sentiment_ -of the character obtained such full possession of the youth as to take -away in appearance every consideration of an audience or a drama, and -to give, as it were, the natural speaking of the shepherd boy suddenly -revealed by instinct to be the son of Douglas. We were much surprised -at the excellence of his elocution, his self-possession in speech and -gesture, and a voice that, without straining, was of such volume and -fine tenor as to carry every tone and articulation to the remotest -corner of the theatre. We trust that this young gentleman will find the -patronage to which his extraordinary ripeness of faculty and his modest -deportment entitle him." - -It is certainly interesting to find in this, the first criticism of the -first regular appearance of Forrest, in the fifteenth year of his age, -a distinct indication of his most prominent characteristics throughout -his whole histrionic career, namely, his earnest realism, his noble -voice, his accurate elocution, and his steady poise. The notice was -from the pen of William Duane, of the "Aurora," then one of the ablest -and most experienced editors in the country, and afterwards Secretary -of the Treasury under General Jackson. - -The play was repeated December 2d. December 29th he sustained the part -of Frederick, in Lovers' Vows; and January 6th, 1821, he assumed the -rōle of Octavian, in The Mountaineers. On the last occasion, which was -his benefit, the following notice was published in one of the morning -papers: "The very promising youth, Master Forrest, who has appeared -twice as Young Norval, and once as Frederick, is to perform Octavian -this evening, and the profits of the house are for his benefit. We -trust that this modest and promising youth will obtain the notice to -which he is certainly well entitled from the lovers of the drama and of -native genius." - -Though the receipts from these his first four performances were not -unusually large, the popular applause and the critical verdict were -flattering. The results of the experiment confirmed his bent and fixed -his resolution for life. - -During this year, that is, before he was fifteen years old, he made -another appearance on the stage, under circumstances which show the -native boldness and resolution of his character. Without advice or -assistance of any kind, he went alone to the proprietors of the Prune -Street Theatre and asked them to let it to him on his own account for -a single night. The proposition surprised them, but they admired the -pluck of the boy so much that they granted his request. He engaged the -company to support him, got his brother William to print the bills -announcing him in the character of Richard the Third, drew a good -house, and came off with a liberal quantity of applause and a small -pecuniary gain. - -It was at this date, when Forrest was in his fifteenth year, that he, -who was destined to inspire so many poems, drew from the prophetic muse -of an admirer the first verses ever composed on him. They were written -by the Hon. Joseph R. Chandler, one of the most distinguished citizens -of Philadelphia, and then editor of the "United States Gazette." - - "Turn we from State to view the mimic Stage, - Which gives the form and pressure of the age. - Each season brings its wonders, and each year - Some unfledged buskins on our boards appear; - And Covent Garden sends us stage-sick trash - To gather laurels or to pocket cash. - A Phillipps comes to sing us Braham's airs, - And Wallack, Finn, and Maywood strut with theirs. - These sickly meteors dim our hemisphere, - While rare as comets Cookes and Keans appear: - These fopling twinklers, with their borrowed glare, - Will meet our censure when we cease to stare. - But the bright sun that gives our stage its rays - Still lights and warms us by its innate blaze. - We have a power to gild our drama's age,-- - COOPER'S our Sun, his orbit is our stage. - Long may he shine, by sense and taste approved, - By fancy reverenced, and by genius loved! - And when retiring, mourned by every grace, - May FORREST rise to fill his envied place! - Dear child of genius! round thy youthful brow - Taste, wit, and beauty bind thy laurel now. - No foreign praise thy native worth need claim; - No aid extrinsic heralds forth thy name; - No titled patron's power thy merit decked:-- - The blood of Douglas will itself protect!" - -The insight and the foresight indicated in the application of the last -line to the yet undeveloped boy are remarkable, and will thrill every -one who is familiar with the bearing and poise of the mature actor -and man. For in him the massive majesty of pose, the slow weight of -gesture, the fixedness of look, the ponderous gutturality and sweetness -of articulative energy, all revealed an intensity and equilibrium of -selfhood, a deep and vast power of personality, not often equalled. He -was nothing if not independent and competent to his own protection. - -The eminent English tragedian Cooper was at that time living in -Philadelphia, in the intervals between his starring engagements. He was -an actor of pronounced and signal merits, and of great professional -authority, from his varied and long experience. Edwin had seen him in -several of his chief parts, with docile quickness had caught important -impressions from his performances, and was full of admiration for him. -When, after his early successes, he had determined to become an actor -himself, he longed for the sympathy and counsel of the illustrious -veteran. Accordingly, armed with an introduction, he went to see the -old king in his private state. He was received kindly, but with some -loftiness. Cooper told him he must not trust to his raw triumphs as -an amateur, but must be willing to serve a regular apprenticeship to -the art, and climb the ladder round by round, not trying to mount by -great skips. The best men in every profession, he said, were those -who had gone through all its experiences. The greatest lawyers he had -known in England, he declared, had begun their career by sweeping -out the law-office. Edwin, thinking his adviser meant him to stoop -to the position of a supernumerary or call-boy, rather petulantly, -but tellingly, answered, "When one knows how to read, he needs not to -learn his letters." The old man was nettled by the pert reply, and the -interview closed with coolness, though not, as has been reported, with -anger or alienation. They were ever afterwards good friends, frequently -meeting, and the veteran not only gave him much useful instruction, -but also used his influence to secure for the novice an engagement -in Boston. That there was no quarrel, no ingratitude, but, on the -contrary, both a thankful appreciation and a generous return from -the boyish aspirant and pupil, we shall, on a future page, cite the -testimony of the old actor himself, amidst the decay and want of his -last days. - -The advice of Cooper was based on his own experience, and was sound. -He himself, at fourteen, had engaged under Stephen Kemble. Kemble kept -him a whole season without a single appearance. When he did appear, -it was as a substitute for another, in the character of Malcolm, in -Macbeth. He forgot his part, and was actually hissed off the stage. -But he persevered, and slowly worked his way to the very summit of the -profession. His advice to Edwin did not contemplate so low a descent as -the boy inferred, but only that he should be modest and studious, begin -in relatively humble parts, and grow by degrees. Forrest of his own -accord, or perhaps in consequence of Cooper's words, really followed -exactly this course a little later. - -Although retaining his place in the store, his heart was given to -the theatre, and the dearest exercises of his soul were devoted to -the cultivation of the powers which, he hoped, would enable him at -some future time to shine as he had seen others shine. Not only had -Cooper presented a model to his admiring fancy, Edmund Kean also had -electrified his senses and indelibly stamped his imagination. It was -only two nights after his own benefit as Octavian that Kean began an -engagement of twelve nights in the same theatre. And of all in the -crowds who waited on this peerless meteor of the stage, melted at the -pathos of his genius, or trembled before the irresistible bursts of his -power, in not one did the exhibition kindle such imperishable wonder -and such idolatrous admiration as in the fond proud boy who was himself -aspiring to become a great actor, and who drew from what he then saw a -large share of the inspiration which afterwards urged him so high. - -The nature of Edwin Forrest in his fifteenth year was remarkably -developed and mature, especially when we consider the small advantages -he had enjoyed. He was distinguished from most youths of his age by the -intensity and tenacity of his passion and purpose, and by the vividness -with which the objects of his thought were pictured in his mind. A -consequence of these attributes was a strong personal magnetism, a -power of attracting and deeply interesting susceptible natures with -whom he came in contact. - -He was not without touches of a poetic and sentimental vein, leading -him sometimes to indulge in melancholy reveries. The following lines -were composed by him at this time,--that is, in 1820. They were found -among his posthumous papers, inscribed in his own hand, "Verses, or -Doggerel, written in my Boyhood": - - "Scenes of my childhood, hail! - All hail, beloved years - When Hope first spread life's sail, - Ere sorrow came, or tears. - Hail to the blissful hours - Of life's resplendent morn, - When all around was flowers, - And flowers without a thorn! - - "Hail, guardians of my youth! - Hail their instructions given, - Showing the path of Truth, - The flowery way to heaven! - All hail the reverend place - Where first I lisped His name, - Where first my infant lips - God's praises did proclaim! - Inestimable precious scenes, - Now faded and all past, - Can you not fling one ray serene - To cheer me on at last? - Ah, no! Life's winter has set in, - And storms and tempests rise; - A chaos infinite of sin - Sweeps full before my eyes. - - "This frail habiliment of soul - Must shortly cease to be,-- - Some planet then my goal,-- - Home for eternity. - -Another document from his pen at about the same time will certainly -interest readers who recall the circumstances of his situation then, -and the facts of his subsequent career. It is the earliest application -he ever made--and it was in vain--to the manager of a theatre for an -engagement. - - "PHILADA., Dec. 6, 1820. - -"To Mr. JAMES H. CALDWELL, New Orleans. - -"SIR,--Having understood you intend to open your theatre in the city -of New Orleans some time during this month, I, by the advice of a -number of friends, have taken the liberty of addressing you relative -to an engagement. I am desirous of performing in your company for six -or eight nights, in such parts as I shall name at the foot of this -letter. - -"I acted last season in Messrs. Warren and Wood's theatre for a -few nights, and drew respectable and profitable houses, which is a -difficult matter to do at this season in Philadelphia. For my capacity -I refer you to the managers above named, or to Col. John Swift, of -this city. Should you think it troublesome to write to these gentlemen -on the subject, I will procure the necessary papers and forward them -to you. If you conclude to receive me, I should like to hear on what -terms, and so forth. Address care of John R. Baker and Son, 61 Race -St., Philada. - - "Yours truly, - "EDWIN FORREST. - "Characters: - Douglas, - Octavian, - Chamont, - Zanga, - Zaphna, - Tancred." - -Among the first letters ever written by Edwin were three addressed -to his brother William, who had given up working as a printer and -become an actor, and was then absent on a professional engagement at -Harrisburg, Reading, and York. When we remember that these letters were -by a boy of sixteen, we shall not think them discreditable to him. -They throw light on his character at that time, and show what he was -doing. They also draw aside the veil of privacy a little, and give us -some glimpses of the domestic drama of his home, the bereaved family -industriously struggling to maintain itself, watched over perhaps from -the other side by the still-conscious spirit of its departed head. - - "PHILADELPHIA, 4th Feb'y, 1822. - -"Mr. WM. FORREST, Harrisburg. - -"DEAR BROTHER,--On Saturday evening last I performed Zaphna, in -Mahomet, at Walnut Street Theatre, to a pretty good house, which -would have been better had not Phillipps, the celebrated vocalist, -been announced to appear on the Monday following. I played on the -above evening better than ever I did before. After the murder of my -father, repeated bravos rose from all quarters. Last scene, bravos -again,--curtain fell amidst bravos kept up till the farce began and -was forced to be suspended. Mr. Wood called me to his apartment, and -told me to go on, they were calling for me. I informed him that I had -never appeared before an audience in that manner, and begged him to go -on for me. He did so, and asked the audience what was their pleasure. -Engagement! engagement! from every side. Mr. Wood said he had heard -nothing to the contrary; he was happy that Master Forrest had pleased -the audience, and if they wished it he should appear again. The people -testified their approbation, and the farce was suffered to proceed in -peace. - -"I expect to appear with Mr. Phillipps this or next week. I anticipate -that they will hiss him when he appears to-night. More of this -by-and-by. Please write as early as possible, and let me know how you -make out. We are well, with the exception of myself. I have a severe -cold. I remain - - "Your affectionate brother, - "EDWIN FORREST. - -"P.S.--Heavy snow falling." - - "PHILADELPHIA, 15th April, 1822. - -"Mr. WILLIAM FORREST, Reading. - -"DEAR BROTHER,--I received your esteemed favor of the 13th instant, -and carefully noticed its contents. My brother, you complain of my not -writing to you since your arrival in Reading. The reason is this. A -gentleman called at the house and informed me that you would return to -the city on Saturday last. Lorman and I were on the point of coming up -to you, but affairs interfered. - -"Lorman called on Johnson, according to your request. He informs him -that you can get work at the printing business without any difficulty, -the printers being very busy at present in this city. Therefore I -would advise you to quit the unfair Williams as early as possible. If -you fail in getting a situation at your trade, Stanislas will engage -you on your arrival to act in a good line of business. Therefore you -have a double advantage. The Walnut Street Theatre closes for the -season on Friday next with the new comedy of the Spy, written by a -young gentleman of New York. To-morrow evening I perform Richard Third -for my own benefit. Joel Barr called here a week or ten days after he -had been in town, to tell us you were well. Leave that pander of a -manager directly; do not stay another moment with him, is the advice -of your affectionate brother, - - "EDWIN. - -"P.S.--Henrietta says she is sorry you have two and a half shirts, but -that is better than she expected. - -"Billy McCorkle says $12 ought to have been an object to you. Ah, he -says, it was a bad day's work when you left him! - -"We expect you by the return stage. So pack up your tatters and follow -the drum. - - "E. F." - - "PHILADELPHIA, 1st June, 1822. - -"Mr. WILLIAM FORREST, York, Pa. - -"DEAR BROTHER,--I take this opportunity of addressing myself to you -and asking your pardon for my ungrounded belief that you had been -guilty of misusing my letters. I have every reason now to believe that -Mrs. Allen must have invented some lie and told it to Stanislas. - -"I have the pleasure of informing you that your friend Sam Barr is -married. Therefore wish him joy; for you know a man entering into such -a state stands in need of the good wishes of his friends. I am sorry -to relate that Sinclair is dead. - - "'There would have been a time for such a word.' - -"The actors are not undoing themselves at Tivoli. A young gentleman -by the name of Ondes makes his appearance there this evening in the -character of Octavian. Mrs. Riddle has left the company. - -"I leave the firm in Race Street this day. When you can spare from -your salary the sum of $5, I wish you would send it to me, as I at -present stand in much need, and ere long I will transmit it to you -again. We are all well, and hope that this will find you so. Write as -early as possible; in expectation whereof I remain - - "Yours, affectionately, - "EDWIN F. - -"P.S.--Mother is longing for your return, and I hope it will not be -long ere our wishes are fulfilled." - -For the next two months he was in earnest training, developing the -muscles of his body and the faculties of his mind, practising athletics -and studying rōles, looking out meanwhile for some regular engagement -The following letter speaks for itself: - - "PHILADELPHIA, 7th Sept., 1822. - -"JAMES HEWITT, Esq., Boston. - -"SIR,--Having understood from Mr. Utt that you were about to form a -company of actors to go to Charleston, I have, by the advice of the -above-named gentleman, written to know whether you would afford me -an engagement in your concern or not, I having a desire to visit the -aforesaid city. As you must already be acquainted with the line of -business I have supported in Messrs. Wood and Warren's Theatre, it -is useless to say anything farther on that head, referring you to -Mr. Utt, Messrs. Wood and Warren, John Swift, Esq., of Philadelphia, -or to Mr. Thomas A. Cooper: the latter gentleman having procured me -an engagement in Mr. Dickson's theatre, Boston, which I declined, -thinking it better to be more remote, for some years at least, from -the principal cities. - -"If, therefore, you have any idea of giving me a situation in a -respectable line, juvenile business, you will hear farther from me by -addressing a line to 77 Cedar Street, Philadelphia. - - "Your most obedient servant, - "(In haste.) EDWIN FORREST. - -"P.S.--I should be pleased to learn your resolve as early as possible, -so that in case you decline my services I may be enabled elsewhere to -make arrangements." - -This letter, like the one he had two years before addressed to -Caldwell, was fruitless. But his mind was firmly made up that he would -persevere until his efforts were successful. And, a few days later, the -opportunity he sought presented itself, and he left home to enter in -earnest on a regular apprenticeship to the vocation he had chosen. - -Here, for a little space, we drop the thread of personal narrative for -the purpose of introducing a sketch of the origin and significance of -the dramatic art. As the subject of this biography is to be an actor, -his character to be shaped by the peculiar influences of the theatrical -profession, his career and fame to be permanently associated with the -history of that profession in America, an exposition of the origin and -nature of the drama, of its different forms and applications, and of -its personal uses, will bring the reader to the succeeding chapters -with a fuller appreciation of their various topics, and give him some -data for estimating the place which the art of acting has held, now -holds, and is destined hereafter to hold, in the experience of mankind. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -THE PSYCHOLOGICAL ORIGIN, VARIETY, AND PERSONAL USES OF THE DRAMATIC -ART. - - -ANY one who so analyzes the Dramatic Art as to see what its basis, -contents, and uses are, will be astonished to find what a deep and -wide feature it is in human nature, and how extensive and important -a part it plays in human life. The study of the great spectacle of -human existence as a whole, from the point of view of the Stage, in -the light of dramatic usages and imagery, imparts to it a keener, more -diversified, more comprehensive interest and instructiveness than it -can receive in any other way. The habit of thus seeing people and -things group themselves in pictures, of looking on scenes and acts in -their relationship as a whole, of reading character and getting at -states of mind and plucking out personal secrets by an intuitive and -cultivated art of interpreting the signs consciously or unconsciously -given, is spontaneous in men of the highest artistic genius, like -Homer, Dante, Shakspeare, and Goethe. And it lends a marvellous charm -and piquancy to their experience of the world, enchanting every object -with active significance, color, and mystery. - -Thus the Theatre, technically so called, is but one of the lesser -spheres of the dramatic art. The tragedies and comedies coldly -elaborated there are often tame and poor to those enacted with the -flaming passions of life itself in parlors and kitchens, in palace and -hut and street. Every one of us is essentially an actor, the setting of -his performance furnished independently of his will wherever he goes, -all his schemes included and borne on in a divine plan deeper than he -dreams. Our own organism is the primary theatre, the proscenia of brain -and heart teeming with dramas which link our being and destiny with -those of all other actors from the beginning to the end of the world. -Every spot in which man meets his fellow-men is a secondary theatre, -arrayed with its scenery of circumstances, where each has his rōle and -all the characters and parts interplay upon one another with mixtures -of truth and deceit, skill and awkwardness, aspiration and despair. -One of the chief differences is that some get behind the scenes and -sharply understand a little of what is going on, while most take -their parts blindly, ignorant of what either themselves or others are -about, alternately before the foot-lights and back of the drop. And, -meanwhile, what is the blue, glittering wilderness of infinitude itself -but the theatre fitted up by God, with its doors of birth and death and -its curtains of day and night, for the training of the total company -of living creatures with which He has stocked it, from animalcule -to archangel? The Manager has assigned in the evolution of the -universal plot their just rōles to all the performers, with incessant -transmigrations of drudge and star, lackey and hero, sultan and beggar, -while the years move on and the generations pass and return, the whole -space of the stage being crowded as thickly with shifting masks and -disguises as a sunbeam is with motes. - -All place being thus theatrical, and all conscious existence thus -having something dramatic, it is quite obvious how inadequate must be -their appreciation of the art of acting who recognize its offices only -in the play-house. The play-house is merely the scene of its purposed -and deliberate _exhibition_ as a professional art. In its different -kinds, with its different degrees of consciousness and complexity, as -a matter of instinct and culture it is _practised_ everywhere. Freeing -our minds from prejudices on the one side, and from indifference on the -other, let us, then, approach the subject with an earnest effort to -learn the truth and to see what its lessons are. - -The history of the drama, in the usual accounts given of it, is -traced back to Thespis, Susarion, and others, in Greece, about six -centuries before Christ. But this has reference only to the most -detached and consummate form of the art. In order really to understand -its derivative basis, its ingredients, its numerous applications -and the moral rank and value of its several uses, we must go much -farther back, and study its gradual ascent. We must, indeed, not only -go beyond the polished states of civilization, but even beyond the -first appearance of man himself on the scene of this world. For the -rudiments of the dramatic art, the simple germs afterwards combined -and developed in human nature with higher additions, are manifested -in the lower animals. The naked foundations, the raw materials, of -the art of acting are shown in all gregarious creatures, and portions -of them even in solitary creatures. They are the crude instincts -of intelligence, imagination, and sympathy. Creatures who are made -alike have the same inner states of consciousness when they are under -the same outer conditions. They also reveal these inner states by -the same outer signs, namely, attitudes, movements, colors, cries, -nervous relaxations or contractions. Seeing in another creature the -signals of a certain state which has always in their own experience -been the accompaniment and cause of these same signals, they interpret -the signals accordingly, and enter into the same state themselves -by sympathy, the signals by a reversal of impulse reacting to cause -the state which they primarily denoted. Thus panics spread through a -swarm of birds, an army of wild horses, or a flock of sheep. Thus the -leader of a herd of buffaloes coming on the track of hunters or in -sight of a grizzly bear is terrified by the danger and starts off on -a run in another direction. The stiffened tail, erected ears, glaring -eyes, expanded nostrils, impetuous plunge, communicate the instinctive -intelligence and feeling through these signs from the nearest members -of the herd to those farther off, with extreme rapidity, and soon the -entire multitude is in one sympathetic state of alarm and flight. The -perception of danger by the leader awakened the feeling of fear and led -to the movement of escape. Those who had not these states of themselves -caught their signs and assumed their substance from the one who had. -Thus all are reinforced and saved by one. - -There are animals and insects which on being touched, or being -approached by a superior enemy, instantly assume the attitude and -appearance of death. They recognize their peril, and seek to elude -notice by a motionless condition which simulates death. They thus -pretend to be other than they are, for the purpose of preserving the -power to remain what they are. The ruby-throated humming-bird of -Canada, if captured, feigns death by shutting its eyes and keeping -quite still, then making a vigorous effort to escape. Some birds -by false pretences of agitation lure the trapper away from the -neighborhood of their nest. Cats constantly feign sleep to further -their design of catching birds or mice. This shows not only a dramatic -gift, but also a clear purpose in the use of it. - -This _playing 'possum_ is a dramatic artifice very prevalent even in -the lower regions of the animal kingdom. If it be thought that a bug -cannot possibly know so much, the reply is, Perhaps the bug itself -does not, but the presence of God, the creative and guardian Spirit -of nature, the collective experience of the total ancestry of the bug -organized in its nervous system, does know it; and it is this automatic -reason that plays the cunning game. A bear has been known to frequent -the bank of a stream where fishes were wont to come to the surface and -feed on the falling fruit of an overhanging tree, to splash the water -with his paw in imitation of the dropping fruit, and when the fish -appeared, seize and devour it! This neat little drama implies on the -part of the bear an imaginative conception of the different personages -and scenes in the situation, in advance, and then a deliberate -representation of his ideas in action. It would be the same thing as -human art if the bear could of its own impulse repeat the whole serial -action under other circumstances, as, for example, before a group of -bears off in the woods. This he cannot do; and thus is the animal drama -differenced from the human drama, instinct separated from art. - -A great many animals are known to imitate the cries or motions -of the creatures they prey on, in order to allure them within -seizing-distance. For the sake of gaining some end they pretend to -be what they are not, and to entertain feelings and designs quite -different from their real ones. Certainly this is to be a hypocrite, -an actor, in the deepest sense of guile. The mocking-bird has the -faculty of mimicking the notes of all kinds of birds with marvellous -accuracy and ease. It takes great pleasure in practising the gift, -calling various kinds of timid songsters around it, and then with a -malicious delight pouring on their ears the screams of their enemies -and scattering them in the wildest terror. By this exercise of the -dramatic art the mocking-bird refreshes, varies, magnifies, the play of -its own life. In like manner, and with the same result, kittens, dogs, -lions, play games with one another, represent mimic battles, pretend to -be angry, to strike and bite, doing it all in a gentle manner, softened -down from the deadly earnestness of reality. - -The aim and use of those crude elements or germs of the drama which -appear in the lower animal world would seem, therefore, to be the -enabling them to escape their pursuers, to seize their prey, to -vary and enlarge their lives by that gregarious interchange and -consolidation which is a mutual giving and taking of inner states -through outer signs. It is transmitted instinct, fitted to its ends -and acting within fixed limits, dependent for the most part on outward -stimuli. - -Mounting from animals to men, we discover the earliest developments of -the dramatic art among the rudest tribes of savages. The prevalence -and exercise of the faculty of dramatization among the principal -tribes of barbarians in all parts of the world are equally striking -and extensive. It is one of the most prized and powerful portions of -their experience, and one of the first to impress the travellers who -visit them. It has three distinct provinces. The first is their own -actual lives, whose most exciting incidents, most salient features, -they repeat in mimic representation. Dressed in appropriate costumes, -they celebrate with counterfeit performances the Planting Festival, -the Harvest Festival, and other important events connected with the -phenomena of the year. They also dramatize with intense vividness -and vigor the experience of war,--the following of the trail of the -enemy, the ambush, the surprise, the struggle, the scalping of the -slain, the burning of the village, the gathering of the booty, the -return home, and the triumphant reception. This is not confined to the -North American Indians. The Dyaks of Borneo, the New Zealanders, the -Patagonians, the Khonds of Asia, the Negroes of Africa, and scores -of other peoples, have similar rites, besides numerous additional -ones less distinctively dramatic, covering the ceremonies of hunting, -fishing, marriage, birth, and death. - -The second department of the drama among barbarians is their -impersonations of animals, their picturesque and terrible -representation of the passions and habits of reptiles, birds, and -beasts. Morgan, in his History of the Iroquois, gives a list of some -forty dances in which they acted out to the life stories based on -their own experience and on that of the creatures beneath them. But -we owe to Catlin some of the most graphic descriptions of the drama -among the North American savages. In the Eagle Dance, the braves dress -themselves as eagles, in plumes, feathers, beaks, talons; and they -shriek, whistle, sail, swoop, in exact imitation of them. In the Wolf -Dance, they go on all-fours, yelp, snarl, bark, and fill up the wolfish -programme to the very letter. In the Buffalo Dance, they each wear a -buffalo mask, consisting of the face, horns, and skin of a buffalo, and -mimic, in ludicrous burlesque, the sounds and motions of that unwieldy -creature. And so with bears, foxes, beavers, hawks, and the rest of the -fauna most familiar to them. In these performances they reproduce with -frenzied truth and force the most ferocious and deadly traits of their -prototypes, and often, among the savages of Fiji and South Africa, the -drama ends half drowned in blood. In Dahomey, where the Serpent is -worshipped, the votary crawls on his belly as a snake and licks the -dust before his idol, and sometimes becomes crazy with the permanent -possession of his part. The barbaric mind finds intense excitement and -enjoyment in these plays, hideous as they seem to us. They break up -the weary monotony of his life, and introduce the relish of games and -novelty and variety. They give him, what he so greatly craves, mental -amusement with physical passion and exertion. They are his almost only -antidote for the bane of stagnation. - -On the other hand, great evils result from them. They never work upward -to reflect higher forms of character and life for redemptive imitation, -but downward, in the impersonating of creatures whose inferiority -either inflames the boastful and reckless self-complacency of the -actors, or else by its reflex influences takes possession of their -consciousness and animalizes them, degrading them to the level of the -brutes they portray. Secondly, the reception of the idea of the beast, -snake or vulture which they represent, their furious mimicry of it, the -spasmodic, rhythmical, long-continued movements they make in accordance -with it, tend to subject the brain to the automatic spinal and -ganglionic centres below, and thus furnish the conditions and initiate -the stages of all sorts of insanity. Much of the persistent degradation -and ferocity of the barbaric world is to be traced to this cause. - -Nor is this the only evil; for, in the third place, when the savage -mind, after such a training, affects to penetrate the invisible -world and come back to report and portray the supernatural beings -who exercise authority there, it naturally takes its impulsive cue, -its ideal stamp, from the nervous centres under the inspiration of -which it acts. Those centres being possessed by the influences of -serpents, wolves, lust, hate, and murder, of course the spirits and -gods reflected will be fiends, incongruous mixtures of beast and -man, devilish monsters. Then the worship of these reacts to deepen -the besotted superstition and terror, the nightmare carnival of the -brain, out of which it originally sprang. And so the process goes on, -in a doomed circle of hopelessness. The time and faculty devoted by -the soothsayers and medicine-men who compose the priestly caste in -savagedom to the tricking out of their devil-gods and their mummery of -magic,--the time and faculty given by their followers to the enactment -of their obsessed ritual,--if directed to the creation and imitative -reproduction of superior types of human character and experience, -would soon lift them out of the barbaric state in which they have so -long grovelled. And it is a very impressive fact that every instance -revealed in history of a savage people rising into civilization is -accompanied by the tradition of some illustrious stranger from afar, -or some divinely-inspired genius emerging among themselves, who has -originated the rōle of a new style of man, thrown it out before them -for dramatic assimilation, and so impressed it on them as to secure -its general copying among them. This has, thus far in history, been -the divine plan for lifting the multitude: the appearance of a single -inspired superior whose characteristics the inferiors look up to -with loving reverence and put on for the transformation of their own -personalities into the likeness of his. That is the dynamic essence of -Christianity itself. - -The next step in this survey of the psychological history of the -dramatic art whereby we are essaying to unfold its purport and its -final definition, leads us from barbaric life to the private homes of -the most cultivated classes of civilized society. The higher we go in -the scale of social wealth and rank, the larger provisions we shall -find made for gratifying the dramatic instincts of children, till we -come to the nursery of the baby prince, who has his miniature parks of -cannon and whole regiments of lead soldiers, and the baby princess, -who has a constant succession of dolls of all grades, costumes, and -ages. The little warrior animates his soldiers and their officers with -such ideas and passions as he has in himself or as he can get glimpses -of from his elders or from books, creates rōles for them, and puts -them through their paces and fortunes with such variety and succession -as he can contrive. And so his nursery is a theatre, and he is at -once author, manager, actors, supernumeraries, spectators, and all. -Likewise the young girl dresses up her dolls, takes them to church, to -balls, undresses them, puts them to sleep, weds them, celebrates their -funeral, in a word, transfuses all her own life, real and imaginative, -into them, and so reactingly multiplies herself and her experience, -and peoples the otherwise tedious vacancy of childhood with vital and -passionate processions, pathetically prefiguring all the tragedy and -comedy that are actually to follow. A Bengal newspaper, giving an -account of a curious marriage-procession through the streets of Dacca, -says, "In Indian households dolls play a far more important part than -they do in England, for all the perfection to which we have attained -in the art of making, clothing, and lodging them. Indian dolls are not -remarkable for beauty or close resemblance to human models; but in -bedecking them no expense is spared. They have a room to themselves, -and seem to enjoy as much attention as live children do elsewhere. -Feasts and garden-parties are given in their honor. The death of a -doll involves a great show of mourning, and the marriage of one is -a public event. In the present instance two dolls belonging to the -daughters of the wealthiest Hindus in Dacca were led out at the head -of a solemn procession, to the delight of the bystanders. After the -wedding ceremony the parents of the girls who had thus disposed of -their puppets laid out a few thousand rupees in feasting their friends -and caste-folk, as well as the neighboring poor." - -As children grow older and become school-boys and school-girls, this -faculty and impulse do not cease to act, but, developed still further, -instead of imparting fancied life and action to inanimate toys, lead -them to imitative performances of their own, causing them to group -themselves together for the representation of games, and of the -historic scenes, social events, or fictitious stories which have most -impressed and pleased their imaginations. - -The point of interest demanding attention at this stage of our inquiry -is how to discriminate clearly between the drama of the savage and -the drama of the child. The dramatization of the savage is mimetic, a -putting on from without of the disguise, the postures, sounds, motions, -of the animal he impersonates. He imitates the outer signs of the -animal; and these often in return produce in him the corresponding -states of consciousness. But the dramatization of the child is -creative, a projection from within of his own thoughts and emotions -into the counterfeit toys he personifies, and a consequent heightening -of his own sense of life by an imagination of its being imparted and -sympathetically taken up and shared. With the barbarian the primary -movement of action is from without inward; with the child it is from -within outward. There it is the interpretative assumption by the actor -of the signs of states in another; here it is the direct transference -by sympathetic imagination of the states of the actor to another. That -is the raw drama of the senses, this the initial drama of the soul. - -We must pause here, before passing to the next head, to make a brief -exposition of another department and application of the dramatic power -of man, a department intermediate between the examples already given -and those which are to come. Its peculiarity is that it combines in -one, with certain original features of its own, the barbaric and the -childish drama. The creation of Fables is the strongest delight of the -dramatizing literary faculty in its first movements. Its workings are -to be traced in the ingenuous oral treasures preserved among tribes who -have no written language, as well as in the most beloved vernacular -writings current among the populace in civilized countries. Fables -are short compositions designed to teach moral truths, or to impress -moral truisms, by representing beasts, birds, reptiles, insects, trees, -flowers, or other objects, as endowed with the faculties of men, -retaining their own forms but acting and talking as men, exemplifying -the virtues and vices of men in characteristic deeds, followed by their -proper consequences. In the degrading barbarian drama the actors admit -into themselves the lower creatures whom they represent, putting on the -skins, movements, cries, of the crocodiles, hyenas, or boa-constrictors -the ideas of whom they take into their brains. In the naļve child -drama the little performers project the ideas of themselves into the -dolls and toys they personify and move. But in the fable drama these -two processes are joined, with a mere inversion of the subjects of the -first; for in fables the actors, in place of being, as in the plays of -savages, the assumed souls of animals and the disguised bodies of men, -are the disguised souls of men in the assumed forms and costumes of -animals. The one is an actual representation of animals by men for free -sport; the other is an imaginary representation of men by animals for -the inculcation of lessons, as, for example, in the well-known instance -of the Wolf and the Lamb. The author of a fable puts his own human -nature into the humbler creatures whom he dramatizes, with a deliberate -conscious thought, a creative exercise of the reflective faculty at the -second remove, quite unlike the instinctive and half-believing action -of the child who straddles a stick pretending that it is a horse. He -has a clear didactic purpose in addition to the sportive impulse of -fancy. This picturing of human nature and its experiences in the living -framework of the lower world yields the keenest pleasure to all who -have not outgrown it; and no one ought ever to outgrow it. He outgrows -it only by the gradual hardening of his heart and fancy, the immovable -stolidity of his faculties in their fixed ruts and crusts. It is the -favorite literature of the childhood of the world. It is filled with -quaint wisdom, raciness, and droll burlesque, as is abundantly to be -seen in the traditions of the Hottentots, the Esquimaux, the Africans, -and other barbaric nations. And in the classic compositions of Pilpai -the Persian, Lokman the Arab, Ęsop the Greek, Phędrus the Roman, La -Fontaine the Frenchman, and other masters, it constitutes, with its -innocent gayety, its malicious mischief, its delicious wit and humor, -its cutting satire and caricature, one of the most exquisite portions -of cosmopolitan literature. - -Hardly any other conception has given the people so much pleasure as -that Beast-Epic, or picture of human life in the vizards and scenery of -animal life, which, under the title of "Reynard the Fox," circulated -through Europe for centuries,--a sort of secular and democratic Bible, -read in palaces, quoted in universities, thumbed by toilsmen, delighted -in by all, old and young, high and low, learned and illiterate. There -the society and life of the Middle Age are reflected with grotesque -truth and mirth, grim irony, sardonic grins, comic insight, laughter -and tragedy, not without many touches of poetry and prophecy. There -are Noble the Lion, Isegrim the Wolf, Reynard the Fox, Chanticleer the -Cock, Bruin the Bear, Lampe the Hare, Hinze the Cat, and the rest, -each one representing enigmatically some class or order in the human -life of the romantic but cruel Feudal World. The poet, with a sly joy, -unfolds his pictures of wolves tonsured as monks, foxes travelling -as pilgrims to shrines and to Rome, cocks pleading as lawyers at the -judgment-bar. He asserts the moral standard of the plebeian instincts -against the conventional ecclesiastic and civil codes, and rectifies -his own wrongs as without rank, power, or wealth, but gifted with -genius and spirit, against the kings, barons, priests, and soldiers, by -portraying the uniform final success of the reckless, good-for-nothing, -but inexhaustibly bright, shifty, and fascinating Reynard. The -representative types of the strong, cruel, stupid men of prerogative -and routine are made to serve as foils for the scholar and actor, -with his spiritual flexibility, elusive swiftness of resource, inner -detachment and readiness. - -The attractiveness of fables is fourfold. First, the charm of all -exercises of the dramatic art, namely, the incessant playing of human -nature with its elementary experiences in and out of all sorts of -masks and disguises of changing persons and situations. Second, the -congruous mixture in them of the most extravagant impossibilities and -absurdities with the plainest facts and truths; the union of sober -realities of reason and nature with incredible forms, giving fresh -shocks of wit and humor. Third, the constant sense of superiority and -consequent elated complacency felt by the human auditor or reader over -the animal impersonators of his nature, with the ludicrous contrasts -and suggestions they awaken at every turn. Fourth, the interest and -authority of the moral lessons, truisms though these may be, which they -so vividly bring out. - -One cannot refrain from adding, in this connection, that there is a -further form of the dramatic inhabitation of our humbler brethren the -brutes, by kind and generous men, an example newly offered to notice -by the officers and friends of our Societies for the Prevention of -Cruelty to Animals. These gentlemen, by a divine extension of their -sympathy, quite in the spirit of the blessed Master who in his parables -immortalized the hen, the sparrow, the raven, the ox, and the ass, -transport themselves into the situation of the poor dumb creatures -who are so often abused, feel and speak for them, and try to remedy -their wrongs and to secure them their rights. They are spreading -abroad a disposition and habit of kindness which will not stop with -the first field of its application, but will extend to include in a -finer and vaster embrace the whole world of childhood, and all the -weak, degraded, and suffering classes of men. This development of -sympathy is one of surprising beauty and promise. It tends to do for -us what the doctrine of the transmigration of souls has done for the -Hindoos,--affiliate us with the entire series of living beings in -tender sentiment and mystery, as members of one family, under one law -of destiny. It will indeed redeem the whole world of humanity if it -shall be applied consistently to all as it was expressed by the famous -Rarey in the practical principle he applied to the taming of unruly -horses, namely: Free them from the spirit of opposition, and fill them -with the spirit of obedient trust, by showing them how groundless is -fear and how futile is resistance. The truth of God in the love of men -will one day end crime, cruelty, terror, and misery. O blessed vision, -how far away art thou? - -The dramatic art, based on the science of human nature in the -revelation of its inner states through outer signs, is the exercise -of that power whereby man can indefinitely multiply his personality -and life, by identifying himself with others, or others with himself, -by divesting himself of himself and entering into the characters, -situations, and experiences of those whom he beholds or reads of or -creatively imagines. This definition elevates the art, in its pure -practice, high above the reach of cavil; for its central principle is -the essence of that disinterested sympathy and vicarious atonement -whose culmination on Calvary have deified the Christ. - -Let us trace a little the rise and nature of this power from a point -of view somewhat different from the one in which we have already -considered it. - -The life of a peach-tree, a rose-bush, or a squash-vine is rigidly -determined for it in advance by the seed from which it springs and -the soil and climate in which it grows. Its life is simply the sum of -actions and reactions between the forces in itself and the forces -in its environment; and this sum of dynamic relations is fixed -fatally by its organic structure. To a degree the same is true of -the life of a weasel, a pig, a horse, or an eagle; but this with two -modifications, two elements of greatening freedom and variety. First, -in connection with the consciousness and the power of locomotion -which distinguish the animal from the vegetable, it can change -its environment, from cliff to cave, from village to desert, from -field to shore, from hill to valley, or from a temperate zone to a -tropical, thus securing a large mass of changes in its surrounding -conditions, resulting in a correspondent diversity or increase in that -sum of actions and reactions which composes its life. Second, the -gregarious nature of animals enables them likewise, to some extent, -to supplement one another, to exchange states of consciousness and -unite their experience. Crows hold consultations and caw with mutual -intelligibility. A flock of wild geese understand the honk of their -leader, and obey every signal perfectly. Bees converse, build, hunt, -wage war, and carry on their little monarchical republic with amazing -cunning and consent. - -But this associative alteration, enhancement, and interchange of life -receive an almost incredible development when we ascend to man. His -nature and destiny too, the fact that he is a man, not a tree or a -brute or an angel or a god, are determined for him by his parentage. -This hereditary descent decides his general character and status, and -also many details of special faculty and tendency. But in him all this -coexists with an immense freedom and power of foreign assimilation. -He can change and modify the conditions of his habitat in a thousand -particulars where the lower animals can do so in one. By free -education, drill, and habit, he can likewise indefinitely modify his -reactions on the same outer conditions. But far above all this in rank -and reach is his ability to _perfect his character by the characters of -others_, to make the most direct and copious levying on the experiences -of his fellow-men. He has not only the organic inheritance of his -ancestry and the traditional treasure of his country and people to work -with, but, furthermore, in history, science, and literature he has the -keys to the conscious wealth of all men in all lands and times. - -The outward universe in which we live is one and the same in common -to all men. But the inner representation of this, the sum of all that -he has experienced and knows of it, is different with every man. Now, -it is with the revelation, the discovery, seizure, and exhibition of -this peculiar inner or ideal world of each individual that the dramatic -art in its practice in actual life is concerned. The business of most -persons seems to be rather to conceal and hold back, to falsify and -distort their inner states, than to reveal and impart them. Their -arts are disguise, imposture, and deception, rather than sincerity, -sympathy, and frankness. But the practical science of the drama puts -all the secrets in our power, and enables us to add to our own inner -world or conscious personal kosmos the related inner worlds of others, -almost without hindrance or limit. - -A philosopher like Hegel, a scientist like Humboldt, a poet like -Rückert, deeply read in all literatures and trained to the facile -reproduction of every mode of thought and action, traverses all races -and ages, deciphering their symbols, reading their passions, royally -reaping their experimental conquests, thus virtually enlarging his -own soul to the dimensions of collective humanity and enriching -himself with its accumulated possessions. The first condition of truly -profound and vital acting is to have the knowledge, the liberty, the -spiritual energy and skill, to solve this inner side of the problem by -reconstructing in the mind and heart the modes of character, passion, -and conduct which are to be represented. They must be mastered and made -one's own before they can be intelligently exhibited. It is the part -of a charlatan to content himself with merely detecting and imitating -the outer signs. He is potentially the richest and freest man who is -most capable of assuming and subsidizing all other men. He is virtually -the king and owner of the world, though without crown or sceptre, -while many a titular king has nothing but these external insignia. The -greatest actor is the one who is the most perfect master of all the -signs of the inner states of men, and can in his own person exhibit -those signs with the most vivid power. He must have, to be completely -equipped for his work, a mind and a body whose parallel faculties and -organs are energetic and harmonic, every muscle of the one so liberated -and elastic, every power of the other so freed and connected, that they -can act either singly or in varied combination with others or with -the whole, with easy precision and vigor. The absence of prejudices -and strictures, contracting ignorance and hate, and the presence of -disinterested wisdom and openness, a trained intuitive sensibility, -will put all states of all souls in his possession by spontaneous -interpretation of their signals. Such an actor, perfected in his -own being and crowned with the trophies of human culture in every -department, is fitted to pass through all the grades and ranges of -society, reflecting everything, subjected to nothing, the sovereign of -mankind, the top of the world. - -And now we are prepared to advance to the heart of our theme and show -the place of the drama in its full development in adult civilized -society, where all sorts of acting are not only diffused through -the daily life of the community, but also separated in a distinct -profession and supplied with a brilliant home. The drama, in its -finished literary and histrionic sense, is seen when a story, instead -of being merely described in forms, words, or colors,--as by sculpture, -narrative, and painting,--is exhibited by fit personages in living -action with all the appropriate accessories of looks, attitudes, -tones, articulations, gestures, and deeds. The end of this imitative, -reproductive, and creative exhibition is, as has already been said, to -enable the spectator to transpose himself out of himself into others, -assimilating them to himself or himself to them, thus unlimitedly -exchanging his personality and its conscious contents. In this sense -the dramatic faculty is universal, and its exercise, in an unsystematic -way, incessant. What other people do in a bungling and piecemeal -manner, without clear purpose or method, the professional actor does -with full consciousness and system, and exhibits for the pleasure and -edification of the observers. Everybody, from infancy to old age, with -such pliancy of fancy, resources of reason, wealth of sympathy, as -he can command, is always observing other people, studying, judging, -approving, copying, or condemning and avoiding. All that is wanting to -regulate and complete the art is, as Schlegel has said, to draw the -mimic elements and fragments clear off from real life, and confront -real life with them collectively in one mass. This is the sphere and -office of the Theatre, whose very business it is to hold up the mirror -to nature and humanity, that all styles of character and conduct may -be seen in their proper quality and their true rank, teaching the -spectators what to despise, what to admire, what to shun, what to -imitate or reproduce for the perfecting of their own characters and -conduct. - -There are in the exhibited drama three provinces or directions, the -lower, the intermediate, and the higher, or Comedy, Melodrama, and -Tragedy. In the lower drama, inferior types of men and manners are -exhibited for the various purposes of amusement, ridicule, satire, -correction. The direction of the moral and social faculties of the -spectators towards the persons and actions they contemplate is downward -from their own or the social mental standards of virtue, propriety, -and grace to the real exemplifications before them, the descending -movement which accompanies their perception of the incongruity -awakening laughter or tendencies to laughter, scorn or tendencies to -scorn, with a reflex of complacency in themselves. Comedy teaches, -so far as it ventures to teach at all and does not content itself -with mere entertainment, by the principle of opposition and contrast, -showing what _not_ to do and how _not_ to do it, suggesting grace by -awkwardness, hinting refinement by vulgarity, setting off beauty and -dignity by ugliness and triviality. This, as every one must see, is a -varied, effective, and fruitful mode of direct instruction as well as -of indirect and unpurposed educational moulding. No one can well be -thoroughly familiar with the genteel comedy of the theatres and remain -a boor. Such a familiarity is of itself a sort of social education. - -In the higher drama, or Tragedy, the superior social types, lords, -ladies, geniuses, kings, and the nobler styles of character, -heroes, martyrs, saints, are represented, to awaken admiration and -reverence, to stir emulous and aspiring desires. Pity, love, and -awe, the profoundest passions and capacities of the soul, are moved -and expanded. The mysteries of fate and providence are shadowed -forth, and the most insoluble problems of morality and religion -indirectly agitated. Transcendent degrees of power, virtue, success, -and glory, or failure and suffering, are indicated; and all our -upward-looking faculties are put on the stretch, with the result of -assimilating more or less of the forms of being and experience on -which they sympathizingly gaze aloft. Here we are taught, sometimes -with a distinct aim, oftener by an unpurposed, contagious kindling -of suggested thought and feeling, innumerable lessons pertaining to -human nature and experience, the varieties of character and conduct, -the limits and retributions of virtue and vice, the extremes of hope -and despair, the portentous question of death, the omnipresent laws of -God. How much one shall be affected and changed, inspired and aided, by -all this, depends on his docility and earnestness in front of it, his -plasticity under it. But it is plain that it can scarcely be repeated -and continued without important effects on all who are not dolts. - -The intermediate, or Melodrama, mixed of the other two and presented -on the ever-varying level between comic lowness and tragic height, -brings forward a medley of characters, greater and lesser, good, bad, -and indifferent, portraying life not truly as it is in fact, but -exaggeratedly, in heterogeneous combination, so set off in extravagant -relief and depression, emphasis of lights and shades, as to give it -a more than natural attraction for the senses. Without taxing any -faculties in the audience, it piques the curiosity of all by turns, and -exercises and refreshes them with its rapid changes and its glaring -effects, which provide strong sensations yet with small exaction on -the mind. Any explicit instruction it contains is incidental, since -its real business is to serve as a spiritual alterative directed to -the soul through the senses, to beguile heavy thoughts and cares, to -entertain and rest weary faculties with fresh objects, and fill idle -hours with pleasurable amusement. All this is certainly legitimate, -needed, and useful, although it may be abused by the employment of -illegitimate means, and thus perverted into an injury. But every good -thing is likewise capable of perversion, and ought to be judged by its -true intent, not by its aberrations. - -Furthermore, it is to be said--and it is an important truth which -should in no wise be overlooked--that even when the play is petty and -worthless in plot, full of absurdities as many of our gaudy modern -pantomimes and spectacles are, and pernicious in its exhibitions of -nudity, impure postures, and prurient accessories,--even then a twofold -good may be derived from the show, in addition to the mere recreative -diversion and pleasure yielded. First, the sight of the superb power, -grace, and skill of the trained performers, disciplined and perfected -to the highest point of energy, self-possession, and easy and joyous -readiness for the execution of their functions, is a charming and -edifying sight. It is the display of models of human nature developed -to an extreme degree of strength, beauty, and flexibility,--a display -which tends to mould the eyes of the spectators, and through their eyes -to affect their souls and to exert educational influence on future -generations. Every spectator should be kindled by the sight to secure -for himself, for the highest fulfilment of life under the eyes of God, -the exemplary development which these performers have so laboriously -won for the mere purpose of exhibition and pay. The sacrifice and toil -they have devoted for the sake of applause, should we not be willing to -devote for the sake of entering on our full heritage in the universe? - -Second, the melodrama, by its artistic groupings, colors, and -movements, its scenic processions, its magic pictures, its orderly -evolution of romantic adventures, the multiform interplaying of -the characters and fortunes of its actors upon one another, draws -our attention from ourselves, enlists our feelings in the fates of -others, and thus exercising our faculties, disciplines, purifies, and -emancipates them, making them readier and more competent for whatever -exigencies we may be called on to meet. This great good and use of -the dramatic art, its moral essence, is afforded to the profiting -beholder by almost every theatrical representation, namely, that, in -showing life concentrated and intensified, it holds up for imitation -the instructive spectacle, in its trained actors, of men passing from -themselves into the personalities and situations of others, mutually -appropriating one another's traits and experiences, supplementing -themselves with one another. This varied practice of reason, -imagination, and sympathy in assuming inner states and their outer -signs is the most effective culture and drill there is for freeing -human nature from the slavery of routine, and perfecting its entrance -on that heritage of unlimited sympathetic fellowships which will at -last realize the hydrostatic paradox in morals, and make one man -commensurate with all humanity. A drop balances an ocean by its dynamic -translation and interplay with all the drops! - -Whatever dissent or qualification may be made by some to the foregoing -view, there will scarcely be any hesitation or difference of opinion -when we turn from the representation of bad characters or neutral -characters, the vile and the insignificant, to the grandest forms -of the drama, where we encounter the most pathetic and brilliant -impersonations of ideal excellence,--those patterns of loveliness and -heroism with which the Stage abounds in its pictures of stainless -and queenly women, fearless and kingly men. The natural influence of -weeping over the misfortunes and wrongs or worshipping the virtues -of a saintly sufferer, who resists not, complains not, resents not, -but bears all with angelic patience, sweetness, and fortitude, is to -soften and expand the heart and cultivate the tenderest graces of human -nature. The natural influence of tracing the indomitable enterprise, -valor, disinterestedness, and perseverance of a great genius, an -illustrious patriot or martyr, thrilling with the deepest admiration at -his virtues, is to foster in the susceptible breast burning aspirations -after kindred worth and distinction. This tendency may be neutralized -or prevented, but it is the natural influence, by which alone it is -fair to judge the best specimens of the drama. And he who should -undertake to estimate the total influence of the Stage in the model -characters it has held up as ideals for honor and imitation, would have -a task not less difficult than genial. - -While War and Work, with the rehearsing discipline they exact, occupy -and ravage the fairest fields and promises of Human Life, and create -Weariness, Crime, Lust, and Death, as the horrid Reapers who tread -close in their steps, the Theatre--one bright home of Freedom, Art, and -Beauty, planted in a paradisal place--is prophetic of the time to come -when Love and Leisure shall have room to people the redeemed world with -their fair and sweet offspring, Play and Joy. - -In the mean time, while the spirit of doubt, banter, and insincerity -is so rife,--while we meet on every hand that arid, cynical, and -contemptuous temper which thrives on mockery and badinage, fosters -an insolent complacency and laughter by degrading superior persons -and subjects in parodies and lampoons,--while our young men and women -are infested with a boastful conceit of superiority to all sentiment -and enthusiasm, and even our rising authors are so disenchanted, so -knowing, that persiflage and the ridicule of illusion and devotion are -their highest tests of experience and power,--under such conditions, -surely we shall all agree that the ideal revelations, the impassioned -music and eloquence, the free elevation above commonplace, the -portrayals of ingenuous faith and energy, that still linger on the -Stage, are to be held precious. Amidst so much formality and hypocrisy, -it is a boon to have a great actor break into us through the crust of -custom and startle our noblest powers into life. - -The actor, in laboring to fit himself for the highest walk in his -profession, studies all forms of human nature and experience, -discriminates their ranks and worth, sees what is congruous and -becoming, or the contrary, and reproduces their powers in himself by -the practice of putting on their states and showing their signals. -This done disinterestedly, with a sovereign eye to duty and the Divine -Will, is the way for every one to educate himself towards that personal -perfection the pursuit of which is his supreme business on earth. He -thus learns to assume and absorb the ascending ideals that brighten -the pathway to heaven. Herein the dramatic art becomes glorified into -identity with religion. - -The lowest range of the histrionic inhabitations of the soul is -_obsession_, where the man is insanely held by some inferior or evil -spirit, as when Nebuchadnezzar went out and ate grass, like an ox. -The next grade is _sympathetic domination_, where the idea of another -being is so vividly seated in the imagination of a person that for -the time it makes him its involuntary agent. The intermediate or -neutral level, half-way from the lowest to the highest, is the region -of _voluntary assumption_, or acting properly so called, where the -player by his own free intelligence and will reproduces or imitates -foreign characters. Then there is the ascent into _inspiration_, where -loftier influences or spirits than are native to the impersonator take -possession of him, enhancing his powers, animating and guiding him -beyond his own knowledge or volition. And lastly, there is the supreme -height of _divine incarnation_, where some deity stoops into the cloud -of mortality, or the infinite God in varying degrees deigns to inflesh -and enshrine himself in man. Christendom owns one unapproachable and -incomparable example in its august Founder. But in India, Egypt, -Greece, were mystic men, who, too wise and grand to be thought -lunatics, have claimed to be of a lineage divine and dateless. This is -a realm for silence. But every unique, whether Gautama or Jesus, is -only the transcending culmination of a rule that rises through levels -below. Either great men have played the rōles of incarnate gods or -descending gods have assumed the rōles of men on earth. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -THE DRAMATIC APPRENTICE AND STROLLING PLAYER. - - -WHEN Edwin was nine years old, he was thin, pale, and had a slight -forward stoop of the chest and shoulders. He was full of fire, courage, -impulsive force, but had a quick pulse, a nervous habit, a sensitive -brain and skin. The tears came easily to his eyes, and under severe -exertion his endurance quickly gave out. At that time he seemed a fair -candidate for consumption and an early grave. His father is known, on -several occasions, to have expressed fears that he should not be able -to raise him. - -A fortunate occurrence set the boy at work just at the right time and -in the right direction. Wherever a Circus travels through the country, -its performances take powerful effect on the impressible sympathies -of energetic and ambitious youths. As it departs, it often leaves -behind it a line of emulous lads, in mimic repetition of its scenes, -climbing ropes, leaping bars, walking on their hands, standing on their -heads, throwing somersaults, or posturing, balancing, and wrestling. -Such an experience befell Edwin, and his physical improvement under -it was rapid. It deepened his breathing, invigorated the circulation -of his blood, and straightened him up, bringing out his breast and -throwing back his shoulders. And in his seventeenth year, the period -which we have now reached, he was as fine a specimen of a manly -youth as one might wish to see. He had a free, open bearing, with -steadily-confronting eyes, and a clear, deep voice. He had never been -bashful; neither was he ever impudent or shameless. He was at once -self-possessed and modest, combining an air of sincerity and justice -with an expression of democratic independence. Such was the result, in -his outward appearance, of his character, his parental inheritance and -training, his dramatic practice, and his gymnastic exercises. - -Accordingly, when, early in the September of 1822, it was announced -that the proprietors of the three theatres at Pittsburg, Lexington, -and Cincinnati had come to Philadelphia for the purpose of engaging -a company to perform alternately in those cities, and young Forrest, -depressed and impatient from the failure of his previous attempts to -secure a regular engagement, made personal application to manager -Jones, that gentleman was so much pleased with his words and his -bearing that he at once struck a bargain with him. The agreement was -that for a compensation of eight dollars a week he should play, without -a question, whatever parts he was cast in, no matter how high or how -low the parts were. He was willing now, despite his precocious starring -experiences, to take this humble position and hold himself ready for -anything at the beck and call of his superior, because he had come -keenly to feel how little he knew and how much he had to learn. And -his sound sense, with the good advice he had received, taught him that -there offered no other way so thoroughly and rapidly to master his -profession as by submitting to a regular drill in the miscellaneous -parts of the working stage, from top to bottom. He saw his path -to the dramatic throne through the steps of a docile and patient -apprenticeship. - -It was always a characteristic of him that he was unwilling to utter -words while ignorant of their meaning. He studied what he was to speak, -that he might speak it with intelligence and propriety. Whether right -or wrong, he would, as a rule, always know what he meant to do, and -why and how. In illustration of this teachable spirit an incident may -be adduced which he ever gratefully remembered as one of the most -influential in his life. - -When he was but fourteen, he was one evening in front of one of the -Philadelphia theatres, when his attention was fixed on two large -statues, or mythological figures, each carved from a single block of -wood, pedestal and all, placed in niches at each side of the entrance. -Under them were inscribed the names Thalia and Melpomene. "Who are -Thallea and Melpomeen?" he asked of an elder comrade with whom he was -wont to practise histrionics in the Thespian Club. "Oh, I don't know; -a couple of Grecian queens, I guess," was the reply. A gentleman, -handsomely dressed, with a benignant face and graceful mien, who had -overheard the question and the answer, stepped forward, took Edwin -by the hand, and said, "My lad, these figures, whose names you have -not pronounced correctly, represent two characters in the old Greek -mythology. This one, with the mask and the mirror, is Thalia, the -Muse of Comedy. That one, with the dagger and the bowl, is Melpomene, -the Muse of Tragedy. They are appropriately painted here, because the -theatre is the home of the drama, where both comedies and tragedies are -performed. Now, my boy, if you like to learn, there is a book, which -you can get at any book-store, called Walker's Classical Pronouncing -Dictionary, to which on all such occasions you can refer and find just -what you want to know." It was a beautiful action. And it fell on good -soil. Edwin bought the volume, and he never ceased to practise the -lesson or to be thankful to him who gave it, and on whose unknown head, -even to the end of life, his grateful heart showered benedictions. -When, many years later, that theatre was taken down, Forrest, in memory -of the incident above related, had the two statues purchased for him, -intending to set them up in his own private theatre. - -Edwin was an affectionate boy, who won affection from others -notwithstanding his somewhat reckless spirit of adventure, frequent -coarseness of speech, and violence of temper. He was sympathetic, as -dramatic genius perforce must be, quick in intelligence, keen and eager -in observation, and of an honest manner and make throughout. He was -throbbing with hope and aspiration before the new prospect opened to -him as he went around to say farewell to those he loved, his favorite -companions among the amateur Thespians, and his benefactors. As he took -the hand of one after another and said good-bye, the cuff of his sleeve -repeatedly went to his eyes, and he felt those bitter twinges of pain -familiar to boyish bosoms on such partings in all generations and all -over the world. He went to the tannery, where, on the old stone table, -his declamations as a proud and happy child had been applauded by -Lorman and his fellow-workmen. He visited the tomb of his father, and -the house of his kind old pastor. Then came the last and severest trial -of his fortitude, the taking leave of his sisters, and, above all, of -his mother, who was always enshrined in his inmost soul as an object of -the most tender and sacred love. He girded himself up and got through -with it, he hardly knew how. - -One small and humble trunk held all his effects,--a very scant -wardrobe, a few trifling keepsakes, a Bible the gift of his mother, -an edition of Shakspeare in one cheap volume, Walker's Classical -Pronouncing Dictionary, and a little collection of plays in pamphlet -form. Joining the company which Collins and Jones had gathered, -consisting of about a dozen persons, male and female, they regarded -one another with mutual interest; and, with that intuitive reading of -character which their professional art bestows, they in an amazingly -short time were intimately acquainted, and quite prepared to share -adventures, confidences, and lives. Besides Collins and Jones, -there were Groshorn, Scott, Eberle, leader of the orchestra, Lucas, -scene-painter, Henderson, stage manager, Davis, Mrs. Pelby, Mrs. -Riddle, Miss Fenton, Miss Sallie Riddle, and Miss Eliza Riddle. Several -of these not only had varied and ripe experience of the stage, but were -also highly distinguished for their talents and accomplishments. This -was especially the case with Mrs. Pelby and Mrs. Riddle. - -The magnetic personality, the inexperienced youth, the attractive -ingenuousness, and the enthusiastic ambition of Forrest made him at -once a prominent object of attention in the company, all of whom were -ready to give him such instructions and aids as were in their power. -But, above all the rest, to the constant generous kindness and teaching -of Mrs. Riddle he always expressed himself as deeply indebted for -services rendered at the most critical period of his life, and whose -record remained as fresh in his latest memory as their results were -indelible in his being. - -About the middle of October they began playing in Pittsburg, in a -building so ruinous and dilapidated that on rainy nights the audience -in the pit held up their umbrellas to screen themselves from the -leakings through the roof. The first performance was Douglas, Forrest -sustaining the part of Young Norval with much applause. In the course -of the season here he played many characters, in tragedy, comedy, -farce, and ballet. In grappling with these subordinate parts he -afterwards said he could distinctly remember that he often felt ashamed -to find how ignorant he was, and was almost appalled at the immense -task before him in becoming the actor he wished to be. But the progress -he felt he was making, combined with the unstinted praise he received, -kept his spirits at a high point. - -The following letter, dated Pittsburg, October 10th, 1822, is the -earliest letter from him to his mother found among his papers after his -death: - -"DEAR MOTHER,--I arrived here yesterday at about eleven o'clock, and -am much pleased with the place and its inhabitants. I was quite out of -patience riding so long in the stage over such tremendous mountains, -but was greatly delighted, on reaching the summit of them, to view the -surrounding country,--so vast and varied a landscape. - -"Pittsburg is three hundred miles from Philadelphia. It is a sort of -London in miniature, very black and smoky. The Alleghany River and -Mountains surround it. The theatre is very old. - -"This, you know, is the first time I have ever been away from you. -I have felt many qualms of homesickness, and I miss you, dear, dear -mother, more than words can give out. Has William gone to Petersburg? -Furnish me with every particular, especially how our Tid is, and -whether she reads with the yard-stick. Give me an account, too, of my -Grandma, and of my _beautiful_ Sister. The long ride in the stage has -made my hurdies so callous that they would ward off a cannon-ball. - -"Give my respects to all my friends, particularly to Philip. Inform -me also, if you can, how the Tivoli Garden gets on. Write as early as -possible, and pray pay the postage, as I am out of funds. I expect the -managers by the next stage. Mr. Hughes, formerly of the Walnut Street -Theatre, is here. I find him a perfect gentleman. - - "Your affectionate son, - "EDWIN FORREST." - -In a short time the company collected their properties and took passage -on the Ohio River in a flat-boat for Maysville, Kentucky. They floated -lazily along for five days and nights, in delightful weather, through -lovely scenery new to the most of them, filling the time with stories, -games, and jokes,--a happy set, careless, healthy, and as gay and free -as the ripples of the stream that glanced around them. They played at -Maysville a few evenings with excellent success, greatly delighting the -rude Kentuckians, who thronged in from miles around. - -Departing thence, they journeyed to Lexington, then the most important -town in the State, where they were encouraged to make a considerable -tarry, as they found a nice theatre, good patronage, and an uncommonly -intelligent auditory. The Transylvania University was here, under the -presidency of the celebrated Horace Holley. Many of the teachers and -pupils of the University attended the performances night after night. -Forrest was looked on as a lad of extreme promise. He made many friends -among the students. One of these friendships in particular, that formed -with young James Taylor, son of a wealthy planter of Newport, was kept -unbroken to the end of his life. - -In 1870, Mr. William D. Gallagher, an old and dear friend of Mr. -Forrest, visited Col. Taylor at his estate in Newport. Taylor gave -him many pleasing reminiscences of his early days and his romantic -friendship with the young actor, then so world-famous. He said that -while at Lexington he one night invited Forrest to his hotel. He -acceded, without waiting to change his costume as Young Norval. He -spent the night with him, sharing his bed, and breakfasted with him -the next morning. After breakfast, as he went to his own quarters in -another street, the boys, attracted by his theatrical dress, followed -him with shouts and cheers. - -President Holley was a man of very extraordinary oratorical power. He -was really a man of genius, his freedom of thought and his ęsthetic -culture far in advance of his time. He had a great fame in his day, -but, leaving no visible work behind him, his name is now but a faded -tradition. He was so much struck by the performances of Forrest that he -generously sought him out and held several long interviews with him, in -which, with a masterly power which profoundly impressed his youthful -listener, he unfolded his views of art and of life and urged him to -cherish noble aspirations in the profession he had chosen. This contact -with the veteran preacher was one of the moulding points in the career -of the player. Such acts of condescension and disinterestedness--or -perhaps it is juster to call them acts of love and duty--are charming -and are divinely encouraging. There are more of them in the world -than we think, though certainly there are far fewer of them than there -ought to be. The record of each, while delightful to contemplate, is a -stimulus to produce others. - -Holley urged Forrest to curb his taste for comic and farcical parts and -as soon as possible to cease appearing in such characters. He strove to -impress on him a deeper sense of his fitness for the highest walks of -tragedy, and explained to him most eloquently the noble qualities the -enactment of such parts both required and cultivated in the performer, -as well as the valuable lessons they taught to the spectator. He also -dwelt at length on the true principle of the dramatic art, which he -maintained to be not merely to hold the mirror up to crude nature, but -to give a choice and refined presentation of the truth. Nature, he -said, is reality, but art is ideality. The actor is not to reflect all -the direct and unrelieved facts of nature, but to present a selective -and softened or intensified reflection of them. Art plays the tune -of nature, he held, but with variations. He uttered these and other -thoughts with such remarkable grace and precision that Forrest said -the conversation made an epoch in his mind, although he differed from -him in opinion, then and always holding that the purpose of acting was -to show the exact truth of nature. Holley was right; and it is notable -that his youthful auditor in rejecting the view he advocated accurately -marked his own central defect not less than his most conspicuous merit -as an actor. - -Closing their season at Lexington, February 22d, 1823, the company -started across the country for Cincinnati, the women with the -theatrical paraphernalia in covered wagons, the men on horseback. -Their good humor and abundant faculty for finding or making enjoyment -in everything stood them in hand during the journey, which their -rude accommodations and the wintry weather would otherwise have made -cheerless enough. They opened in Cincinnati, in the old Columbia Street -Theatre, on the evening of March 6th, 1823. The play was The Soldier's -Daughter. Forrest, who lacked just three days of being seventeen -years old, was assigned the humble part of Malfort, a serious walking -gentleman. His range of casts during this season was extremely varied, -reaching from the heights of dire tragedy to the level of ridiculous -pantomime. He danced in the then popular ballet of Little Red -Riding-Hood. He often sang comic songs between the plays. Eberle, who -was a good violinist, on one occasion appeared as an old broken soldier -with a wooden leg and a fiddle, accompanied by Forrest as his daughter -in a ragged female dress. The father fiddled, the daughter sang with -laughable pathos,-- - - "Oh, cruel was my parients, as tored my love from me; - And cruel was the great big ship as tooked him off to sea; - And cruel was the capitaine and the boswain and the men, - As didn't care a fardin if we never met agen." - - (Tears.) - -The performance was encored so warmly that it was repeated many -successive nights. He also played Corinthian Tom in the extravaganza of -Tom and Jerry, Lubin in the Wandering Boys of Switzerland, and Blaize -in the Forest of Bondy, or the Dog of Montargis. In the last character -he sang this song: - - "Bondy's forest,--full of leaves; - Bondy's forest,--full of thieves; - They hold your bridle, take your cash, - And then they give your throat a gash. - Sing la, la, la, la, la." - -At this time he had a trained dog, who knew as much as a great many -men. He was strongly attached to this dog, who appeared on the stage -with him in the Forest of Bondy and acted his part with striking -effect. He was a frisky and mischievous creature. He occupied the same -room with Edwin; and one morning he took advantage of the leisure his -habits as an early riser gave him to gnaw and tear in pieces one of his -master's only pair of boots. The poor actor was in a dilemma. He had -no money and no credit. In his wrath he thought of whipping the dog. -But that would boot nothing. The innocent creature knew no better. So -he pretended to have a sore foot, put a bandage on it, borrowed an old -slipper, and hobbled about until his wages fell due and enabled him to -buy a pair of shoes. - -In contrast with the above-named comic casts, Forrest took the second -parts to the Damon, Brutus, and Virginius of the stars Pelby and -Pemberton, and at his own benefit played Richard the Third. - -Without making a great sensation or achieving any brilliant success, -he was decidedly popular. Sol Smith and Moses Dawson, editors of the -two Cincinnati newspapers at that time, both praised him highly and -prophesied his future eminence. Moses Dawson--a leading Democrat of -the West, the first to raise the political banner inscribed with the -name of Andrew Jackson, and who is said to have died of joy at the -triumph of his party in the Presidential election of 1844--wrote the -earliest earnest and studious criticisms ever composed on the acting -of Forrest. He carefully noted all the points and peculiarities of the -youthful performer, honestly stated his defects and faults, generously -signalized his excellences, and made judicious suggestions for his -profit. His candid and thoughtful words were of great service to the -boy, and were never forgotten by the man. - -A specimen from one of these articles will be of interest: "Mr. -Forrest has a finely-formed and expressive countenance, expressing -all the passions with marvellous exactness and power, and he looks -the character of Richard much better than could be expected from a -person of his years. He assumes a stately majesty of demeanor, passes -suddenly to wheedling hypocrisy, and then returns to the haughty strut -of towering ambition, with a facility which sufficiently evidence that -he has not only deeply studied but also well understood the immortal -bard. The scene with Lady Ann appeared to us unique, and superior to -everything we have ever seen, not excepting Kemble or Cooke. In the -soliloquies he uttered the sentiments as if they had arisen in his mind -in that regular succession, and we never once caught his eye wandering -towards the audience. Of the tent scene we do not hesitate to say that -it was a very superior piece of acting. Horror and despair were never -more forcibly represented. We consider Mr. Forrest's natural talents -of the highest grade, and we hope his good sense will prevent him from -being so intoxicated with success as to neglect study and industry. We -are willing to render to youthful talent a full meed of praise; but -while we applaud, we would caution. Applause should not be received as -a reward, but as an incentive to still further exertion to deserve it." - -During his first engagement in Cincinnati, Forrest boarded with widow -Bryson, on Main Street. Almost half a century afterwards, William D. -Gallagher sought this excellent woman out, and obtained from her some -very interesting reminiscences. It seems that General Harrison, who was -subsequently President of the United States, came to Mrs. Bryson one -day and asked her to do him the favor to take as a boarder a young man -named Edwin Forrest, who was then playing at one of the theatres. The -General said he feared, if the youth boarded with the other players, -he would form bad habits. He wished to guard him from this, as he -considered him a young man of extraordinary ability, and destined to -excel in his profession. She assented. She said he was at that time -a beautiful boy, with deep and very dark brown eyes, a complexion of -marble clearness mantling with blood, and a graceful, sinewy form. He -once made her very angry by an insulting remark concerning one of the -female boarders, whose conduct did not suit his ideas of propriety. -Mrs. Bryson declared that she would not have such language used at -her table. He replied that of course he did not apply it to her. But -she could not forget, and sent for General Harrison, and related the -matter to him. He brought Edwin before her. The youth hung down his -head. "Poor fellow!" added the old lady, "it has been a long time since -then. Forty-six or seven years. Yet I can plainly see him standing -there now!" Eying him sternly, the General said, "Sir, the father of -this lady was a Revolutionary soldier; her husband was one of my trusty -officers in the late war; and she is a lady whom I highly esteem. When -I introduced you into her family, I did not suppose you would treat -her with disrespect; and I now ask you to make her a humble apology." -Edwin raised his head and said, "General, I did make a severe remark -concerning a particular person whom Mrs. Bryson thinks she knows, but -does not. It was an unguarded act. I am very sorry for it, and ask -her a thousand pardons. I assure you, madam, I would not, under any -circumstances, use words to hurt your feelings." He then turned and -made a humble excuse to Harrison, who reprimanded him with severity. -It did him good; it was a lesson he never forgot. But Mrs. Bryson -confessed that she learned soon after that he was right in what he had -said about the woman. - -One Sunday evening there came up a dreadful thunder-storm. As the -thunders crashed and rattled, the frightened women, with Mrs. Bryson at -their head, rushed into Edwin's room. He went to the window, raised it, -took his sword and waved it out. When the electric flashes broke, it -looked as if the lightnings were dancing on the point of his sword. The -women fled out of his room with even greater terror than they had come -into it, and he laughed heartily to see them scamper. - -Gallagher was present at an interview of Mrs. Bryson and her daughter -with Mr. Forrest in 1869, the first time they had met for forty-six -years. Although the daughter, Mrs. Kemp, was but a little girl when -they parted, he recognized her at the first glance. They spent a -long time in unrestrained enjoyment, talking over the events of the -old times as if they were things that had occurred but a few days -previously. Mrs. Bryson exclaimed, "Oh, Edwin Forrest, I can scarcely -realize it when I look at you and think what a beautiful boy you were -when we last met, and now see you such a great, heavy man, and getting -into age, too!" - -At the end of the winter, Collins and Jones found their enterprise a -pecuniary failure. They incontinently shut up the theatre and turned -the whole company out to shift for themselves as best they could. These -poor children of Thespis were in a pitiful plight. Without money, -without employment or prospects, what could they do? About a dozen of -them, including Forrest, Mrs. Riddle, and her two daughters, determined -to extemporize a vagrant company, travel into the country, and try -their fortune from town to town. Their action was as prompt as their -pluck was good and their means small. With a couple of rickety wagons -and two dreadfully thin old horses, they started off for Hamilton, most -of them on foot. It is interesting to contemplate the little band of -strolling players as they thus set out on their adventures. On their -journey they scrutinized many a passing itinerant unlike themselves, -laughed and sang in jovial liberty, while the birds sang around them -by day and the stars twinkled over their heads by night. If there were -hardships in it, tough and scanty fare, rude conditions, weary trudges, -harsh treatment, wretched patronage, there were also in it rich -experiences of life at first hand, a rough relish, a free existence in -the open air, and all the traditional associations linking them to -the strollers of other times and lands, wandering minstrels, beggars, -apprentices, gypsies, and those travelling groups of actors who used to -perform in the yards of inns or the halls of baronial castles, and a -specimen of whom found a so much better than lenten entertainment from -the hands of Hamlet at Elsinore. - -After performing at Hamilton for eight or ten nights, in the second -story of a venerable barn, with more applause than profit, they went -to Lebanon. An interesting reminiscence of this time is given by the -following fac-simile of a note afterwards redeemed by its signer, and -found carefully preserved among his papers at his death: - -[Illustration - - Hamilton August 6th 1823 - Due Wm Cooper or order one - dollar & fifty cents for Value Recd - August 6th 1823---- - Edwin Forrest] - -They met little encouragement at Lebanon, and proceeded to Dayton, -where they had still poorer success. In fact, their funds and their -hopes gave out together, and they agreed to disperse. Forrest had not -one cent in his pocket. He started on foot for Cincinnati, a distance -of about forty miles. Journeying along on the bank of the Big Miami -River, he spied a canoe on the other shore. How much easier it would -be to float than to walk! He stripped, plunged, and swam. As soon -as he was near enough to see that the boat was chained and locked, -the owner of it appeared and pointed a gun at him. He made backward -strokes to his clothes, and resumed his plod. It was evening when he -reached Cincinnati, pretty well fagged out. Some of his acquaintances -met him in the street, said an amateur club were that night to play -the farce of Miss in her Teens across the river at Newport, that one -of the fellows was drunk, and asked him if he would fill the vacancy. -He consented to do it for five dollars. They agreed to give that -price, and he went and did it. The excessive fatigue probably made it -the hardest-earned, as it was the sorest-needed, five dollars he ever -received. It nearly exhausted the proceeds of the performance. - -In a short time the scattered strollers rejoined their forces at -Louisville to try one more experiment. They succeeded moderately -well. But Archibald Woodruff, keeper of the Globe Inn in Cincinnati, -had fitted up a hasty and cheap structure adjoining his tavern, and -christened it the Globe Theatre. He invited the Louisville company to -come and open it. They did so on the evening of June 2d, 1823, with -Douglas, Forrest as Norval. June 4th they gave the play of The Iron -Chest, Forrest as Sir Edward Mortimer, Mrs. Riddle as Lady Helen. On -subsequent nights he sustained among other characters those of George -Barnwell, Octavian in The Mountaineers, Jaffier in Venice Preserved, -and Richard the Third, besides several parts in low comedy. - -But perhaps the most surprising fact connected with this portion of -his career is that he was the first actor who ever represented on -the stage the Southern plantation negro with all his peculiarities -of dress, gait, accent, dialect, and manners. This he did ten years -before T. D. Rice, usually denominated the originator of the Ethiopian -drama, made his début at the Bowery in the character of Jim Crow. Rice -deserves his fame, for, though preceded first by Forrest, and then in a -more systematic fashion by George W. Dixon, he was the man who really -popularized the burnt-cork and burlesque minstrelsy and made it the -institution it became. - -The fortunes of the Globe were in such a state that the establishment -was on the point of breaking up, when Sol Smith hired it for one night. -He brought out three pieces, the comedy of Modern Fashions, a farce -entitled The Tailor in Distress, and the pantomime of Don Quixote. He -agreed to pay each performer two dollars. For this sum Forrest acted -a dandy in the first play, a negro in the second, and Sancho Panza -in the third. The Tailor in Distress was a light affair, composed by -Sol Smith, turning on local matters well known and very ludicrous. -The part of Ruban, the negro, assigned to Forrest, was full of songs, -dances, and fun. He was a servant, and his wife, who had nothing to -say, was to appear with him as a help to set off his performance. He -blacked himself up and rigged his costume quite to his content, when -it occurred to his thought that no one had been got for the part of -his black wife. He applied to the women of the theatre, but not one of -them was willing to black herself for the occasion. He recollected his -old African washerwoman, who lived in a shanty close by. He hurried -thither and knocked and went in. Dinah cried, "Wha, bress me! who am -dis? Gosh-a-massy, who be you? Whose chile am you?" He answered, in a -negro voice, "Wha, Dinah, duzzent you know Sambo?" "What Sambo?" she -answered. "No, I duzzent know nothin' about you. Who is you?" "Heaw! -heaw! You duzzent know me! Now, don't you petend you am ign'rant ob -dis chile." "Well, I say I be, and want to know who you am!" Time was -pressing, and he said, in simple earnest, "Dinah, I am Mr. Forrest, -from the theatre. I am all blacked and dressed to play the part of a -negro, and I must have a black wife to go on the stage with me. I want -you to do it." The astonished and incredulous washerwoman responded, -"De debbil you does!" Sharply examining her visitor, she recognized -him. "Reely, now, it be de fac'. You am Mass' Forrest. But what a funny -nigger you am! You nigger all ober!" "Yes, Dinah, but hurry along, or -we shall be late." "Well, I duzzent care; I goes along wid you anyhow." -So they hastened arm-in-arm to the theatre, and got there just in time. -The appearance of the darkies was greeted with loud applause, and when -Ruban began to let out the regular cuffy, as he always could in the -most irresistible way, with wide and suddenly breaking inflections of -voice, breathing guffaw, and convulsive double-shuffle, the enthusiasm -of the audience reached the highest pitch. The play was repeated -several nights to crowds. - -The Distressed Tailor referred to a well-known representative of that -profession, named Platt Evans, who was a very curious and original -character. He was interviewed by Mr. Gallagher in 1869, who found -him a hale, active man of over eighty, and still fond of his joke. -Old Platt said, "The farce was a da-da-da-dam good thing; on-on-only -the character of me wa-was not true, as he stu-stu-stu-stuttered, -and I do-don't stu-stu-stutter!" He said he made a suit of clothes -for Forrest in 1823, and that once when he was in the store a fellow -accused him of being stuffed. Forrest took off his coat and vest, and, -striking his breast, exclaimed, "No, there is no padding here. It is -all honest, and I mean it always shall be!" - -It was now the end of July. The theatre was shut, the actors adrift -and penniless. It was a hard time for them. Mrs. Riddle and her two -daughters lived for awhile in Newport in a little dilapidated cottage, -and Forrest spent part of his time with them. Invited to a party on one -occasion, he was in want of a clean shirt and collar. Mrs. Riddle took -a collar and a handkerchief of her own, washed and ironed them, pinned -the collar on, tied a piece of ribbon around his neck, fastened the -handkerchief over the bosom of his dingy shirt, and sent him smilingly -off to the festivity, where his disguise was probably little suspected. -Young, full of healthy blood, with a fiery imagination, it took but -little to make him happy in those days. And yet, poor, ill clad, -unemployed, with only a few chance friends, at a distance from mother -and home, it took but little to make him very unhappy. - -For several weeks he obtained almost his sole food from the corn-fields -of General Taylor across the river in Newport. He used to break off an -armful of ears, take them to his old negro washerwoman, and get her to -boil them for him. Sometimes he made a fire under some stones out in -the field, roasted the corn and ate it without salt. It was a Spartan -dinner; but, fortunately, he had a Spartan appetite. - -During this period he one day rowed over the river to Covington and -climbed a sightly eminence there wooded with a growth of oaks. He sat -down under a huge tree, pulled from his pocket his well-worn copy of -Shakspeare, and began to read. He had on a somewhat ragged coat and -a dilapidated pair of stage-boots whose gilding contrasted with the -rusty remainder of his costume. He was no little depressed that day -with loneliness and thinking of his destitute condition and precarious -outlook. He fell upon this passage in King Henry IV.: - - "O God! that one might read the book of Fate, - And see the revolution of the times - Make mountains level, and the continent, - Weary of solid firmness, melt itself - Into the sea! and, other times, to see - The beachy girdle of the ocean - Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock, - And changes fill the cup of alteration - With divers liquors! O, if this were seen, - The happiest youth--viewing his progress through, - What perils past, what crosses to ensue-- - Would shut the book, and sit him down and die." - -Edwin felt melancholy enough as he laid the volume on his knee, and his -head sank on his bosom in painful musing. After a long time, breaking -from his reverie, he looked up. There stood, erect before him, a stout -grape-vine. Apparently its tendrils had been torn from the oak by whose -side it grew, and finding itself cast off, alone, deprived of its -sustaining protection, it had rallied upon its own roots, spread and -deepened them, and now held itself bravely up in solitary independence, -as if it were not a vine but a tree. The moral lesson electrified him. -He took new heart, with the feeling that it would be shameful for him -to succumb when even a poor plant could thus conquer. Twenty years -afterwards, with a grateful memory of the incident, he bought that -whole woodland region, of some sixty acres, and named it Forrest Hill. -He owned it at the day of his death. - -After another brief trial of the theatre at Lexington, late in the -autumn, Collins and Jones grew discouraged, gave up their business, -and released Forrest from his contract with them. James H. Caldwell, -an extremely good light comedian, and for many years proprietor and -manager of the theatre in New Orleans, wrote to him opportunely, -offering him an engagement for the ensuing season at a salary of -eighteen dollars a week. It is said that Caldwell was led to make this -proposition from his remembrance of having once seen the youth make an -original point of great power in the part of Richard the Third. It was -in the tent scene. All previous actors had been wont to awake from the -dream in a state of extreme affright, and either sit on the side of -the couch or stand near it. Forrest sprang from his reclining posture, -rushed forward to the foot-lights, and there fell upon his knees, with -his whole frame trembling, his face blanched with terror, his sword -grasped by the hilt in one hand and with the point in the floor, the -sword itself so shaking that it could be heard all over the house. The -intense realism with which this was done made it sensational in an -extraordinary degree. - -When Forrest had accepted the proposal from Caldwell, the thought of -the long, long journey and the time that must elapse before he should -see his mother again gave him a homesick feeling. He shrank from his -engagement. Learning that his acquaintance Sol Smith was then in -Lexington collecting a troupe to play in Cincinnati, he called on him -and urgently begged to be employed. He said he had rather serve under -him for ten dollars a week than under a stranger for eighteen. He was -steadily refused. He went over to a circus which then chanced to be -there, and hired himself out for a year. Smith says he heard of this -with great mortification, and immediately called at the circus. There, -he adds, sure enough, was Ned in all his glory, surrounded by riders, -tumblers, and grooms. He was slightly abashed at first, but, putting -a good face on the affair, said, as he had been refused an engagement -at ten dollars a week by his old friend, he had agreed with these -boys for twelve. To convince Smith of his ability to sustain his new -line of business, he turned a couple of flip-flaps on the spot. Smith -took Edwin to his lodgings, and by dint of argument and persuasion -succeeding in getting him to abandon the profession of clown and fulfil -his promise to Caldwell. - -He accordingly went to Louisville and took passage on a steamboat -down the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers to New Orleans. On the trip he -made the acquaintance of Winfield Scott and of John Howard Payne. The -celebrated general and the gifted author of Sweet Home seem both to -have been strongly attracted to the young actor. They held many long -conversations with him, and brought out, from their ample stores of -experience in the field and on the boards, anecdotes, principles, -criticism, and advice, which were not only highly entertaining to him -at the time but lastingly instructive and useful. He always accounted -his meeting with these two men as a particular piece of good fortune. -It betokens that he was at that period of his life an ingenuous and -docile spirit, however impulsive and wild still attracting the sympathy -and appropriating from the experience of his elders. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -LIFE IN NEW ORLEANS.--CRITICAL PERIOD OF EXPERIENCE. - - -FORREST made his first appearance in New Orleans, at the American -Theatre, as Jaffier in Venice Preserved, February 4th, 1824, Caldwell -sustaining the part of Pierre. His individuality and his acting -immediately made a strong impression on the general audience, and -drew towards him the fervent personal interest of those particular -individuals, both men and women, whose qualities of character caused -them to feel a vivid curiosity and sympathy for highly-marked and -expressive specimens of human nature. Accordingly, he very soon had -many intimate friends among both sexes,--friends whose pronounced types -of being and impassioned styles of life wrought assimilatingly upon him -in that frank, lusty, and plastic period of his experience. - -New Orleans at that time was a city of about thirty thousand -inhabitants. It was the chief commercial and social capital of the -South, and thoroughly conscious of its pre-eminence. On its small -but concentrated scale it was the gayest, most Parisian city in the -country. The Spanish and French blood of the original settlers of -Louisiana and of their early followers was largely represented in its -leading families. Then and there the chivalry of the slave-holding -South, in all its patrician characteristics both of virtue and of vice, -was at the acme of its glory. The types of men were unquestionably the -most varied and sharply defined and pushed to the greatest extremes of -development, the freedom and beauty of the women the most intoxicating -and dangerous, the social life the most voluptuous, passionate, and -reckless, of those of any city in the United States. Wealth was great, -easily found, carelessly lost, leisure ample, pride intense, living -luxurious, manly sports and exercises in physical training assiduously -cultivated, gambling common, duelling and every form of desperate -personal conflict constant, the code of manners alternately bewitching -in courtesy and terrible in ferocity. From every part of the State the -gentlemen planters loved to congregate in New Orleans, perfect masters -of their limbs, their faculties, their weapons, and their horses, not -knowing fear or embarrassment, living their thoughts and passions -spontaneously out, their tall forms aflush with bold sensibility, the -rich strength and grace of the thoroughbred pointing their elastic -motions. And in the parlor, the ball-room, at fashionable resorts, on -the promenades, the women were the peers of the men in their intensity -of being, their fondness of adventure, their courage, brilliance, -and piquancy. The crossing of tropical bloods, the long lineage of -aristocratic habitudes of ardent indulgence and leisurely culture, had -produced a class of women famed throughout the land for the symmetry -of their forms, the visible music of their movements, the dreamy -softness of their voices, and the bewildering charm of their eyes, -swimming seas of languor and fire. Many an imaginative and burning -nature asked no other paradise than the arms of these Creole houris. -But, unfortunately, the reverse of being immortal, its dissolving -views melted into degradation and vanished in death, too often with -accompaniments of frantic jealousy, crime, and horror. - -These men and these women, naturally enough, were fascinating to the -adolescent actor, whose faculties were all aglow with ambition to -excel, whose curiosity was on edge in every direction to know the -contents of the living world which it was his profession to portray, -and whose passions were just breaking from their fullest bud. Nor was -he any less fascinating to them. His bluff courage, his young formative -docility and eagerness, his smiling openness of face and bearing, -so sadly changed in later years, and the nameless badge of personal -distinction and original force he bore on his front and in his accent, -drew the men to make much of him. So the outlines of his slender but -sinewy and breathing form with the muscles so superbly defined, the -deep and mellow tones of his ringing voice in which the clang-tints -of the whole organism were audible, his large and dark-brown eyes so -clearly set and brilliant, his fresh blood teeming over him in vital -revelation at each vehement mood, and the speaking truthfulness of his -portrayals of thought and sentiment in character, magnetized the women, -secured him many a flattering smile and note and flower, and led to -no slight experience in amours, which put their permanent stamp upon -his inner being, and often rose out of the vistas of memory in pictures -when he shut his eyes and mused in his lonely old age. A biography of -Forrest which omitted these things would be like a description of the -Saint Lawrence without an allusion to Niagara. - -In his opening manhood, before repeated experiences of injustice, -slander, and treachery had in any degree soured and closed his soul, -Forrest had a heart as much formed for friendship as for love. He -was full of ingenuous life, sportive, affectionate, every way most -companionable. His friendships were fervent and faithfully cherished. -The disappointments, the revulsions of feeling, and the results on his -final character, we shall see in the later stages of this biography. - -Caldwell felt a strong interest in the young actor, and was of service -to him outside of the theatre as well as within it. He introduced him -to a higher order of society with more aristocratic manners and refined -accomplishments than he had been accustomed to, thus affording him an -opportunity, had he been so minded, to make his upward way socially -not less than professionally. As a keen observer and a quick learner, -he did not fail to reap some valuable fruits from the advantages -thus afforded him. But his forte lay not in this direction. He had -then, and always afterwards, a deep distaste to all that is called -fashionable society. He was insuperably democratic in his very bones. -For the elaborate forms and conventionalities of the polite world he -had a rooted repugnance. He wanted to be free and downright in honest -speech and demeanor, making his outer manifestations correspond exactly -with his inner states. He could not bear, in accordance with the -conventions of the best society, to pretend to be inferior where he -felt himself superior, to affect to be interested when he was bored, -to express insincere nothings to give pleasure, and carefully hide -his most earnest thoughts and feelings lest they should give pain. -This art of polished intercourse--quite necessary in our world, and -often as artistic and useful as it is artificial and compromising--he -vehemently disliked and was never an adept in. Instead of gracefully -appropriating it for its gracious uses while spurning its evils, he -impatiently rebelled against it, stigmatizing it in blunt phrase as a -cursed hypocrisy. This defect in him it is needful to recognize as one -of the keys to his character and career. His athletic, bluff nature, -true and generous, lacked the flexible suavity of the spirituelle -qualities, a lack which prevented his universal success, causing him to -jar on persons of squeamish disposition or fastidious taste. Until a -long series of revulsive experiences had trained him to be silent and -reticent, his impulsive frankness and passionate love of freedom made -it extremely irksome and chafing to him purposely to adapt himself to -others at the expense of his own honest emotions. He never could be -in the slightest degree a courtier or a tuft-hunter, but--like Edmund -Kean, and many another man of genius whose abounding and impetuous -soul loved nature and truth in their spontaneous forms more than any -of the gilded substitutes for them--he ever preferred to be with those -in whose presence he could act himself out just as he was and just as -he felt. His playing in the theatre, instead of fitting, by reaction -unfitted him for playing in society. If, on the stage, he consented -to seem, all the more, off from it, he desired to be. The basis of -this veritable self-assertion was his vigorous manliness; and so far -it was creditable to him. But the extravagance to which he carried it -partook of pride and wilfulness, and was an error and a fault. The code -of fashion, tyrannical and imperfect as it is, has uses without which -society could scarcely get on. It cannot be neglected with impunity. -Forrest was no exception, but paid the penalty for his independence in -the neglect with which Fashion, as such, always treated him. - -Among the foibles which especially beset the histrionic profession -are vanity, greed of applause, jealousy, invidious rivalry. Manager -Caldwell was not free from these weaknesses. His pride as a player was -as strong as his prudential regard for the interests of his theatre. No -actor in the South had been a greater favorite, and no member of his -company had ever rivalled him. He had carefully awakened an interest -in advance for his protégé, saying to his friends that he had engaged -in Kentucky a young man named Edwin Forrest, who had high talent, was -industrious, resolved to rise to the top of the profession, and who, -he was sure, would greatly please the New Orleans public. But when -the pupil made such rapid progress and gained such loud plaudits that -the master felt himself in danger of being eclipsed, he had recourse -to an artifice not uncommon, though certainly somewhat ungenerous. He -reserved the best parts for himself, and cast his rising competitor -in inferior or repulsive characters, most often in the part of an -old man. Forrest saw the design and inwardly resented it, though he -said nothing. He followed the wise course of trying to make the best -he could of the part assigned him. He made a careful study of the -peculiarities of age, in feature, in gait, in voice. He would often -sit in places of public resort and critically watch every old man who -came in or went out. Many a time when he had chanced to discover some -striking example of power and dignity or of weakness and decrepitude in -an old man he would follow him in the street and mentally imitate him, -reproducing and fixing what he saw. In this way he soon attained such -skill that his representations of these parts won him as much approval -as he had ever received for the more congenial and showy rōles to which -he had been accustomed. - -Caldwell was fond of society, cared little for individuals, and, as -some thought, held his theatrical vocation subsidiary to personal ends. -The superficialities and insincerities of fashion did not distress him. -Forrest had an aversion to society, a passion for individuals, and an -intense ambition to excel in his art, which he loved for itself. It was -quite natural that the friendship of men so unlike, to say nothing of -their great disparity in years, should be streaked with coolnesses and -gradually cease. It was not long in dying, though they continued to -get along together comfortably, with some trifling exceptions, until -their bond was suddenly ruptured by an irritating event which will be -narrated on a succeeding page. - -But it was outside of the circle of the theatrical company with which -he was associated in New Orleans that Forrest found the most rich and -decisive influences, at the same time developing his organism, moulding -his character, and enhancing his dramatic powers. These influences were -exerted on him chiefly through the five closest friends he had in the -city, five men intimately grouped, to be the confidant of one of whom -was to be the confidant of all, men of the most remarkable force and -finish of personality each in his own kind, each of them an intense -type of the class he represented. They were all men of great personal -beauty and strength, tall, supple, lithe, absolutely ignorant of fear, -chivalrous in disposition, loose in habits, kind and loving in their -native moods, but relentless and terrible in their wrath. Some insight -into the sympathetic assimilation of these superb and fearful persons -upon Forrest, and some tracing of the effect on his nature and on -his art of the cycle of experience which they revealed to him partly -by description, partly by personal introduction, are essential to an -understanding of his great career. - -Those who are often and long together influence one another more than -is usually supposed. Their giving and taking of opinions, prejudices, -habits, and even organic peculiarities, are far beyond their own -conscious purpose or recognition. Not unfrequently intimate associates -obviously grow like one another in look, action, voice, passion, type -of character, quality of temper, style of manners, and mode of life. -This is confessedly matter of observation; but the law of its operation -or the importance of the results very few understand. It is the -sympathetic impartation and reproduction, between two or more parties, -of inner states through outer signs; and, as to noble qualities, it -is proportioned in degree to the docility of the persons, combined -with their richness of organization. Those who have plastic nervous -systems copiously furnished with force, and who are eager to improve, -take possession of one another's knowledge and accomplishments with -marvellous celerity. By intuition and instinct they seem to reflect -their contents and transmit their habitudes with mutual appropriation. -In this unpurposed but saturating school of real life what the superior -knows and does passes into the sympathetic observer by a sort of -contagion. Those whose nerves are capable of the same kinds and rates -of vibration play into each other and are attuned together, as the -sounding string of one musical instrument propagates its pulses through -the air and awakens a harmonic sound in the corresponding string of -another instrument. This is the scientific basis of what is loosely -called _human magnetism_, and it is a factor of incomparable import in -the problem of human life. - -The one of Forrest's New Orleans friends first to be named is James -Bowie, inventor and unrivalled wielder of that terrible weapon for -hand-to-hand fights named from him the bowie-knife. He was a member of -the aristocratic class of the South, planter, gentleman, traveller, -adventurer, sweet-spoken, soft-mannered, poetic, and chivalrous, -and possessed of a strength and a courage, a cool audacity and an -untamable will, which seemed, when compared with any ordinary standard, -superhuman. These qualities in a hundred conflicts never failed to -bring him off conqueror. In heart, when not roused by some sinister -influence, he was as open as a child and as loving as a woman. In -soul high-strung, rich and free, in physical condition like a racing -thoroughbred or a pugilist ready for the ring, an eloquent talker, -thoroughly acquainted with the world from his point of view, he was a -charming associate for those of such tastes, equally fascinating to -friends and formidable to foes. As a personal competitor, taken nakedly -front to front, few more ominous and magnificent specimens of man have -walked on this continent. - -His favorite knife, used by him awfully in many an awful fray, he -presented as a token of his love to Forrest, who carefully preserved it -among his treasured keepsakes. It was a long and ugly thing, clustering -with fearful associations in its very look; plain and cheap for real -work, utterly unadorned, but the blade exquisitely tempered so as not -to bend or break too easily, and the handle corrugated with braids of -steel, that it might not slip when the hand got bloody. Journeying in -a stage-coach, in cold weather, after stopping for a change of horses -a huge swaggering fellow usurped a seat belonging to an invalid lady, -leaving her to ride on the outside. In vain the lady expostulated with -him; in vain several others tried to persuade him to give up the place -to her. At last a man who sat in front of the offender, so muffled and -curled up in a great cloak that he looked very small, dropped the cloak -down his shoulders, took his watch in his left hand, lifted a knife in -his right, and, straightening himself up slowly till it seemed as if -his head was going through the top of the coach, planted his unmoving -eyes full on those of the intruder, and said, in a perfectly soft and -level tone which gave the words redoubled power, "Sir, if within two -minutes you are not out of that seat, by the living God I will cut -your ears off!" The man paused a few seconds to take in the situation. -He then cried, "Driver, let me out! I won't ride with such a set of -damned murderers!" That was Bowie with his knife. Fearful, yet not -without something admirable. Another anecdote of him will illustrate -still better the atmosphere of the class of men under whose patronizing -influence Forrest came in the company of his friend Bowie. - -The plantations of Bowie and a very quarrelsome Spaniard joined each -other. The proprietors naturally fell out. The Spaniard swore he would -shoot Bowie on the first chance. The latter, not liking to live with -such an account on his hands, challenged his neighbor, who was a very -powerful and skilful fighter with all sorts of weapons and had in his -time killed a good many men. The Spaniard accepted the challenge, and -fixed the following conditions for the combat. An oak bench six feet -long, two feet high, and one foot wide should be firmly fastened in -the earth. The combatants, stark naked, each with a knife in his right -hand, its blade twelve inches in length, should be securely strapped to -the bench, face to face, their knees touching. Then, at a signal, they -should go at it, and no one should interfere till the fight was done. -The murderous temper of the arrangements was not more evident than the -horrible death of one of the men or of both was sure. But Bowie did not -shrink. He said to himself, "If the Spaniard's hate is so fiendish, -why, he shall have his bellyful before we end." All was ready, and a -crowd stood by. Bowie may tell the rest himself, as he related it a -dozen years after to Forrest, whose blood curdled while he listened: - -"We confronted each other with mutual watch, motionless, for a minute -or two. I felt that it was all over with me, and a slight chill went -through my breast, but my heart was hot and my brain was steady, and I -resolved that at all events he should die too. Every fight is won in -the eye first. Well, as I held my look rooted in his eye, I suddenly -saw in it a slight quiver, an almost imperceptible sign of giving way. -A thrill of joy shot through my heart, and I knew that he was mine. At -that instant he stabbed at me. I took his blade right through my left -arm, and at the same time, by an upward stroke, as swift as lightning -and reaching to his very spine, I ripped him open from the abdomen to -the chin. He gave a hoarse grunt, the whole of his insides gushed out, -and he tumbled into my lap, dead." - -An intimate of Bowie, and a firm patron and friend of Forrest, teaching -him much by precept in answer to his inquiries, and contagiously -imparting to him yet more by personal contact and example, was -Colonel Macaire. The real name of this man, and also those of the -two succeeding members of the group, are replaced here by fictitious -ones on account of their relatives who are still living. The two most -prominent traits of Macaire in social life were his enthusiasm for the -military art and his extreme fondness for horses. He was a finished -soldier and officer. The martial discipline had left its results -plainly all through his mind and his person, in a sensitive loyalty to -the code of honor, an easy precision of movement, and an authoritative -suavity of demeanor. The military art, on the whole, regarded in its -influences on individuals and nations, is perhaps the richest in its -power and the most exact in its methods of all the disciplines thus far -developed in history. Its drill, faithfully applied to a fair subject, -nourishes the habit of obedience and the faculty of command, regulates -and refines the behavior, lifts the head, throws back the shoulders, -brings out the chest, deepens the breathing, frees the circulation, -and through its marching time-beat exalts the rank of the organism -by co-ordinating its functions in a spirit of rhythm. It changes the -contracted and fixed action of the muscles for an action flowing over -the shoulders and hips and drawing on the spinal column instead of the -brain. And every work which can be shifted from the brain to the spine -is a mental economy especially needed in these days of excessive mental -action and deficient vital action. - -Macaire was a great expert in horses, ever to be found where the -best thoroughbreds were to be seen, attending races with the most -avid relish. And it is well known that hardly anything else is so -effective in imparting vitality and courage to a man as the habit of -sympathetic contact with horses, looking at them, breathing with them, -handling them, driving them. The popular instinct says they give their -magnetism to their keepers. The fact is, the vibrations of the blood -and nerves of the animal are communicated to those of the man and -strengtheningly mix with them. The evil connected with this good is -that the companionship often not only imparts vital force and courage -but likewise stimulates the coarser animal passions. The tendency, -however, is neutralized in the man of refinement. - -It was from his friendship with Macaire--attending races, going through -stables, visiting armories, drills, and fields of review--that Forrest -first learned to feel that keen love for horses which was one of his -passions to the end of his life, and first took that intelligent -interest in the law of the military drill which gradually grew upon him -until he had appropriated its fruits. For the inartistic rudeness of -his early gymnastic, his rough circus-tumbling, had left him somewhat -stiff and enslaved in parts of his body. But rhythmic movements, -regulated by will until they become automatic, free the muscles and -joints and give the organism a liberal grace, a generous openness -and ease of bearing. A few months after his début in New Orleans the -"Advertiser" remarked, "We are happy to be able to say that Mr. E. -Forrest now uses his limbs with freedom and grace." The improvement had -made itself plain. - -The third of the set of comrades grouped about Forrest at this time -was Gazonac, one of the most remarkable of the gentlemen gamblers and -duellists for whom the Crescent City was famous fifty years ago. Such -were the qualities of this smooth, imperturbable, and accomplished -man, consummate master of every trick of his art and of every weapon -of offence or defence, and such was the tone of popular sentiment in -the place, that although gambling was his profession and duelling -his diversion he neither had a bad conscience in himself nor was -regarded as an outcast by the community. He was a rare judge and -adept in everything concerning the physical powers of men, and the -expression of their passions in real life under the most concentrated -excitements. And he was himself trained to the very nicest possible -degree of self-control. His muscular tissue, of the most elastic and -tenacious texture, covered him like a garment flowing around his joints -as if it had no fastenings, and under it he moved in subtle ease and -concealment, allowing no conceivable provocation to extort any signal -without consent of his will. His nervous system had been drilled to -act with the precision of astronomical clock-work. His conscious -calculations had the swiftness and exactitude of the instincts of -animals. What he did not know concerning the public sporting life and -the secret passionate life of the city was not worth knowing; and he -knew it not superficially but through and through. He had fought a -dozen duels and always killed his opponent. "How have you invariably -come off victor?" Forrest once asked him. "It is easy enough," he -answered, "if one is but complete master of himself, of his weapon, and -of the situation, cool as personified mathematics. I always shoot, on -an exact calculation, just enough quicker than my adversary for my ball -to strike him as he fires, and so disorder his aim." - -An absolute social nonchalance in every emergency, a perfect -superiority to the fear of our fellow-beings singly or collectively, is -attainable only in one of three ways, if we omit idiotic insensibility, -sheer brute stolidity. First, by ourselves, as it were, impersonating -and representing the established standard of judgment, the code by -which we and our conduct are to be tested. This is the assured ease of -the fashionable leader, the noble, the king. Second, by utterly defying -that standard, and ignoring it, substituting for it a personal standard -of our own, or the code of some special class of our associates. This -is the sang-froid of the gambler, the stony courage of the habituated -criminal. He is immovably collected, cool, and brave, in spite of his -condemnation by law and morality, because he has displaced from his -consciousness the social standard of judgment prevalent around him -which he disobeys, and set up in its stead another standard which he -obeys. His conscience then does not make a coward of him. Self-poised -in what he himself thinks, he is not disturbed by mental reaction -on what he imagines other people think. The moment he violates his -own conscience or the code which he professes loyalty to, he feels -guilty, and to that extent becomes weak and cowardly. The third method -of superiority to fear is by conscious and direct obedience to the -intrinsic right, the will of God. This is the imperial heroism of the -saint and the martyr. Then the supreme code of the universe makes the -harmonious conscience indomitably superior to the frowning penalties of -all lesser and meaner codes, and no personal enemy, no hostile public -opinion, can terrify. - -It was partly by the first, chiefly by the second, hardly at all, it -is to be feared, by the third, of these methods that Gazonac acquired -his marvellous self-possession and marble equilibrium of nerve. But -he had it. And the perfected empire of his being in the range of his -daily life, his transcendent fearlessness of everything external, his -superlative feeling of competency to every occasion, was in itself -a rare achievement and an enviable prize. He had disentangled and -freed the fibres of his brain from all imaginative references to the -opinions of other persons or to the requirements of any code but -the one enthroned in his own bosom. To this imperfect code he was -true, and therefore, however wrong and guilty he may have been, in -his self-sufficingness he did not suffer the retributions of a bad -conscience. He was shielded in the partial insensibility of a defective -conscience. If the conscience of a man be pure and expansive enough -properly to represent to him the will of God or the whole truth of -his duty, then a neglectful superiority to individual censures and to -social opinion is an heroic exaltation, which the more it sets other -men against him so much the more it shows him to be diviner than they. - -Under the guidance of this typical man, who was always scrupulously -tender and careful with him, Forrest was initiated into all the -mysteries, all the heights and depths, of a world of experience -kept veiled and secret from most people. It was a world of dreadful -fascinations and volcanic outbreaks, extravagant pleasures and -indescribable horrors,--a world whose heroes are apt, as the proverb -goes, to die with their boots on. Together they visited cock-pits, -race-courses, bar-rooms, gambling-saloons, and every other resort -of disorderly passion and disreputable living. And the young actor -with his professional eyes drank in many a revelation of human nature -uncovered at its deepest places and in its wildest moods. It was a -fearful exposure, and he did not escape unscathed, though it seems from -his after-life that he was more instructed than he was infected. He -never forgot the impression made on him in the cock-pit by the rings -of staring visages, tier above tier, massed in frenzied eagerness -and regularly vibrating with the struggles of the feathered and -gaffed champions whose untamable ferocity of valor and pluck seemed -to satirize the vulgar pride of human battle. Still deeper was the -effect on his memory of the scene when, at a race, he saw a vast crowd, -including the governor of the State, the mayor of the city, members -of Congress, rich planters, leading lawyers and merchants, boatmen, -bullies, and loafers, all armed, yet behaving as politely as in a -parlor, restrained by the knowledge that at the slightest insult knives -would gleam, pistols crack, blood flow, and no one could foretell where -the fray would end. - -On one occasion, taking a swim with Gazonac in Lake Pontchartrain, -Forrest saw a thick-set and commanding sort of man, with flashing -black eyes, his breast scarred all over with stabs. "Who is that?" he -asked. "It is Lafitte, the pirate," his comrade replied. A week or -two afterwards, he saw Lafitte, in the square fronting the cathedral, -running like a deer, chased by a man with a knife. Gazonac said, "Oh, -on the quarter-deck, with his myrmidons around him, he could play the -hero; but he was not a brave man. Some men can fight in crowds but -cannot fight singly. This requires courage." He then proceeded to -relate some examples of single-handed fights. Two friends of his fought -a duel on this wise. They were locked in a room in the dark, naked, -each having a knife. In the morning they were found dead in a bloody -heap, cut almost into strips. A man who can foresee such a result yet -go resolutely into it is no coward, Gazonac said. - -Two others fought thus. They were to begin with rifles at three hundred -paces; if these failed, advance with pistols; and, these failing, close -with knives. At the first shot both dropped dead: the bullet of one -struck exactly between the eyes, that of the other pierced the pit of -the stomach. - -In still another case, two men of his acquaintance were addressing -the same woman, and were very jealous of each other. At an offensive -remark of one the other said, "I will take your right eye for that!" -"Will you?" was the retort, which was scarcely spoken before his enemy -had gouged the eye from his head and politely handed it to him. He -quietly replied, "I thank you," and put the palpitating orb in his -pocket. Then, regardless of the streaming socket and the agony, with -the ferocity and swiftness of a tiger he turned on his remorseless -mutilator and with one stroke of a long and heavy knife nearly -severed his head from his body, and dilated above him shuddering with -revengeful joy. - -Besides listening to innumerable descriptions of this sort, nearly as -vivid as sight itself, Forrest actually saw many terrible quarrels and -several fatal fights. And the convulsive exhibitions of human passion -and energy in their elemental rawness thus afforded were recorded in -his imagination and reproduced in the most sensational of his poses -and bursts. That he should be, under such a training, melodramatic -sometimes, whatever else he added, was inevitable. His school was -naturalistic and appalling. Even when he attained to so much that was -finer and higher, some portion of this still clung to him. He had, it -must be remembered, no academic advantages and no tutor, but was a -child of nature. - -The fourth member of the Forrest group in New Orleans was Charles -Graham, captain of a steamer on the Mississippi. He was originally a -flatboatman, and was not only familiar with the traditions of the river -and the rude border-life concentrated on its current for so many years, -but well represented it all in himself. He was widely known among all -classes, and especially was such a favorite with the boatmen as to be a -sort of a king over them. Though of a kind heart, he was not incapable -of taking a frightful revenge when wronged or provoked. One of his -men having been abused in a house of disreputable women, he fastened -a cable around a large wooden pier on which the house rested, and, -starting his steamer, pulled the house over into the river and drowned -the whole obscene gang, then proceeded on his way as if nothing had -happened. - -Such were the typical men in that half-barbaric and reckless -civilization. And it was by his intimacy with them at the most plastic -period of his life that Forrest so completely absorbed and stood for -the most distinctive Americanism of half a century ago. Graham was -fond of the drama, and was drawn warmly to Forrest from his first -appearance in Jaffier. He used to come to the theatre sometimes with a -throng of fifty or even a hundred boatmen in his train. And whenever -the actor indulged in his most carnivorous rages then their delight and -their applause were the most unbounded. It will be seen that the young -tragedian was at that time in a poor school for guiding to artistic -delicacy, but in a capital school for developing natural truth and -power. - -The last of the five friends who were most constantly with Forrest -and in one way or another exerted the strongest influences on him was -Push-ma-ta-ha, chief of the Choctaw tribe of Indians, who had a liking -for the white men and some of their arts and was in the custom of -paying long visits to New Orleans. Push-ma-ta-ha was indeed a striking -figure and an interesting character. He was in the bloom of opening -manhood, erect as a column, graceful and sinewy as a stag, with eyes -of piercing brilliancy, a voice of guttural music like gurgling waters, -the motions of his limbs as easy and darting as those of a squirrel. -His muscular tissue in its tremulous quickness seemed made of woven -lightnings. His hair was long, fine, and thick, and of the glossiest -blackness; his skin, mantled with blood, was of the color of ruddy -gold, and his form one of faultless proportions. A genuine friendship -grew up between this chief and Forrest, not without some touch of -simple romance, and leading, as we shall see, to lasting results in the -life of the latter. - -Push-ma-ta-ha was a natural orator of a high order. He inherited this -gift from his father, for whom he had a superstitious veneration, -claiming that the Great Spirit had created him without human -intervention. Whether this idea had been implanted in him in his -childhood by some medicine-man, or was a poetic pretence of his own, -Forrest could not tell. The elder chief died in Washington, where he -was tarrying with a deputation. His dying words to his comrades are a -fine specimen of his eloquence; "I shall die, but you will return to -our brethren. As you go along the paths, you will see the flowers and -hear the birds sing, but Push-ma-ta-ha will see them and hear them no -more. When you shall come to your home, they will ask you, Where is -Push-ma-ta-ha? And you will say to them, He is no more. They will hear -the tidings like the sound of the fall of a mighty oak in the stillness -of the woods." - -The North American Indian seen from afar is a picturesque object. When -we contemplate him in the vista of history, retreating, dwindling, -soon to vanish before the encroachments of our stronger race, he is -not without mystery and pathos. But studied more nearly, inspected -critically in the detail of his character and habits, the charm for -the most part disappears and is replaced with repulsion. The freedom -of savages from the diseased vices of a luxurious society, the proud -beauty of their free bearing, the relish of their wild liberty with -nature, exempt from the artificial burdens and trammels of our -complicated and stifling civilization, appeal to the imagination. -Poetical writers accordingly have idealized the Indian and set him off -in a romantic light, forgetting that savage life has its own vices, -degradations, and hardships. Cooper, the novelist, paints Indian -life as a series of attractive scenes and adventures, full of royal -traits. Palfrey, the historian, describes it as cheap, tawdry, nasty, -and horrid. There is truth, no doubt, in both aspects of the case; -but the artist naturally selects the favorable point of view, and the -dramatist impersonating a barbaric chieftain very properly tries to -emphasize his virtues and grandeur, leaving his meanness and squalor -in shadow. It is truth of history that the American Indian had noble -and great qualities. His local attachment, tribal patriotism, and -sensitiveness to public opinion, were as deep and strong, and produced -as high examples of bravery and self-sacrifice, as were ever shown -in Greece or Rome, Switzerland or Scotland. Nothing of the kind ever -surpassed his haughty taciturnity and indomitable fortitude. And if -his spirit of revenge was infernal in the level of its quality, it was -certainly sublime in the intensity and volume of its power. Although in -richness of mental equipment and experience there can be no comparison -between them, yet if we had the data for a series of complete parallels -and portraits; it would be extremely instructive to confront Philip -of Pokanoket with Philip of Macedon, Push-ma-ta-ha with Alcibiades, -Tecumseh with Attila, and Osceola with Spartacus. In kinds of passion, -in modes of thought, in styles of natural and social scenery, in -varieties of pleasure and pain, what correspondences and what contrasts -there would be! - -The acquaintance of Forrest with Push-ma-ta-ha was the first cause of -his deep interest in the subject of the American Aborigines, of his -subsequent extensive researches into their history, and finally of his -offering a prize for a play which should embody a representative idea -of their genius and their fate. - -However wild and questionable in a moral point of view were some of -Forrest's closest friends in New Orleans, and freely as he himself -indulged in pleasure, he shed the worst influences exerted on him, was -never recklessly abandoned to any vice whatever, but held a strong -curb over his passions, and was uniformly faithful and punctual in -the extreme to all his professional duties, steadily working in every -way he knew to improve and to rise. And he owed in several respects -an immense debt to these friends. For, stimulated by the sight of -their superb poise, courage, and exuberant fulness of animal life -and passion, he took them as models, and labored with unflagging -patience by a careful hygiene and gymnastic and critical self-control -to fortify his weak places and lift his constitutional vitality and -confidence to the highest point. He was temperate in food and drink, -scrupulous as to rest and sleep, abundant in bathing, manipulation, -and athletics. His development was steady, and he became in a certain -personal centrality of balance, an assured and massive authority of -bearing, unquestionably one of the most pronounced and imposing men on -the continent. - -Nor, in that remote situation, in those tempted days, did he forget his -distant home, with the humble and repulsive hardships pressing on the -dear ones within it. He wrote to them affectionately, cheering them up, -sending them such small remittances as he could afford, and promising -larger ones in the future. With the very first money he received from -Caldwell, after paying his landlady, he purchased and forwarded by ship -to his mother a barrel of flour, a half-barrel of sugar, and a box of -oranges. His youngest sister, in the last year of her life, described -the scene in their home when these things arrived. She was out of the -house on an errand when they came. Entering the door, there sat her -mother weeping for joy, with an open letter in her hand. Caroline stood -with her bonnet on, just starting to take a dish of oranges to one of -their neighbors, and Henrietta rushed forward, crying, "Oh, Eleanora, -here is something from our dear Edwin!" - -One evening, near the close of the season, Forrest had made so great -a sensation in the audience that they stamped, clapped, shouted, and -insisted on his coming before the curtain to receive their plaudits. -But he had left the theatre in haste to fulfil an appointment -elsewhere, and knew not of the honor designed for him. The people, -ignorant of his absence, were furious at what they chose to interpret -as his want of respect for them. They vowed vengeance. His benefit -was to come off a few nights later. It was whispered abroad that the -audience would not suffer him to perform unless he offered a meek -apology for his insolent disregard of their wishes. He determined that -he would not apologize, and that he would act. His friends, already -described, with a good number of trusty followers, each a match for -ten untrained men in a fight, were on hand, resolved to protect him, -and, as they phrased it, to put him through. As the curtain rose and -the youthful actor stepped forward, he was greeted with a shower -of hisses, mixed with cries of "Apology! Apology!" It was the first -experience of the kind he had ever known, and he felt for an instant -that horripilating chill called _gooseflesh_ creep over some parts of -his skin. But, nothing daunted, he at once, in the fixed attitude he -had assumed, turned his level eyes on the noisy crowd, and said, in -a calm, clear voice, "Gentlemen, not being guilty of any offence, I -shall make no apology. When you called me, I was out of hearing. Is it -just to punish me for a fault of which I am innocent?" A perfect hush -followed, and in a moment the changed temper of the audience declared -itself in a unanimous cheer, and the play went swimmingly on to the -close. - -Soon after the theatre had closed for the summer, about the middle of -June, Forrest was attacked by the dreadful fever to which the city was -periodically exposed. The low state of his finances caused him to dwell -in a malarious quarter near the river, and to stay there at a time -when the city was largely deserted by the better classes. It was the -first severe and serious illness he had suffered. His best friends were -away. He could not afford to hire special attendance. The disease raged -terribly. His pain was extreme, and his depression worse. He thought -he should die; and then bitterly he lamented that he had ever left his -home, to perish in this awful way among strangers. "And yet," he said, -"I meant it for the best; and what else could I do? Oh, my mother, -where are you? How little you imagine the condition your poor boy is -in now!" In his delirium he raved continually about his mother, and -sometimes fancied she was with him, and lavished endearing epithets on -her. So they told him after his recovery. - -When he had been confined twelve or fourteen days, left alone one -afternoon, he managed to get on his clothes and crawl into the open -air. He was a most forlorn and miserable wretch, emaciated, trembling, -with a nauseous stomach and a reeling brain. The scene without was in -full keeping with his feelings. The squares were empty and silent. The -grass was growing in the deserted street. The air was thick, lurid, and -quivering with a sickly heat, while to his distempered fancy, through -the steamy haze above, the sun seemed to hang like a great yellow -scab. At that moment a crocodile five or six feet long crept up in -the gutter, and stared stupidly at him with its glazed and devilish -eyes. Horrified, he shook his fist with a feeble cry at the ominous -apparition, and the giant reptile waddled slowly away. He sat down on -the curb-stone, faint and despairing, when who should come along but -his good friend Captain Graham, just then landed at the wharf a few -rods below! Gazing with astonishment at the haggard wreck before him, -the captain exclaimed, "Why, good God, my boy, is that you?" "Yes," -gasped the poor fellow, piteously, "this is all there is left of Edwin -Forrest." The captain lifted him up and almost carried him to his -boat, laid him on his own bed in the cabin, had him carefully sponged -all over, first with warm water, finally with brandy, then gave him a -heavy dose of raw whiskey. This acted as a benign emetic, and greatly -relieved him. He fell asleep, and slept sweetly all night. The next day -he returned to his lodgings convalescent. And in about three weeks he -was well enough to start off with Caldwell and a part of his company on -a theatrical tour through Virginia. The following letter tells us how -he was then, and what he was doing: - - "PETERSBURG, July 26th, 1824. - -"BELOVED MOTHER,--I must indeed beg ten thousand pardons for not -writing to you earlier. Although we are separated, think not you are -forgotten by me. Oh, no, dear mother, you are ever in my memory, -and your happiness is my greatest wish. I hope, my dear mother, in -the course of three or four weeks, to be with you on a visit of a -fortnight or so, but must then return here to perform at Richmond and -Norfolk. I sincerely desire that this vacation may occur. Then I shall -see you; and I assure you such a meeting will be as great a happiness -as I can possess in this world. - -"I hope all the family have enjoyed full health since you last wrote. -For myself, I have not altogether been myself since the severe attack -of the fever which I had previous to leaving New Orleans. Well, well, -I am in hopes I shall mend shortly and be myself again. The country -I am now in is delightful, and the climate far more agreeable to me -than that of the South. Please inform me of every little circumstance -that has happened lately. How are my dear sisters? Also, where is my -dear brother Lorman, of whom I have heard nothing for some time? Dear -mother, it will relieve me much if you can give me any information -concerning him. - -"How does the old firm of John R. Baker, Son and--no, not clerk now! -But is it still in existence? Should you see Max Stevenson, ask him -whether he received my letter. Make my best regards to Sam Fisher, not -forgetting the worthy Levan. Where are Joe Shipley, Charley Scriver, -and Blighden Van Bann? I have not heard from them lately. Likewise -give me all the information you can respecting the theatres. - -"Have you seen Mrs. Page? Mother, she is indeed an excellent lady, -one who merits every attention and regard; and I am sure your -ever-friendly and social feelings towards her will not be lessened -when you know that it will give infinite satisfaction to your wild but -truly affectionate son, - - "EDWIN FORREST." - -His anticipations of visiting home were doomed to disappointment. In a -letter to his mother, dated at Fredericksburg, September 29th, we find -him saying that he had been acting every night, except Sundays, and -that there was no prospect of an intermission. He adds, "I performed -Pythias for my opening here, and have succeeded to the delight of all -the inhabitants. I had some difficulty with the manager again. He cast -me, as an opening part, in Mortimer in the comedy of Laugh When You -Can. I refused to play it, and left the theatre. However, in two days I -saw my name in the bill for Pythias, and resumed my situation. All has -gone on smoothly since, and I have triumphed over him as a tragedian in -the opinions of those who recently esteemed him above praise or censure. - -"As I passed through Washington on the way here, I had the satisfaction -of seeing the worthy old Philadelphia manager, Warren. He expressed -considerable surprise and pleasure when I introduced myself to him; for -I had changed and grown entirely out of his memory." - -During this trip in Virginia, Forrest saw Chief-Justice Marshall in a -scene which always remained as a distinct picture in his memory. The -illustrious magistrate was stopping at a country inn in the course -of his circuit. The landlady was trying to catch a hen to roast for -dinner. The feat proving rather difficult for the aged and corpulent -hostess, the Chief Justice came forth to aid her. There he stood, -bare-headed, his vast silver shoe-buckles shining in the sun, a close -body-coat and a pair of tight velvet breeches revealing his spare and -sinewy form, striving to scare the refractory fowls into the hen-coop, -awkwardly waving his hands towards them and crying, "Shoo! Shoo! Shoo!" - -A few weeks later, Marshall went to the theatre in Richmond. It was -the only time he had ever visited such a place. On invitation of -Manager Caldwell, he went behind the scenes, examined the machinery -and properties with great interest, and revealed his curiosity and -naļveté in such questions, Forrest said, as a bright and innocent boy -of sixteen might have asked. In recalling the incident when forty-five -years had passed, Forrest remarked that nearly every great man had a -good deal of the boy in him, but that Marshall showed the most of it, -in his child-like simplicity and frankness, of all the great men he -had ever known. Yes, those were simple times, times of high character -and modest living, the purity of the early Republic. And if the above -anecdote makes us smile, it also makes us love the stainless friend of -Washington, the great Justice whose ermine was never soiled even by so -much as a speck of suspicion. - -While at Richmond, and again subsequently at New Orleans, Forrest had -the felicity of seeing La Fayette, also of playing before him and -winning his applause. The triumphal progress through America of this -beloved hero of two hemispheres was a proud recollection to all who -shared in it. It was a thrilling poem in action instead of words. The -enthusiasm was something which we in our more broken and cynical times -can hardly conceive. From town to town, from city to city, from State -to State, whole populations turned out to meet him, with bells, guns, -popular songs, garlands of flowers in the hands of school-children; -and he moved on beneath a canopy of banners amidst swelling music, -accompanied by the prayers and tears of the grateful people whom he had -befriended in the midnight of their struggle, and who idolized him now -that he had come back to bask in the noonday of their glory. It was one -of the most charming episodes in history, and one which no American -heart can afford to forget. Yet in this mixed world the sublime and -the ridiculous are usually near together. It was so in this case in -an incident which came under the personal observation of Forrest. He -stood near to La Fayette on one occasion when a long series of citizens -were introduced to him. Of course it became a wearisome formality to -the illustrious guest, who bore it with smiling fortitude by dint of -converting it into an automatic performance. As he shook hands first -with one, then with another, he would say, "Are you married?" If the -reply was "Yes," he would add, "Happy man!" If the reply was "No," -still he would add, as before, "Happy man!" - -Caldwell re-opened at the American Theatre January 3d, 1825, in The -Soldier's Daughter, Forrest taking the rōle of Malfort Junior. During -the month he played, among other parts, Adrian in the comedy of Adrian -and Orilla, Master of Ceremonies in Tom and Jerry, Joseph Surface in -the School for Scandal. The "Louisiana Advertiser" says, in a notice of -The Falls of Clyde, "Nothing could be more to our taste than the wild -music and dramatized legends of Scotland. Mr. E. Forrest never appeared -to so much advantage. Every person applauded him." Some weeks later -the same paper remarks, "Mr. Forrest's Almanza is well conceived, and -displays great genius." - -At this period of his life Forrest was in the habit of writing verses -whenever his heart was particularly touched. Quite a number of his -effusions, mostly of an amatory cast, were published in the corner -of a New Orleans newspaper. A diligent search has brought them to -light, together with the fact that the lady to whom the most of them -were addressed is yet living in that city, the widow of one of its -most influential and wealthy merchants, and that she remembers well -her girlish admiration for the handsome young tragedian, and still -preserves in manuscript several letters and poems sent to her by him. -In his latter days he himself gave the following account of this slight -literary episode. "In my youth," he said, "I used to write poetry; -that is, as I should say, doggerel. The editor of the 'Louisiana -Advertiser' printed it, and encouraged me to compose more. I used to -read it over and think it very fine. But after a few years I looked at -the pieces again, and was mortified at their worthlessness. Glancing -around furtively to see if any one was observing me, I rushed the whole -collection into the fire. Oh, it was wretched stuff, infernally poor -stuff! Moses Y. Scott satirized my poetry in some lines beginning,-- - - 'With paces long and sometimes scanty, - Thus he rides on with Rosinante!'" - -A selection of three of the better among these pieces will suffice to -satisfy curiosity; and it is to be feared that after perusing them the -judgment of the reader will accord with that of Moses Y. Scott. - -TO ----. - - "Thy spell, O Love, is elysium to my soul; - Freely I yield me to thy sweet control; - For other joys let folly's fools contend, - Whether to pomp or luxury they tend. - Let sages tell us, what they ne'er believe, - That love must ever give us cause to grieve; - Mine be the bliss C----'s love to prove, - To love her still, and still to have her love. - If without her of countless worlds possessed, - I still should mourn, I still should be unblest. - For her I'd yield whole worlds of richest ore,-- - Possessed of her, the gods could give no more. - For her, though Paradise itself were given, - I'd love her still, nor seek another heaven." - -TO MISS S---- ON HER LEAVING TOWN. - - "Ah, go not hence, light of my saddened soul! - Nor leave me in this absence to lament; - Thy going sheds dark chaos o'er the whole,-- - A noonday night from angry Heaven sent. - - "Ah, go not where, now tow'ring to the skies, - Malignant hills to separate us rise; - For should those smiling eyes, attemp'ring every ray, - That now shine sweetly, lambent with celestial day, - Averted from me e'er on distant objects roll, - Melancholy's deep shade would shroud my lifeless soul. - - "Oh, stay thine eyes,--diffuse their animating ray,-- - And with their smiling pleasures brighten all the day. - But if relentless 'gainst me with the fates you join, - Then go! though still my heart, my soul, is thine. - And when from me so distant thou art gone, - Oh, yield one sigh responsive to mine own!" - -The third piece was composed on occasion of the military funeral of -Henry K. Bunting, an intimate friend of Forrest, a young man of most -estimable character, whose early death was lamented by the whole -community: - - "How slow they marched! each youthful face was pale, - And downcast eyes disclosed the mournful tale; - Grief was depicted on each manly brow, - And gloomy tears abundantly did flow - From each sad heart. For he whose breath had fled - Was loved by all,--in honor's path was bred. - I knew him well; his heart was pure and kind, - A noble spirit, and a lofty mind. - Virtue cast round his head her smiling wreath, - Which did not leave him on his bed of death. - His image lives, and from my grief-worn heart, - While life remains, will never, never part. - Weep, soldiers, weep! with tears of sadness lave - Your friend and brother's drear, untimely grave!" - -In March the celebrated and ill-starred Conway filled an engagement -in New Orleans. The witnessing of his performances formed one of the -epochs in the development of Forrest's dramatic power. He played -Malcolm to the Macbeth of the tall and over-impassioned tragedian, and -caught some valuable suggestions from his idiomatic individuality and -style. But it was the Othello of this powerful and unhappy actor which -most impressed him. He played this part with a sweetness and a majestic -and frenzied energy which no audience could resist. The whole truth -of the course of the ambition, love, jealousy, madness, vengeance, -desperation, remorse, and death of the noble but barbaric Moor was -painted in volcanic and statuesque outlines. Nothing escaped the apt -pupil, who with lynx-eyed observation fastened on every original point, -every electric stroke, and at this adolescent period drank in the -significance of the fully-developed passions of unbridled human nature. -It was not long after these mimic presentments when the real passions -in the darkly-tangled plot of his own existence wrought so convulsively -on poor Conway, the friction sunk so profoundly into the sockets and -vital seats of his being, that he went mad, threw himself overboard, -and all his griefs and fears at once in the deep bosom of the ocean -buried. - -Early in May, Forrest's benefit was announced, and he was underlined -for Lear, "the first time in New Orleans." On account of bad weather -the benefit was postponed, and, when it did occur, instead of Lear he -performed Octavian, in Coleman's Mountaineers. The season closed with -the end of the month, when he played Carwin, the leading rōle in the -drama of Therese, by John Howard Payne. - -The first actress in the company of the American Theatre at New -Orleans for the season of 1825 was Miss Jane Placide. She was born at -Charleston, and was then, in her twentieth year, deservedly a great -favorite with the Southern public. She was extremely beautiful in -her person, sweet in her disposition, piquant in her manners, and -artistically natural in her rōles. Among the many private suppliants -for her smiles rumor included both Caldwell and Forrest. Where the -tinder of such rivalry is lying about, flashes of jealousy, easily -provoked, may at any time elicit an explosion of wrath. So it happened -here, and the two men had a sharp quarrel. The young actor challenged -the calmer manager. He refused to accept it, saying their altercation -was an inconsiderate effervescence which had better be forgotten by -them both. But the temper of Forrest, aggravated by his hot associates -and the local code, was not so cheaply to be assuaged. He had the -following card printed and affixed in several conspicuous places: -"Whereas James H. Caldwell has wronged and insulted me, and refused me -the satisfaction of a gentleman, I hereby denounce him as a scoundrel -and post him as a coward. Edwin Forrest." - -Caldwell, so far from being enraged at this sonorous manifesto, -laughed at it, quietly adding, "Like the Parthian, he wounds me -as he flies." For in the afternoon of the very day of his issuing -the ominous placard, Forrest had accepted an invitation from his -friend Push-ma-ta-ha to spend a month with him in the wigwams and -hunting-grounds of his tribe; and already, side by side, on horseback, -each with a little pack at his saddle, they were scampering away -towards the tents of the Choctaws, a hundred miles distant. Three -reasons urged him to this interesting adventure. First, he loved his -friend, the young Indian chief, and longed to see him in his glory at -the head of his people. Secondly, he was poor, and there it would cost -him nothing for food and lodgings. And thirdly, he desired to make a -personal study of Indian character, life, and manners. - -The red men treated him, as the friend and guest of their chief, with -marked distinction, making him quickly feel himself at home. He adapted -himself to their habits, dressed in their costume, and, as far as he -could, took part in all their doings, their smokes, their dances, their -hunts, their songs. Their rude customs were not offensive but rather -attractive to him, and he was happy, feeling that it would not be hard -for him to relapse from civilization and stay permanently with these -wild stepchildren of nature. He seemed to come into contact with the -unwritten traditions of the prehistoric time, and to taste the simple -freedom that prevailed before so many artificial luxuries, toils, and -laws had made such slaves of us all. The fine chance here offered him -of getting an accurate knowledge of the American Indian, alike in his -exterior and his interior personality, he carefully improved, and when -he came to enact the part of Metamora it stood him in good stead. - -One night Push-ma-ta-ha and Forrest were lying on the ground before a -big fire which they had kindled a little way out from the village. They -had been conversing for hours, recalling stories and legends for their -mutual entertainment. The shadows of the wood lay here and there like -so many dark ghosts of trees prostrate and intangible on the earth. The -pale smoke from their burning heap of brush floated towards heaven in -spectral volumes and slowly faded out afar. In the unapproachable blue -over their heads hung the full moon, and in the pauses of their talk -nothing but the lonely notes of a night-bird broke the silence. Like -an artist, or like an antique Greek, Forrest had a keen delight in the -naked form of man, feeling that the best image of God we have is nude -humanity in its perfection, which our fashionable dresses so travesty -and degrade. Push-ma-ta-ha, then twenty-four years old, brought up -from his birth in the open air and in almost incessant action of sport -and command, was from head to foot a faultless model of a human being. -Forrest asked him to strip himself and walk to and fro before him -between the moonlight and the firelight, that he might feast his eyes -and his soul on so complete a physical type of what man should be. The -young chief, without a word, cast aside his Choctaw garb and stepped -forth with dainty tread, a living statue of Apollo in glowing bronze. -"Push-ma-ta-ha," said Forrest, in wondering admiration, "who were your -grandparents?" His nostrils curled with a superbly beautiful disdain, -and, stretching forth his arm with a lofty grace which the proudest -Roman orator could not have surpassed, he replied, "My father was never -born. The Great Spirit shivered an oak with one of his thunderbolts, -and my father came out, a perfect man, with his bow and arrows in his -hand!" - -Whether this was superstitious inspiration or theatrical brag on the -part of the Indian, certainly the scene was a weird and wonderful one, -and the speech extremely poetic. Forrest used in after-years to say, -"My God, what a contrast he was to some fashionable men I have since -seen, half made up of false teeth, false hair, padding, gloves, and -spectacles!" - -But a sense of duty, in a few weeks, urged the actor to be seeking -an engagement for the next season, and, saying good-by forever to -his aboriginal comrades, he returned to New Orleans and took passage -in a small coasting-vessel for Philadelphia, where he arrived with a -single notable adventure by the way. For on the third day out they were -becalmed; and, suffering from the excessive heat, he thought to refresh -himself by a swim. With a joyous shout and splash he sprang from the -taffrail, and swam several times around the sloop, when, chancing to -look down and a little way behind, he saw a huge shark making towards -him. Three or four swift and tremendous strokes brought him within -reach of the anchor-chain, and he convulsively swung himself on deck, -and lay there panting with exhaustion. But the ruling passion was -strong even then. He immediately went over and over in consciousness, -in order to fix them in memory for future use in his art, the frightful -emotions he had felt while chased by this white-tusked devil of the -ocean! - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -BREAKING THE WAY TO FAME AND FORTUNE. - - -ONE morning, early in August, 1825, a young man of fine figure and -stately bearing, with bright dark-brown eyes, raven hair, and a clear, -firm complexion like veined marble, approached the door of a modest -house in Cedar Street, Philadelphia. Without knocking, he entered -quickly. "Mother! Henrietta!" he cried, springing towards them with -open arms. "Gracious Heaven, Edwin!" they exclaimed, "is it possible -that this is you, changed so much and grown so tall?" "Yes, mother," -he said, "Heaven has indeed been gracious to me; and here I am once -more with you, after three years of strolling and struggling among -strangers. Here I am, with a light pocket but a stout heart. I shall -be something yet, mother; and then the first thing I am resolved to do -is to make you and the girls independent, so far as the goods of this -world go." - -He had firm grounds for his confidence, as the sequel showed, though -many dark days of hope deferred were yet to put his mettle to the -proof. He was in his twentieth year, and his reputation had not reached -much beyond the local centres where he had gained it. But it was -plainly beginning to spread. Even his friendliest admirers had not the -prescience to discern the signs of that vast success which was to make -him a continental celebrity; but he knew better than they the fervor of -his ambition and the strength of the motives that fed it, and he felt -the consciousness of a latent power which justified him in sanguine -dreams for the future. His intuitive perception had interpreted better -than the critics or his friends the revelation and prophecy contained -in the effects he had already often produced on his audiences. He -knew very well himself that which it needed fame to make the public -consciously recognize. That fame he not only expected, but was resolved -to win. - -In the autumn he succeeded in securing an engagement on moderate -terms at the theatre in Albany, then under the management of a -shrewd, capable, but eccentric Dutchman, Charles Gilfert. He was to -play leading parts in the stock company, and second parts to stars. -Albany, as the capital of the State of New York, during the theatrical -season was thronged with cultivated and distinguished people, and -was an excellent place for a dramatic aspirant to achieve and extend -a reputation. Forrest began with good heart and zeal, and, without -any sudden or brilliant success, received sufficient encouragement -to increase his confidence and keep him progressing. He took great -pains to perfect his physical development, exercising his voice in -declamation, practising gestures, and every night and morning taking -a thorough sponge-bath, followed by vigorous friction with coarse -towels. Immediately after his morning ablutions he always devoted a -half-hour to gymnastics,--using dumb-bells, springing, attitudinizing, -and walking two or three times about the room on his hands. One of the -most distinguished philosophical writers of our country, who was a -native of Albany and at that time a particular friend of Forrest, has -recently been heard to describe with great animation the pleasure he -used to take in visiting the actor at this early hour of the morning to -see him go through his gymnastic performances. The metaphysician said -he admired the enormous strength displayed by the player, and applauded -his fidelity to the conditions for preserving and increasing it, though -for his own part he never could bring himself to do anything of the -kind. - -Nothing occurred through the winter out of the ordinary routine, -except his happy and most profitable intercourse with Edmund Kean, -during the last engagement filled in Albany by that illustrious actor -and unfortunate man. This encounter was of so much consequence to -Forrest that we must pause a little over it. It will be recollected -that he had, several years before, seen Kean perform a few nights in -Philadelphia, and that he was filled with enthusiasm about him. But -now the discipline and experience of five added years fitted him far -more worthily to appreciate the genius and to profit from the startling -methods and points of the tragedian whom many judges declare to have -been the most original and electrifying actor that has ever stepped -before the foot-lights. - -Edmund Kean, born under the ban of society, treated as a dog, beaten, -starved, while yet an infant flung for a livelihood on his wits and -tricks as a public performer, associating mostly with vagrants and -adventurers, but occasionally with the best and highest, early became -a wonder both in the elastic strength of his small body and in the -penetrative power of his flashing mind. With sensibilities of extreme -delicacy and passions of terrific energy he combined a natural and -sedulously-cultivated ability of giving to the outer signs of inner -states their utmost possible distinctness and intensity. Perhaps there -never was, within his range, a greater master of the physiological -language of the soul, one who set facial expression in more vivid -relief. As a student of his art he went to no traditional school of -posture, no frigid school of elocution, but to the original school of -nature in the burning depths of his own mind and heart. - -His direct observations of other men, and his reflex researches on -himself in his impassioned probationary assumptions of characters, -struck to the automatic centres of his being, the seats of those -intuitions which are historic humanity epitomized in the individual, -or the spirit of nature itself inspiring man. And when he acted there -was something so unitary and elemental in the unconscious depths from -which his revelations seemed to break in spontaneous thunderbolts -that sensitive auditors were filled with awe, utterly overwhelmed -and carried away from themselves. Coleridge said that seeing him act -Macbeth was like reading the play by flashes of lightning. In his -most impassioned moods his voice suggested, by the tense intermittent -vibration of his whole resonant frame revealed in it, the frenzied -energy of a tiger. He spoke then in a stammering staccato of spasmodic -outbursts which shook others because they threatened to shatter him. -After years of maddening scorn, poverty, drudgery, neglect, he vaulted -at one bound, with his first appearance as Shylock on the stage of -Drury Lane, into an almost fabulous popularity, courted and fźted by -the proudest in the land, and reaping an income of over fifty thousand -dollars a year. No wonder he grew wild, reeling with all sorts of -intoxication between the throne of the scenic king and the den of the -ungirt debauchee. - -The essential peculiarity of Kean's greatness in his greatest effects -was that his acting was then no effort of will, no trick or art of -calculation, but nature itself uncovered and set free in its deepest -intensity of power, just on the edge, sometimes quite over the verge, -of madness. He penetrated and incorporated himself with the characters -he represented until he possessed them so completely that they -possessed him, and their performance was not simulation but revelation. -He brought the truth and simplicity of nature to the stage, but nature -in her most intensified degrees. His playing was a manifestation of the -inspired intuitions, infallibly true and irresistibly sensational. It -came not from the surfaces of his brain, but from the very centres of -his nervous system, and suggested something portentous, preternatural, -supernal, that blinded and stunned the beholders, appalled their -imagination, and chilled their blood. This same curdling automatic -touch Lucius Junius Brutus Booth also had; but it is asserted that he -was first led to it by imitating Kean. - -At the time of his engagement in Albany, Kean was much marred and -broken from his best estate by his bad habits. The intoxication -of fame, the intoxication of love, and the dismal intoxication of -stimulants snatched to keep his jaded faculties at their height, had -done their sad work on him. Still, the habitudes of his genius lingered -fascinatingly with him, and he delivered his climacteric points -with almost undiminished power, between the cloudy intervals of his -weariness striking lightning and eliciting universal shocks. - -Nothing could have been more fortunate for Forrest, just at that -time, than to watch such an actor in his greatest parts and come -into confidential contact with him. In playing Iago to his Othello, -Titus to his Brutus, Richmond to his Richard, the best chance was -afforded for this. About noon of the day they were to act together, -as Kean did not come to the rehearsal, Forrest called at his hotel -and asked to see him. He told the messenger to say to Mr. Kean that -the young man who was to play Iago wished a brief interview with him, -to receive any directions he might like to give for the performance -in the evening. "Show him up," said the actor, graciously. As Forrest -entered, with a beating heart, Kean rose and welcomed him with great -kindness of manner. In answer to a question as to the business of the -play, he said, "My boy, I do not care how you come on or go off, if -while we are on the stage you always keep in front of me and let not -your attention wander from me." He had not yet breakfasted, late as -it was, but was in a loose dressing-gown, with the marks of excessive -indulgence in dissipation and sleepless hours too plainly revealed -in his whole appearance. A rosewood piano was covered with spilth -and sticky rings from the glasses used in the debauch of the night. -"Have you ever heard me sing?" asked Kean. "Oh, yes, in Tom Tug the -Waterman." "Did you see my Tom Tug?" responded the actor, in a pleased -tone of caressing eagerness. "I learned those songs purely by imitation -of my old friend Incledon; and I approached him so closely that it was -said no one could tell the singing of one of us from that of the other. -But now you shall hear me sing my favorite piece." He sat down at the -piano, struck a few notes, and sang the well-known song of Moore, -"Farewell, but whenever you welcome the hour." His face was very pale, -and wore an expression of unutterable pathos and melancholy; his hair -was floating in confused masses, and his eyes looked like two great -inland seas. Both he and his auditor wept as he sang with matchless -depth of feeling and a most mournful sweetness,-- - - "Let fate do her worst, there are relics of joy, - Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy, - Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care - And bring back the features that joy used to wear. - Long, long be my heart with such memories filled! - Like the vase in which roses have once been distilled,-- - You may break, you may ruin the vase, if you will, - But the scent of the roses will hang round it still." - -While he thus sang, he was, to the fancy of his moved and admiring -listener, himself the vase broken and ruined, and his genius, still -blooming over the ruins of the man, distilled its holy perfume around -him. - -The Othello of Kean was his unapproachable masterpiece, crowded with -electric effects in detail and crowned with a masterly originality as -a whole. It left its general stamp ineffaceably on the young actor who -that night confronted it with his Iago in such a manner as to win not -only the vehement applause of the house but likewise the warm approval -of the Othello himself. Forrest had carefully studied the character of -Iago in the independent light of what he knew of human nature. And -he conceived the part in what was then quite an original reading of -it. The current Iago of the stage was a sullen and sombre villain, as -full of gloom as of hate, and with such sinister manners and malignant -bearing as made his diabolical spirit and purposes perfectly obvious. -One must be a simpleton to be deceived by such a style of man. A man -like Othello, accustomed to command, moving for many years among all -sorts of men in peace and war, could be so played on only by a most -accomplished master of the arts of hypocrisy. Forrest accordingly -represented Iago as a gay and dashing fellow on the outside, hiding his -malice and treachery under the signs of a careless honesty and jovial -good humor. One point, strictly original, he made which powerfully -affected Kean. Iago, while working insidiously on the suspicions of -Othello, says to him,-- - - "Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio; - Wear your eye thus, not jealous,--nor secure." - -All these words, except the last two, Forrest uttered in a frank and -easy fashion; but suddenly, as if the intensity of his under-knowledge -of evil had automatically broken through the good-natured part he was -playing on the surface and betrayed his secret in spite of his will, -he spoke the words _nor secure_ in a husky tone, sliding down from a -high pitch and ending in a whispered horror. The fearful suggestiveness -of this produced from Kean a reaction so truly artistic and tremendous -that the whole house was electrified. As they met in the dressing-room, -Kean said, excitedly, "In the name of God, boy, where did you get -that?" Forrest replied, "It is something of my own." "Well," said he, -while his auditor trembled with pleasure, "everybody who speaks the -part hereafter must do it just so." - -There must, from all accounts, have been something supernaturally -sweet and sorrowful, an unearthly intensity of plaintive and majestic -pathos, in the manner in which Kean delivered the farewell of Othello. -The critics, Hazlitt, Procter, Lamb, and the rest, all agree in this. -They say, "the mournful melody of his voice came over the spirit like -the desolate moaning of the blast that precedes the thunder-storm." -It was like "the hollow and musical murmur of the midnight sea when -the tempest has raved itself to rest." His "tones sunk into the soul -like the sighing of the breeze among the strings of an ęolian harp or -through the branches of a cypress grove." His voice "struck on the -heart like the swelling of some divine music laden with the sound of -years of departed happiness." The retrospect of triumphant exultation, -the lingering sense of delight, the big shocks of sudden agony, and -the slow blank despair, breathed in a voice elastic and tremulous -with vital passion and set off with a by-play of exquisitely artistic -realism, made up a whole of melancholy beauty and overwhelming power -perhaps never equalled. It was at once an anthem, a charge, and a -dirge. Forrest was inexpressibly delighted and thrilled by it, and he -did not fail to his dying day to speak of it with rapturous admiration. - -Kean, both as a man and as an actor, made a fascinating impression on -the imagination and heart as well as on the memory of his youthful -supporter in the Albany theatre. What he had himself experienced under -the influence of this marvellous player, in the profound stirring of -his wonder and affection, remained to exalt his estimate of the rank -of his professional art and to stimulate still further his personal -ambition. This is the way the sensitive soul of genius grows, by -assimilating something from every superior ideal exhibited to it. Kean -himself, at a public dinner given him in Philadelphia on his return -thither from Albany, generously said that he had met one actor in this -country, a young man named Edwin Forrest, who gave proofs of a decided -genius for his profession, and who would, as he believed, rise to great -eminence. This kind act on the part of the veteran was reported to the -novice, and sank gratefully into his heart. To be praised by one we -admire is such a delight to the affections and such a spur to endeavor -that it is a pity the successful are not more ready to give it to the -aspiring. Ah, what a heaven this world would be if all the men and -women in it were only what in our better hours we dream and wish! - -One incident occurred during this season at Albany showing -extraordinary character in so young a man. The fearful power of the -passion for gaming has been well known in all ages. It has prevailed -with equal violence and evil among the rudest savages and in the most -luxurious phases of civilization. Every year, at the present time, in -the capital centres of Christendom it explodes in forgeries, murder, -and suicides. And we read in the Mahabharata, the great Sanscrit epic -written we know not how many centuries before the Christian era, that -king Yudishthira was so desperately addicted to gambling that on one -occasion he staked his empire, and lost it; then his wife, and lost; -finally, his own body, lost that, and became the slave of the winner. -In New Orleans Forrest had felt something of the horrid fascination of -this passion. He had not, however, indulged much in it, although his -friend Gazonac, who stood at the head of the profession, had initiated -him pretty thoroughly into the secret tricks of the art. - -The company of actors and actresses used often to stay after the play -was over and engage in games of chance. Forrest joined them several -times. He then steadily refused to do so any more; for he felt that the -gambling spirit was getting hold of him. But on a certain evening they -urged him so strongly that he consented,--determined to give them a -lesson. He said it was a base business, full of dishonest arts by which -all but the sharpest adepts could be cheated. They maintained that -there were among them neither decoys nor dupes, and they challenged -fraud. They played all night, and Forrest at last had won every cent -they had with them. He then rose to his feet, and denounced the habit -of gaming for profit as utterly pernicious. He recited some examples -of the horrors he had known to result from it. He said it demoralized -the characters of those who practised it, and, producing nothing, was -a robbery, stealing the time, thought, and feeling which might so -much better be devoted to something useful. With these words he swept -the implements of play into the fire, strewed the money he had won -on the floor, left the room, and went home in the gray light of the -morning,--and never gambled again from that hour unto the day of his -death. - -May 16th, 1826, Forrest made his first re-appearance on the stage of -his native city. It was on the occasion of a benefit given to his -old friend Charles S. Porter, manager of the theatre, it will be -remembered, in which he made his début as Rosalia de Borgia. He took -the part of Jaffier in Venice Preserved. His success was flattering -and complete. The leading journal of the city said, "He left us a -boy, and has returned a man. The talents he then exhibited, improved -by attention and study, now display themselves in the excellence of -his delineation. He is by no means what he was when he left us. His -delivery, attitudes, and gesture are similar to those of Conway; and -he could not have chosen a better model. Just in his conception of his -part, clear and correct in his utterance, graceful in his action, he -never offends us by unmeaning rant. When one so young relies more on -his own judgment than on the flattery of partial friends, we cannot -expect too much from him. We doubt if any aspirant at the same age -has ever equalled him. No performer, perhaps, ever was received and -continued to play with so much applause. On the dropping of the curtain -at the end of the fourth act, he was rewarded with nine rounds of -cheers." - -His unmistakable triumph was crowned by such loud and general calls -for an engagement that the manager came forward and announced that he -had secured the services of Mr. Forrest for two nights, and that he -would appear, on the evening after the next, in the character of Rolla. -This, on the whole, was the most signal and important victory he had -ever achieved. It consoled him and it spurred him. He slept sweetly -that night under his mother's roof, and in his dreams saw himself -decked with wreath and crown, time after time, through a long vista of -brightening successes. - -The Bowery Theatre, in New York, now nearly finished, was to be opened -in the autumn, and its proprietors were on the watch to secure the -best talent for the company. They had heard favorable reports of the -acting of Forrest in Albany. Prosper M. Wetmore and another of the -directors of the new theatre made a journey to that city on purpose to -see a specimen of his performance and decide whether or not it would -be expedient to engage him. They were so much pleased with his playing -that they earnestly urged Gilfert, who was already engaged as manager, -to close with him at once. He did so, bargaining with him to play -leading parts for the first season at a salary of twenty-eight dollars -a week. Wetmore, who was a cultivated gentleman of literary habits, -afterwards Navy Agent at New York, became a fast friend of Forrest for -life, and half a century later was fond of recalling the incidents of -this journey, so interesting in the adventure and so pleasant in the -results. - -Gilfert had lost money at Albany, and, when he closed, his company -were dismissed unpaid, some of them utterly destitute. Forrest himself -was forced to leave his wardrobe with his hostess as security for -arrearages. He took passage down the Hudson to New York, and, securing -lodgings at a tavern in Cortlandt Street, began as best he could to -fill the time until the opening of the Bowery. He was a stranger in -the city. He was without money, without friends, his wardrobe in pawn, -with no stated employment to occupy his attention and pass the hours. -Naturally, life seemed dull and the days grew heavy. First he felt -homesick, then he felt sick of himself and sick of the world. His -faculties turned in on themselves, and made him so morbidly melancholy -that he thought of ending his existence. He actually went to an -apothecary and got some arsenic on pretence that he wanted to kill -rats. This revulsive and dismal state of feeling, however, did not last -long. An event occurred which brought him relief and caused him to -fling away the poison and resume his natural tone of cheerful fortitude -and readiness for enjoyment. - -The propitious event referred to was this. An actor at the Park -Theatre, by the name of Woodhull, was about having a benefit, and -experienced much difficulty in deciding on something attractive for the -occasion. Walking in the street with Charles Durang, of Philadelphia, -who had recently seen Forrest act in that city, and expressing his -anxiety to him, Durang replied, "If I were you, I would try and get -Forrest to act for me. And there he is now, sitting under the awning -in front of the hotel. I will introduce you." The deed suited the -word, and in a moment Woodhull had made his request. At first Forrest -somewhat moodily declined, saying that he was penniless, friendless, -spiritless, and could do nothing. "But," the poor actor urged, "I have -a large family dependent on me, and this benefit is my chief reliance." -"Is that so?" asked Forrest. "It is, indeed," was the reply. "Then," -said the generous tragedian, mounting out of his unhappiness, "I will -play Othello for you, and do my best." The new acquaintances parted -with hearty greetings, Woodhull to finish the arrangements for his -benefit, Forrest to prepare for his arduous task. For he felt that this -his first appearance in the chief metropolitan theatre of the country -was an ordeal that might make him or undo him quite. - -He shut himself up in his room with his Shakspeare. He studied the -part with all the earnestness of his soul, over and over, with every -light he could bring to bear upon it, carefully perfected himself in -it according to his best ideal, and impatiently awaited the evening. -It came, and found a house poor in numbers, which disheartened him not -a whit. Durang was there, and has described the scene. The audience, -though neither fashionable nor large, was eager and susceptible. As -the actor came on, his careful costume, superb form, and reposeful -bearing made a strong sensation on the expectant auditory. And when -the sweet, resonant tones of his deep, rich voice broke forth in -the eloquence of an unaffected manliness, the charm was obviously -deepened. His remarkable self-possession and deliberate way of doing -just what he intended to do were very impressive, and, combined with -his terrible earnestness growing with the thickening plot, took hold -of the sympathies of the house more and more powerfully. In the -middle of the pit sat Gilfert, energetically plying his snuff-box and -inspecting alternately the player and the spectators. And when, in the -fourth act, as the pent flood of passion in the breast of the tortured -Othello burst in fearful explosion on Iago in one resplendent climax of -attitude, look, voice and gesture, and the whole audience rose to their -feet and gave vent to their unprecedented excitement in round after -round of cheering, the little Dutchman let his snuff-box mechanically -slip through his fingers, and cried, "By heaven, he has made a hit!" -The popular verdict was one of unqualified enthusiasm, and the -directors and manager of the Bowery felt that they had underrated their -prize. Gilfert hurried behind the scenes, lavishing congratulations on -his protégé, and promising the next day to pay his debts and supply him -with some pocket-money. In doing a kind thing for a needy fellow-actor, -Forrest found that he had also done an exceedingly good thing for -himself. - -With the means he had wrung from the delinquent and doubtful but now -sanguine Gilfert, he proceeded to Albany and redeemed his wardrobe. -He then went to Washington, and played Rolla for the benefit of his -brother William. He next fulfilled an engagement as a Star for six -nights in Baltimore, and then paid a visit to his home in Philadelphia. -He was able from the remnant of his earnings to carry four hundred -dollars to his mother. And when he gave it to her, sitting happy at her -feet, and told her of his trials, and of his struggles against them, -as he felt her hand on his head and saw her fond eyes looking approval, -the sweetness of the satisfaction seemed to sink into his very bones. -So he himself said, and added, "The applause I had won before the -foot-lights? Yes, it was most welcome and precious to me; but, compared -with this, it was nothing, less than nothing!" - -The Bowery was opened with great display and success the last week in -October. On the following Monday Forrest made his first appearance -there. Othello was the play. The house was thronged in all parts, -everything was fresh and new, eager expectation filled the air, and he -came forward encouraged by the memory of his decisive triumph at the -benefit of Woodhull, and nerved with determination now to outdo it. -Yet, in spite of all the favoring conditions, so much depended on the -result of his performance this night, and his sensitiveness was still -so little hardened by custom, that his nervousness and trepidation -were quite apparent to critical eyes. But as the play progressed this -wore off, and his acting became so sincere, so varied and vigorous, -he set his best points in such clean-cut relief, and his elocution -was so full of natural passion, that he carried the sympathies of -the audience with him ascendingly to the close. The ovation he then -received left no doubt as to the place he was thenceforth to hold in -the theatrical world of New York and the country. By unanimous consent, -admitting errors and faults both positive and negative, he had shown an -extraordinary breadth and raciness of original individuality, and an -extraordinary power of painting the character he had pictured in his -imagination so vividly that it should also live in the imaginations of -the beholders and kindle their sensibilities. This is the one test of -the true actor, that he can transmit his thoughts and passions into -others, causing his ideal so to move before them that they recognize -it and react on it with the play of their souls accordant with his. -This given, all defects are pardoned; this denied, all merits are -ineffectual. Forrest had this from first to last, whenever appeal was -made from dialect cliques to the great vernacular of human nature. - -At the close of the performance Forrest was personally congratulated by -the stockholders of the theatre in the committee-room. Their chairman -said to him, "We are all very much more than gratified. You have -made a great hit; but, if you are willing, we would like to cancel -our engagement with you at twenty-eight dollars a week, and----" Here -Forrest interrupted him by saying, "Certainly, gentlemen; just as you -please; for I am confident I can readily command those terms almost -anywhere I feel disposed to play." "We have no doubt of it," replied -the chairman; "but we propose to cancel the engagement made with you at -twenty-eight dollars a week, and to draw an agreement giving you forty -dollars a week instead." This of course was very agreeable to him, and -accordingly it was so arranged. - -With this night his histrionic probation was at an end, and fame and -fortune were secure. It was now that he made the acquaintance of James -Lawson, who was so enraptured with his playing that he sought an -introduction on the spot, and then went home and wrote for one of the -morning papers a glowing eulogium on the performance. Lawson remained -through life one of his most trusted and useful friends, especially in -his business concerns, never wavering in his loyalty to him for one -moment in all the succeeding years, and surviving to be one of the -trustees of his estate. Here, also, at the same time, and under the -identical circumstances, began his friendship with Leggett, one of the -most important and valued attachments he ever formed. Leggett, at that -time associated with Bryant in the editorship of the New York "Evening -Post," was a man of a high-strung, chivalrous nature, possessed of -uncommon talents and of immense force of character. Among his fine -tastes was a sincere passion for the drama. He was the elder by four -years, and had enjoyed far superior educational advantages. He loved -Forrest devotedly as soon as he knew him, and his affection was as -ardently returned. In their manly truth and generous sympathy, which -knew no taint of affectation or mean design, they were a great comfort -to each other. In the fourteen years that passed before death came -between them they rendered invaluable services to each other in many -ways. - -The following letter is interesting in several respects. It shows -his great devotion to his mother, betrays his tendency to occasional -depression of spirit, and reveals even so early in his life that -irregular violence in the currents of his blood from the effects of -which he finally died. It bears date a little less than a month after -his début at the Bowery. - - "NEW YORK, Dec. 3d, 1826. - -"MOST BELOVED MOTHER,--The reason I have not answered your letter -is a serious indisposition under which I have been laboring for -some time. But, thanks be to the Eternal (only for your sake and -my dear sisters'), I am now convalescent. You will ask, no doubt, -why it is only for your sake that I thank the Eternal. Because were -you separated forever from me existence would have no longer an -attraction. Again, you will wonder what has made me tired of life, -especially now that I am on the full tide of prosperity. Alas! I know -not how soon sickness may render me incapable of the labors of my -profession; and then penury, perchance the poor-house, may ensue. I -shudder to think of it. Yet the terrible reflection haunts me in spite -of myself; and were it not for you and the girls I should not shrink -to try the unsearchable depths of eternity. But no more of this gloomy -subject. - -"Dining last Sunday with Major Moses, when the cloth was removed, as -I was preparing to take a glass of wine, I felt a pain in my right -breast, which rapidly increased to such a degree that I told the -Major, who sat next to me, of the singular sensation. I had no sooner -spoken than the pain shot to my heart and I fell upon the floor. For -the space of fifteen minutes I lay perfectly speechless. When, through -the kind attentions of the family (which I can never forget), I had in -a measure recovered, the pain was still very violent. A physician was -summoned, who bled me copiously, and this relieved my sufferings. In -consequence of my weakened and distressed condition, I was persuaded -to stay there all night. The next morning I returned to my lodgings, -and remained in-doors all day, though feeling perfectly recovered. -But the following evening, very injudiciously, I performed Damon. -The exertion in this arduous part caused a relapse, which, however, -was not seriously felt until Thursday evening, when I was performing -William Tell. Then, indeed, it was agony. All that I had suffered -before was but the shadow of a shade to what I then felt,--pains in -all my limbs, and my head nigh to bursting. With the unavoidable use -of brandy, ether, and hartshorn, I got wildly through the character. -Since that time I have had medical attendance and every attention -that kindness can show. In a few days, without doubt, I shall be on -the boards again. - -"I received a few days ago a letter from William, which remains -unanswered. Please inform him of the cause. I shall take my benefit -shortly, and am led to believe that it will be all that I can desire. -Do not think I shall then forget those who heretofore may sometimes -have had cause to upbraid me. Farewell, dear mother. - -"Tell Henrietta to write, and quickly, too. - - "Yours most affectionately, - "EDWIN FORREST." - -His illness proved, as he thought it would, brief. His success knew -no abatement. He drew such crowds nightly and excited them to such a -pitch that the whole city became alive and agog about him. Of the many -tributes then paid him, these lines may serve as a specimen: - - "See how the stormy passions of the soul - Are EDWIN FORREST'S, and at his control: - How he can drive the curdling blood along - Its choking channels--how his face and tongue - Can check the current as it seeks the brain, - Arrest its course, and bring it back again; - Freeze it when circling round the glowing heart, - Or thaw it thence, and bid it, melting, part; - Rouse up revenge for Tell's unmeasured wrongs - Until it echoes from a thousand tongues; - Or melt the soul of friendship quite away - When Damon claims his Pythias' dying day." - -From this auspicious beginning he went steadily on gaining power and -public favor until his popularity was so conspicuous that one of the -managers of the rival establishment came to him with an offer of -three times the amount he was then receiving. He replied, "I cannot -listen to you, as I am engaged to Gilfert for the season." "You are -not bound by a legal paper, and therefore are free," expostulated the -wily bargainer. "Sir," was his characteristic answer, "my word is as -strong as any written contract." During this first winter, so rapidly -did his fame spread that Gilfert actually lent him repeatedly to other -theatres at two hundred dollars a night, he still paying him only his -forty dollars a week. Certain disinterested persons who learned this -fact commented on it to Gilfert himself with much severity. And at -the end of the engagement he said to the young man, "I want to engage -you for the next season, but I suppose our terms must be somewhat -different. What do you expect?" Forrest quietly looked at him, and -replied, "You have yourself fixed my value. You have found me to be -worth two hundred dollars a night." He was at once engaged at that rate -for eighty nights. And it is to be remembered that sixteen thousand -dollars then was equivalent to thirty thousand now. He had just passed -his twenty-first birthday. Thus in six short months the youthful artist -who came to the metropolis poor, scarcely known, little heralded, -had acquired an imposing fame, was surrounded by a brilliant host of -friends, and entered on his summer vacation prospective master of a -sumptuous income. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -GROWTH AND FRESHNESS OF PROFESSIONAL GLORY: INVIDIOUS ATTACKS AND THEIR -CAUSES. - - -THE next marked division in the biography of Forrest covers the period -between his twenty-first and his twenty-eighth year, from the close of -his first engagement at the Bowery in 1827 to his departure for Europe -in 1834. No other actor ever lived who at so early an age achieved a -series of popular successes so steady, so brilliant, so extensive as -those which filled these seven triumphant and happy years. They yet -remain unparalleled. It was undoubtedly the most fortunate and the most -enjoyed period of all in his long career. His health and vigor were -superb, his faculties joyously unfolding, his senses in their keenest -edge, his glory spreading on all sides, money pouring into his purse, -the general love and praise lavished on him scarcely as yet broken by -the dissenting voices or alloyed by the signals of envy. His name was -emblazoned in the chief cities all over the land, the press teemed with -kindly notices, his performances were attended nightly by enthusiastic -crowds, who applauded him to the very echoes that applauded again. - -In his social relations,--the secondary domain of life,--he saw his -desires flatteringly gratified in an increasing degree, his goings and -comings announced like those of a king, the eyes of the throng turned -after him wherever he went, his thoughts and passions taking electric -effect on the excited crowds who gathered to gaze on his playing, -choice friends suing for his leisure hours. The common estimate of him -and the popular feeling towards him are accurately reflected in the -sonnet addressed to him at this time by his friend Prosper M. Wetmore: - - "Enriched with Nature's brightest powers of mind, - Deep is thy influence o'er man's feeling breast; - When fiercest passions come at thy behest - In all the magic strength of truth, they bind - 'Neath their broad spell the pulses of the heart, - Freezing the soul with horror and dismay: - O'er Tarquin's corse, where Brutus leads the way, - Revenge stalks darkly forth: thy potent art - Recalls the aged Lear to tell his woes, - Enlisting in his cause each sense that thrills: - Stern Richard smiles upon the blood he spills: - Tell, patriot Tell, defies his tyrant foes. - - "Eagle-eyed Genius round thy youthful name - Flashes the brilliance of a deathless Fame!" - -And in the primary domain of life--his own physique--he was blessed -with a basis of favorable conditions quite as rare. His clean-sinewed -frame so firmly poised in its weighty centres, his rich flood of blood -copiously nourishing the seats of function, his generous intelligence -and his native fearlessness of temper, were the ground of a gigantic -complacency in himself which was equally pleasurable to him and -attractive to others so long as he intuitively experienced rather -than consciously asserted it. He was vaguely aware, in an uncritical -way, that his sphere was heavier than those of the men he met, that -the elemental rhythms of his being were larger, that the gravitation -of his personal force overswayed theirs. While this was indicated by -nature without his knowledge, it made him interesting, a sort of magnet -to which others swayed in loyal curiosity or affection. And such was -entirely the case up to this time. His frank, fresh nature was as yet -unwrung by injustice, malignity, and falsehood, unspoiled either by -souring adverses or sickening satieties. He was a wholesome specimen -of a man of the unperverted, untechnical human type, to whom, in his -personal harmony and power, with his loving and trusted friends and his -progressive grasping of the prizes of the great social struggle, the -experience of each day as it came and went was a cup of nectar which -he quaffed without a question, finding neither guilt at the top nor -remorse at the bottom. - -But he had sufficient force and height of character not to yield -himself up to selfish indulgence. Notwithstanding the flattery bestowed -on him, he felt the defects in his education, and determined to -remedy them as well as he could. He knew that he needed the polish -of literary and social culture and the training of critical studies -alike to supplement the advantages and to neutralize the disadvantages -of the coarse and boisterous scenes--the bold and lawless styles of -men--amidst which much of his life in the West and South had been -passed. Accordingly, when the opportunity was given him for a choice -of associates, he took for his intimate friends in New York a very -different class from those he had affiliated with in New Orleans. -Without at all losing his taste for manly sports or shunning the -company of their votaries, his preferred friends were men of literary -and artistic tastes, of the highest refinement and the best social -rank. A large number of accomplished persons, like Leggett, Bryant, -Wetmore, Halleck, Inman, Ingraham, Dunlap, Lawson, were in those years -on affectionate terms with him as his avowed admirers. From their -example, their conversation, their criticism, he profited much. He -became a liberal buyer of books, and soon had an excellent library, -which he used faithfully, devoting a large portion of his leisure to -reading. Nor did he read idly. He read as a student, reflecting on -what he read, striving to improve his mind and taste by knowledge in -general, as well as to pierce more deeply into the philosophy of the -dramatic art in particular. He made himself familiar with the history -of plastic and pictorial art, with engravings of celebrated statues -and paintings, carefully noting their most impressive attitudes and -groupings. He also explored the history of costume in the principal -countries, classic, medięval, and modern. The habit of reading -and meditating which he formed at this time was fostered by many -influences, grew stronger with his years, spread over wide provinces of -biography, poetry, philosophy, and science, and was to the very last -the chief solace and ornament of his existence. - -While thus devoting himself with new zeal to mental culture, he did not -forego one whit of his old assiduity in exercises for the furtherance -of his bodily development. During his second year in New York he -took a series of lessons in boxing. He felt a great interest in this -art, became a redoubtable proficient in its practice, and was ever -an earnest and open admirer of its prominent heroes. Those who feel -this to be discreditable to him will find on reflection, if they think -fairly, that it was, on the contrary, a credit to him. Multitudes of -refined people have an intense admiration for superlative developments -of physical beauty, force, and courage, though they conceal their taste -because by the standards of a squeamish politeness it is considered -something low and coarse. But Forrest always scorned that style of -public opinion, defied it, and frankly lived out what he thought and -felt. At the time of the famous fight between Heenan and Sayers for -the belt of world-championship, it was clear that scholars, poets, -statesmen, divines, and even fashionable women, felt the keenest -interest in the contest. They read the details with avidity, and talked -of them with the liveliest eagerness. The fascination is nothing to -be ashamed of, but rather to be cultivated with pride. To a just -perception, the fighting is not attractive, but repulsive and dreadful. -It is the strength, grace, discipline, smiling fearlessness, superb -hardihood, connected with the struggle, the rare exaltation of the -most fundamental qualities of a kingly nature, that evoke admiration. -Surely it is better to be a perfect animal than an imperfect one. When -all things are in harmony, the finest corporeal condition is the basis -for the highest spiritual power. A champion in finished training, -with his perfected form, his marble skin, clear unflinching eyes, -corky tread, and indomitable pluck, is a thrilling sight. When the -crowd see him, their enthusiasm vents itself in a shout of delight. -His mauling his adversary into a disfigured mass of jelly is indeed -frightful and loathsome; but that is a base perversion, not the proper -fruition, of his high estate. The functional power of his bearing is -magnificent. He is in a condition of godlike potency. It is a higher -thing to admire this glorious wealth of force, ease, and courage than -to despise it. Personal gifts of strength, skill, fearlessness, are -certainly desirable on any level in preference to the corresponding -defects. To turn away from them with disgust is a morbid weakness, not -a proof of fine superiority. While in this world we cannot escape the -physical level of our constitution, however much we may build above it. -Is it not plainly best as far as possible to perfect ourselves on every -level of our nature? An Admirable Crichton, able to surpass everybody -on all the successive heights of human accomplishments, from fencing -with swords to fencing with wits, from dancing to dialectics, cannot -be held, except by a mawkish judgment, as inferior to a Kirke White -writing verses of pale piety while dying of consumption brought on by -over-stimulus of literary ambition. - -Forrest had pretty thoroughly practised gymnastics, the exercises of -the military drill, horsemanship, and fencing, each of which has a -particular efficacy in developing and economizing power, by harmonizing -the nervous system, if the will does not interpose too much resistance -to the flow of the rhythmical vibrations through the muscles. He now -felt that there was a special virtue in the mastery of boxing; and -to avail himself of it he secured the services of George Hernizer, a -distinguished professor of the manly art, a man of immense strength, -great experience, and not a little moral dignity. Supreme mastership, -in whatever province it be achieved, even though it be in the mere -ranges of physical force and prowess, gives its possessor an assured -feeling of competency and superiority, which has an intrinsic moral -value and reflects itself through him in some quiet lustre of repose -and security. It is those whose equilibrium is most unstable who are -the most irritable and resentful. It is weakness and insecurity that -make one fretful and quarrelsome. Shakspeare says it is good to have a -giant's strength, but tyrannous to use it like a giant. We know that -the more gigantic the resources of a man the less tempted he is to put -them forth. It is ever your weakling who is naturally waspish. - -Before putting on the gloves with his pupil for the first time, -Hernizer sat down with him and talked with him for half an hour in a -wise and kindly manner on the morality of the art, or the true spirit -in which it should be approached. He summed up in terse maxims the -principles which ought to govern all who practise it, and enforced them -with apt illustrations. He warned him especially never to lose his -temper, and never to presume on the advantages of his skill to strike -any man unnecessarily. He said that every boxer who had the instincts -of a gentleman was made more generous and forbearing by his safeguard -of reserved power. Forrest, eager to be at the work, and scarcely -appreciating the propriety or value of the lecture, listened to it -impatiently at the time, but remembered it with profit and gratitude -all his life. As he recalled the circumstances and lingered over the -narrative forty years later, a light of retrospective fondness played -in his eyes, and his tongue seemed laved and lambent with love. - -When he had taken lessons for about six months, one day when his -nervous centres were aching with fulness of power, as he was sparring -with his teacher, a sort of good-natured berserker rage came over him. -The ancestral instincts of love of battle burned in his muscles, and he -longed to pitch into the strife in right down sincerity. "Come, now, -Hernizer," he cried, "let us try it for once in real earnest." "Pshaw! -no, no!" replied the master, parrying him off. But waxing warmer and -warmer in the play he pressed hard on him, putting in the licks so hot -and heavy that at last Hernizer, rallying on his resources, fetched -him a blow fair between the eyes that made him see stars and sent him -reeling against the wall. "I have got enough!" exclaimed Forrest, -with a laugh, as soon as he could collect himself, and went and threw -his arms around his teacher; and the two athletes stood in a smiling -embrace, their naked breasts clasped together, and the great waves -of warm blood mantling through them. Such a passage would have made -untrained and nervous men angry or sullen, but it only made these -giants laugh with pleasure and sharpened their fellowship. However, -Forrest said, he never again asked Hernizer to buckle to it in earnest. - -Forrest did not inherit that herculean poise of power which for half a -century made him such a massive mark of popular admiration. He attained -it by training. And herein he is a splendid example to his countrymen, -thousands on thousands of whom, in their whining debility, dyspeptic -pallor, and fidgety activity, need nothing else so much as a thorough -physical regimen to replenish their blood, soothe their exasperated -nerves, and give a solid equilibrium to their energies. The Greeks and -Romans, the nobles and knights of the Middle Age, were wiser than we in -securing a superb physical basis for human perfection. Men like Plato, -Pericles, Ęschylus, Sophocles, were foremost in the palęstra as well as -in the lists of mind. There never was another time or land in which the -excited suspicions and emulations of society tended so terribly as in -our own to fret and haggardize men and prematurely break them down and -wear them out. Our incessant reading, our excessive brain-work, cloys -the memory, impoverishes the heart, wearies the soul, and destroys -the capacity for relishing simple natural enjoyments. This is one -of the morals which the biography of Forrest ought to emphasize by -the brilliant contrast it exhibits. For he at thirty, the period when -laborious Americans begin to give out, had developed an organism of -extraordinary power, with cleanly-freed joints and firmly-knit fibres -and a copiously-stocked reservoir of vitality. With an unfailing -digestion which quickly assimilated the nutriment from what he ate, -effort slowly tired, rest rapidly restored him. As he himself once -expressed it, the engine was strong and there was always plenty of fire -under the boiler. He therefore felt no need of stimulation; and this, -no doubt, was one of his safeguards against that insidious temptation -to intemperance to which so many members of his profession, from the -exhausting nature of its irregular exertions, are fatally exposed. A -full force of vitality transfuses the elastic frame with an electric -consciousness of pleasure and wealth. It is the ready power to do -anything we like within the limits of our nature, just as a rich man -feels that he can buy this, that, or the other thing at any moment if -he wishes. In contrast with the drooping, tremulous man, overtasked and -drained, startled at each sound, shrinking from the thought of effort, -crossing the street to avoid the trial of accosting an acquaintance, -afflicted with lingering pains by the slightest injury, there is -nothing so inexhaustibly fascinating as an exuberant vigor of life in -the senses, easily shedding annoyances, quickly healing hurts, ready at -every turn for transmutation into any form of the universal good. - -The effect of an artistic drill resolutely applied is something -which very few persons appreciate. Faithfully practised, its power -is surprising. Most observers, instead of recognizing its steady -accumulation of gains, attribute the startling result to exceptional -genius. Artistic drill for super-eminent excellence in _any_ personal -accomplishment has a moral value no less than a physical service but -little understood. It lifts one above the multitude in that particular -and gives him distinction. It thus fosters self-respect and puts him -at work with greater zeal and assurance. It is thus a moral basis -of inspiration and contentment. The _drill_ of the horseman, the -sportsman, the boxer, the soldier, the dancer, the singer, the orator, -has an effect quite distinct from and superior to that of labor or -exercise. Labor or exercise is straggling, broken, fitful; but drill -is regular, symmetric, _rhythmical_, and has an influence to refine and -exalt by economizing and directing the forces of the organism while -enhancing them. It is a discipline of art. In its final completeness, -corporeal and mental, it gives one an easy confidence, a feeling of -competency, which is a great luxury. It enables one to stand up before -his fellow-men with free chest and alert spirit and look straight in -their eyes without blenching and perform his tasks without flurry. This -was Forrest. He attained this deliberate self-possession, this mastery -of his resources, in a degree which cannot be ascribed to one actor out -of ten thousand, to one man out of a million. - -A brief account of his first appearance in Boston will give an idea of -the experience which he enjoyed in those years, in constant repetition, -as his fresh engagements led him over the land from city to city. - - "BOSTON, February 7th, 1827. - -"MY DEAR MOTHER,--Sunday evening I arrived, after a tedious and -wearisome journey, at the place which is called the literary emporium -of the Western hemisphere, and on Monday evening, for the first time -in my life, made my bow to the good people of Massachusetts. I was -received with acclamations of delight, and the curtain fell amidst -repeated and enthusiastic testimonials of gratification and approval. - -"Here, mother, I must break off awhile; for Mr. Fisher, a Quaker -preacher, has just stepped in to see me. He was one of my -fellow-passengers hither in the stage-coach; and as he is a very -agreeable man, possessing much mind, I have a disposition to treat him -with deference and respect. - - "Evening, 11 o'clock. - -"I have just returned from performing William Tell. The house was -crowded, and the applause generous. I am charmed with the Boston -people. They are both liberal and refined. In this place I shall add -much to my reputation, as well as enlarge my purse, and at present -this latter is as necessary and will be as acceptable as the former. - -"Why does not brother William write me oftener than he does? Did you -receive the $100 I sent you? - -"All court, every attention, is paid me here by the young men of first -respectability. These truly flattering attentions make me hold you, -beloved mother, dearer than ever before. I trust I shall not live in -vain, but hold my course a little longer, that I may restore you to -peace and competency and reflect a mellow light upon the evening of -your declining day. - -"With sincerest love for sisters and brother, I am yours till death. - - "EDWIN FORREST." - -It was on the opening night of this engagement, February 5th, 1827, -in the old Federal Street Theatre, in the character of Damon, that -Forrest was seen for the first time by James Oakes, who was destined to -be his most intimate and devoted friend from that hour unto the close -of earth. After the play Oakes went behind the scenes and obtained an -introduction, his heart yet shaking from his eyes the watery signals -of the profound emotion awakened in him by the performance. The new -acquaintance was cemented by a long and happy conversation in the -room of the actor, though neither of them could then have dreamed how -momentous a part it was to bear henceforth in the lives of both. They -flowed harmoniously together as if they had been foreordained for each -other by being set to the same rhythm. Forrest was a little less than -twenty-one, Oakes a little less than twenty years old at that time. -They were as alert and sinewy, as free and pleasureful, as a couple of -bounding stags, and the world lay all before them in roselight. Ah, -what a tinge of pensive wonder, what a shade of mournful omen, would -have dropped on the bright sentiment of that exuberant season if they -could have foreseen all to the end,--the tragic sorrows and deaths of -so many of their friends, leaving these two to journey on, clinging the -closer the more others fell away! - -A little over four months after his brilliant success in Boston, he -appeared, under circumstances less auspicious, in the capital of Rhode -Island, and had a short but ominous illness, which he described in a -letter to his mother. - - "PROVIDENCE, 20th June, 1827. - -"DEAR MOTHER,--I performed for the first time under the immediate -patronage of Providence on Friday evening last. And, to say truth, it -was but to 'a beggarly account of empty boxes,'--a thing very strange -to me nowadays. The theatre is an old barn of a place, and reminds -me very much of the itinerant expeditions of my early days in Ohio -and Kentucky, days which often come back to my thought and twinge me -with their bitter-sweet memories. This edifice, however, is rendered -sacred in my eyes by the remembrance that George Frederick Cooke once -performed in it to enraptured audiences. The company is wretched, -but to-morrow it is to receive new acquisitions, and fair hopes are -aroused that in the event the enterprise will prove profitable. - -"Last Monday evening, while enacting the character of Virginius, -in one of the most impassioned scenes, the blood rushed with such -violence into my head that it was with the utmost difficulty I could -complete the performance. Never in the course of my life have I -experienced such agony and horror as in that moment. I returned to my -lodgings and vainly commended myself to sleep. It was not till I had -had administered to me an anodyne powerful enough to have made me at -any other time sleep the sleep of death that I could secure repose. -The next morning I awoke unrefreshed and with little abatement of the -pain. A physician was sent for, who cupped me on the back of the neck, -producing instant relief. I have since been rapidly recovering, and -shall, no doubt, be perfectly competent to the intended performance of -Jaffier to-morrow night. - -"I hope to pass a day or two with you about the 4th of July. Tell the -girls I shall bring them some presents. By the time I reach New York -you shall hear further about the bust for which I have given sittings -to a sculptor at the request of a group of my friends. - - "Your affectionate son, - "EDWIN FORREST." - -By his fidelity in varied physical drill, Forrest had become a prodigy -of strength and endurance. With vivid passions, enormous vitality, -an ingenuous and sympathetic soul, a most attractive person, in the -unconventional habits of the freest of the professions, few men -were ever more beset within and without by the temptations to a -dissipated and spendthrift course. One guardian influence against -these temptations was the warning examples of so many members of his -profession whom he saw ruined by such indulgences, losing self-respect -and sinking to the lowest abandonment, coming to untimely graves, or -left in their age destitute and helpless. As one instance after another -of this sort came under his observation, he resolved to heed the -lesson, to be industrious, temperate, and prudent, and to husband his -earnings. His spontaneous tendency was to profusion, and he gave away -and lent lavishly. Learning wisdom, he became more careful in lending, -but always continued liberal in giving, and never had a passion for -saving until, largely alienated from society, he fell back as a natural -resource on that habit of accumulation which is so apt to grow by what -it feeds on. - -But another influence of restraint and carefulness was stronger with -him than fear, and that was filial duty and love. Looking back to -those days from the closing part of his life, he said, with deep -emotion, "One of the strongest incentives to me in my early exertions -was the desire of relieving my mother and my sisters by securing them -independence and comfort in a home of their own." This sacred purpose -he had promised himself to fulfil. He never lost sight of it. Under -date of Buffalo, August 18th, 1827, he had written the following letter -to his mother: - -"DEAR MOTHER,--After a tedious and not very profitable engagement at -Albany, I proceeded thence in a westerly direction with my friend -D. P. Ingraham, of whom you have often heard me speak in terms of -respect and admiration. I make this journey for the purpose of -recreation, in viewing the romantic beauties with which nature has -clothed and adorned herself in this part of our country, and the -developments of art and industry which are here so rapidly leading to -wealth and happiness. I have passed through a series of flourishing -towns,--Schenectady, Amsterdam, Utica, Clinton, Vernon, Auburn, -Canandaigua, Rochester, and others,--all of which have given me -delight. Buffalo is in a dull situation, and I shall leave at once -in a steamboat for the Falls of Niagara. Before this tremendous and -sublime cataract I anticipate much pleasure in the excitement of those -exalted feelings in which my soul loves to luxuriate. From there we -shall go to Montreal and Quebec, and then return to New York. - -"Before beginning my winter engagement I shall visit you. My salary -for the next year is advanced from $40 a week to $400. I should now -like--and indeed no pleasure in the world could equal it--to settle -you and my dear sisters down in some respectable, handsome, and quiet -part of Philadelphia, where you may gently pass your dear reserves of -time apart from the care and toil with which you have too long been -forced to struggle. I say Philadelphia, because I fear you could not -be prevailed on to come to New York. And indeed I do not wonder; for, -besides the numerous circle of friends you have, it is there that the -sacred ashes of my father lie. - -"I shall write more fully anon. - - "Your affectionate son, - "EDWIN." - -For three years now his income had been large and his investments -sagacious. The time had arrived for carrying out his design. It was -the autumn of 1829, when he was but twenty-three years old. Collecting -everything he possessed, he went from New York to Philadelphia, paid -the debts his father had left at his death twelve years before, bought -a house in the name of his mother and sisters, and deposited in the -bank to their account all he had remaining, thus securing them a -handsome support whatever might happen to him. What a luxury it must -have been to him to do this! It was the proudest and sweetest day he -had known in his life. The deed was an unobtrusive one, with no scenery -to emblazon it, no crowd to applaud; but the most eloquent climax he -ever made on the stage could not speak so strongly to the heart. His -own heart must have made blessed music in his breast as he returned to -New York thinking that for his dear mother and sisters, after so many -years of bitter poverty and toil, now there was to be no more drudgery -or anxiety. Meeting his friend Lawson the evening after his return, he -exclaimed, "Thank God, I am not worth a ducat!" and, relating what he -had done, received his heartiest congratulations on it. - -At this time American literature in all its forms was chiefly derived -from English sources. As yet it scarcely had any vigorous, independent -existence. This was emphatically true of the drama. Hardly a play of -any success or note had been produced in this country by a native -author. All the literary circles were slavishly subjected to English -authority, and this whole province of life, both in respect of -intellectual production and taste and in respect to the business -management of it, was principally under English control. The managers -of our theatres felt that their interest lay in getting tested plays -from abroad at a merely nominal price, rather than in expending larger -sums on the risky experiment of securing original productions at home. -But Forrest was never an unthinking conformist in anything, accepting -what was customary simply because it was easiest and because others did -so. He had a bold individuality which was constantly showing itself. -The feeling of nationality and patriotic pride, too, was always intense -in him. Moved by this sentiment, as well as by the desire to secure -some parts which should be exclusively his own, he began a series of -liberal offers, from five hundred to three thousand dollars each, for -original plays by American authors. He hoped thus to do something -towards the creation of an American Dramatic Literature in the plays -which our writers would be stimulated to produce, and to contribute in -his own representations of them some original types of acted characters -to the youthful stage of his country. He was the first American actor -who had ever had the enterprise, ambition, and liberality to do this. -It shows generous qualities of character,--the boldness of genius and -faith,--especially when it is remembered that he was only twenty-two -years old when he issued his first proposal, which was published by his -friend Leggett with a brief preface in a weekly review of which he was -then proprietor and editor: - -"We have received the following note from Edwin Forrest, and take -great pleasure in communicating his generous proposition to the public -in his own language. It is much to be desired that native genius may -be aroused by this offer from native genius, and that writers worthy -to win may enter the laudable competition. - -"'DEAR SIR,--Feeling extremely desirous that dramatic letters should -be more cultivated in my native country, and believing that the dearth -of writers in that department is rather the result of a want of the -proper incentive than of any deficiency of the requisite talents, I -should feel greatly obliged to you if you would communicate to the -public, in the next number of the 'Critic,' the following offer. To -the author of the best Tragedy, in five acts, of which the hero or -principal character shall be an aboriginal of this country, the -sum of five hundred dollars, and half of the proceeds of the third -representation, with my own gratuitous services on that occasion. The -award to be made by a committee of literary and theatrical gentlemen.'" - -The committee selected by Forrest consisted of his friends Bryant, -Halleck, Lawson, Leggett, Wetmore, and Brooks. Fourteen plays were -presented in competition, and the prize was adjudged to Metamora, or -the Last of the Wampanoags, by John Augustus Stone, of Philadelphia. -Afterwards, at intervals, a similar or a larger premium was offered, -until he had secured, in all, nine prize plays: Metamora, Oraloosa, -and The Ancient Briton, by Stone; The Gladiator, Pelopidas, and The -Broker of Bogota, by Robert Montgomery Bird; Caius Marius, by Richard -Penn Smith; Jack Cade, by Robert T. Conrad; and Mohammed, by George H. -Miles. In the last instance about eighty productions were forwarded to -the judges, and, as not one of them was thought to meet the conditions -assigned, Forrest sent his check for a thousand dollars to the author -of Mohammed, as that was considered the most effective composition, -though not well adapted to the stage. The result of his efforts in -fostering a native drama was indirectly wide and lasting, in calling -general attention to this province of letters and stimulating much -able work in it. The result directly was the writing of about two -hundred plays, nine of which received prizes. Of these nine-five proved -failures after a few trials. But four, namely, Metamora, The Gladiator, -The Broker of Bogota, and Jack Cade, possessed remarkable merits, -acquired an immense popularity, and are permanently identified both -with his personal fame and with the history of the American stage. An -analysis of their plots, specimens of their language, and a description -of the dramatic character of Forrest in his imposing power and purest -originality as the impersonator of their heroes will be given in the -next chapter. In leaving this feature of his career, its substance may -be briefly summed up. In one way and another, first and last, he paid -out from his private purse for the encouragement of a native dramatic -literature as much as twenty thousand dollars, in premiums, benefits, -and gratuities to several of the unfortunate authors. Recalling his -early poverty, scanty education, and hard struggles, this fact speaks -for itself. And the ridicule often in his life cast on him for the -comparative failure of the undertaking in a high literary sense, is -cheap and unmanly. It was a noble example. Its success personally, and -pecuniarily, was emphatic and brilliant in the extreme. Its public -influence was neither small nor dishonorable. - -While Forrest was filling an engagement in Augusta, Georgia, in 1831, -there appeared in the "Chronicle" of that city, from the pen of its -editor, A. H. Pemberton, a spirited and vigorous article, entitled -"Calumny Refuted, A Defence of the Drama." It was written in response -to an article called "Theatre versus Sunday-Schools," published in "The -Charleston Observer" by a Presbyterian clergyman named Gildersleeve. -The "Chronicle" had warmly commended a favorite actress to the -patronage of the citizens of Augusta on occasion of her benefit; -whereupon Gildersleeve attacked, from a sectarian point of view, the -editor, the actress, and the theatrical art and profession, displaying -a narrow and intolerant spirit. Forrest was so much pleased with the -ability and catholic temper of the reply which followed, that he had it -printed in a pamphlet, with this dedication: - -"TO MRS. BROWN: - -"MADAM,--With much pleasure we dedicate to you the following pages -from the pen of the editor of the Augusta 'Chronicle,' whose testimony -to your amiable qualities in private life and your talents in the -dramatic profession we cordially concur in, convinced that the base -and unmerited attack which has drawn forth the present publication -will meet the reprobation of an enlightened community, and ensure you -the public favor you so truly deserve. Wishing you all health and -happiness, we remain, Madam, your obedient servants." - - Signed by Edwin Forrest and fifteen other actors and actresses. - -The summer of 1831 Forrest spent with his friend Robert M. Bird, author -of The Gladiator, in a long and delightful tour, visiting the Falls of -Niagara, the Natural Bridge in Virginia, the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky, -and passing through the Southern States by way of New Orleans to Vera -Cruz and Mexico. Just before starting on this journey he had brought -out one of his new plays in Philadelphia, referring to which the -"Chronicle" said, "We hope that to-night Mr. Forrest will perceive -in pit, box, and gallery substantial proof that his fellow-citizens -appreciate his exertions in insuring the success of plays produced -by his countrymen, and that they are anxious to treat him with a -liberality like that which has always distinguished himself." - -His parting performance was Lear. The house was thronged to its -utmost capacity, and when the curtain fell there were unanimous and -long-continued calls for him. He came forward and made the following -speech: - -"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,--Though exhausted by the exertions of the -evening, I cannot resist the opportunity, thus kindly afforded, to -return my unfeigned thanks, not only for the unceasing patronage and -liberal applause which you have bestowed upon my humble efforts as a -tragedian, but also for your unequivocal approbation of my labors in a -cause, the accomplishment of which is the proudest wish of my heart; I -mean the establishment of an AMERICAN NATIONAL DRAMA. - -"My endeavors cannot but be crowned with success when thus ably -seconded by the intelligence of a community whose kindness I most -gratefully acknowledge, and whose good opinion it would be my boast to -deserve. - -"I am, for a while, about to forego the gratification of your -smiles,--to exchange the populous city for the mountain-top, the -broad lake, the flowering prairie, and the solitude of the pathless -wood,--in the hope that, thus communing, my heart may be lifted up, -and I may with more fidelity portray the lofty grandeur of the tragic -muse from having gazed into the harmonious, unerring, and interminable -volume of NATURE. - -"Trusting I shall have the honor of appearing before you again -next season, I wish you the enjoyment of uninterrupted health and -happiness, and bid you, regretfully, _Adieu_." - -Dr. Bird was an excellent travelling companion, being a man of most -genial quality, fine talents and scholarship, master of the Spanish -language, and very familiar with South America in its history, -geography, and scenery, and the characteristic traits of its people. -The scenes of two of his dramas were laid here; and at Bogotį and in -Peru they talked over the fates of Febro the Broker, and Oraloosa, the -last of the Incas. The trip proved a charming and profitable one, and -the friends came back to their tasks with increased zeal and vigor. - -During the years now under review--from 1827 to 1834--the success and -prosperity of Forrest were uninterrupted and unbounded. Not a single -incident occurred seriously to mar his happiness. Professional and -social honors flowed on him from all quarters. The obstacles put in his -way became stepping-stones. He seemed to need only to wish a prize in -order to receive it. Ensphered in the splendid and sounding reputation -he had won, he passed in starring engagements from city to city through -the land, everywhere welcomed with enthusiastic acclaim and the mark of -incessant private attentions. To be a popular favorite in this country -fifty years ago was a very different thing from what it is now. Then a -famous man stood out conspicuously, and was heralded and followed and -huzzaed and talked about in a degree scarcely credible to the present -generation. Every day the individual seems to wither and dwindle more -and more as society dilates and clamors and pushes its monopolizing -claims. The conflict of interests, the noisy and hurrying battle of -life, the distracting multiplicity of pursuits, duties, and amusements, -leave us neither time nor faculty for leisurely contemplation or for -disinterestedly admiring other people. We are absorbed in ourselves and -the frittering hurly-burly about us. Fame is less sincere and valuable, -less easily retained, than it used to be when public attention was -not so preoccupied, so jaded and fickle. Those who are accustomed -to the rapid succession of actors, singers, orators, coming each -season, taking their fees, their bouquets, their applause, and utterly -forgotten as soon as they have passed, cannot well realize the extent -and steadfastness of the proud affection with which the American people -regarded Forrest. Nothing like it seems possible now. - -He keenly enjoyed this popularity. Open-hearted as he was, and -democratic in temper, nothing else could have given him so much -pleasure or have been so stimulating to his ambition as this idolatry -from the masses. It was as a luxurious incense in his nostrils; and it -made him comparatively insensible to those sneers and snarls, those -malignant insinuations and mocking comments which no one running such -a triumphant career could expect altogether to escape. His prosperity -was so great, his progress so rapid and constant, his friends so -numerous and warm, the common tone of the press so eulogistic, that it -was easy for him to shed the assaults of his enemies unnoticed, and -to meet the gibes of rancorous critics with equanimity. Firm in his -health, proud in his strength, assured in his place, frank and trusting -in his love, and satisfied with his work and its prizes, he could -afford to smile at impotent attacks. He did so, and stood them for a -long time undisturbed. - -But when, in later years, the bloom had been somewhat brushed from -life, and the freshness worn from experience, and the meaner phases -of human nature abundantly brought home to him,--then the war of -incompetent and unprincipled criticism, the storm of virulent personal -animosities, raging ever worse and worse, was a very different -thing. Then the stings of ridicule and falsehood were bitterly felt -and resented. Their poison sank deeply into his soul, and, rankling -there, made him a changed man. In a subsequent chapter there will be -an occasion to do justice to this subject and to its morals by a full -treatment. It is appropriate here merely to explain the causes of -the unfair depreciation and the venomous hostility with which he was -pursued from the time he first appeared suddenly in the theatrical -firmament as a star of the first magnitude. - -The first cause of the endless flings, aspersions, and belittling -valuations of which Forrest was the subject is to be found in the mere -fact of his success itself. Every one familiar with the workings of -unregenerate human nature must confess the truth of this assertion, -dark and sad as it is. In this world of baffled aspirants and jealous -rivals the man who surpasses his competitors finds himself amidst a -host of foes, who, soured and angry at their own failure, are mortified -by his success and strive by malignant detractions to blacken his -laurels and drag him down to themselves. Envy is a frightful power -among men, and it is said by De Tocqueville to be the characteristic -vice of a democracy. Like a diseased eye, it is offended by everything -bright. Nobody assails the nobodies who never undertake anything. -Few assail the incompetents who fail in what they undertake. But let -a strong man conspicuously cover himself with coveted prizes, and -hundreds will be snarling at his heels, barking at his glory, eagerly -declaring that he does not deserve his success, but that it properly -belongs to them. A vast quantity of acrimonious criticism originates -in envy. The ancient Roman victors when they rode in a Triumph wore -amulets as a protection against the evil eyes of envy. - -Another cause in Forrest of offence and numerous dislike was the -pronounced distinctiveness of his character, his marked and independent -manhood. Most people are of the conventional type in personality and -manners, each one as the rest are. And their likings are confined to -those of their own stamp. A man of fresh and decisive originality, -who is and appears just what God and nature have made him, who thinks -for himself, speaks for himself, acts himself out with freedom and -power, disturbs and repels them. He irritates their prejudices by -violating their standards. His frank and flexible spontaneity, his -uncovered impulsive revelation of his feelings, and fearless choice -of what he will do or will not do, imply a tacit contempt for their -meek conformities and spirit of routine. Thus their self-esteem is -hurt and they are made angry. Forrest was a man of this kind, not -addicted to swear in the polished phrase of the magistrate, but in his -own honest vernacular. The true theory of republican America is that -the people should _not_ be cast in the monotonous moulds of certain -classes or types, the national character a fixed repetition, but that -every citizen should be in himself a priest and a king before God, -with his own form and color and relish of individuality unrepressed by -any foreign dictation. This democratic idea was well realized in Edwin -Forrest. It made him all his life a touchstone of hostility to those -whose social subserviency it rebuked or whose aristocratic prejudices -it set bristling. - -He drew forth the animosity and injurious influence of a third set of -opponents from among the least noble and successful members of his -own profession, with whom, from dissimilarities of tastes and habits -and preference for the opportunities of higher intercourse opened to -him, he did not intimately associate as an equal. He had an ample -supply of friends and comrades endowed with distinguished talents -and proud aspirations, scholars, poets, jurists, statesmen, whose -fellowship strengthened his ambition, nourished his mind, refined his -fancy, gratified his affections, and led him into the ideal world -of books and art. Courted by such gentlemen, with his rising fame -and fortune he naturally chose their society, to the neglect of that -of his fellow-actors whose haunts were low, whose habits loose, and -whose professional status a dull and hopeless mediocrity. It is not -customary for the distinguished leaders and masters in any profession -to associate in close intimacy with the rank and file of workmen in -their departments. It _is_ customary, however, for the rank and file -to resent the neglect and take their revenge in flouting. Giotto, -Lionardo, Raphael, Titian, did not hob-nob and lounge with the ordinary -painters of their day. The friends of artists are not artisans, but -other artists, their peers, noble patrons, celebrated persons, and -inspiring coadjutors. The blame so bitterly and often cast on Forrest -in this respect was unjust. The vindictive personal censures which -his sometimes absorbed and distant bearing elicited from injured -self-love were ignoble. The stock is no doubt often provoked to sneer -at the Star; but the action is not beautiful or worthy of deferential -attention. If the ordinary members of a profession, instead of looking -askance at the extraordinary ones and indulging in detraction, would -cultivate admiring sympathy, aspiring intelligence, and nobleness, they -would soon bridge the chasm that separates them. It is the absence -of generous sensibility and self-respecting application that at once -keeps them inferiors and prevents their superiors from becoming their -intimates. In the last twenty-five years of his life Forrest had, as a -consequence of what he had been through, an explosive irritability of -temperament, and not infrequently in moving among theatrical companies -betrayed an imperious sense of power. But he was profoundly just, ready -instantly to make princely amends when convinced of an error or wrong; -and under his harsh and volcanic exterior there always, even to the -very last, slept a deep spring of tenderness pure enough to reflect the -eyes of angels. It was perfectly natural that he should be misjudged. -Not one in a thousand could be expected to have the generous insight, -the detachment and gentleness, needed to read him aright. Consequently, -a swarm of false accusations and angry remarks pursued him like a buzz -of wasps enveloping his head. - -Still further, he incurred the special resentment of that class of -newspaper critics who expected to receive tribute from those whom -they condescended to praise. Many of these writers for the press have -been so accustomed to be courted, flattered, compensated, that they -have come to regard a failure on the part of a public performer to -propitiate their good graces in advance by suppliant attentions, and -to acknowledge them afterwards by thanks if not by rewards, as just -cause for turning their pens against the delinquent. Forrest was -always too honest and too proud to stoop to anything of this kind. -He strove to do the best justice in his power to the characters he -impersonated, and would then leave the verdict to the instincts of the -public and the unbiassed judgments of competent critics. The utter -falsity, unfairness, shallowness, and absurdity which so often marked -the dramatic critiques of the press, a large proportion of which were -written by persons not only notoriously prejudiced and unprincipled -but also ignorant of the elementary principles of criticism, early -disgusted and angered him to such a degree that he would have nothing -whatever to do with this class of writers, but turned from them -with disdain. They knew his feeling, and they sought their revenge -by every sort of exaggeration and caricature. With artifices of -misrepresentation, burlesque, elaborate assault, and incidental jeer, -they racked their ingenuity to lessen his reputation and make him -wince. They succeeded better in the latter than in the former. - -At that time, as has been said, the influence of English literature and -talent held almost exclusive possession of the field in this country, -most especially in theatrical matters. All the great travelling stars -of the stage, until Forrest rose, had been drawn from the English -galaxy. The chief dramatic critics were Englishmen. There was a -strong banded interest to keep these things so. But the rising spirit -of nationality was beginning to assert itself. In the conflict that -ensued, Forrest was made a central figure around whom the struggle -raged most fiercely. The English clique were pledged to maintain the -supremacy of their own school and its representatives, while the -Americans stood up distinctively in support and praise of whatever -was native. A majority of the worst critiques against Forrest were -written by foreigners under the instigation of the English clique. -The extent and power of this passionate bias on both sides are now so -nearly a mere matter of the past that it is not easy for the present -generation to realize them. The manager of a prominent New York journal -enlisted on the English side, who had a strong antipathy to Forrest on -personal grounds, resolved to write him down, cost what it might. A -friend of the actor said to the editor, "You cannot do it; he is too -popular." The editor replied, "The continual dropping of water wears -away the stone," and made his columns pour an incessant rain of satire -and abuse. Many a damaging estimate was levelled against him simply as -the first American tragedian who had by his original power acquired a -national reputation and promised through his increasing imitators to -found a school. - -Besides all these sets of hostile regarders, he was misliked as a -man and maligned or disesteemed as an actor by another class, whose -representatives are very numerous, namely, those persons of a feeble -and squeamish constitution and sickly delicacy who could not stand -the powerful shocks he administered to their nerves. The robust and -towering specimens of impassioned manhood which he exhibited, teeming -with fearless energies, constantly breaking into colossal attitudes and -gestures, lightnings of expression and thunderbolts of speech, were -too much for them. Their quivering sensitiveness cowered before his -terrible fire and stride, and shrank from him with fear; and fear is -the parent of hate. Faint ladies, spruce clerks, spindling fops, and -perfumed dandies were horrified and wellnigh thrown into convulsions by -his Gladiator and Jack Cade. Then they vented their own weakness and -ignorance of virile truth in querulous complaints of his measureless -coarseness and ferocity. It is obvious that weaklings will shudder -before such heroic volcanoes of men as Hotspur and Coriolanus and -resent their own terror on its cause. Forrest produced the same effect -when he personated such overwhelming characters on the stage. Made on -that pattern and stocked with ammunition on that scale, he lived as it -were in reality the parts he played in fiction, and was ever, in his -own way and in his own measure, true to nature and life. The lion and -the tiger are not to be toned down to the style of the antelope or the -mouse because timid spectators may desire it for the sparing of their -nerves. - -Finally, one more class of play-goers were continually censuring -Forrest, casting blame even on his best portrayals. They had better -grounds for their fault-finding than the others, and were partly -justified in their verdicts, only unjust in their wilful exaggeration -of his defects and ungenerous in their prejudiced denial of his -conspicuous and imposing merits. Reference is now made to the select -class of refined and scholarly minds, exquisitely cultivated in all -directions, who insist that art is distinct from nature, being the -purified and heightened reflection of nature through the mind at one -remove from reality. Exuberance of power and sincerity was the primary -greatness of Forrest as a tragedian. A small but most commanding -portion of the public maintained that this too was the chief foible -and limitation of his excellence, leading him to attempt on the stage -a living resurrection of the crude truth of nature in place of that -idealized softening and tempered reflex which is the genuine province -of art. Shakspeare himself said that the end of playing was and is -not to bring nature herself upon the stage, but to _hold the mirror -up to nature_. The perfected artistic actor does not bring before -his audience the reality itself of life with all its interclinging -entanglements of passion and muscle, but he drops the repulsive -details, all unessential vulgarities, refines and combines the chief -features, harmonizing and heightening them in the process, and shows -the result as a free picture, like the original in form and color and -moving, but without its tearing ruggedness or expense of volition. This -view is a true one, though not the adequate truth in its completeness. -And this criticism is proper, though they who brought it against -Forrest, in their intolerance, urged it beyond its fair application to -him. It never was claimed that he was a perfect artist; it cannot be -honestly denied that he was a great one. As a rule he did, no doubt, -lack that last and most irresistible charm of genius, the easy curbing -of expenditure which is the divine girdle of art. The bewitchment of -the fairest of the goddesses lay in her cestus. The enchanting cestus -of art is continence around strength. Human nature flung back on its -elemental experiences in their extremest energy breaks loose from the -finished forms and manners of polite society, and the conventional -members of polite society are naturally displeased with the player who -presents a specimen of this kind in its tempestuous truth not refined -and tamed to their code. The great characters of Forrest were statues -of their originals, recast in their native moulds in his imagination -and heart, and placed directly on the stage in living action. The -excrescences unremoved by the chisel and file did not lessen their -truth or affect their sublimity. But in the eyes of dilettante critics -who had no free intellect behind their glasses and no generous passions -beneath their gloves, a perception of the marks of the moulds caused -all the heroic grandeur of the images to go for nothing. - -It is necessary to bear in mind these six classes of critics in -order justly to understand the career of Forrest as an actor with -the extraordinary amount of depreciation, invective, and ridicule he -encountered as an offset to his surpassing popular success. For before -the cliques of critics spoke, while they were speaking, and after they -had spoken, unaffected by anything they said, the general average of -theatre-goers were played upon in their manliest sympathies by him -as by no other actor of his time, and the great mass of the people -followed him with their loving admiration and praise like a flood. And -in such matters as this, we may be well assured, the permanent judgment -of the multitude is never grandly wrong, however pettily right the -opinion of the opposing few may be. - -January 8th, 1834, Forrest wrote to Henry Hart, officer of a literary -society in Albany, the following eminently characteristic letter. The -period of critical transition from youth to manhood which he spent in -Albany had left lingering recollections of interest and gratitude in -him which he gladly availed himself of this opportunity to express in -an act of public spirit. - -"SIR,--The laudable zeal you have evinced in forming of the Young Men -of Albany, without regard to individual condition, an Association for -Mutual Improvement, is alike creditable to the heads that projected -and the hearts that resolved it. In a country like ours, where all -men are free and equal, no aristocracy should be tolerated, save -that aristocracy of superior mind, before which none need be ashamed -to bow. Young men of all occupations will now have a place stored -with useful knowledge where at their leisure they may assemble for -mutual instruction and the free interchange of sentiment. A taste for -American letters should be carefully disseminated among them, and -the parasitical opinion cannot be too soon exploded which teaches -that 'nothing can be so good as that which emanates from abroad.' Our -literature should be independent; and with a hearty wish that the -fetters of prejudice which surround it may soon be broken, I enclose -the sum of one hundred dollars to be appropriated to the purchase of -_books purely American_, to be placed in the library for the use of -the young men of Albany." - -To this letter an interesting reply was written by the president of the -Association, Amos Dean: - -"The Committee propose, sir, to expend your donation in the purchase -of books containing our political history, which, unlike that of most -other nations, is made up of the opinions and acts of a People, and -not of a Court. Our national existence was the commencement of a new -era in the political history of the world. In the commencement and -continuance of that existence, three things are to be regarded,--the -reason, the act, and the consequence. The first is found in the -recorded wisdom of Washington, Jefferson, Adams, Madison, Hamilton, -Jay, Franklin, and a host of other worthies who shed the brilliant -light of the most gifted order of intellect around the incipient -struggles of an infant nation. The second, in the firm resolves of our -first councils, and the eloquent voice of our early battle-fields. The -third, in the many interesting events of our subsequent history, and -on the living page of our present prosperity. - -"These constitute a whole, and the books from which that whole is -derivable must necessarily be '_books purely American_.' We shall -preserve and regard them as monuments of your munificence." - -He was now twenty-eight years of age. He had been steadily on the -stage for over twelve years. The regular succession of engagements, -and even the constant repetition of enthusiastic crowds and applause, -began to be monotonous. He had accumulated a fortune of nearly two -hundred thousand dollars, and could afford a season of rest. He felt -that it would be a relief to throw off the professional harness for -a while, and look out upon life from an independent point of view. -He was also well aware that there was much for him yet to learn, -heights in his own art which he was far from having attained, and he -longed for a large interval of exemption from toil and care, wherein -he might quietly apply his faculties to learn, and let his energies -lie fallow for a new lease of exertion in the loftiest field of the -drama. Accordingly, he determined to set apart two years for travel, -observation, study, pleasure, and improvement in the principal -countries of the Old World. - -Before his departure he received a public tribute of respect -and affection of such a character and from a collection of such -distinguished men that any man in the country, no matter of what -profession or rank, might well have felt proud to receive it. It took -place on the 25th of July, and the following account of the affair is -condensed from a report which appeared in the New York "Evening Post" -immediately afterwards: - -"The intention of Mr. Forrest to visit Europe having been stated in -the public papers, his approaching departure was considered, by a -large number of his fellow-citizens, as presenting a proper occasion -to express to him, by some suitable public tribute, the estimation -in which he is held, alike for those talents which had placed him -at the head of his profession, and those virtues which had endeared -him to his friends. To carry out this object, a meeting was held at -the Shakspeare Hotel, when the subject was fully discussed, and a -committee appointed to consider and report to a subsequent meeting the -mode in which the object should be accomplished, so that the tribute -might be creditable to the taste of those presenting it and worthy of -the high character and merit of him to whom it was to be rendered. In -the mean while, the following gentlemen signed a paper expressing the -desire of the subscribers to take part in the contemplated testimonial: - - PHILIP HONE, - CORNELIUS W. LAWRENCE, - OGDEN HOFFMAN, - JOHN LORIMER GRAHAM, - JOHN CRUMBY, - CHARLES L. LIVINGSTON, - DANIEL L. M. PEIXOTTO, - A. A. CAMMANN, - WM. DYMOCK, - GIDEON LEE, - HENRY OGDEN, - THATCHER T. PAYNE, - WILLIAM M. PRICE, - ROBERT H. MORRIS, - JOHN WOODHEAD, - GEORGE MEINELL, - ABRAHAM ASTEN, - WASHINGTON IRVING, - WM. C. BRYANT, - PROSPER M. WETMORE, - WILLIAM LEGGETT, - GEORGE P. MORRIS, - WM. DUNLAP, - GEORGE D. STRONG, - WM. HOLLAND, - JOHN S. BARTLETT, - THOMAS H. PERKINS, JR., - FRANCIS W. DANA, - WM. F. WHITNEY, - DAVID HOSACK, - JAMES MONROE, - OLIVER M. LOWNDS, - D. P. INGRAHAM, - DANIEL JACKSON, - JAMES M. MILLER, - F. A. TALLMADGE, - JAMES C. SMITH, - WM. T. M'COUN, - ISAAC S. HONE, - JOHN V. GREENFIELD, - WILLIAM TURNER, - WILLIAM P. HALLETT, - JOHN M'KEON, - L. MINTURN, - RICHARD RIKER, - ANDREW WARNER, - J. FENIMORE COOPER, - FITZ-GREENE HALLECK, - WILLIAM P. HAWES, - WM. GILMORE SIMMS, - ROBERT W. WEIR, - R. R. WARD, - WM. HENRY HERBERT, - JAMES LAWSON, - WM. H. DELANO, - NATHANIEL GREENE, - JAMES PHALEN. - -"The committee to whom the matter had been referred reported that -a gold medal, with a bust of Mr. Forrest in profile on one side, -surrounded by a legend in these words, _Histriom Optimo_, EDUINO -FORREST, _Viro Pręstanti_, and a figure of the genius of Tragedy -with suitable emblems on the other, surrounded, as a legend, with -the following quotation from Shakspeare, '_Great in mouths of wisest -censure_,' would perhaps constitute the most expressive and acceptable -token of those sentiments of admiration and regard which it was the -wish of the subscribers to testify to Mr. Forrest. The report having -been unanimously adopted, the task of drawing up suitable designs was -confided to Mr. Charles C. Ingham. The dies were engraved by Mr. C. C. -Wright. - -"In accordance with the suggestions of many citizens, a public dinner -to Mr. Forrest was agreed upon as furnishing the most appropriate -opportunity of presenting to him this token of their regard. To this -end a committee was charged to make the necessary arrangements, and -the following is their invitation addressed to Mr. Forrest, together -with his reply: - - "NEW YORK, July 10, 1834. - -"To EDWIN FORREST, Esq. - -"DEAR SIR,--A number of your friends, learning your intention -shortly to visit Europe, are desirous, before your departure, of an -opportunity of expressing, in some public manner, their sense of your -merits, professional and personal. It would be a source of regret to -them if one so esteemed, while sojourning in foreign lands, should -possess no memorial of the regard entertained for him in his own. - -"We have been charged as a committee, with a view to carry this -purpose into execution, to request the pleasure of your company at a -dinner, at the City Hotel, on any day most agreeable to yourself. - - "With sincere esteem and respect, - "We are your ob't serv'ts, - WILLIAM DUNLAP, - HENRY OGDEN, - WILLIAM P. HAWES, - GEORGE D. STRONG, - R. R. WARD, - JOHN V. GREENFIELD, - ABRAHAM ASTEN, - PROSPER M. WETMORE. - - "WASHINGTON HOTEL, July 12th, 1834. - -"GENTLEMEN,--I have had the honor to receive your communication of -the 10th instant, inviting me to dine with a number of my friends at -the City Hotel previous to my approaching departure for Europe, and -signifying a desire to bestow upon me some token of regard, which, as -I journey in foreign lands, may preserve in my memory the friends I -leave in my own. - -"I have received too many and too important testimonials from my -friends in New York to render any additional memorial necessary for -the purpose you indicate. But, knowing the pleasure which generous -natures feel in bestowing benefactions, I accept with lively -satisfaction the invitation you have conveyed to me in such grateful -terms; and may be excused if, in doing so, I express my regret that -the object of your kindness is not more worthy so distinguished a mark -of favor. - -"With your permission, gentlemen, I will name Friday, the 25th -instant, as the day when it will best comport with the arrangements I -have already made, to meet you as proposed. - - "I am, with sentiments of great - respect and regard, - your ob't serv't, - "EDWIN FORREST. - -"Messrs. WM. DUNLAP, and others. - -"On Friday last, the day named by Mr. Forrest, this gratifying -testimonial of regard for an individual whose character as a citizen, -not less than his genius as an actor, has insured for him general -respect, was carried into effect at the City Hotel. The repast -provided for the occasion by Mr. Jennings, the accomplished director -of that establishment, displayed all that taste and splendor for which -his entertainments are remarkable. At six o'clock a very numerous -company, comprising a large number of our most distinguished and -talented citizens, sat down to the table. The Honorable Wm. T. McCoun, -Vice-Chancellor, presided, assisted by General Prosper M. Wetmore, Mr. -Justice Lownds, and Alderman Geo. D. Strong as Vice-Presidents. On the -right of the President was seated the guest in whose honor the feast -was provided, and on his left the Honorable Cornelius W. Lawrence, -Mayor of the City. Among the guests were the managers of the several -principal theatres in the United States in which the genius of Mr. -Forrest has been most frequently exercised, together with several of -the most esteemed members of the theatrical profession; among them the -veteran Cooper and the inimitable and estimable Placide. - -"On the removal of the cloth the following regular toasts were -proposed: - -"REGULAR TOASTS. - -"1. _The Drama._--The mirror of nature, in which life, like Narcissus, -delights to contemplate its own image. - -"2. _Shakspeare._--Like his own Banquo, 'father of a line of -kings'--monarchs who rule with absolute sway the passions and -sympathies of the human heart. - -"Previous to offering the third toast, the chairman, Chancellor -McCoun, addressed the company in the following terms: - -"To your kindness and partiality, gentlemen, I owe it that the -pleasing duty devolves upon me of consummating the object for which -we are this day met together. To render a suitable acknowledgment -to worth is one of the most grateful employments of generous minds. -But with how much more alacrity is such an office undertaken when -the worth is of so mingled a character that it equally commands the -admiration of our intellects and the applause of our hearts, and when -it is to be exercised not for merit of foreign growth and already -stamped with foreign approbation, but for the offspring of our own -soil and nursed into fame by our own encouragement. - -"Eight years ago a youth came to this city unheralded and almost -unknown. His first introduction to the community was through one of -those acts of kindness on his part by which his whole subsequent -career has been distinguished. To add a few dollars to the slender -means of a poor but industrious and worthy native actor, this youth, -his diffidence overcome by his sympathy, appeared in the arduous -character of Othello before a metropolitan audience. What was the -astonishment and delight of the spectators when, instead of a raw -and ungainly tyro, they beheld one who needed only a few finishing -touches to render him the peer of the proudest in his art! A rival -theatre was then rapidly rising under the superintendence of a man -who has had few superiors as a director of the mimic world of the -stage. To this theatre the unheralded youth (now the 'observed of all -observers') was speedily transferred, and during the most brilliant -period of its history was its 'bright particular star.' Allured by the -strange and attractive light, the wealth, the talent, the fashion and -respectability of the city nightly crowded its benches. The carriages -of the luxurious were drawn up in long retinue before its doors, -and the laborious left their tasks and repaired in throngs to sit -entranced beneath the actor's potent spell. Not Goodman's Fields, when -Garrick burst, a kindred prodigy, on the astonished London audience, -displayed nightly a gayer scene nor resounded with heartier plaudits. - -"Such success naturally elicited from rival theatres the most -splendid offers; yet, though earning a poor stipend and held but -by a verbal tie, this honorable boy--his prospects altered but his -mind the same--gave promptly such replies as showed that he valued -integrity at its proper price. I shall be pardoned for thus adverting -to one such instance among the many that might be adduced as finely -illustrative of his character to whose honor it is mentioned. - -"The time soon came, however, when he began to reap a harvest of -profit as well as fame. And one of the first uses to which he turned -his prosperity was to arouse the dramatic talent of his countrymen. -The fruits of his liberality and judgment are several of the most -popular and meritorious tragedies which have been produced on the -modern stage. One of them, wholly American in its character and -incidents, has been performed more frequently and with more advantage -to the theatres than any other play in the same period of time on -either side of the Atlantic. Though not without defects as a drama, -it has the merit of presenting a strong and natural portrait of one -of the most remarkable warriors of a race the last relics of which -are fast melting away before the advancing tide of civilization. -Yet, whatever the intrinsic qualities of the production, no one -has witnessed it without feeling that its popularity is mainly to -be ascribed to the bold, faithful, and spirited personation of the -principal character; and, as the original of Metamora died with King -Philip, so his scenic existence will terminate with the actor who -introduced him to the stage. Among the other dramatic productions -which the same professional perspicuity and generous feeling gave -rise to are two or three of extraordinary merit. One of them, The -Gladiator, for scenic effect, strongly-marked and well-contrasted -characters, and fine nervous language, is surpassed by few dramas of -modern times. - -"But while this young actor was thus encouraging with liberal hand the -literary genius of our countrymen, many an admiring audience beheld -through the medium of his personations the noblest creations of the -noblest bards of the Old World 'live o'er the scene' in all that -reality which only acting gives. - - "''Tis by the mighty actor brought, - Illusion's perfect triumphs come; - Verse ceases to be airy thought, - And sculpture to be dumb.' - -"Gentlemen, I have thus far dwelt on points in this performer's -history and character with which you are all acquainted. There are -other topics on which I might touch--did I not fear to invade the -sanctuary of the heart--not less entitled to your admiration. But -there are some feelings in breasts of honor and delicacy which, though -commendable, cannot brook exposure; as there are plants which flourish -in the caves of ocean that wither when brought to the light of day. I -shall therefore simply say that in his private relations, as in his -public career, he has _performed well his part_, and made esteem a -twin sentiment with admiration in every heart that knows him. I need -not tell you, gentlemen, that I speak of EDWIN FORREST. - -"Mr. Forrest is on the eve of departure for foreign lands. To a man -combining so many claims on our regard, it has been thought proper -by his fellow-citizens to present a farewell token of friendship and -respect,--a token which may at once serve to keep him mindful that -Americans properly appreciate the genius and worth of their own land, -and which may testify to foreigners the high place he holds in our -esteem. - -"Mr. FORREST, I now place this memorial in your hands. It is one in -which many of your countrymen have been emulous to bear a part. It -is a proud proof of unusual virtues and talents, and as such may be -proudly worn. You will mingle in throngs where jewelled insignia -glitter on titled breasts; but yours may justly be the reflection that -few badges of distinction are the reward of qualities so deserving of -honor as those attested by the humbler memorial which now rests upon -your bosom. - -"Gentlemen, I propose to you,-- - -"EDWIN FORREST--Estimable for his virtues, admirable for his talents. -Good wishes attend his departure, and warm hearts will greet his -return. - -"The speaker was interrupted at different points of his address with -the most enthusiastic applause, and on its conclusion the apartment -resounded with unanimous, hearty, and prolonged cheers, attesting at -once the concurrence of his hearers in the justness of his sentiments -and their sense of the happy and eloquent language in which they -were conveyed. When this applause at length subsided, Mr. Forrest -rose, and in a style of simple and unaffected modesty returned his -acknowledgments in a speech, of which we believe the following is -nearly an accurate report: - -"Mr. PRESIDENT AND GENTLEMEN,--A member of a profession which brings -me nightly to speak before multitudes, it might seem affectation in -me to express how much I am overcome by these distinguishing marks of -your kindness and approbation. I stand not now before you to repeat -the sentiments of the dramatist, but in my own poor phrase to give -utterance to feelings which even the language of poetry could not too -strongly embody; and I feel this evening how much easier it is to -counterfeit emotions on the mimic scene of the stage than to repress -the real and embarrassing yet grateful agitation which this rich token -of your favor has occasioned. My thanks must therefore be rendered -in the most simple and unstudied language, for I feel 'I am no actor -here.' - -"You have made allusion in terms of flattering kindness to a period of -my life I can never contemplate without emotions of the most thrilling -and pleasurable nature,--a period which beheld me, with a suddenness -of transition more like a dream than reality, one day a poor, unknown, -and unfriended boy, and the next surrounded by 'troops of friends,' -counsellors ready to advise, and generous hearts prodigal of regard. -In my immature and unschooled efforts lenient critics saw, or thought -they saw, some latent evidences of talent, and, with a generosity -rarely equalled, crowded around me with encouragement in payment of -anticipated desert. The same spirit of kindness which matured the germ -continued its fostering influence through each successive development; -and now, at the end of eight years (eight _little_ years,--how brief -they have been made by you!), with unexhausted, nay, increasing -munificence, that spirit exercises itself in bestowing a memento of -esteem as much beyond the deserts of the man as its early plaudits -exceeded the merits of the boy. - -"If, in the course of a career by you made both pleasant and -prosperous, I have appropriated a portion of your bounty to the -encouragement of dramatic literature, I have, as it were, acted as -your almoner, and have found my reward in the readiness with which you -have extended in its support the same cherishing hand that sustained -me in my youthful efforts. One of the writers whose services, at -my invitation, were given to the drama, after having proved his -ability by the production of a play the popularity of which you have -not exaggerated, lies in a recent and untimely grave. The other, to -whose noble Roman tragedy you have also particularly alluded, is now -pursuing a successful career of literature in another land; and it -is a source of no little pleasure to think that I have been in some -measure instrumental in calling into exercise a mind which, if I do -not overestimate its powers, will add a fresh leaf to that unfading -chaplet with which Irving and Cooper and Bryant and Halleck, with a -few other kindred spirits, have already graced the escutcheon of our -country. - -"One allusion in your remarks has awakened emotions of the keenest -sensibility. It brings home to me more strongly than all the rest -how _deeply_ I am indebted to you; for you have not only strewn my -own path with flowers, but enabled me to discharge with efficiency -the obligations of nature to orphan sisters and a widowed parent. To -you I owe it that after a period of adversity I have been permitted -to render her latter days pleasant 'and rock the cradle of reposing -age.' So far, however, from any compliment being due to me on this -score, I may rather chide myself with having fallen short in my filial -duties. Yet were it otherwise, how could he be less than a devoted son -and affectionate brother who has experienced parental kindness and -fraternal friendship _from a whole community_? - -"This token of your regard I need not tell you how dearly I shall -prize. I am about to visit foreign lands. In a few months I shall -probably behold the tomb of Garrick,--Garrick, the pupil of Johnson, -the companion and friend of statesmen and wits,--Garrick, who now -sleeps surrounded by the relics of kings and heroes, orators and -bards, the magnates of the earth. I shall contemplate the mausoleum -which encloses the remains of Talma,--Talma, the familiar friend of -him before whom monarchs trembled. I shall tread that classic soil -with which is mingled the dust of Roscius,--of Roscius, the preceptor -of Cicero, whose voice was lifted for him at the forum and whose -tears were shed upon his grave. While I thus behold with feelings of -deferential awe the last resting-places of those departed monarchs of -the drama, how will my bosom kindle with pride at the reflection that -I, so inferior in desert, have yet been honored with a token as proud -as ever rewarded their most successful efforts! I shall then look upon -this memorial; but, while my eye is riveted within its 'golden round,' -my mind will travel back to this scene and this hour, and my heart be -with you in my native land. - -"Mr. President, in conclusion, let me express my grateful sense of -your goodness by proposing as a sentiment,-- - -"_The Citizens of New York_--Distinguished not more by intelligence, -enterprise, and integrity than by that generous and noble spirit which -welcomes the stranger and succors the friendless. - -"This speech was delivered with remarkable feeling and dignity, and -received the most earnest applause of every one present. The regular -toasts were continued. - -"3. _Talent and Worth_--The only stars and garters of our nobility. - -"4. _Hallam and Henry_--The Columbus and Vespucius of the Drama,--who -planted its standard in the New World. - -"5. _Garrick and Kean_--The one a fixed and ever-shining light of the -stage; the other an erratic star, which dazzled men by its brightness -and perplexed them by its wanderings. - -"6. _Kemble and Talma_--Their genius has identified their memory with -the undying fame of Shakspeare and Racine. - -"7. _George Frederick Cooke_--A link furnished by the Stage to connect -the Old World with the New. Britain nursed his genius, America -sepulchres his remains. - -"8. _The Dramatic Genius of our Country_--'The ruddy brightness of its -rise gives token of a goodly day.' - -"These sentiments having evoked suitable responses, letters were read -from the manager of the Park Theatre and a famous American comedian. - - "THEATRE, July 24, 1834. - -"GENTLEMEN,--I received your kind invitation to the dinner to be given -by his friends to Mr. Forrest on Friday, 25th instant, and sincerely -regret that professional duties will prevent my having the pleasure -of attending it. I regret my absence for more than one reason, as -nothing would give me greater pleasure than to witness so gratifying -a tribute of respect paid to a man to whom the stage is under so -many obligations. I do not allude to his talents, splendid as they -are, but to the effect that his exemplary good conduct and uniform -respectability of private character must have on the profession. I -trust that the honor conferred on Mr. Forrest on that day will induce -many of our brethren to follow his example, and serve to convince them -that the profession of an actor will never disgrace the professor if -the professor does not disgrace the profession. - -"With much respect, gentlemen, I remain your obedient servant, - - "E. SIMPSON. - - "JAMAICA, L.I., 24th July, 1834. - -"GENTLEMEN,--I have the honor of acknowledging your highly flattering -invitation to be present at a dinner to be given by the friends of -Mr. Forrest on Friday next at the City Hotel, but find to-day that -imperative and unalterable circumstances will prevent my being in -town; else, be assured, no one would have heartier pleasure in being -present on any occasion of paying a tribute of public respect to -so estimable a friend and deservedly distinguished an actor as our -countryman, Edwin Forrest, Esq. - -"Allow me to thank the highly-respected gentlemen you represent, and -yourselves individually, for the esteemed compliment extended to me on -this interesting and patriotic occasion. - -"I have the honor to be, gentlemen, your very obliged servant, - - "JAMES H. HACKETT. - -"Among the numerous volunteer toasts drank in the course of the -evening were the following: - -"_By the President_--William Dunlap: to him the American stage owes -a threefold debt. Its director, his liberality elevated it into -consequence. Its dramatist, his genius peopled it with admired -creations. Its historian, he has embalmed the memory of its professors -and given permanence to their fame. - -"_By the First Vice-President_--Nature and Art: the stage has united -the antipodes of philosophy. - -"_By the Third Vice-President_--The Drama: the handmaid of refinement; -may the genius that conceives and the talent that embodies her fair -creations blend the dignity of virtue with the allurements of fancy! - -"_By the Hon. Cornelius W. Lawrence_--The Stage: talent may -distinguish, but virtue elevates, its professors. - -"_By Thomas A. Cooper_--The Histrionic Art: may it prove triumphant -over the attacks of priestcraft and fanaticism!--equally inimical to -religion and the stage. - -"_By Nathaniel Greene, of Boston_--A kind welcome and just estimate -for foreign talent,--a proud confidence in that of native growth. - -"_By William Leggett_--Shakspeare: a conqueror greater than Alexander. -The warrior's victories were bounded by the earth, and he vainly wept -for other worlds to conquer. The poet 'exhausted worlds, and then -imagined new.'" - -The festivities were maintained with the greatest zest till early -morning, when the company broke up in unalloyed pleasure, leaving with -their guest the recollection of an occasion of the most flattering -nature. And shortly afterwards, when he embarked, sixty or seventy of -his closest friends went several miles down the harbor in a yacht. -Among them were Leggett and Halleck. Leggett, between whom and Forrest -had grown a love as ardent and heroic as that of the famed antique -examples, threw his arms around him with a tearful "God bless and -keep you!" Halleck said, "May you have hundreds of beautiful hours in -beautiful places, and come back to us the same as you go away, only -enriched!" Forrest replied, pressing his hand, "That is indeed the -wish of a poet for his friend. You may be sure when I am at Marathon, -at Athens, at Constantinople, I shall often recall your lines on Marco -Bozzaris, and be delighted to link with them the memory of this your -parting benediction." - -His friends did not say good-bye until they had through their spokesman -commended him to the special graces of the captain. Then, wishing him -a happy voyage, they joined hands, gave him twenty-four cheers, and -sailed reluctantly apart, they to their wonted ways, he to a foreign -continent. - -Leaving him on the deck, with folded arms, his chin on his breast, -gazing sadly at the receding West, we will now endeavor to form a just -estimate of his acting in his favorite characters at that time. We -will try to paint him livingly, just as he was in that fresh period of -his popularity and glory, the proud young giant and democrat of the -American Stage. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -SENSATIONAL AND ARTISTIC ACTING.--CHARACTERS OF PHYSICAL AND -MENTAL REALISM.--ROLLA.--TELL.--DAMON.--BRUTUS.--VIRGINIUS. ---SPARTACUS.--METAMORA. - - -A NATION beginning its career as a colony is naturally dependent on the -parent country for its earliest examples in culture. Some time must -elapse; wealth, leisure, and other conditions favorable to spiritual -enrichment and free aspiration must be developed, before it can create -ideals of its own and achieve ęsthetic triumphs in accordance with -them. Such was the case with America. Its mental dependence on England -continued long after its civil allegiance had ceased. Little by little, -however, the colonial temper and servile habit were repudiated in -one province after another of the national activity. Jefferson was -our first audacious and fruitful original thinker in politics. In -painting, Stuart arose as a bold and profound master, with no teacher -but nature. In fiction, Cooper opened a rich field, and reaped a -harvest of imperishable renown. In religion, the inspired genius of -Channing appeared with a leavening impulse which still works. And in -poetry, Bryant was the earliest who treated indigenous themes with a -distinction which has made his name ineffaceable. - -In no other region of the national life was the colonial dependence -so complete and so prolonged as in the drama. The chief plays and -actors alike were imported. Scarcely did anything else dare to lift its -head on the theatrical boards. All was servile imitation or lifeless -reproduction, until Forrest fought his way to the front, burst into -fame, and by the conspicuous brilliance of his success heralded a -new day for his profession in this country. Forrest, as an eloquent -writer said a quarter of a century ago, was the first great native -actor who brought to the illustration of Shakspeare and other poets -a genius essentially American and at the same time individual,--a -genius distinguished by its freedom from all trammels and subservience -to schools, by its force in a self-reliance which seemed loyalty to -nature, and by its freshness in an ideal which gave to all his efforts -a certain moral elevation,--a genius which, after every deduction, -still remained as a something peculiarly noble and enkindling, highly -original in itself, and distinctively American. This is certainly his -historic place; and it was perhaps more fortunate than calamitous that -he was left in his early years so largely without teachers and without -models, to develop his own resources in his early wanderings as a -strolling player in the West by direct experience of the soul within -him and direct observation of the impassioned unconventional life about -him. He was thus forced to shape out of the mint of his own nature the -form and stamp and coloring of his conceptions. There was fitness and -significance in such a genius as his maturing and pouring itself out -under the shade of the Western woods, rising up amid their grandeur -clear and simple as a spring, till, fed and strengthened, it leaped -forth fresh and thundering as a torrent. - -In characterizing Forrest as a tragedian by the epithet American, it -is necessary that we should understand what is meant by the word in -such a connection. We mean that he was an intense ingrained democrat. -Democracy asserts the superiority of man to his accidents. Its genius -is contemptuous of titular claims or extrinsic conditions in comparison -with intrinsic truth and merit. Its glance pierces through all pompous -circumstances and pretences, to the personal reality of the man. If -that be royal and divine, it is ready to worship; if not, it pays no -false or hollow tribute, no matter what outward prestige of attraction -there may be or what clamor of threats. That is the proper temper and -historic ideal of our republic; and that was Forrest in the very centre -of his soul, both as a man and as an actor. - -But his individuality was in the general sense as deeply and positively -human as it was American or democratic. That is to say, he was an -affirmative, believing, sympathetic character, not a skeptical, -negative, or sneering one. He so vividly loved in their plain and -concrete reality his own parents, brothers and sisters, friends, -native land, that he could give vivid expression to such sentiments in -abstract generality without galvanizing his nerves with any artificial -volition. His affections preponderated over his antipathies. He was -not fond of badinage, but full of downright earnestness. He loved -the sense of being, enjoyed it, was grateful for its privileges, -and delighted to contemplate the phenomena of society. He had the -keenest love for little children, and the deepest reverence for old -age. He valued the goods of life highly, and labored to accumulate -them. He had a vivid sensibility for the beauties of nature. He had -an enthusiastic admiration of great men, and a ruling desire for the -prizes of honor and fame. His soul thrilled at the recital of glorious -deeds, and his tears started at a great thought or a sublime image or -a tender sentiment. Friendship for man, love for woman, a kindling -patriotism, a profound feeling of the domestic ties, a burning passion -for liberty, and an unaffected reverence for God, were dominant chords -in his nature. He had no patience with those vapid weaklings, those -disappointed aspirants or negative dreamers, who think everything -on earth a delusion or a temptation, nature a cheat, man a phantom -or a fool, history a toy, life a wretched chaos, death an unknown -horror, and nothing between worth an effort. He was, on the contrary, -a wholesome realist, full of throbbing vitality and eagerness, -embracing the natural goods of existence with a sharp relish, and -putting a worshipful estimate on the ideal glories of humanity. -Intellect, instinct, and affection in him were all alive,--free and -teeming springs of personal power. This rich fulness of positive life -and passion in himself both opened to him the elemental secrets of -experience and enabled him to play effectively on the sympathies of -other men. - -Let such a man, trained under such circumstances, endowed with a -magnificent physique, overflowing with energy and fire, become an -actor, and it is easy to see what will be the leading ideal exemplified -in his personations. Exactly what this dominant ideal was will be -illustrated in the descriptions which are to follow. But a clear -statement of it in advance will aid us the better to appreciate those -descriptions. - -The rank of any work of art is determined by the ideal expressed in -it, and the accuracy of its expression. As has been well said, no -art better illustrates this fact than the art of acting. Take, for -instance, the genius of Kemble. His ideal was authority. He was never -so impressive as in the illustration of a king or ruler. In Coriolanus, -in Macbeth, in Wolsey, in every character that gave opportunity for it, -he was ever expressing the sense of mental or official power as the -noblest of human attributes. So the ideal of Cooke was skepticism. He -was always best as a social infidel, uttering the bitterest sarcasms. -It was this faculty that rendered his Man of the World so great a -triumph. The ideal of Kean, again, was retribution. He was grandest as -the sufferer and avenger of great wrongs. And the ideal of Macready was -that of Kemble modified by its more fretful and impatient expression, -making him ever most effective in the display of some form of pride or -wounded honor, as in Werner, Richelieu, Melantius. - -In distinction from the special ideals of these and the other -most celebrated tragedians of the past, the ideal of Forrest was -unquestionably the democratic ideal of universal manhood, a deep sense -of natural and moral heroism, sincerity, friendship, and faith. This -imperial self-reliance and instinctive honesty, this unperverted and -unterrified personality poised in the grandest natural virtues of -humanity, is the key-note or common chord to the whole range of his -conceptions, on which all their varieties are modulated, from Rolla -and Tell to Metamora and Spartacus, from Damon and Brutus to Othello -and Lear. Fearless, faithful manhood penetrates them all, is the great -elevating principle which makes them harmonics of one essential ideal. -To have exemplified so sublime an ideal, in so many grand forms, each -as clearly defined as a sculptured statue, during a half-century, -before applauding millions of his countrymen, is what stamps Forrest -and makes him worthy of his fame, singling him out in the rising -epoch of his country's greatness as one of the most imposing and not -unworthiest of her types of nationality. - -There are two contrasted styles of the dramatic art which have long -been recognized and discriminated in the two schools of acting, the -Romantic and the Classic. Before proceeding to the best rōles of -Forrest in his earlier period, it is indispensable that we clearly -seize the essence of the distinction between these two schools. -Otherwise we shall fail to see the originality and importance of the -relation in which he stood to them. - -The one school, in its separate purity, is sensational or natural, -exhibiting characters of physical and mental realism; the other -is reflective or artistic, representing characters of imaginative -portraiture. The former springs from strong and sincere impulses, -the latter from clear and mastered perceptions. That is based on the -instincts and passions, and is predominantly imitative or reproductive; -this rests on the intellect and imagination, and is predominantly -creative. The one projects the thing in reflex life, as it exists in -reality; the other reveals it, as in a glass. That is nature brought -alive on the stage; this is art repeating nature refined at one mental -remove. They resemble and contrast each other as the hurtless image -of the bird mirrored in the lake would correspond with its concrete -cause above, could it, while yet remaining a mere reflection, address -our other senses as it now does the eye alone. The sensational acting -of crude nature is characteristically sympathetic and mimetic in its -origin, enslaved, expensive of force, and mainly seated in the nervous -centres of the body. The artistic acting of the accomplished master is -characteristically spiritual and self-creative in its origin, free, -economical of exertion, and mainly seated in the nervous centres of -the brain. The one actor lives his part, and is the character he -represents; the other plays his part, and truly portrays the character -he imagines. - -The Classic style is self-controlled, stately, deliberately does what -it consciously predetermines to do, trusts as much to the expressive -power of attitudes and poses as to facial changes and voice. It -elaborates its rōle by systematic critical study, leaving nothing -to chance, to caprice, or to instinct. The Romantic style permeates -itself with the situations and feeling of its rōle, and then is full of -impetuosity and abandon, giving free vent to the passions of the part -and open swing to the energies of the performer. The one is marked by -careful consistency and studious finish, the other by impulsive truth, -abrupt force, electric bursts. That abounds in the refinements of -polished art, this abounds in the sensational effects of aroused and -uncovered nature. The former is adapted to delight the cultivated Few, -the latter thrills the unsophisticated Many. - -Now, it was the originality of Forrest that he combined in a most -fresh and impressive manner the fundamental characteristics of both -these schools,--in his first period with an undoubted preponderance -of the characters of physical realism, but in his second period with -an unquestionable preponderance of the characters of imaginative -portraiture. He was from the first both an artistic and a sensational -actor. None of his great predecessors ever came upon the stage with -conceptions more patiently studied, wrought up with a more complete -consistency in every part, or with the perspective, the foreshortening, -the lights and shades, arranged with more conscientious fidelity. His -idea of a character might sometimes, perhaps, be questioned, but the -clearness with which he grasped his idea, and the thorough harmony -with which he put it forth and sustained it, could not be questioned. -In this respect he was one of the most consummate of dramatic artists. -And as for the other side of the picture, the spontaneous sincerity and -irresistible force of his demonstrations of the great passions of the -human heart were almost unprecedented in the effects they wrought. - -In an accurate use of the words, sensational acting would be acting -that took its origin in the senses and passed thence through the -muscles without the intervention of the mind. This is the acting -learned by the parrot, the dog, or the monkey, and by the mere mimic. -Artistic acting, on the other hand, is acting which originates in the -creative mind and is freely sent thence through the proper channels -of expression. The true definition of art is _feeling passed through -thought and fixed in form_. When the intellectualized feeling is fixed -in its just form, it should be made over to the automatic nerves, and -the brain be relieved from the care of its oversight and direction. -Then playing becomes beautiful, because it is at ease in unconscious -spontaneity. Otherwise, it often becomes repulsive to the delicate -observer, because it is laborious. This was the one defect of Forrest -which lamed him in the supreme height of his great art. His brain -continued to do the work. There was often too much volition in his -play, causing a muscular friction and an organic expense which made the -sensitive shrink, and which only the robust could afford. But no one -was more completely an artist in always passing his emotions through -his thought, knowing exactly what he meant to do and how he would do it. - -The word melodramatic properly describes an action in which the -movement is physical rather than mental, and in which more is made -of the interest of the situations than of the revelation of the -characters. For example, the pantomimic expression of great passions is -melodramatic. In this sense Forrest often produced the highest effects -where the subject and the scene, the logic of the situation, required -it. But in the popular sense of the term, which makes it synonymous -with crudity and falsity, hollow extravagance, a vulgar aiming at a -sensation by exaggeration or artifices which disregard the harmonious -fitness of things, no actor could be more free from the vice. He -was always sincere, always earnest, always careful of the sustained -congruity of his representation. And within these limits, surely the -more intense the sensation he could produce, the better. Sensation -is the very thing desired in attending a play. The spectators know -enough for their present purpose; they want to be made to feel more -keenly, more purely, more nobly. Power and perfection on the lowest -level are superior to weakness and failure on that level, and are -not incompatible with power and perfection on all the higher levels, -but rather tributary to them. Did we not desire to be strong rather -than weak, to be handsome rather than ugly, to be admired rather than -scorned, all aspiration would cease, and the human race stagnate and -end. To be capable of such astounding outbursts of power and passion -as to electrify all who behold, curdle their very marrow, and cause -them ever after to remember you with wondering interest and fruitful -imitation, is a glorious endowment, worthy of our envy. To sneer at it -as sensationalism gives proof of a mean disposition or a morbid soul. - -In the same sense in which Forrest was melodramatic, God and Nature -themselves are so. What can be more genuinely sensational than Niagara, -Mont Blanc, the earthquake, the tempest, the forked flash of the -lightning, the crashing roll of the thunder, the crouch of the tiger, -the dart of the anaconda, the shriek of the swooping eagle, the prance -of the war-horse in his proud pomp? And the attributes of all these -belong to man, with additions of nameless grandeur, terror, and beauty -beside, making him an incarnate representative of God on the earth. -To see Forrest in Lear, or Salvini in Saul, is to feel this. True -sensationalism, banished in our tame times from the selfish and servile -walks of common life, is the very desideratum and glory of the Stage. - - -ROLLA. - -One of the first characters in which Forrest enjoyed great popularity -was that of Rolla, the Peruvian hero. The play of "The Spaniards in -Peru," by Kotzebue, as rewritten by Sheridan from a paraphrase in -English, was for a long time a favorite with the public. It brought the -adventurers and wonderful achievements of the most romantic kingdom -in Christendom into picturesque combination with the strange scenes, -simplicity, and superstition of the newly-discovered transatlantic -world, and was full of music, pomp, pictures, poetic situations, and -processions. In literary style, the knowing critics call it tawdry and -bombastic; in ethical tone, sentimental and inflated. But the average -audiences, especially of a former generation, were not fastidious -censors. They went to the theatre less to judge and sneer than to be -moved with sympathy, enjoyment, and admiration. And they found this -play rich in strong appeals to the better instincts of their moral -nature. What the blasé found turgid, affected, or ludicrous, the -unsophisticated felt to be eloquent, poetic, and noble. For the fair -appreciation of a piece of acting, assuredly this latter point of view -is preferable to the former; for tragedy is a form of poetry, and has -as one of its purest functions the revelation of the moral ingredients -of man, lifted, enlarged, and glorified in its mirror of art. - -Rolla is depicted as simple, grand, a nobleman of nature, frank, -ardent, impulsive, magnanimous,--his own truth and heroism investing -him with an invisible robe and crown of royalty. It was a rōle -precisely adapted to the young tragedian whose own soul it so well -reflected. Endowed with all the chivalrous sentiments, expansive -and kindling, uncurbed by the nil admirari standards of fashionable -breeding, he could fill up every extravagant phrase of the part without -any feeling of extravagance. - -Pizarro and his followers are pictured throughout the play in an -odious light, as tyrants assailing the Peruvians without provocation -and slaughtering them without mercy. The sympathies of Las Casas and -of the noble Alonzo have been alienated from their own countrymen -and transferred to the barbarians, who are represented in the most -favorable colors as honest, affectionate, brave, standing in defence of -their liberty and their altars. Alonzo, disgusted and shocked by the -atrocities of Pizarro, has joined the Peruvians, and has been placed in -conjunction with Rolla at the head of their forces. The aged Orozembo, -seized by the Spaniards and brought before their leader, is questioned, -"Who is this Rolla joined with Alonzo in command?" He replies, "I will -answer that; for I love to repeat the hero's name. Rolla, the kinsman -of the king, is the idol of our army; in war, a tiger; in peace, more -gentle than the lamb. Cora was once betrothed to him; but, finding -she preferred Alonzo, he resigned his claim, to friendship and her -happiness." Pizarro exclaims, "Romantic savage! I shall meet this Rolla -soon." "Thou hadst better not," replies Orozembo; "the terrors of his -eye would strike thee dead." - -In the next scene the way is still further prepared for the impression -of his appearance. His beloved Alonzo and Cora are discerned playing -with their child in front of a wood. They talk of Rolla, of his -sacrifice for them, and of his noble qualities. Shouts arise, when -Alonzo says, "It is Rolla setting the guard. He comes." At that instant -the sonorous tones of his voice are heard from outside the stage, -like the martial clang of a trumpet, uttering the words, "Place them -on the hill fronting the Spanish camp." Every eye is fixed, the whole -audience lean forward as he enters, and in a flash the magnetic spell -is on them, and they breathe and feel as one man. The stately ease of -his athletic port, his deep square chest, broad shoulders, and columnar -neck, his frank brow, with the mild, glowing, open eyes, the warm blood -mantling the brave and wooing face, seize the collective sympathy of -the assembly, and they break into wild cheering. He seems to stand -there, in his barbaric costume and majestic attitude, as a romantic -picture stereoscoped by nature herself. And when, in reply to the -exclamation of Alonzo, "Rolla, my friend, my benefactor, how can our -lives repay the obligations which we owe thee?" he says, "Pass them in -peace and bliss; let Rolla witness it, and he is overpaid,"--the very -soul of friendship and nobility seems to flow in the sweet music of his -liquid gutturals, and the charm is complete. - -From this point onward to the close all was moulded and wrought up in -perfect keeping. He had fashioned to himself a complete image of what -Rolla should be in accordance with the conception in the play, his -carriage, walk, and attitudes, his style of gesture, his physiognomy, -his tone and habit of voice. He had imprinted this idea so deeply in -his brain, and had trained himself so carefully to its consistent -manifestation, that his portrayal on the stage had all the unity of -design and precision of detail which characterize the work of a -masterly painter. Instead of using canvas, pigment, and brush, he -painted his part in the air in living pantomime. In all his rōles this -was his manner more and more up to the crowning period of his career. - -He gave extraordinary effectiveness to the famous address which Rolla -pronounces to the Peruvian warriors on the eve of battle, by the manly -truth and simplicity of his delivery,--"My brave associates, partners -of my toil, my feelings, and my fame." Instead of launching forth in a -swollen and mechanical declamation, he spoke with the straightforward -truth and the varied and hearty inflection of nature; and his honest -earnestness woke responsive echoes in every breast. Like Macklin and -Garrick on the English stage, Talma on the French, and Devrient on the -German, Forrest on the American was a bold and original innovator on -the inveterate elocutionary mannerism of actors embodied in what is -universally known as theatrical delivery. For the mouthing formality, -the torpid noisiness, the strained monotony and forced cadences of -the routine players, these men of genius substituted--only enlarging -the scale of power--the abruptness, the changes, the conversational -vivacity of tone, emphasis, and inflection, which are natural to a free -man with a free voice played upon by the genuine passions of life. This -was one of the chief excellences and attractions of Forrest throughout -his professional course. He was ever a man uttering thoughts and -sentiments,--not an elocutionist displaying his trade. - -Alonzo, filled with a presentiment of death, charged his friend, in -such an event, to take Cora for his wife and adopt their child. Rolla, -finding after the battle that Alonzo was a prisoner, repeated his -parting message to his wife. Cora's suspicion was aroused, and she -accused him of deserting his friend for the sake of securing her. Then -was shown a fine picture of contending emotions in Rolla. Disinterested -and heroic to the last degree, to be charged with such baseness, and -that, too, by the woman whom he loved and revered,--it stung him to -the quick. Injured honor, proud indignation, mortified affection, and -magnanimous resolution were seen flying from his soul through his form -and face. He determines to rescue Alonzo by piercing to his prison and -assuming his place. Disguised as a monk, he asks the sentinel to admit -him to the prisoner. Being refused, he tries to bribe the sentinel. -This fails, and he appeals to him by nobler motives, revealing himself -as the friend of Alonzo, who has come to bear his last words to his -wife and child. The sentinel relents. Rolla lifts his eyes to heaven, -and says, "O holy Nature, thou dost never plead in vain!" and rushes -into the arms of his friend. After an earnest controversy, Alonzo -changes dress with him, and escapes, Rolla exclaiming, with a sigh of -satisfaction, "Now, Cora, didst thou not wrong me? This is the first -time I ever deceived man. If I am wrong, forgive me, God of Truth!" - -All this was done with a sincerity and energy irresistibly contagious. -And when Elvira has armed him with a dagger and led him to the couch -of the sleeping Pizarro, when, instead of slaying his foe, he wakens -him and drops the weapon, showing how superior a heathen can be to a -Christian, and when the tyrant calls in his guards and orders them to -seize the hapless Elvira, the contrast of the confronting Rolla and -Pizarro, the example of godlike magnanimity and its foil of unnatural -depravity, stands in an illumination of moral splendor that thrills -every heart. - -Two more scenes remained to carry the triumph of Forrest in the part -to its culmination. The child of Alonzo and Cora, in ignorance of who -he is, has been captured by the Spanish soldiers, and is brought in. -Pizarro bids them toss the Peruvian imp into the sea. With a start and -look of alternating horror and love, Rolla cries, "Gracious Heaven, -it is Alonzo's child!" "Ha!" exclaims Pizarro: "welcome, thou pretty -hostage. Now is Alonzo again in my power." After vain expostulation, -Rolla prostrates himself before the cruel captain, saying, "Behold -me at thy feet, thy willing slave, if thou wilt release the child." -Other actors, including the cold and stately Kemble, as they spoke -these words, sank directly on their knees. But Forrest introduced a -by-play of startling power, full of the passionate warmth of nature. -Regarding Pizarro with an amazement made of surprise and scorn waxing -into noble anger, he is seen making the strongest exertion to refrain -from rushing on the tyrant and striking him down. He begins to kneel. -Half-way in the slow descent, repugnance to stoop his manhood before -such baseness checks him, and he partly rises, when a glance at the -child overcomes his hesitation, and he sinks swiftly on his knees. The -Spaniard replies, "Rolla, thou art free to go; the boy remains." With -the rapidity of lightning, Rolla snatches the child and lifts him over -his left shoulder, and, waving his sword, cries, in clarion accents, -"Who moves one step to follow me dies on the spot!" He strikes down -three of the guards who oppose him, and rushes across a bridge at the -back of the stage. The soldiers fire, and a shot strikes him as he -vanishes with the child held proudly aloft. The view changes to the -Peruvian court. The king is seen with his nobles, and with Alonzo and -Cora distracted at the loss of their child. Shouts are heard. "Rolla! -Rolla!" The hero staggers in, bleeding, ghastly, and faint, and places -the child in its mother's arms, with an exquisite touch of nature -first drawing the little face down to his own and planting a kiss on -it, staining it from his bleeding wounds in the act. She exclaims, -"Oh, God, there is blood upon him!" He replies, "'Tis mine, Cora." -Alonzo says, "Thou art dying, Rolla." He answers, faintly, "For thee -and Cora." One long gasp, a wavering on his feet, a convulsion of his -chest, and he sinks in an inanimate heap. - -The truth and power with which all this was done were attested by -the crowds that thronged to see it, their intense emotion, and the -universal praise for many years awarded to it. - - -TELL. - -Another chosen part of Forrest, in which he was received with -extraordinary favor, was that of William Tell. This play, like the -former, had a basis of untutored love and magnanimity; but the romantic -heroism of the character was less remote to the American mind, less -strained in ideality, than that of Rolla. The plot was simpler, the -language more eloquent, domestic love more prominent, and patriotic -enthusiasm more emphatic. In fact, the three constant keys of the -action are parental affection, ardent attachment to native land, and -the burning passion for liberty, corresponding with three central -elements of strength in the personality of the actor now drawn to the -part with a hungry instinct. - -In preparation for this rōle, Forrest had first the native congruity -of his own soul with it. Then he studied the character in the text of -Knowles with the utmost care, analyzing every speech and situation. -Furthermore, he saturated his imagination with the spirit of the life -and legends of Switzerland, by means of histories, books of travel, -and engravings, till its people and their customs, its torrents, -ravines, pastures, chalets, cloud-capped peaks, and storms, were -distinct and real to him. In the next place, he paid great attention to -his make-up, arraying himself in a garb scrupulously accurate to the -fashion of a Switzer peasant and huntsman. - -No actor placed greater stress on a fitting costume than Forrest. He -knew its subtle influences as well as its more obvious effects. The -more vital unity and sensitiveness we have, the more important each -adjunct to our personality becomes. A man who is a sloppy mess of -fragments is not influenced much by anything, and in return does not -much influence anything; but to a man whose body and soul form, as -it were, one vascular piece, the action and reaction between him and -everything with which he is in close relation is of great consequence. -The dress of such a person is another self, corresponding in some sort -with the outer man as his skin does with the inner man. - -When Forrest came upon the stage with his bow and quiver, belted -tunic and tight buskins, with free, elastic bearing, and high tread, -deep-breathing breast, resounding voice, his whole shape and moving -moulded to the robust and sinewy manners of the archer living in the -free, open airs between the grass and the snow, he was an embodied -picture of the legendary Swiss mountaineer. At the first sight a -keen sensation was produced in the audience, for it kindled all the -enthusiastic associations fondly bound up with this image in the -American imagination. - -It is morning, the sunrise creeping down the flanks of the mountains -and spreading over the lake and valley, in the background Albert -shooting at a mark, as Tell appears in the distance returning from an -early chase. Approaching, he sees the boy, and pauses to watch him -shoot. Poised on a crag, leaping with eager gaze of fondness fixed on -the little marksman, he looks like the statue of a chamois-hunter on -the cliffs of Mont Blanc, carved and set there by some superhuman hand. -Then the magic voice, breathing love blent in freedom, is heard: - - "Well aimed, young archer! - There plays the skill will thin the chamois herd, - And bring the lammergeyer from the cloud - To earth; perhaps do greater feats,--perhaps - Make man its quarry, when he dares to tread - Upon his fellow-man. That little arm - May pull a sinewy tyrant from his seat, - And from their chains a prostrate people lift - To liberty. I'd be content to die, - Living to see that day. What, Albert!" - -The lad, with a glad cry of "Ah, my father!" flies into his embrace, -while in unison, from pit to gallery, a thousand hearts throb warmly. - -One point of very great beauty and power in this tragedy is the -remarkable manner in which the author has combined the impassioned love -of national liberty with the impassioned love of the natural scenery -associated with that liberty. To these numerous descriptions, marked -by the highest declamatory merit, Forrest did ample justice with his -magnificent voice. - -Indeed, elocutionary force and felicity were ever a central charm in -his acting. He did not thrust the gift ostentatiously forward for -its own sake, but kept it subordinated to its uses. His first aim in -vocal delivery was always to articulate the thought clearly,--make it -stand out in unmistakable distinctness; his second, to breathe the -true feeling of the words in his tones; his third, by rate, pitch, -inflection, accent, and pause, to give some imaginative suggestion of -the scenery, of the thought, and thus set it in its proper environment. -In the first aim he rarely failed; in the second he generally -succeeded; and he often triumphed in the third. One example, which no -man of sensibility who heard him pronounce it could ever forget, was -this: - - "I have sat - In my boat at night, when, midway o'er the lake, - The stars went out, and down the mountain gorge - The wind came roaring,--I have sat and eyed - The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled - To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head, - And think I had no master save his own. - You know the jutting cliff, round which a track - Up hither winds, whose base is but the brow - To such another one, with scanty room - For two abreast to pass? O'ertaken there - By the mountain blast, I've laid me flat along, - And while gust followed gust more furiously, - As if to sweep me o'er the horrid brink, - And I have thought of other lands, whose storms - Are summer flaws to those of mine, and just - Have wished me there,--the thought that mine was free - Has checked that wish, and I have raised my head - And cried in thraldom to that furious wind, - Blow on! This is the land of liberty!" - -And the following is another example, still happier in the climax of -its eloquence: - - "Scaling yonder peak, - I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow: - O'er the abyss his broad expanded wings - Lay calm and motionless upon the air, - As if he floated there without their aid, - By the sole act of his unlorded will, - That buoyed him proudly up. Instinctively - I bent my bow; yet kept he rounding still - His airy circle, as in the delight - Of measuring the ample range beneath - And round about: absorbed, he heeded not - The death that threatened him. I could not shoot-- - 'Twas liberty! I turned my bow aside, - And let him soar away." - -Old Melctal, the father of Tell's wife, is led in by Albert, blind and -trembling, his eyes having been plucked from their sockets by order of -Gesler. As Tell, horror-struck, listened to the frightful story from -the lips of the old man, the revelation of the feelings it stirred -in him was one of the most genuine and moving pieces of emotional -portraiture ever shown to an audience. It was an unveiled storm of -contending pity, amazement, wrath, tenderness, tears, loathing, and -revenge. Every muscle worked, his soul seemed wrapt and shaken with -thunders and lightnings of passion, which alternately darkened and -illumined his features, and he seemed going mad, until at last he -seized his weapons and darted away in search of the monster whose -presence profaned the earth, crying, as he went, "Father, thou shalt be -revenged, thou shalt be revenged!" The power of this effort is shown -in the fact that more than one critic compared his struggle with his -own feelings under the narrative of Melctal to his subsequent struggle -with the guards of Gesler, when, like a lion amidst a pack of curs, he -hurled them in every direction, and held them at bay till overpowered -by sheer numbers. The mental struggle was quite as visibly defined and -terrible as the physical one. - -In this play Forrest presented four successive examples of that proud -assertion of an independent, high-minded man which has been said to be -the real type of his character as a tragedian. These specimens were -differenced from one another with such clean strokes and bold colors -that it was an ęsthetic as well as a moral luxury to behold him enact -them. The first was a trenchant, sarcastic scorn of baseness, spoken -when he sees the servile peasants bow to Gesler's cap, and the hireling -soldiery driving them to it: - - "They do it, Verner; - They do it! Look! Ne'er call me man again! - Look, look! Have I the outline of that caitiff - Who to the outraged earth doth bend the head - His God did rear for him to heaven? Base pack! - Lay not your loathsome touch upon the thing - God made in his own image. Crouch yourselves; - 'Tis your vocation, which you should not call - On free-born men to share with you, who stand - Erect except in presence of their God - Alone." - -The second example is the stern stateliness of unshaken heroism with -which he confronts insult and threats of torture and death, when, -chained and baited by the soldiers, Sarnem bids him down on his knees -and beg for mercy. They try to force him to the ground, inciting one -another with cowardly ferocity to strike him, put out his eyes, or -lop off a limb. His bearing and the soul it revealed were such as -corresponded with the descriptive comment wrung from the onlooking -Gesler: - - "Can I believe my eyes? He smiles. He grasps - His chains as he would make a weapon of them - To lay his smiter dead. What kind of man - Is this, that looks in thraldom more at large - Than they who lay it on him! - A heart accessible as his to trembling - The rock or marble hath. They more do fear - To inflict than he to suffer. Each one calls - Upon the other to accomplish that - Himself hath not the manhood to begin. - He has brought them to a pause, and there they stand - Like things entranced by some magician's spell, - Wondering that they are masters of their organs - And not their faculties." - -The third example is fearless defiance of tyrannical power, when, -bound and helpless, he confronts the cowering Gesler with majestic -superiority. The Austrian governor says, "Ha, beware! think on thy -chains!" Tell replies, with swelling bosom and flashing eyes,-- - - "Though they were doubled, and did weigh me down - Prostrate to earth, methinks I could rise up - Erect, with nothing but the honest pride - Of telling thee, usurper, to the teeth, - Thou art a monster! Think upon my chains! - Show me the link of them which, could it speak, - Would give its evidence against my word. - Think on my chains! 'They are my vouchers, which - I show to heaven, as my acquittance from - The impious swerving of abetting thee - In mockery of its Lord!' Think on my chains! - How came they on me?" - -The fourth example is that of a grand, positive exultation in the moral -beauty and glory of human nature in its undesecrated experiences. In -response to the contemptible threat of the despot that his vengeance -can kill, and that that is enough, Tell raises his face proudly, -stretches out his arm, and says, in rich, strong accents,-- - - "No: not enough: - It cannot take away the grace of life,-- - Its comeliness of look that virtue gives,-- - Its port erect with consciousness of truth,-- - Its rich attire of honorable deeds,-- - Its fair report that's rife on good men's tongues: - It cannot lay its hands on these, no more - Than it can pluck his brightness from the sun, - Or with polluted finger tarnish it." - -The capacities of parental and filial affection in tragic pathos -are wrought up by Knowles in the last two acts with consummate and -unrelenting skill. The varied interest and suspense of the dialogue -and action between Tell and Albert are harrowing, as, neither knowing -that the other is in the power of Gesler, they are suddenly brought -together. Instinct teaches them to appear as strangers. The struggle to -suppress their feelings and play their part under the imminent danger -is followed with painful excitement as the plot thickens and the dread -catastrophe seems hurrying. Tell, ordered to instant execution, seeks -to speak a few last words to his son, under the pretext of sending a -farewell message to his Albert by the stranger boy. In a voice whose -condensed and tremulous murmuring betrays all the crucified tenderness -it refuses to express, he says,-- - - "Thou dost not know me, boy; and well for thee - Thou dost not. I'm the father of a son - About thy age; I dare not tell thee where - To find him, lest he should be found of those - 'Twere not so safe for him to meet with. Thou, - I see, wast born, like him, upon the hills: - If thou shouldst 'scape thy present thraldom, he - May chance to cross thee; if he should, I pray thee, - Relate to him what has been passing here, - And say I laid my hand upon thy head, - And said to thee--if he were here, as thou art, - Thus would I bless him: Mayst thou live, my boy, - To see thy country free, or die for her - As I do!" - -Here he turns away with a slight convulsive movement mightily held -down, and Sarnem exclaims, "Mark, he weeps!" The whole audience weep -with him, too; as well they may, for the concentration of affecting -circumstances in the scene forms one of the masterpieces of dramatic -art. And Forrest played it in every minute particular with an intensity -of nature and a closeness of truth effective to all, but agonizing to -the sympathetic. His last special stroke of art was the natural yet -cunningly-prepared contrast between the extreme nervous anxiety and -agitation that marked his demeanor through all the preliminary stages -of the fearful trial-shot for life and liberty, and his final calmness. -Until the apple was on the head of his kneeling boy, and he had taken -his position, he was all perturbation and misgiving. Then this spirit -seemed to pass out of him with an irresolute shudder, and instantly -he confirmed himself into an amazing steadiness. Every limb braced as -marble, and as motionless, he stood, like a sculptured archer that -looked life yet neither breathed nor stirred. The arrow flies, the boy -bounds forward unhurt, with the transfixed apple in his hand. Tell -then slays Gesler, and, dilating above the prostrated Austrian banner, -amidst universal exultation both on and off the stage, closes the play -with the shouted words,-- - - "To arms! and let no sword be sheathed - Until our land, from cliff to lake, is free! - Free as our torrents are that leap our rocks, - Or as our peaks that wear their caps of snow - In very presence of the regal sun!" - - -DAMON. - -The Damon of Forrest perhaps surpassed, in popular effect, all his -other early performances. The romantic story of the devotion of the -ancient Greek pair of friends, as narrated by Valerius Maximus, has -had a diffusion in literature and produced an impression on the -imaginations of men almost without a parallel. This is because it -appeals so penetratingly to a sentiment so deep and universal. Above -the mere materialized instincts of life there is hardly a feeling of -the human heart so profound and vivid as the craving for a genuine, -tender, and inviolable friendship. After all the disappointments -of experience, after all the hardening results of custom, strife, -and fraud, this desire still remains alive, however thrust back and -hidden. Remove the disguises and pretences, even of the aged and -worldly-minded, and it is surprising in the souls of how many of them -the spring of this baffled yet importunate desire will be found running -and murmuring in careful concealment. In the hurry and worry of our -practical age, so crowded with toil, rivalry, and distraction, the -sentiment is less gratified in real life than ever, a fact which in -many cases only makes the ideal still more attractive. Accordingly, -when the sacred old tale of the Pythagorean friends was wrought into a -play by Banim and Shiel, it struck the taste of the public at once. The -play, too, had exceptional rhetorical merit, and was constructed with -a simple plot, marked by a constant movement full of moral force and -pathos. - -Forrest had seen the rōle of Damon filled by Cooper with transcendent -dignity and energy, and the remembrance had been burned into his -brain. It was one of the most finished and famous impersonations of -that celebrated actor, who charged it with honest passion and clothed -it with rugged grandeur. The representation by Cooper, though unequal -and careless, was so just in its general outlines to the idea of the -author, that when Forrest first hesitatingly essayed the character, he -had as a disciple of truth, perforce, largely to repeat the example. -But he came to the part with a fresher youth, a more concentrated -nature, a keener ambition, and a more elaborate study; and, original -in many details as well as in the more conscientious working up of the -harmony of the different scenes, it was soon conceded that in the -portrayal as a whole and in the unprecedented excitement it produced -he had eclipsed his distinguished English forerunner on the American -stage. He entered into the spirit and scenery of the subject with so -intelligent and vehement an earnestness that he seemed not to act, but -to be, Damon, speaking the words spontaneously created in his soul on -the spot, not uttering any memorized lesson. It was like a resurrection -of Syracuse, with the despot and his tools plotting the overthrow of -its republican government, and the faithful friends seeking to prevent -the success of the scheme. The spectators forgot that the Sicilian city -had vanished ages since, and Dionysius and Pythias and Procles and -Calanthe all gone to dust. The reality was before them, and its living -shapes moved and spoke to the spell-bound sense. - -The Damon of Forrest was in every respect grandly conceived and -grandly embodied. His noble form carried proudly aloft in weighty -ease, clad in Grecian garb, with long robe and sandals, corresponded -with the justice and dignity of his soul. He was in no sense a -sentimentalist or fanatic, but a man with intellect and heart balanced -in conscience,--equally a patriot, a philosopher, and a friend,--his -sentiments set in the great virtues of human nature loyal to the gods, -his convictions and love not mere instincts but embedded in his reason -and his honor. Yet, trained as he had been in the lofty ethics of -Pythagoras, the austere discipline deadened not, but only curbed, the -tremendous elemental passions of his being. Beneath his cultivated -stateliness and playfulness the impetuous volume and energy of his -natural feelings made them, reposing, grand as mountains clad with -verdure, aroused, terrible as volcanoes spouting fire. An inferior -actor would be tempted to weaken or slur everything else in order to -give the higher relief to the great central topic of friendship. It was -the rare excellence of Forrest that he gave as patient an attention -and as sustained a treatment to the gravity and zealous devotion of -the senator, the thoughtful habit of the scholar, the fondness of the -husband and father, as he did to the touching affection of the friend, -in his portraiture of Damon. - -He makes his appearance in the street, on his way to the Senate, when -he encounters a crowd of venal officers and soldiers thronging to the -citadel, brandishing their swords and cheering for the despot. He -says, with a musing air first, then quickly passing through indignant -scorn to mournful expostulation,-- - - "Then Dionysius has o'erswayed it? Well, - It is what I expected: there is now - No public virtue left in Syracuse. - What should be hoped from a degenerate, - Corrupted, and voluptuous populace, - When highly-born and meanly-minded nobles - Would barter freedom for a great man's feast, - And sell their country for a smile? The stream - With a more sure eternal tendency - Seeks not the ocean, than a sensual race - Their own devouring slavery. I am sick - At my inmost heart of everything I see - And hear! O Syracuse, I am at last - Forced to despair of thee! And yet thou art - My land of birth,--thou art my country still; - And, like an unkind mother, thou hast left - The claims of holiest nature in my heart, - And I must sorrow for, not hate thee!" - -The soldiery shout,-- - - "For Dionysius! Ho, for Dionysius! - - _Damon._ Silence, obstreperous traitors! - Your throats offend the quiet of the city; - And thou, who standest foremost of these knaves, - Stand back and answer me, a Senator, - What have you done?" - -And then he slowly leans towards them with dilating front, and sways -the whole crowd away from him as if by the invisible momentum of some -surcharging magnetism. - - "_Procles._ But that I know 'twill gall thee, - Thou poor and talking pedant of the school - Of dull Pythagoras, I'd let thee make - Conjecture from thy senses: But, in hope - 'Twill stir your solemn anger, learn from me, - We have ta'en possession of the citadel. - - _Damon._ Patience, ye good gods! a moment's patience, - That these too ready hands may not enforce - The desperate precept of my rising heart,-- - Thou most contemptible and meanest tool - That ever tyrant used!" - -Procles in a rage calls on his soldiers to advance and hew their -upbraider in pieces. At this moment Pythias enters, sees how affairs -stand, and, hastening to the side of his friend, calls out,-- - - "Back! back! I say. He hath his armor on,-- - I am his sword, shield, helm; I but enclose - Myself, and my own heart, and heart's blood, when - I stand before him thus. - - _Damon._ False-hearted cravens! - - We are but two,--my Pythias, my halved heart!-- - My Pythias, and myself! but dare come on, - Ye hirelings of a tyrant! dare advance - A foot, or raise an arm, or bend a brow, - And ye shall learn what two such arms can do - Amongst a thousand of you." - -A brief altercation follows, and the mob are appeased and depart, -leaving the two friends alone together. They proceed to unbosom -themselves, fondly communing with each other, alike concerning the -interests of the State and their private relations, especially the -approaching marriage of Pythias with the beautiful Calanthe. The -unstudied ease and loving confidence of the dialogue, in voice and -manner, plainly revealing the history of love that joined their souls, -their cherished luxury of interior trust and surrender to each other, -formed an artistic and most pleasing contrast to the hot and rough -passages which had preceded. And when the fair Calanthe herself breaks -in upon them, and Damon, unbending still more from his senatorial -absorption and philosophic solemnity, changes his affectionate -familiarity with Pythias into a sporting playfulness with her, the -colloquial lightness and tender banter were a delightful bit of skill -and nature, carrying the previous contrast to a still higher pitch. -It was a lifting and lighting of the scene as gracious and sweet as -sunshine smiling on flowers where the tempest had been frowning on -rocks. - -Learning that the recreant servants of the State are about to confer -the dictatorship of Syracuse on Dionysius, Damon speeds to the capitol, -to resist, and, if possible, defeat, the purpose. Undaunted by the -studious insolence of his reception, almost single-handed he maintains -a long combat with the conspirators, battling their design step by -step. It was a most exciting scene on all accounts, and was steadily -marked by delicate gradations to a climax of overwhelming power. He -wielded by turns all the weapons of argument, invective, persuasion, -command, and defiance, exhibiting magnificent specimens of impassioned -declamation, towering among the meaner men around him, an illuminated -mould of heroic manhood whereon every god did seem to have set his seal. - -Finally, they pass the fatal vote, and cry,-- - - "All hail, then, Dionysius the king. - - _Damon._ Oh, all ye gods, my country! my country! - - _Dionysius._ And that we may have leisure to put on - With fitting dignity our garb of power, - We do now, first assuming our own right, - Command from this, that was the senate-house, - Those rash, tumultuous men, who still would tempt - The city's peace with wild vociferation - And vain contentious rivalry. Away! - - _Damon._ I stand, - A senator, within the senate-house! - - _Dion._ Traitor! and dost thou dare me to my face? - - _Damon._ Traitor! to whom? to thee?--O Syracuse, - Is this thy registered doom? To have no meaning - For the proud names of liberty and virtue, - But as some regal braggart sets it down - In his vocabulary? And the sense, - The broad, bright sense that Nature hath assigned them - In her infallible volume, interdicted - Forever from thy knowledge; or if seen, - And known, and put in use, denounced as treasonable, - And treated thus?--No, Dionysius, no! - I am no traitor! But, in mine allegiance - To my lost country, I proclaim thee one! - - _Dion._ My guards, there! Ho! - - _Damon._ What! hast thou, then, invoked - Thy satellites already? - - _Dion._ Seize him! - - _Damon._ Death's the best gift to one that never yet - Wished to survive his country. Here are men - Fit for the life a tyrant can bestow! - Let such as these live on." - -Forrest was so absolutely possessed by the sentiment of these passages, -that if, instead of standing in the Senate of Syracuse and representing -her little forlorn-hope of patriots, he had been standing in the -capitol of the whole republican world as a representative of collective -humanity, his delivery could not have been more proudly befitting and -competent. Such was the immense contagious flood of inspiration with -which he was loaded, that repeatedly his audiences rose to their feet -as one man and cheered him till the dust rose to the roof and the very -walls seemed to quiver. - -Damon is cast into prison and doomed to die. The curtain rises on him -seated at a table, writing a last testament to be given to Pythias. -The solitude, the stillness, the heavy hour, the retrospect of his -life, the separation from all he loves, the nearness of death, combine -to make his meditations profound and sad. The picture of man and fate -which he then drew--so calm and grave and chaste, so relieved against -the other scenes--was an exquisite masterpiece. He lays down his -stylus. In an attitude of deep reflection--the left leg easily extended -and the hand pendent by its side, the right leg drawn up even with the -chair, his right elbow resting on the table, the hand supporting his -slightly-bowed head, the opened eyes level and fixed, with a voice of -manly and mournful music, every tone and accent faultless in its mellow -and pellucid solemnity--he pronounces this soliloquy: - - "Existence! what is that? a name for nothing! - It is a cloudy sky chased by the winds,-- - Its fickle form no sooner chosen than changed! - It is the whirling of the mountain-flood, - Which, as we look upon it, keeps its shape, - Though what composed that shape, and what composes, - Hath passed--will pass--nay, and is passing on - Even while we think to hold it in our eyes, - And deem it there. Fie! fie! a feverish vision, - A crude and crowded dream, unwilled, unbidden, - By the weak wretch that dreams it." - -The effect was comparable to that of suddenly changing the scene from -the clamorous multitude, bustle, and struggle of a noonday square to -the midnight sky, with its eternal stars and moon shining on a lonely -lake, whose serenity not a ripple or a rustling leaf disturbs. - -Pythias visits him in his dungeon. The interview is conducted in a -manner so unaffected, so true to the finest feelings of the human -heart, that few and hard indeed were the beholders who could remain -unmoved. On the lamentation of Damon that he is denied the satisfaction -of pressing his wife and child to his bosom before he dies, Pythias -proposes to gain that privilege for him by being his hostage, if the -tyrant will consent. He makes the request. - - "_Dionysius._ What wonder is this? - Is he thy brother? - - _Damon._ Not in the fashion that the world puts on, - But brother in the heart. - - _Dion._ Oh, by the wide world, Damocles, - I did not think the heart of man was moulded - To such a purpose." - -Six hours are granted Damon in which to reach his villa on the -mountain-side, four leagues distant, take his farewell, and return, -assured that if he is not at the place of execution at the moment -appointed the axe falls on his substitute. - -The meeting with his Hermion and their boy in the garden of his villa, -his resolute adaptation of his manner to the untimely innocent prattle -of the child, the various transitions of tone and topic, the pathos -of the intermittent upbreaking of his concealed struggle, the gradual -unveiling of the awful announcement of his impending destiny, the -determined efforts at firmness in himself and consolation for her, -the clinging and agonized farewell,--all these were managed with a -truthfulness and a distinct setting to be attained by no player without -the utmost patience of study added to the deepest sincerity of nature. - -He has lingered to the latest allowable moment. Hurrying out, he calls -to his freedman, Lucullus, "Where is my horse?" and receives the -following reply: - - "When I beheld the means of saving you, - I could not hold my hand,--my heart was in it, - And in my heart the hope of giving life - And liberty to Damon--and-- - - _Damon._ Go on! - I am listening to thee. - - _Lucullus._ And in hope to save you - I slew your steed. - - _Damon._ Almighty heavens!" - -An ordinary actor would have said "Almighty heavens," at once; but -Forrest, seeming taken utterly by surprise, did not speak the words -till he had for some time prepared the way for them by a display of -bewildered astonishment, which revealed the workings of his brain so -clearly that the spectators could scarcely believe that the actor was -acquainted with the plot in advance. The facts of the situation seemed -presenting themselves to his inner gaze in so many pictures,--the -calamity, his broken promise, the disappointment and death of his -friend, the dread dishonor,--and their expressions--wonder, rage, -horror, despair, frenzy--visibly came out first in slow succession, -then in chaotic mixture. At last the gathered tornado explodes in one -burst of headlong wrath. Every rigid muscle swollen, his convulsed face -livid, his dilated eyes emitting sparks, with the crouch and spring of -an infuriated tiger he plunges on the hapless Lucullus and hoists him -sheer in air. Vain are the cries of the unfortunate wretch, idle his -struggles. Articulating with a terrible scream the words,-- - - "To the eternal river of the dead! - The way is shorter than to Syracuse,-- - 'Tis only far as yonder yawning gulf,-- - I'll throw thee with one swing to Tartarus, - And follow after thee!"-- - -his enraged master disappears with him in his grasp. The feelings of -the audience, wound to an intolerable pitch, audibly give way in a -long, loosened breath, as they sink into their seats with a huge rustle -all over the house. - -Meanwhile, the fatal crisis nears, and Damon, delayed by the loss of -his steed, comes not. The stroke of time on the dial-plate against -the temple dedicated to the Goddess of Fidelity moves unrelentingly -forward. All is ready. The tyrant, his skepticism confirmed, is there, -indignant at the soul that in its fling of proud philosophy had made -him feel so outsoared and humbled. Pythias, agitated between a dreadful -suspicion of his friend and the fear of some unforeseen obstacle, parts -with Calanthe, and prepares for the beheading steel. A vast multitude -on the hills stretch their long, blackening outline in the round of the -blue heavens, and await the event. - - "Mute expectation spreads its anxious hush - O'er the wide city, that as silent stands - As its reflection in the quiet sea. - Behold, upon the roof what thousands gaze - Toward the distant road that leads to Syracuse. - An hour ago a noise was heard afar, - Like to the pulses of the restless surge; - But as the time approaches, all grows still - As the wide dead of midnight! - A horse and rider in the distance, - By the gods! They wave their hats, and he returns it! - It is--no--that were too unlike--but there!" - -Damon rushes in, looks around, exclaims, exultingly,-- - - "Ha! he is alive! untouched!" - -and falls, with a hysterical laugh, exhausted by the superhuman -exertions he has made to arrive in time. He soon rallies, and, when his -name is pronounced, leaps upon the scaffold beside his friend; and all -the god comes into him as, proudly erecting his form, he answers,-- - - "I am here upon the scaffold! look at me: - I am standing on my throne; as proud a one - As yon illumined mountain where the sun - Makes his last stand; let him look on me too; - He never did behold a spectacle - More full of natural glory. Death is-- Ha! - All Syracuse starts up upon her hills, - And lifts her hundred thousand hands. She shouts, - Hark, how she shouts! O Dionysius! - When wert thou in thy life hailed with a peal - Of hearts and hands like that one? Shout again! - Again! until the mountains echo you, - And the great sea joins in that mighty voice, - And old Enceladus, the Son of Earth, - Stirs in his mighty caverns. Tell me, slaves, - Where is your tyrant? Let me see him now; - Why stands he hence aloof? Where is your master? - What is become of Dionysius? - I would behold and laugh at him! - - _Dionysius._ Behold me! - Go, Damocles, and bid a herald cry - Wide through the city, from the eastern gate - Unto the most remote extremity, - That Dionysius, tyrant as he is, - Gives back to Damon life and freedom." - -Like one struggling out of a fearful dream, the phantom mists receding, -horror expiring and brightening into joy, the great actor lifts -himself, relaxes, staggers into the arms of his Pythias, and the -curtain sinks. The people, slowly scattering to their homes, do not -easily or soon forget the mighty agitation they have undergone. - - -BRUTUS. - -The two celebrated characters of early Roman history, Brutus and -Virginius, each the hero of a startling social revolution, as well -as of an appalling domestic tragedy, in which personal affection is -nobly sacrificed to public principle,--these imposing forms, each -enveloped in his grand and solemn legend, stalking vivid and colossal -in the shadows of antique time,--these sublime democratic idols of -old Rome, men of tempestuous passion and iron solidity, whose civic -heroism was mated with private tenderness and crowned with judicial -severity,--like statues of rock clustered with ivy and their heads -wreathed in retributive lightnings,--both these personages in all -their accompaniments were singularly well fitted for the ethical, -passionate, single-minded, and ponderous individuality of Forrest -to impersonate with the highest sincerity and power. He achieved -extraordinary success in them. There was in himself so much of the old -Roman pride, independence, concentrated and tenacious feeling, majestic -and imperious weight, that it was not hard for him to steal the keys of -history, enter the chambers of the past, and reanimate the heroic and -revengeful masks. He did so, to the astonishment and delight of those -who beheld the spectacle. - -The play of "Brutus, or the Fall of Tarquin," the best of the dramatic -productions of John Howard Payne, has been greatly admired. Its -title rōle was a favorite one with Kean, Cooper, Macready, Booth, -and Forrest; and they all won laurels in it. The interest of the -plot begins at once, and scarcely flags to the end. The murderous -tyrant, Tarquin, has forced his way to the throne through treason, -poison, and gore, and holds remorseless rule, to the deep though -muffled indignation and horror of the better citizens. His fears of -the discontented patriots have led him to murder their master-spirit, -Marcus Junius, and his eldest son. The younger son, Lucius, escaped, -and affected to have lost his reason, playing the part of a fool, and -meanwhile abiding his time to avenge his family and his country. He -kept his disguise so shrewdly that he was allowed to be much at court, -a harmless butt for the mirth of the tyrant and his fellows. - -Forrest kept up the semblance of imbecility, the shambling gait, -the dull eyes and vacant face, the sloppy, irresolute gestures, the -apparent forgetfulness, with the closest truth. He had for years -studied the traits and phases of these poor beings in visits to -lunatic-asylums. But in the depicting of the fool there was some -obvious unfitness of his heavy bearing, noble voice, and native majesty -to the shallow and broken qualities of such a character. It did not -appear quite spontaneous or natural. He clearly had to act it by will -and effort. Yet there was a sort of propriety even in this, as the -part was professedly an assumed and pretended one. But when he cast -off the vile cloud of idiocy and broke forth in his own patrician -person, the effect of the foregone foil was manifest, and the new and -perfect picture stood in luminous relief. When Claudius and Aruns -had been badgering him, and had received some such pointed repartees -as a fool will seem now and then to hit on by chance, as they went -out he followed them with a look of superb contempt, and said, in an -intonation of intense scorn wonderfully effective,-- - - "Yet, 'tis not that which ruffles me,--the gibes - And scornful mockeries of ill-governed youth,-- - Or flouts of dastard sycophants and jesters,-- - Reptiles, who lay their bellies on the dust - Before the frown of majesty!" - -And the house was always electrified by the sudden transformation with -which then, passing from the words, - - "All this - I but expect, nor grudge to bear; the face - I carry, courts it!" - -he towered into prouder dimensions, and, as one inspired, delivered -himself in an outbreak of declamatory grandeur: - - "Son of Marcus Junius! - When will the tedious gods permit thy soul - To walk abroad in her own majesty, - And throw this visor of thy madness from thee, - To avenge my father's and my brother's murder? - Had this been all, a thousand opportunities - I've had to strike the blow--and my own life - I had not valued at a rush.--But still-- - There's something nobler to be done!--My soul, - Enjoy the strong conception! Oh! 'tis glorious - To free a groaning country,-- - To see Revenge - Spring like a lion from the den, and tear - These hunters of mankind! Grant but the time, - Grant but the moment, gods! If I am wanting, - May I drag out this idiot-feignéd life - To late old age, and may posterity - Ne'er hear of Junius but as Tarquin's fool!" - -The manner in which, in his fictitious rōle, in his interview with -Tullia, the parricidal queen, whose prophetic soul is ominously alive -to every alarming hint, he veered along the perilous edges of his -feigned and his real character, the sinister alternation of jest and -portent, was a passage of exciting interest, sweeping the chords of -the breast from sport to awe with facile and forceful hand. The same -effect was produced in a still higher degree in the interview with his -son Titus, whose patriotism and temper he tested by lifting a little -his false garb of folly and letting some tentative gleams of his true -nature and purposes appear. - - "_Brutus._ I'll tell a secret to thee - Worth a whole city's ransom. This it is: - Nay, ponder it and lock it in thy heart:-- - There are more fools, my son, in this wise world, - Than the gods ever made. - - _ Titus._ Sayest thou? Expound this riddle. - Would the kind gods restore thee to thy reason-- - - _Brutus._ Then, Titus, then I should be mad with reason. - Had I the sense to know myself a Roman, - This hand should tear this heart from out my ribs, - Ere it should own allegiance to a tyrant. - If, therefore, thou dost love me, pray the gods - To keep me what I am. Where all are slaves, - None but the fool is happy. - - _Titus._ We are Romans-- - Not slaves-- - - _Brutus._ Not slaves? Why, what art thou? - - _Titus._ Thy son. - Dost thou not know me? - - _Brutus._ You abuse my folly. - I know thee not.--Wert thou my son, ye gods, - Thou wouldst tear off this sycophantic robe, - Tuck up thy tunic, trim these curléd locks - To the short warrior-cut, vault on thy steed, - Then, scouring through the city, call to arms, - And shout for liberty! - - _Titus._ [_Starts._] Defend me, gods! - - _Brutus._ Ha! does it stagger thee?" - -The simulation had been dropped so gradually, the unconsciously waxing -earnestness of purpose and self-betrayal were carried up over such -invisible and exquisite steps, that, when the electric climax was -touched, he who confronted Brutus on the stage did not affect to be -more startled than those who gazed on him from before it really were. - -Finding his son is in love with the sister of Sextus, and in no -ripe mood for dangerous enterprise, he turns sorrowfully from him, -murmuring,-- - - "Said I for liberty? I said it not. - My brain is weak, and wanders. You abuse it." - -When left alone, he soliloquizes, beginning with sorrow, and passing -in the succeeding parts from sadness to repulsion, then to anxiety, -afterwards to hope, and ending with an air of proud joy. - - "I was too sudden. I should have delayed - And watched a surer moment for my purpose. - He must be frighted from his dream of love. - What! shall the son of Junius wed a Tarquin? - As yet I've been no father to my son,-- - I could be none; but, through the cloud that wraps me, - I've watched his mind with all a parent's fondness, - And hailed with joy the Junian glory there. - Could I once burst the chains which now enthrall him, - My son would prove the pillar of his country,-- - Dear to her freedom as he is to me." - -Few things in the history of the stage have been superior in its way to -what Forrest made the opening of the third act in Brutus. It is deep -night in Rome, thunder and lightning, the Capitol in the background, -in front an equestrian statue of Tarquinius Superbus. Brutus enters, -revolving in his breast the now nearly complete scheme for overthrowing -the despot. Appearance, thoughts, words, voice, manner, all in strict -keeping with the time and place, he speaks: - - "Slumber forsakes me, and I court the horrors - Which night and tempest swell on every side. - Launch forth thy thunders, Capitolian Jove! - Put fire into the languid souls of men; - Let loose thy ministers of wrath amongst them, - And crush the vile oppressor! Strike him down, - Ye lightnings! Lay his trophies in the dust! - - [_Storm increases._ - - Ha! this is well! flash, ye blue-forkéd fires! - Loud-bursting thunders, roar! and tremble, earth! - - [_A violent crash of thunder, and the statue of Tarquin, struck - by a flash, is shattered to pieces._ - - What! fallen at last, proud idol! struck to earth! - I thank you, gods! I thank you! When you point - Your shafts at human pride, it is not chance, - 'Tis wisdom levels the commissioned blow. - But I,--a thing of no account--a slave,-- - I to your forkéd lightnings bare my bosom - In vain,--for what's a slave--a dastard slave? - A fool, a Brutus? [_Storm increases._] Hark! the storm rides on! - Strange hopes possess my soul. My thoughts grow wild. - I'll sit awhile and ruminate." - -Seating himself on a fragment of the fallen statue, in contemplative -attitude, his great solitary presence, blending with the entire scene, -presented a tableau of the most sombre and romantic beauty. - -Valerius enters. Brutus cautiously probes his soul, and is rejoiced to -find him worthy of confidence. As they commune on the degradation of -their country, the crimes of the royal family, and the hopes of speedy -redemption, we seem to feel the sultry smother and to hear the muffled -rumble of the rising storm of an outraged people. As Valerius departs, -Tarquin himself advances, and gives a new momentum to the movement for -his own destruction. Still supposing Brutus to be an imbecile, with -shameless garrulity he boasts of the fiendish violence he has done to -Lucretia, the wife of Collatinus, and the near kinswoman of Brutus -himself. This woman was of such transcendent loveliness and nobility of -person and soul as to have become a poetic ideal of her sex throughout -the civilized world in all the ages since. While Tarquin boastfully -described his deed, the effect on his auditor was terrific to see. The -inward struggle was fully pictured without, in the hands convulsively -clutched, the eyes starting from their sockets, the blood threatening -to burst through the swollen veins of the neck and temples. Finally, -the quivering earthquake of passion broke in an explosion of maniacal -abandonment. - - "The fiends curse you, then! Lash you with snakes! - When forth you walk, may the red flaming sun - Strike you with livid plagues! - Vipers, that die not, slowly gnaw your heart! - May earth be to you but one wilderness! - May you hate yourself,-- - For death pray hourly, yet be in tortures, - Millions of years expiring!" - -He shrieked this fearful curse upon the shrinking criminal with -a frenzied energy which so amazed and stirred the audience that -sometimes they gave vent to their excitement in a simultaneous shout of -applause, sometimes by looking at one another in silence or whispering, -"Wonderful!" - -Lucretia, unwilling to survive the purity of her name, has stabbed -herself. Collatinus rushes wildly in with the bloody steel in his hand, -and tells the tale of horror: - - "She's dead! Lucretia's dead! This is her blood! - Howl, howl, ye men of Rome. - Ye mighty gods, where are your thunders now?" - -Brutus, the full gale of oratoric fire and splendor swelling his frame -and lighting his features, seizes the dagger, lifts it aloft, and -exclaims: - - "Heroic matron! - Now, now, the hour is come! By this one blow - Her name's immortal, and her country saved! - Hail, dawn of glory! Hail, thou sacred weapon! - Virtue's deliverer, hail! This fatal steel, - Empurpled with the purest blood on earth, - Shall cut your chains of slavery asunder. - Hear, Romans, hear! did not the Sibyl tell you - A fool should set Rome free? I am that fool: - Brutus bids Rome be free! - - _Valerius._ What can this mean? - - _Brutus._ It means that Lucius Junius has thrown off - The mask of madness, and his soul rides forth - On the destroying whirlwind, to avenge - The wrongs of that bright excellence and Rome. - - [_Sinks on his knees._] - - Hear me, great Jove! and thou, paternal Mars, - And spotless Vesta! To the death, I swear, - My burning vengeance shall pursue these Tarquins! - Ne'er shall my limbs know rest till they are swept - From off the earth which groans beneath their infamy! - Valerius, Collatine, Lucretius, all, - Be partners in my oath." - -The above apostrophe to the dagger was marvellously delivered. As he -held it up with utmost stretch of arm and addressed it, it seemed to -become a living thing, an avenging divinity. - -The next scene was given with a contrast that came like enchantment. -A multitude of relatives and friends are celebrating the obsequies -of Lucretia. Brutus, with solemn and gentle mien, and a delivery of -funereal gloom in which admiring love and pride gild the sorrow, -pronounces her eulogy. He paints her with a bright and sweet fondness, -and bewails her fate with a closing cadence indescribably plaintive. - - "Such perfections - Might have called back the torpid breast of age - To long-forgotten rapture: such a mind - Might have abashed the boldest libertine, - And turned desire to reverential love - And holiest affection. Oh, my countrymen! - You all can witness when that she went forth - It was a holiday in Rome; old age - Forgot its crutch, labor its task,--all ran; - And mothers, turning to their daughters, cried, - 'There, there's Lucretia!' Now, look ye, where she lies, - That beauteous flower by ruthless violence torn! - Gone! gone! gone! - - _All._ Sextus shall die! But what for the king, his father? - - _Brutus._ Seek you instruction? Ask yon conscious walls, - Which saw his poisoned brother, saw the incest - Committed there, and they will cry. Revenge! - Ask yon deserted street, where Tullia drove - O'er her dead father's corse, 'twill cry, Revenge! - Ask yonder senate-house, whose stones are purple - With human blood, and it will cry, Revenge! - Go to the tomb where lies his murdered wife, - And the poor queen, who loved him as her son, - Their unappeaséd ghosts will shriek, Revenge! - The temples of the gods, the all-viewing heavens, - The gods themselves, shall justify the cry, - And swell the general sound, Revenge! Revenge!" - -The instant change, in that presence of death, from the subdued, -mournful manner to this tremendous burst of blazing eloquence was a -consummate marvel of oratoric effect, in which art and nature were at -odds which was the greater element. It might be said of Forrest in this -scene,--as Corunna in the play itself described to Horatius the action -of Brutus,-- - - "He waved aloft the bloody dagger, - And spoke as if he held the souls of men - In his own hand and moulded them at pleasure. - They looked on him as they would view a god. - Who, from a darkness which invested him, - Sprang forth, and, knitting his stern brow in frowns, - Proclaimed the vengeful will of angry Jove." - -The throng are so possessed with him that they propose to make him king -in place of Tarquin; but the patriot, his unselfish soul breathing -from his countenance and audible in his accent, convinces them of his -personal purity: - - "No, fellow-citizens! - If mad ambition in this guilty frame - Had strung one kingly fibre,--yea, but one,-- - By all the gods, this dagger which I hold - Should rip it out, though it entwined my heart. - Now take the body up. Bear it before us - To Tarquin's palace; there we'll light our torches, - And, in the blazing conflagration, rear - A pile for these chaste relics, that shall send - Her soul amongst the stars. On!" - -They sweep away to their victims, deliver the State, and seal an ample -vengeance. - -The primary climax of the play has thus been reached. Brutus has -emerged from his idiot concealment and vindicated himself as the -successful champion of liberty and his country. He is next to appear -in a second climax, of still greater intensity and height, by the -personal sacrifice of himself as the martyr of duty. The first action -has the superior national significance, but the second action has the -superior human significance, and therefore properly succeeds. Titus, -the only son of the liberator, corrupted by his love of power and -pleasure, has, in a measure, joined the party of the Tarquins. He is -therefore regarded by the victor patriots as a traitor to Rome. Brutus, -torn between his parental affection and his public duty, is profoundly -agitated, yet resolute. He spares the life of Tarquinia, the betrothed -of Titus, at the same time warning him,-- - - "This I concede; but more if thou attemptest,-- - By all the gods!--Nay, if thou dost not take - Her image, though with smiling Cupids decked, - And pluck it from thy heart, there to receive - Rome and her glories in without a rival, - Thou art no son of mine, thou art no Roman!" - -For the defective treatment of the theme of the love of Brutus for his -son by the author the actor made the very best amends in his power by -improving every opportunity to suggest the depth and fervor of the tie, -in look and gesture and tone, in order to exalt the coming catastrophe. -Seated calmly in the curule chair as Consul, robed with purple, the -lictors with their uplifted axes before him, a messenger announces -the seizure of a young man at the head of an insurgent band. Valerius -whispers to Brutus,-- - - "Oh, my friend, horror invades my heart. - I know thy soul, and pray the gods to put - Thee to no trial beyond a mortal bearing." - -Mastering his agitation by a mighty effort, Brutus responds,-- - - "No, they will not,--they cannot." - -The unhappy Titus is brought in guarded. The father, all his convulsed -soul visible in his countenance and motions, turns from him, rises, -walks to his colleague, and says, with tremulous, sobbing voice,-- - - "That youth, my Titus, was my age's hope,-- - I loved him more than language can express,-- - I thought him born to dignify the world." - -The culprit kneels to him, and begs for clemency: - - "A word for pity's sake. Before thy feet, - Humbled in soul, thy son and prisoner kneels. - Love is my plea: a father is my judge; - Nature my advocate!--I can no more: - If these will not appease a parent's heart, - Strike through them all, and lodge thy vengeance here!" - -Almost overpowered, Brutus hesitates a moment, rallies, straightens -himself up, and exclaims, with lofty dignity,-- - - "Break off! I will not, cannot hear thee further! - The affliction nature hath imposed on Brutus, - Brutus will suffer as he may.--Enough! - Lictors, secure your prisoner. Point your axes. - To the Senate--On!" - -The last scene shows the Senate in the temple of Mars, Brutus in the -Consular seat. He speaks, beginning with solemn air and tones of -ringing firmness: - - "Romans the blood which hath been shed this day - Hath been shed wisely. Traitors, who conspire - Against mature societies, may urge - Their acts as bold and daring; and though villains, - Yet they are manly villains. But to stab - The cradled innocent, as these have done,-- - To strike their country in the mother-pangs - Of struggling childbirth, and direct the dagger - To freedom's infant throat,--is a deed so black - That my foiled tongue refuses it a name." - -Here he pauses, falters a little, then slowly adds,-- - - "There is one criminal still left for judgment: - Let him approach." - -Titus is led in by the lictors, with the edges of their axes turned -towards him. He kneels. - - "Oh, Brutus! Brutus! must I call you father, - Yet have no token of your tenderness? - - _Brutus._ Think that I love thee by my present passion, - By these unmanly tears, these earthquakes here, - Let these convince you that no other cause - Could force a father thus to wrong his nature. - Romans, forgive this agony of grief,-- - My heart is bursting,--Nature must have way. - I will perform all that a Roman should,-- - I cannot feel less than a father ought!" - -The piteous look and choking accents with which he said to his son, -"Think that I love thee by my present passion," were irresistible. They -seemed to betoken that his heart was breaking. The sound of weeping was -usually audible in the audience, and hundreds might be seen wiping the -tears from their cheeks. - -Justice holds its course, and the Consul sentences the guilty citizen -to the block: - - "_Brutus._ The sovereign magistrate of injured Rome - Condemns - A crime, thy father's bleeding heart forgives. - Go,--meet thy death with a more manly courage - Than grief now suffers me to show in parting; - And, while she punishes, let Rome admire thee! - Farewell! - - _Titus._ Farewell forever! - - _Brutus._ Forever! Lictors, lead your prisoner forth. - - My hand shall wave the signal for the axe; - Then let the trumpet's sound proclaim its fall. - Poor youth! Thy pilgrimage is at an end! - A few sad steps have brought thee to the brink - Of that tremendous precipice, whose depth - No thought of man can fathom. Justice now - Demands her victim! A little moment, - And I am childless.--One effort, and 'tis past!-- - Justice is satisfied, and Rome is free!" - -Forrest made the finale an artistic climax of superlative originality, -finish, and power. He climbs the steps of the tribune to wave his -hand, as agreed, in signal for the execution. His face grows pale. He -struggles to lift his arm. Then, when the trumpet announces that the -deed is done, he absently wraps his head up in his toga, as if it were -something separate from his body which must not know what has taken -place. Suddenly his whole form relaxes and sinks heavily on the stage. - - -VIRGINIUS. - -The rōle of Virginius, as filled by Forrest, had, with many -resemblances to that of Brutus, also many important differences. In -the domestic pictures of the first part, the sacred innocence and -artless ways of the motherless daughter and the overflowing fondness -of the widowed father, an element of more varied and tender beauty is -introduced. The play has a wider range of interest than that of Brutus, -and, while more attractive in some portions, is quite as terrible in -others. To the perfecting of his performance of it Forrest devoted -as much study and labor as to any part he ever acted. It obtained a -commensurate recognition and approval from the general public. In its -outlines as a piece of physical realism his rendering of Virginius -was as pronounced as that of his Brutus, and in its artistic finish -as an example of imaginative portraiture it was unquestionably far -superior. In addition to the exceptional power with which the central -motives were presented, there were incidental features of extreme -felicity. For instance, the vein of sarcasm which Virginius displays -towards the Decemvirs and their party was worked with a master-hand, -and the friendship for the crabbed but brave and good old Dentatus was -exhibited with a careless and bluff cordiality direct from nature. As -a complete picture of the antique passion and sublime strength of -the Roman character, the whole performance stood forth in pre-eminent -distinctness and vitality. - -[Illustration: W. G. Jackman EDWIN FORREST AS VIRGINIUS.] - -Sometimes, as an artist is lifting the curtain to expose his picture to -view, with the removal of the first corner of drapery the connoisseur -catches a glimpse of an exquisite bit of drawing and color which -convinces him that the entire work is a great and beautiful one. When -Forrest made his entrance in Virginius, with an irritated and impetuous -air, the earliest sound of his voice, so deep and resonant, coining and -propelling its words in air with such easy and percussive precision, -seized the attention of the auditory and gave assurance that something -uncommon was to come. With a quick articulation and an expostulating -tone he said, "Why did you make him Decemvir, and first Decemvir, too?" -He refers to the shameless Appius Claudius, and the key-note of the -play is struck by his inflection of the words. - -He is not displeased on seeing reason for suspecting that his -daughter--an only and idolized child left him by his dead wife--is in -love with the noble young Lucius Icilius, for whom he has an excellent -liking. He sends for Virginia, who is still a schoolgirl, that he may -question her. She comes in, and sits upon his knee, saying, "Well, -father, what is your will?" At the sight of her his face lights as if -a sunbeam had suddenly fallen on it, and his voice has a sweet, low, -half-smothered tone, as if the words were spoken in his heart, and only -their softened echoes came forth: - - "_Virginius._ I wished to see you, - To ask you of your tasks,--how they go on,-- - And what your masters say of you,--what last - You did. I hope you never play - The truant? - - _Virginia._ The truant! No, indeed, Virginius. - - _Virginius._ I am sure you do not. Kiss me! - - _Virginia._ Oh! my father, - I am so happy when you are kind to me! - - _Virginius._ You are so happy when I'm kind to you! - Am I not always kind? I never spoke - An angry word to you in all my life, - Virginia! You are happy when I'm kind! - That's strange; and makes me think you have some reason - To fear I may be otherwise than kind." - -The parental tenderness of his manner, his speech, his kiss, seemed to -combine the love of a father and a mother in one. His hand meanwhile -was playing with her tresses in a way suggestive of unpurposed -instinctive fondness, exquisitely touching. - -The transition was perfect when, meeting Icilius, after scrutinizing -him earnestly, as though to read his very soul, the rough soldier and -honest man succeeds to the adoring father: - - "Icilius! - Thou seest this hand? It is a Roman's, boy; - 'Tis sworn to liberty,--it is the friend, - Of honor. Dost thou think so? - - _Icilius._ Do I think - Virginius owns that hand? - - _Virginius._ Then you'll believe - It has an oath deadly to tyranny, - And is the foe of falsehood! By the gods, - Knew it the lurking-place of treason, though - It were a brother's heart, 'twould drag the caitiff - Forth. Dar'st thou take this hand?" - -And when, a little later, he led his daughter to her lover and formally -betrothed them in these eloquent words, his whole frame betraying the -struggle at composure, it was a consummate moral painting of humanity -in one of its most sacred aspects: - - "Didst thou but know, young man, - How fondly I have watched her, since the day - Her mother died, and left me to a charge - Of double duty bound,--how she hath been - My pondered thought by day, my dream by night, - My prayer, my vow, my offering, my praise, - My sweet companion, pupil, tutor, child!-- - Thou wouldst not wonder that my drowning eye - And choking utterance upbraid my tongue - That tells thee she is thine!" - -The plot progresses, and the air is thick with the clamor and strife -of Rome, the hates of parties and the reverberation of war. Virginius -is called to a distance with the army. His daughter is left under the -guardianship of her uncle. One day the lustful Appius has a sight of -her passing in the street. - - "Her young beauty, - Trembling and blushing 'twixt the striving kisses - Of parting spring and meeting summer," - -inflames him. He charges one of his minions to seize her, under the -pretext that she is the child of one of his slaves, sold to Virginius -and falsely proclaimed his daughter. With details of cruel atrocity -the deed is accomplished, in spite of the desperate interference of -Icilius. Lucius is sent as a messenger to the camp to inform Virginius. -Lucius tells him he is wanted immediately at Rome. With a start and -a look of dread anxiety he demands to know wherefore. The messenger -prevaricates and delays, but, on being chided and commanded to speak -out, says, "Hear me, then, with patience." Virginius replies, while his -restless fingers and the working of his toes, seen through the openings -of his sandals, most effectually contradict the words, "Well, I am -patient." - - "_Lucius._ Your Virginia-- - - _Virginius._ Stop, my Lucius! - I am cold in every member of my frame! - If 'tis prophetic, Lucius, of thy news, - Give me such token as her tomb would,--silence. - I'll bear it better. - - _Lucius._ You are still-- - - _Virginius._ I thank thee, Jupiter, I am still a father!" - -The change of his countenance while uttering the word "father," from -the expression it wore on the word "silence," was like an unexpected -sunburst through a gloomy cloud. As Lucius went on in his narration, -the breathing of the listener thickened with intensity of suspense, his -heart beat with remittent throb, and he started at each point in the -outrage like one receiving electric shocks. - -He departed for Rome, where his poor daughter was guarded in the house -of her uncle, Numitorius, in the deepest distress and terror. He -entered; and such was his expression as he cried, "My child! my child!" -and she rushed into his arms, that there were scarcely ever many dry -eyes in the theatre at that moment. Then it was something divine to -be seen, and never to be forgotten, to behold how he turned from his -blistering and disdainful apostrophe to the villain who had dared set -his panders after her, and, taking her precious head in his hands, -gazed in her face, saying,-- - - "I never saw you look so like your mother - In all my life! - - _Virginia._ You'll be advised, dear father? - - _Virginius._ It was her soul,--her soul, that played just then - About the features of her child, and lit them - Into the likeness of her own. When first - She placed thee in my arms,--I recollect it - As a thing of yesterday!--she wished, she said, - That it had been a man. I answered her, - It was the mother of a race of men. - And paid her for thee with a kiss. Her lips - Are cold now,--could they but be warmed again, - How they would clamor for thee! - - _Virginia._ My dear father, - You do not answer me! Will you not be advised? - - _Virginius._ I will not take him by the throat and strangle him! - But I COULD do it! I could DO IT!" - -They go to the Forum, where Appius is seated on the tribunal, supported -by the lictors and an armed troop. The acting of Forrest in the -trial-scene that followed was as genuine and moving, set in as bold -relief, as anything the American theatre has known. Who that saw him -can ever forget the imperial front with which, bearing Virginia on -his arm, he advanced before the judgment-seat,--the firm step, the -indomitable face, the parental love that seemed to throw a thousand -invisible tendrils around his child to hold her up! The tableau caused -a silence that was absolute, and was maintained so long that the -suspense had begun to be painful, when the kingly voice of Virginius -broke the spell: - - "Does no one speak? I am defendant here! - Is silence my opponent? Fit opponent - To plead a cause too foul for speech! What brow - Shameless, gives front to this most valiant cause, - That tries its prowess 'gainst the honor of - A girl, yet lacks the wit to know that they - Who cast off shame should likewise cast off fear!" - -The strong, lucid, cutting tones in which these words were spoken -went vibrating into the breasts of the listeners, and thrilled them -with sympathetic echoes. The perjured witness was summoned by the -recreant judge. And the next passage of the play had a moral meaning -deep enough, and was represented with a truth and power grand enough, -to turn the stage for the time being into a pulpit and make the world -tremble at its preaching. - - "_Virginius._ And are you the man - That claims my daughter for his slave?--Look at me, - And I will give her to thee. - - _Claudius._ She is mine, then: - Do I not look at you? - - _Virginius._ Your eye does, truly, - But not your soul.--I see it, through your eye, - Shifting and shrinking,--turning every way - To shun me. You surprise me, that your eye, - So long the bully of its master, knows not - To put a proper face upon a lie, - But gives the port of impudence to falsehood - When it would pass it off for truth. Your soul - Dares as soon show its face to me!" - -Now the interest grows yet intenser and the influence of the actor -yet more penetrating in its simplicity and terrible beauty. Virginius -finds that nothing can save his daughter from the last profanation of -the tyrant except her immediate immolation by himself. For a moment -he is lost in a reverie, striving to think what he can do. By chance -he perceives a knife lying on the stall of a butcher. At the sight of -this providential instrument an electric change passes over his face, -revealing all his purpose with a grim joy, like the lightning-flash at -night illumining the murky sky and giving an instantaneous outline of -the clouds loaded with the coming storm. He moves gradually towards -the stall, smiling on Virginia a tender smile, full of the consolation -he sees in the prospect of her deliverance even by death. He pats her -lovingly on the shoulder while changing her from his left arm, that -with it he may reach the knife. He stealthily seizes it and passes -it behind him from the left hand to the right. With deep fondness he -breathes, "My dear Virginia," and gives her quick and fervent kisses, -which he appears striving to press into her very soul. Tears seem to -moisten his words,-- - - "There is one only way to save thine honor,-- - 'Tis this!" - -And, swift as motion of the human arm can make it, the knife pierces -her heart. The storm has burst, the lightning has wreathed its -folds around the consecrated instrument of the work, and now the -thunder-tones of his voice crash through the theatre in the awful -exclamation,-- - - "Lo, Appius! with this innocent blood - I do devote thee to the infernal gods! - Make way there! - If they dare - To tempt the desperate weapon that is maddened - With drinking my daughter's blood, why, let them. - Thus, thus it rushes in amongst them. Way, there!" - -His exit here used to excite the wildest huzzas, the men in the pit -standing with their hats in their uplifted hands, and the women in the -boxes waving their handkerchiefs. - -Virginius heads the revolution, in which the revolted troops and the -commons join. The tyranny is hurled to the dust, the people freed, and -Appius lodged in prison. But the wronged and wretched father is broken -down by the preternatural horror and excitement he has undergone, and -loses his reason. He is next seen in his own desolate home, with a pale -and haggard face, and a look half wild, half dreamy, talking to himself: - - "'Tis ease! 'tis ease! I am content! 'Tis peace,-- - 'Tis anything that is most soft and quiet. - And after such a dream! I want my daughter. - Send me my daughter! Will she come, or not? - I'll call myself. Virginia!" - -His call of Virginia was a call dictated by a dethroned mind. It was a -sound that appeared to come from a mysterious vault. There was a kind -of semi-wakefulness in it, like the utterance of a thought in a dream. -It had a touch of pity. It was an inverted form of sound, that turned -back whence it issued and fell dead where it was born, feeling that -there was no reply for it to keep it alive. Yet, after a pause, he -fancies he hears her answering; and he rapidly asks,-- - - "Is it a voice, or nothing, answers me? - I hear a sound so fine there's nothing lives - 'Twixt it and silence." - -And then, with an entranced listening, he follows the illusory voice -around to different parts of the room, in the vain attempt to find -its source. An apathetic stare, a blank, miserable stupor, succeeds, -soon broken by the fancy that he hears her shrieking in the prison for -rescue from Appius,--and he darts away. Appius, meanwhile, is planning -an escape, and gloatingly counting over in imagination the victims he -will pick out to expiate for his present shame, when the shattered -Virginius, appalling even in his ruins, rushes in upon him, wildly -crying, "Give me my daughter!" The affrighted prisoner replies,-- - - "I know nothing of her, Virginius, nothing. - - _Virginius._ Do you tell me so? - Vile tyrant! Think you, shall I not believe - My own eyes before your tongue? Why, there she is! - There at your back,--her locks dishevelled, and - Her vestment torn,--her cheeks all faded with - Her pouring tears. - Villain! is this a sight to show a father? - And have I not a weapon to requite thee?" - -In his distraught fury, feeling over his body for some weapon he -_discovers_ his own hands. A wild and eager delight shudders through -him as, holding these naked instruments before him, he springs on the -terrified Appius and strangles him to death. Lucius, Icilius, and -Numitorius enter, bearing the urn of Virginia. The wronged father and -sufferer looks up, and sighs, with a bewildered gaze,-- - - "What a load my heart has heaved off! Where is he? - I thought I had done it." - -They call him by name. He makes no response. Icilius places the urn in -his right hand, with the single word, "Virginia." He looks at Icilius -and the urn, at Numitorius and Lucius, seems struck by their mourning -garb, looks again at the urn, breaks into a passion of tears, and falls -on the neck of Icilius, exclaiming, "Virginia!" - - -METAMORA. - -[Illustration: Jas Bannister EDWIN FORREST AS METAMORA.] - -The famous prize-play of Metamora, by John Augustus Stone, is not a -work of much genius, and if published would have no literary rank; yet -it had all that was essential, in the striking merit of furnishing -the genius of the enactor of its leading character the conditions -for compassing a popular success of the most remarkable description. -With his performance of Metamora, Forrest impressed the masses of the -American people in a degree rarely precedented, and won a continental -celebrity full of idiomatic enthusiasm. Of course there were good -reasons for this warm favor from the surrendered many, despite the -disdain of the squeamish few, who can generally enjoy nothing, only -conceitedly criticise everything. - -In the first place, the subject was indigenous, and thus came home to -the American heart and curiosity. In the imagination of our people -for more than a century the race of the aborigines of the land were -clothed with romantic associations and regretted with a sort of -national remorse. The disinterestedness of the fancy and the soul, -relieved from all proximity to their squalor, ferocity, and vice, with -a beautiful pity lamented their wrongs, their evanescence, and the -rapid disappearance of the wigwam and papoose and war-dance and canoe -of the painted tribes from hill and glen and wood and lake. In this -wide-spread sentimental interest the play took hold of powerful chords. -Although prosaic research and experience have so largely divested the -character of the Indian of its old romance and made his actual presence -a nuisance, nevertheless so long as the memories of our primeval -settlements and of our bloody and adventurous frontier traditions shall -live, so long will the American Indian be remembered with a sigh as the -_lost human poetry_ of the nature wherein he was cradled. - -Furthermore, the play was stocked with fresh suggestions and images -of nature,--a store-house of those simple metaphors drawn direct -from the great objects of the universe, full of a rude pathos and -sublimity, and so natural to the genius of Indian chief and orator in -their talk. There was a piquance of novelty and a refreshing charm -to people--hived in towns and cities, and, stifled with artificial -customs, almost oblivious of any direct contact of their senses with -the solemn elementary phenomena of the surrounding universe--in hearing -Metamora speak, in a voice that echoed and painted them, of the woods, -the winds, the sun, the cliffs, the torrents, the lakes, the sea, -the stars, the thunder, the meadows and the clouds, the wild animals -and the singing birds. The meaning of the words so fitly intoned by -the player awoke in the nerves of the audience dim reminiscences of -ancestral experiences reverberating out of far ages forgotten long ago, -and they were bound by a spell themselves understood not. - -And then there was the interest of a style of character and life, of -an idealized historic picture of a vanished form of human nature and -society, all whose elements stood in strange and fascinating contrast -with the personal experience of the beholders. It was the first time -the American Indian had ever been dramatized and put on the stage; and -this was done in a theme based on one of the romantic episodes of his -history embodied in a chieftain of tragic greatness. - -In a production of art whose subject and materials lie in the domain -of unreclaimed nature, genius is not, indeed, permitted to falsify -any fundamental principle or fact, but is free to modify and add. -Otherwise, the creative function of art is gone, and only imitation -left. In this respect of combined truth and originality, the acted -Metamora of Forrest was a wonder never surpassed, in its own kind, -in the long story of the stage. He appeared the kingly incarnation -of the spirit of the scene, both of the outward landscape and of -the taciturn tribe that peopled it with their gliding shapes. He -appeared the human lord of the dark wood and the rocky shore, and the -natural ruler of their untutored tenants; the soul of the eloquent -recital, the noble appeal, and the fiery harangue; the embodiment -of a rude magnanimity, a deep domestic love, an unquivering courage -and fortitude, an instinctive patriotism and sense of justice, and a -relentless revenge. He appeared, too, the votary of a superstition -of singular attractiveness, blooming with the native wild-flowers of -the human mind, a faith so unaffected and open that it seemed to be -read by the stars of the Great Spirit as they looked down on the lone -Indian kneeling by the mound of his fathers, the hunted patriot lying -in ambush for his foes. Through all this physically-realized, wondrous -portraiture of the poetic, the tender, the noble, the awful, the -reverential, was mingled the glare of the crouching tiger. It was thus -that Forrest in his great creation of Metamora rendered all that there -was in the naturalistic poem of Indian life, to all that there was -justly adding an infusion of that ideal quality by which art appeals -to the nobler feelings of admiration and sympathy in preference to the -meaner ones of hate and scorn. In this performance he elaborated a -picture of the legendary and historic American Indian which to this day -stands alone beyond all rivalry. - -Never did an actor more thoroughly identify and merge himself with -his part than Forrest did in Metamora. He was completely transformed -from what he appeared in other characters, and seemed Indian in every -particular, all through and all over, from the crown of his scalp to -the sole of his foot. The carriage of his body, the inflections of his -voice, his facial expressions, the very pose of his head and neck -on his shoulders, were new. For he had recalled all his observations -while on his visit with Push-ma-ta-ha among the Choctaws, when he had -adopted their habits, eaten their food, slept in their tents, echoed -the crack of his rifle over the surface of their lakes, and left the -print of his moccasins on their hunting-grounds. He had also patiently -studied their characteristics from all other available sources. -Accordingly, when he came to impersonate Metamora, or the Last of the -Wampanoags, modelled by the author of the play after that celebrated -New England Sachem, the son of Massasoit, known in history as King -Philip of Pokanoket, it was the genuine Indian who was brought upon the -stage, merely idealized a little in some of his moral features. The -attributes unnoticed by careless observers were distinctly shown,--the -sudden muscular movements, the repressed emotion, the peculiar mode of -breathing, the deep and vigorous gutturals flung out from the muscular -base of the abdomen, and the straight or slightly inward-pointing line -of the footfall. With a profound truth to fact, the general bearing of -Metamora on ordinary occasions was marked by a dull monotony of manner, -broken with awkward abruptness, and his grand poses were limited to -those times of great excitement when the human organism, if in a state -of dynamic surcharge, is spontaneously electrified with heroic lines, -and becomes an instrument with which impersonal passions or the laws of -nature gesticulate. - -With the single and very proper exception of this partially heightened -moral refinement, the counterfeit was so cunningly copied that it -might have deceived nature herself. Many a time delegations of Indian -tribes who chanced to be visiting the cities where he acted this -character--Boston, New York, Washington, Baltimore, Cincinnati, New -Orleans--attended the performance, adding a most picturesque feature -by their presence, and their pleasure and approval were unqualified. -A large delegation of Western Indians, seated in the boxes of the old -Tremont Theatre on such an occasion, were so excited by the performance -that in the closing scene they rose and chanted a dirge in honor of the -death of the great chief. - -This incident recalls one which happened in the earliest theatre in -Philadelphia, when Mrs. Whitelock, the sister of Mrs. Siddons, was -playing, and when Washington was present. At the beginning of the -performance a group of Indians, who had come from the wilderness to -conclude a treaty, made their appearance in the pit in their native -costume. The dark, tall, gaunt figures glided in, and, without -noticing the audience or seeming to hear the claps of welcome which -greeted them, seated themselves, and fixed their eyes on the stage, -as unchangingly as if they were petrified. They sat through the chief -play like statues, with immovable tranquillity. But in the after-piece -an artificial elephant was introduced, which so electrified these sons -of the forest that they suddenly sprang up with a cry. They said there -had once been a great beast like this in their land. The next day they -called on the manager, inspected the mammoth of sticks, pasteboard, and -cloth, and asked to see by daylight the heavenly women who had appeared -on the stage the previous night. - -The opening scene of Metamora was a glen, with ledges of stone, trees, -bushes, running vines, and flowers, the leading character seen, in his -picturesque, aboriginal costume, standing on the highest rock in an -attitude that charmed the eye. Leaning forward on his firmly-planted -right foot, the left foot thrown easily back on its tip, he had a bow -in his hands, with the arrow sprung to its head. As the arrow sped -from the twanging string he raised his eyes with eager gaze after -it, gave a deep interjection, "Hah!" bounded upon a rock below, and -vanished. In a few moments he re-entered, with his left arm bleeding, -as if it had been bitten in a struggle with a wild beast. Oceana, a -white maiden, passing, sees his wound and offers him her scarf to bind -it up. The mother of Oceana had once befriended Massasoit when he was -sick. Metamora, in his gratitude, had visited her grave with offerings -for the dead, and, on such an occasion, had rescued Oceana from a -panther. He hesitates before accepting, and fills the delay with a -by-play of pantomime so true to Indian nature, so new and strange to -the spectators, that it was invested with an absorbing interest. At -length he says, "Metamora will take the white maiden's gift." He then -gives her an eagle's feather, bids her wear it in her hair, and if she -is ever in danger he will fly to her rescue at the sight of this pledge -of his friendship. - -As the play moves on, the audience are gradually borne back to the -early days of their fathers, and their dread struggle to establish -themselves on these Western shores. We see the thin and thriving -settlements constantly augmenting with reinforcements, and pushing the -natives before them. We are taken within the homes of the Indians, -shown their better qualities, their hopeless efforts, their mixed -resolution and misgiving before their coming fate. Our sympathies are -enlisted, before we know it, with the defeated party against ourselves; -and thus the author and actor won their just victory. For the -English are made to represent power and fraud, the Indians truth and -patriotism; and when their fugitive king pauses on a lofty cliff in the -light of the setting sun, gazes mournfully on the lost hunting-grounds -and desecrated graves of his forefathers, and launches his curse on -their destroyers, every heart beats with sorrow for him. - -The class of speeches in which the instinctive love of nature that -unconsciously saturated the Indian soul is expressed, and the closeness -of their daily life to the elements of the landscape and the phenomena -of the seasons is revealed, were delivered with matchless effect. -Metamora, poised like the bronze statue of some god of the antique, -says, "I have been upon the high mountain-top when the gray mists were -beneath my feet, and the Great Spirit passed by me in wrath. He spoke -in anger, and the rocks crumbled beneath the flash of his spear. Then -I felt proud and smiled. The white man trembles, but Metamora is not -afraid." - -And again: "The war and the chase are the red man's brother and sister. -The storm-cloud in its fury frights him not; and when the stream is -wild and broken his canoe is like a feather, that cannot drown." - -Another class of speeches, equally unique in character, and breathing -with compressed passion, were those in which the relative positions of -the intruding race and the native lords of the soil were described. -The style with which these were pronounced made the form of the actor -seem a new tenement in which the departed Sachem of the Pequots lived -and spoke again. "_Your_ lands?" he exclaims, with sarcastic disdain. -"They are mine. Climb upon the rock and look to the sunrise and to the -sunset,--all that you see is the land of the Wampanoags, the land of -Metamora. I am the white man's friend; but when my friendship is over I -will not ask the white man if I have the right to be his foe. Metamora -will love and hate, smoke the pipe of peace or draw the hatchet of -battle, as seems good to him. He will not wrong his white brother, but -he owns no master save Manito, Master of Heaven." - -And at another time: "The pale-faces are around me thicker than the -leaves of summer. I chase the hart in the hunting-grounds; he leads me -to the white man's village. I drive my canoe into the rivers; they are -full of the white man's ships. I visit the graves of my fathers; they -are lost in the white man's corn-fields. They come like the waves of -the ocean forever rolling upon the shores. Surge after surge, they dash -upon the beach, and every foam-drop is a white man. They swarm over -the land like the doves of winter, and the red men are dropping like -withered leaves." - -In these passages his declamation seemed to make the whole tragedy of -the story of the American Indians breathe and swell and tremble. - -A wonderful interest, too, was concentrated in the personal traits of -Metamora himself as an individual; so true to his word, so faithful to -his friend, so devoted to his wife and child, so proud of his land and -his fathers, so fearless of his foe, so reverential before his God. "To -his friend Metamora is like the willow,--he bends ever at the breath of -those that love him. To others he is an oak. Until with your single arm -you can rive the strongest tree of the forest from its earth, think not -to stir Metamora when his heart says No." - -In the earliest scene with his wife, when ready to start on a hunt, -he lingered, and directed her to take her child from its couch on the -earth. He then lifted it in his hands, and stood for several seconds -in an attitude so superbly defined in its outlines of strength and -grace that several pictures of it were published at the time. He asked, -with a look of fondness, suppressing his stern reserve, "Dost thou -not love this little one, Nahmeokee?" "Ah, yes!" she replied. He then -continued, in a caressing murmur like the runneling music of a brook, -"When first his little eyes unclosed, thou saidst that they were like -to mine." The expression of human love was so simple and complete, and -so exquisitely set in the wild seclusion of nature, suggestive of the -self-sufficingness of this little nest of affection embosomed in the -wood and forgetful of all else in the world, that it made many a soft -heart beat fast with an aching wish that stayed long after the scene -was gone. - -In a later scene he describes to his wife a vision he has had in the -night. He relates it in a rich, subdued undertone, waxing intenser, and -giving the hearer a mixed feeling of mysterious reverie and prophetic -inspiration. "Nahmeokee, the power of dreams has been on me, and the -shadows of things to be have passed before me. My heart is big with -great thoughts. When I sleep, I think the knife is red in my hand and -the scalp of the white man is streaming." Here he gave an additional -height to his figure, a slight downward inclination to his head and -eyes, dropped his left arm listlessly, and, while the two halves of -his whole form were seen finely distinguished along the median line, -with his right hand, extended to its fullest distance straight from -the shoulder, grasped his bow, which stood perfectly erect from the -ground. It was a posture of beautiful artistic precision and meaning, -expressive of reflection with a quality of earnest listening in it, as -if waiting for a reply. The words of Nahmeokee, not fitting his mood, -slightly ruffled his temper, and then, with a crisp tone of voice which -in its change of quality and accent was so unexpected that it was like -a sudden sweep of the wind that rustles the dry leaves and hums through -the wood, he said, "Yes, when our fires are no longer red in the high -places of our fathers,--when the bones of our kindred make fruitful the -fields the stranger has planted amid the ashes of our wigwams,--when -we are hunted back like the wounded elk far towards the going down of -the sun,--our hatchets broken, our bows unstrung, and our war-whoops -hushed,--then will the stranger spare; for we shall be too small for -his eye to see!" - -The controversy between the natives and the new settlers having reached -a perilous height, the latter dispatch a messenger asking Metamora to -meet them in council. Very angry, and deeming all talk useless, he -yet concludes to go. Unannounced, abruptly, he makes his peremptory -appearance amidst them. Settling strongly back on his right leg, his -left advanced at ease with bent knee, his right side half presented, -his face turned squarely towards them, he says, with Spartan curtness, -and in a manner not insolent, and yet indescribably defiant, "You sent -for me, and I have come." His action was so wonderfully expressive in -speaking these few words that they became a popular phrase, circulating -in the mouths of men in all parts of the country. - -The same result also followed in another and simpler scene. He had -promised to meet the English at a certain time and place. They demanded -of him, "Will you come?" By mere force of manner he gave an immense -impressiveness to the simple reply, "Metamora cannot lie." The very -boys in the streets were seen trying to imitate his posture and look, -swelling their little throats to make the words sound big, as they -repeated, "Metamora cannot lie." - -In an interview with the English, after deadly hostilities have begun -to rage, Aganemo, a subject of Metamora, who, for some supposed wrong, -has turned against him, is called in, and bears testimony against his -chief and his tribe. Metamora cries, "Let me see his eyes;" and, going -close in front of him, addresses the cowering recreant: "Look me in -the face, Aganemo. Thou turnest away. The spirit of a dog has entered -thee, and thou crouchest. Dost thou come here with a lie in thy heart -to witness against me? Thine eye cannot rest on thy chieftain. White -men, can he speak words of truth who has been false to his nation and -false to his friends?" Fitz Arnold says, "Send him hence." Metamora -interposes with an imperial mien full of dread import, "I will do -that," and strikes him dead on the spot, exclaiming, "Slave of the -whites, follow Sassamon,"--Sassamon being the name of another traitor -whom he had previously slain in the midst of his own braves. - -Fitz Arnold orders his men to seize the high-handed executioner of -their witness. Towering alone in solitary and solid grandeur, with -accents and gestures whose impassioned sincerity painted every thought -as a visible reality and made the excited audience lean out of their -seats, Metamora hurled back his electric defiance: - -"Come! my knife has drunk the blood of the traitor, but it is not -satisfied. Men of the pale race, beware! The mighty spirits of the -Wampanoags are hovering over your heads. They stretch their shadowy -arms and call for vengeance. They shall have it. Tremble! From East to -West, from the South to the North, the tribes have roused from their -slumbers. They grasp the hatchet. The pale-faces shall wither under -their power. White men. Metamora is your foe!" - -The soldiers level their guns at him. He suddenly seizes a white man -and places him before himself. The living shield thus extemporized -falls, perforated with bullets. Metamora hurls his tomahawk to the -floor, where it sticks quivering, while he cries, "Thus do I defy your -power!" and darts away, leaving them dumb with astonishment. - -The pathos with which Forrest rendered portions of the play of Metamora -was one of its most remarkable excellences and one of his most -distinctive trophies as a dramatic artist. No theory of the passions -or mere mechanical drill in their expression can ever teach a man to -be pathetic. Only a disagreeable mockery of it can thus come. Pathos -is the one particular affection that knows no deceit, but comes in -truth direct from the soul and goes direct to the soul. It may lie -dormant in us, as music lies in the strings of a silent harp, till a -touch gives it life. Speaking more or less in all, it speaks most in -those who cherish it most; and when it speaks it is felt by all,--red -man and white man, barbarian and philosopher. The pathos of Metamora -was not like that of Damon when he parted with his family to go to his -execution, not like that of Brutus when he sentenced his son to death, -not like that of Virginius when he slew his daughter. It was a pathos -without tears or gesture. The Indian warrior never weeps. It was almost -solely a pathos of the voice, and was as broad and primitive as the -unperverted faith and affection of man. The supreme example of this -quality in the play was finely set off by the contrast that immediately -foreran it, its soft, sad shades following a scene of lurid fury and -grandeur. - -A peace-runner brings Metamora the news that Nahmeokee is a captive in -the power of his enemies. Leaving fifty white men bound as hostages to -secure his own safety, he starts alone to deliver her. As he approaches -the English camp, he hears Nahmeokee shriek. With one bound he bursts -in upon them, levels his gun, and thunders,-- - -"Which of you has lived too long? Dogs of white men, do you lift your -hands against a woman?" "Seize him!" they cry, but shrink from his -movement. "Hah!" he scornfully exclaims, "it is now a warrior who -stands before you, the fire-weapon in his hands. Who, then, shall -seize him? Go, Nahmeokee; I will follow thee." Then, reminding them of -his hostages, he turns on his heel and departs. - -He is next discovered, with a slow and heavy step, approaching his -wigwam, where his rescued wife waits to receive him. He has seen that -the too unequal struggle of his countrymen is hopeless, and he appears -sad and gloomy. Telling Nahmeokee, who looks broken with grief, that he -is weary with the strife of blood, he says, "Bring me thy little one, -that I may press him to my burning heart to quiet its tumult." Without -his knowledge, the child had been killed by the white men a few hours -previous. The mother goes where the child is lying upon the ground, -lifts the skin that covers him, points at him, and drops her head in -tears. Metamora looks at the child, at the mother, stoops, and, with -rapid motions, feels the little face, arms, and legs. Suppressing the -start of horror and the cry of grief a white man would have given, -he sinks his chin slowly upon his breast and heaves a deep sigh, and -then utters the simple words, "Dead! cold!" in a tone low as if to -be heard by himself alone, and sounding like the wail of a sorrow in -some far-away world. Having lifted the dead child and fondled it in -his bosom and laid it tenderly back, he walks slowly to the weeping -Nahmeokee, places his hand on her shoulder, and says, in a soft voice -quivering with the tears not suffered to mount in the eyes, "Well, is -he not happy? Better that he should die by the stranger's hand than -live to be his slave. Do not bow down thy head. Thou wilt see him -again in the happy land of the spirits; and he will look smilingly -as--as--as I do now." Here the quality of smilingness was in the tones -of the voice only, while his face wore the impress of intense grief. -The voice and face thus contradicting each other presented a pathos so -overwhelming that it seemed as if nothing human could surpass it or -resist it. - -His manner now changes. Some great resolution seems to have arisen in -him. His words have a tender yet ominous meaning in their inflection -as he asks Nahmeokee, "Do you not fear the power of the white man? -He might seize thee and bear thee off to his far country, bind those -arms that have so often clasped me, and make thee his slave. We cannot -fly: our foes are all about us. We cannot fight, for this [drawing his -long knife] is the only weapon I have saved unbroken from the strife. -It has tasted the white man's blood and reached the cold heart of the -traitor. It has been our best friend, and it is now our only treasure." -Here he drew her still closer, and placed her head on his bosom, and, -with the long knife in his hand, pointed upwards, and with an alluring, -indescribably sweet and aerial falsetto tone, painted a picture that -seemed to take form and color in the very atmosphere. There was a weird -dreaminess in his voice and a visionary abstractness in his gaze, as -with the words "long path in the thin air," he indicated the heavenward -journey of his dead child, that seemed actually to dissolve the whole -scene, theatre, actor, spectators, and all, into a passing vapor, an -ethereal enchantment. - -"I look through the long path in the thin air, and think I see -our little one borne to the land of the happy, where the fair -hunting-grounds never know snows or storms, and where the immortal -brave feast under the eyes of the Giver of Good. Look upward, -Nahmeokee! See, thy child looks back to thee, and beckons thee to -follow." Drawing her closer with his left arm, and lowering his right, -he whispers, "Hark! In the distant wood I faintly hear the tread of the -white men. They are upon us! The home of the happy is made ready for -thee!" While this picture of fear and hope is vivid before her mind, -he strikes the blow, and in an instant she is dead in his arms. He -clasps her to his breast, presses his lips on her forehead, and gently -places her beside the dead child. He then shudders, and draws forth the -knife sheathed in her side, and kisses its blade in a sudden transport, -exclaiming, "She knew no bondage to the white men. Pure as the snow she -lived, free as the air she died!" - -At this moment the hills are covered with the white men, pointing their -rifles at his heart. "Hah!" he cries. Their leader shouts, "Metamora is -our prisoner!" "No," he proudly responds, dilating with the haughtiest -port of defiance. "I live, the last of my race, live to defy you still, -though numbers and treachery overpower me. Come to me, come singly, -come all, and this knife, which has drunk the foul blood of your -nation, and is now red with the purest of mine, will feel a grasp as -strong as when it flashed in the glare of your burning dwellings or was -lifted terribly over the fallen in battle." - -The order is given to fire upon him; and he replies, "Do so. I am weary -of the world; for ye are dwellers in it. I would not turn on my heel to -save my life." They shoot, and he staggers, but in his dying agonies -launches on them his awful malediction: - -"My curses on ye, white men! May the Great Spirit curse ye when he -speaks in his war-voice from the clouds! May his words be like the -forked lightnings, to blast and desolate! May the loud winds and the -fierce red flames be loosed in vengeance upon ye, tigers! May the angry -Spirit of the Waters in his wrath sweep over your dwellings! May your -graves and the graves of your children be in the path where the red man -shall tread, and may the wolf and the panther howl over your fleshless -bones! I go. My fathers beckon from the green lakes and the broad -hills. The Great Spirit calls me. I go,--but the curses of Metamora -stay with the white men!" - -He crawls painfully to the bodies of his wife and child, and, in a vain -effort to kiss them, expires, with his last gasp mixing the words, "I -die--my wife, my queen--my Nahmeokee!" - - -SPARTACUS. - -[Illustration: F. Halpin EDWIN FORREST AS THE GLADIATOR.] - -"The Gladiator," written by Robert Montgomery Bird, was another -prize-play, in which Forrest acquired a popularity which, if less -general, was more intense, than that secured for his Metamora. If -the admiration and applause given to it were drawn less universally -from men and women, from old and young, they were more fervent and -sustained, being fed by those elementary instincts which are strongest -in the robust multitude. The Spartacus of Forrest was more abused and -satirized by hostile critics than any of his other parts, because -it was the most "physical" and "melodramatic" of them all. Muscular -exertion and ferocious passion were carried to their greatest pitch in -it, though neither of these was displayed in a degree beyond sincerity -and fitness or the demands of the given situations on the given -embodiment of the character. There are actual types of men and actual -scenes of life which are transcendently "physical" and "melodramatic." -No actor can truly represent such specimens of human nature and such -conjunctures of human history _without_ being highly "physical" and -profoundly "melodramatic." Is it not the office of the player, the very -aim of his art, correctly to depict the truth of man and life? And, -recollecting what sort of a person the veritable Thracian gladiator -was, and what sort of a part he played, one may well ask how he can be -justly impersonated on the stage if _not_ invested with the attributes -of brawny muscularity, terrific indignation, stentorian speech, and -merciless revenge. Forrest was blamed and ridiculed by a coterie -because he did exactly what, as an artist cast in such a rōle, he ought -to do, and any deviation from which would have been a gross violation -of propriety. He simply exhibited tremendous mental and physical -realities with tremendous mental and physical realism. What else would -the demurrer have? - -The fact is, the cant words "physical" and "melodramatic," as -demeaningly used in dramatic criticism, express a vulgar prejudice too -prevalent among the educated and refined,--a prejudice infinitely more -harmful than any related prejudice of the ignorant and coarse. They -seem to fancy the body something vile, to be ashamed of, to receive -as little attention and be kept as much out of sight as possible. But -since God created the body as truly as he did the spirit, and decreed -its uses as much as he did those of the spirit, the perfecting and -glorifying of the former are just as legitimate as the perfecting -and glorifying of the latter. The ecclesiastical interpretation of -Christianity for these fifteen hundred years is responsible, in common -with kindred ascetic superstitions of other and elder religions, for an -incalculable amount of disease, deformity, vice, crime, and untimely -death. The contempt for bodily power and its material conditions in -a superbly-developed and trained physical organism, the foul and -dishonoring notion of the superior sanctity of the celibate state, the -teaching that chastity is the one thing that allies us to the angels, -_with_ which every other sin may be forgiven, _without_ which no other -virtue is to be recognized,--these and associated errors--discords, -distortions, and inversions of nature--have been prolific sources -of evil. They lie at the root of the so common prejudice against a -magnificent and glowing condition of the physical organism, a prejudice -which feeds the conceit of the votaries of the present mental forcing -system, and causes so many dawdling idlers to neglect all use of those -vigorous measures of gymnastic hygiene which would raise the power and -splendor of body and soul together to their maximum. - -The type of man produced by the Athenians in their best age, its -unrivalled combination of health and strength, energy and grace, -acumen and sensibility, organic harmony of mental peace and vital joy, -was very largely the fruit of their unrivalled system of gymnastics -regulated by music. Free America, with this example and so much -subsequent experience, with all the conquests of modern science at her -command, should inaugurate a system of popular training which will -acknowledge the equal sanctity of body and soul and render them worthy -of each other, a union of athletic and ęsthetic culture making the body -the temporary illuminated temple of its indwelling immortal divinity. - -The separating of human nature into opposed parts whose respective -highest welfare is incompatible must ever be productive of all kinds of -morbidity, monstrosity, and horror, through the final reactions of the -violated harmony of truth. Leading to the enforced culture of one side, -the mental, and the enforced neglect of the other, the material, it is -fatal to that rounded wholeness of the entire man which is the synonym -of both health and virtue. For the helpless subsidence of the soul in -the body is brutality or idiocy; the insurrectionary sway of the body -over the soul is insanity; the remorseless subdual of the body by the -soul is egotistic asceticism or murderous ferocity; but the parallel -development and exaltation of accordant body and soul give us the ideal -of health and happiness fulfilled in beauty, or the enthronement of -divine order in man. Therefore such a stimulating instance of organic -glory, extraordinary outward poise and inward passion, as the people, -thrilled in their most instinctive depths of enthusiasm, used to shout -at when they saw Forrest in his early assumptions of the rōle of -Spartacus, is not to be stigmatized as something offensive, but to be -hailed as something admirable. - -In those happy and glowing years of his prime and of his fresh -celebrity, what a glorious image of unperverted manhood, of personified -health and strength and beauty, he presented! What a grand form he had! -What a grand face! What a grand voice! And, the living base of all, -what a grand blood! the rich flowing seed-bed of his human thunder and -lightning. As he stepped upon the stage in his naked fighting-trim, his -muscular coating unified all over him and quivering with vital power, -his skin polished by exercise and friction to a smooth and marble -hardness, conscious of his enormous potency, fearless of anything on -the earth, proudly aware of the impression he knew his mere appearance, -backed by his fame, would make on the audience who impatiently awaited -him,--he used to stand and receive the long, tumultuous cheering -that greeted him, as immovable as a planted statue of Hercules. In -the rank and state of his physical organism and its feelings he had -the superiority of a god over common men. The spectacle, let it be -repeated, was worthy the admiration it won. And had the personal -imitation of the care and training he gave himself been but equal to -the admiration lavished on their result, the benefit to the American -people would have been beyond estimate. But in this, as in the other -lessons of the drama, the example was relatively fruitless, because -shown to spectators who applaud without copying, seeking entertainment -instead of instruction. This, however, is clearly the fault of the -people, and not of the stage. - -The play of "The Gladiator" is founded on that dark and frightful -episode in the history of Rome, the famous servile war headed by -the gladiators under the lead of Spartacus. Our sympathies are -skilfully enlisted on the side of the insurgents, who are goaded to -their desperate enterprise by insufferable wrongs and cruelties. It -abounds in pictures of insolent tyranny on one side, and with eloquent -denunciation and fearless resistance on the other, and the chief -character is a powerful presentation of a deep and generous manhood, -outraged in every fibre, lashed to fury by his injuries, and, after -superhuman efforts of revenge, expiring in monumental despair and -appeal to the gods. The horrors of oppression, the irrepressible -dignity of human nature, the reckless luxury of the rulers, the -suffering of the slaves, the revolting arrogance of despotism, and -the burning passion of liberty, are set against one another; and all -through it the mighty figure of Spartacus is made to fill the central -place. It was just the part for a democrat, who, despising what is -factitious, gloried in the ineradicable attributes of free manhood; and -Forrest made the most of it. For instance, it is easy for those who -knew him to imagine the energy and relish with which he would utter the -following lines when he came to them in his part: - - "I thank the gods, I am barbarian; - For I can better teach the grace-begot - And heaven-supported masters of the earth, - How a mere dweller of a desert rock - Can bow their crowned heads to his chariot-wheels. - Man is heaven's work, and beggars' brats may herit - A soul to mount them up the steeps of fortune, - With regal necks to be their stepping-blocks." - -In the intense sincerity and elaborate as well as spontaneous truth -of his performance, it was not a play that the spectators saw, but a -history; not a history, but a resurrection. Entering in the garb of a -slave, bound and whipped, his mighty frame and terrible aspect made -the abuse seem more awful. Tortured with insulting questions, his -proud spirit stung by wrong on wrong, he broke forth in desperation, -and carried the passions of the audience by storm, as with clenched -hands, and half erect from their seats, while the blood ran quicker -through their veins, they saw him rush into combat with his enemies -and chase them from the stage. They delighted to see the cruel subduer -of the world humbled by her own captive, who held her haughty prętors -by the heart and called on Thrace, on Africa, on the oppressed of all -nations, to pour the flood of their united hates on the detested city. -They rejoiced to hear him recite with bitter eloquence the story of -her degradation, and heap on her with hot scorn the recollection of -the time when Tiber ran blood and Hannibal hung over her like a cloud -charged with ruin. Every step, every word, vibrated on their feelings, -and when he fell their hearts swelled with a pang. For the actor had -been lost in the slave, the insurgent, the conqueror, the victim. - -His first appearance as a captive in imperial Rome was deeply -affecting. "Is it a thousand leagues to Thrace?" he said, with a -whispered agony, the deadly lament of hopeless exile. He has been -purchased by Lentulus, an exhibitor of gladiators, on the strength of -the report that he was the most desperate, skilful, and unconquerable -fighter in the province. Bracchius, another proprietor of gladiators, -owns one Phasarius, a Thracian, who has always been victorious in his -combats. Phasarius was a younger and favorite brother of Spartacus, -supposed to have been killed in battle years before, but really taken -captive and brought to Rome. Now Bracchius and Lentulus propose a -combat between their two slaves. Spartacus, chained, is ordered in. He -asks, "Is not this Rome, the great city?" Bracchius replies, "Ay, and -thou shouldst thank the gods that they have suffered thee to see it. -What think'st thou of it?" - -"_Spartacus._ That if the Romans had not been fiends, Rome had never -been great. Whence came this greatness but from the miseries of -subjugated nations? How many myriads of happy people that had not -wronged Rome, for they knew not Rome,--how many myriads of these were -slain, like the beasts of the field, that Rome might fatten upon their -blood, and become great? Look ye, Roman, there is not a palace upon -these hills that cost not the lives of a thousand innocent men; there -is no deed of greatness ye can boast, but it was achieved by the ruin -of a nation; there is no joy ye can feel, but its ingredients are blood -and tears." - -Lentulus breaks in, "Now, marry, villain, thou wert bought not to -prate, but to fight." - -"_Spartacus._ I will not fight. I will contend with mine enemy, when -there is strife between us; and if that enemy be one of these same -fiends, a Roman, I will give him the advantage of weapon and place; -he shall take a helmet and buckler, while I, with my head bare and my -breast naked, and nothing in my hand but my shepherd's staff, will -beat him to my feet and slay him. But I will not slay a man for the -diversion of Romans." - -His master threatens to have him lashed if he refuses to contend in -the arena. The fearful attitude and fixed look with which Spartacus -received this threat, suggesting that he would strike the speaker -dead with a glance, were a masterpiece of expressive art not easily -forgotten by any one who saw it. Its possessing power seemed to freeze -the gazer while he gazed. Still refusing to fight, in moody despair he -bewails the destruction of his home by the Romans, and their murder -of his wife and young child. The female slaves of Bracchius here pass -by, and, to his amazement, among them Spartacus sees his lost Senona -and her boy. After a touching interview of contending joy and grief -with them, he agrees to enter the arena, on condition that if he is -victorious his reward shall be their liberation. - -The next act opens with a view of the great Roman amphitheatre, crowded -with the people gathered to see those bloody games which were their -horrid but favorite amusement. The first adversary brought against -Spartacus is a Gaul. He soon slays him, though with great reluctance, -and only as moved to it by the prospect of freedom for his wife and -child. Then they propose as a second champion a renowned Thracian. -He flings down his sword and refuses to fight with one of his own -countrymen. But at last, on learning that liberty is to be had in -no other way, he suddenly yields. The Thracian is introduced. It is -Phasarius. A scene of intense pathetic power follows, as little by -little the brothers are struck with each other's appearance, suspect, -inquire, respond, are satisfied, and rush into a loving embrace. The -prętor treats their recognition and their transport of fraternal -affection as a trick to escape the combat, and orders them to begin. -Spartacus proposes to his brother to die sword in hand rather than obey -the unnatural command. In reply, Phasarius rapidly informs him that -he has already organized the elements of a revolt among his comrades, -and that it awaits but his signal to break out. Crassus angrily calls -on his guards to enter the amphitheatre and punish the dilatory -combatants. The manner in which Spartacus retorted, "Let them come -in,--we are armed!" never failed to stir the deepest excitement in the -theatre, causing the whole assembly to join in enthusiastic applause. -Port, look, gesture, tone, accent, combined to make it a signal example -of the sovereign potency of manner in revealing a master-spirit and -swaying subject-spirits. - -On the entrance of the guards, Phasarius gives a shout, and the -confederate gladiators also plunge in, and a general conflict begins. -In this scene the acting of Forrest absorbed his whole heart. He was -so thoroughly imbued with the spirit of it that everything he did was -perfectly natural, full of that genuine fire which is so much beyond -all exertion by rule. It was universally agreed that more spirited and -admirable fighting was hardly to be conceived, the varied postures into -which he threw his massive form being worthy to be taken as studies for -the sculptor. - -The rebellion grows apace in success and numbers. Spartacus rescues his -wife and child from the Roman camp, and seizes the niece of the prętor. -Phasarius falls in love with this young woman, and demands her of his -brother. Being refused because she is affianced to a youth in Rome, -he insists on his demand. In the altercation occurs one of the finest -and loftiest passages in the play, and it was rendered with a sublime -eloquence: - - "_Spartacus._ Come, look me in the face, - And let me see how bad desires have changed thee. - - _Phasarius._ I claim the captive. - - _Spar._ Set thine eye on her: - Lo, you! she weeps, and she is fatherless. - Thou couldst not harm an orphan? What, I say, - Art thou, whom I have carried in my arms - To mountain-tops to worship the great God, - Art thou a man to plot a wrong and sorrow - 'Gainst such as have no father left but Him?" - -Phasarius revolts, and takes off more than half the army. Disastrously -defeated by Crassus, he returns with a broken fragment of his forces, -and is generously forgiven and restored to favor by Spartacus, who -intrusts him with an important separate command, and confides Senona -and her boy to his keeping, with the solemn charge that he shall avoid -all collision with the enemy. Phasarius, however, thirsting for Roman -blood, seeks an engagement, and is totally routed, his force cut in -pieces, and the mother and child both slain. The unhappy man, then, -mortally wounded, presents himself before his brother, tells his -fearful tale, and expires at his feet. In this interview the emotions -of anxiety, deprecation, grief, wrath, and horror, were depicted in all -their most forcible language in the person of Spartacus. One action in -particular was effective in the highest degree. Phasarius described the -crucifixion by the Romans of six thousand of their Thracian captives. -The highway on both sides, he said, was lined with crosses, and on each -cross was nailed a gladiator. - - "I crept - Thro' the trenched army to that road, and saw - The executed multitude uplifted - Upon the horrid engines. Many lived: - Some moaned and writhed in stupid agony; - Some howled and prayed for death, and cursed the gods; - Some turned to lunatics, and laughed at horror; - And some with fierce and hellish strength had torn - Their arms free from the beams, and so had died - Grasping headlong the air." - -The agitations of the soul of the listener up to this point had been -delineated with fearful distinctness. But when told that his wife and -child had been killed, his head suddenly fell forward on his breast and -rested there, after vibrating four or five times in lessening degrees -on the pivot of the neck, as if utterly abandoned to itself. It was -marvellously expressive of the exhausted state, the woe-begone despair, -of one who had received a shock too great to be borne, a shock which, -had it been a little severer, would have prostrated his whole figure, -but, as it was, simply prostrated his head. - -Deprived of all his kindred and of all hope, alone on the flinty earth, -rage and recklessness now seize the desolate Thracian, and he resolves -to sacrifice his captive, the niece of the prętor, in retaliation for -the slaughter of his own family; but a nobler sentiment restrains him, -and he dismisses her to her father. In this passage he displayed the -agony of generous grief subduing the desire of vengeance with a power -which, as a prominent English critic said, reminded the beholder of the -head of Laocoön struggling in the folds of the serpent, or of the head -of Hercules writhing under the torture of the poisoned shirt. - -The prętor in return for his daughter sends Spartacus an offer of -pardon if he will surrender. Disdainfully rejecting the overture, he -has the horses in his camp slain, and sets everything on the chance of -one more battle, but against such odds as he knows can result only in -his defeat. With a frenzied thirst for vengeance he fights his way to -the presence of the Roman general, and, in the very act of striking him -down, exhausted from the accumulated wounds received in his passage of -blood, grows faint, reels, falls in the exact attitude of the immortal -statue of the Dying Gladiator, and expires. - -A most remarkable proof of the histrionic genius of Forrest was given -in the profoundly discriminated manner with which the same mass and -fury of revengeful passion, the same rude breadth and tenderness of -affection and pathos, were shown by him in the two characters of -Metamora and Spartacus. In the Indian there was a stoical compression -of the emotions out of their revealing channels, an organic suppression -of starts and surprises and lamentations, a profound impassibility of -demeanor, an exterior of slow, stubborn, monotonous self-possession, -through which the volcanic ferocity of the interior crept in words of -slow lava, or flared as fire through a smouldering heap of cinders. -In the Thracian there was more variety as well as incomparably more -freedom and impulsiveness of expression. The exterior and interior -corresponded with each other and mutually reflected instead of -contradicting each other. In different exigencies the gladiator -exhibited in his whole person, limbs, torso, face, eyes, and voice, -the extremes of sullen stolidity, pining sorrow, convulsive grief, -ambitious pride, pity, anger, resolution, and despair, each well -shaded from the others. He had a wider gamut, as civilization is more -comprehensive than barbarism. The movements and expressions of Metamora -seemed to be instinctive, and originate in the nervous centres of the -physique; those of Spartacus to be volitional, originating in the -cerebral centres. In civilized life the body tends to be the reflex of -the brain; in savage life the brain to be the reflex of the body. This -historic and physiological truth Forrest knew nothing about, but the -practical results of the fact he intuitively observed. - - * * * * * - -The seven characters, now described as fully as the writer can do it -with the data at his command, were the favorite ones in which Forrest -had gained his greenest laurels at the time of his visit to Europe. -Jaffier, Octavian, Sir Edward Mortimer, Sir Giles Overreach, Iago, and -other kindred parts, which he often acted with distinguished ability -and acceptance, he liked less and less, and gradually dropped them -altogether. In Febro, Cade, Melnotte, and Richelieu he had not yet -appeared. His Richard, Macbeth, Othello, Lear, Hamlet, and Coriolanus -will be more appropriately treated in a later chapter of his life, when -he had elaborated his conceptions of them to the highest finish in his -power. But his performances at the time now under consideration were, -in their spiritual substance, their general treatment and outlines, -what they remained to the end. The subsequent changes were merely -improvements in details, in gradual climax, in grouping, in symmetry -and unity. With his advancing years and experience and study, more and -more the parts were made to grow before the audience, so to speak, from -their roots upward, gaining strength and expansion as they rose. Gusty -irregularity, crudity, misproportion, discord, were carefully struck -out, and harmony secured by the just blending of light and shade. But -from first to last his style was consistent, and, like his personality, -knew no revolutions, only development. - -In the practice of his profession it was a noble characteristic of -Forrest that he disliked to impersonate essentially bad or ignoble -characters. He hated to set forth passions, thoughts, or sentiments -meant to be regarded as base and repulsive, unless, indeed, it was to -make them odious and hold them up to detestation. Into this work he -threw himself with a gusto that was extreme. He was but too vehement -in the utterance of sarcastic denunciations of every form of meanness -or cruelty, his relish of the excoriation being often too keen, his -inflection of tone too widely sweeping, and his emphasis too prolonged -for the measure of any average sympathy. All was sincere with him in -it, but his expression was pitched in the scale of reality, while the -appreciation of the listeners was only pitched in the calmer scale of -ideality. - -He loved to stand out in some commanding form of virtue, heroism, -or struggle, battling with trials that would appall common souls, -setting a great example, and evoking enthusiasm. This was his glory. -The zeal with which he ever regarded this phase of his profession, the -delight with which he revelled in the contemplation of ideal strength, -fortitude, courage, devotion, was a grand attribute of his soul. -Accordingly, all his favorite parts were expressions of a high-souled -manhood, reverential towards God, truth, and justice, and fearing -nothing; a proud integrity and hardiness competent to every emergency -of life and death; an unbending will, based on right and entwined with -the central virtues of honor, friendship, domestic love, and patriotic -ardor. And surely these are the qualities best deserving universal -respect, the democratic ideals most wholesome to be cultivated. This is -what he most innately loved and stood on the stage to represent. He did -it with immense earnestness and immense individuality. He did it also -with a conscientious devotion to his chosen art and profession that -never faltered. In none of his performances was there ever anything -in the least degree savoring of pruriency or indelicacy. Never, after -his boyhood was past, could he be induced to appear in any trivial or -unmeaning role, destitute of moral purpose and dignity. With not one -of those many innovations which have detracted so much from the rank -and purity of the drama was his name ever associated. He was ever -strongly averse in his own person to touching in any way any play which -was not enriched and elevated by some imaginative romantic or heroic -creation. And, with a world-wide removal from the so common frivolity -and carelessness of his associates on the boards, he approached every -one of his performances with a studious sobriety, and went through it -with an undeniable dignity and earnestness, which should have lifted -him beyond the reach of ridicule, whatever were the faults an honorable -criticism might affirm. - -The substance of the honest objections made to his acting may be -designated as ascribing to it two faults, an excess and a defect. The -excess was too much display of physical and spiritual force in the -expression of contemptuous or revengeful and destructive passion. -There was a basis for this charge, though the accusation was grossly -exaggerated. The muscular and passional strength and intensity of -Forrest, both by constitution and by culture, were so much beyond those -of ordinary men that a manifestation of them which was entirely natural -and within the bounds to him often seemed to them a huge extravagance, -a wilful overdoing for the sake of making a sensation. In him it was -perfectly genuine and not immoderate by the tests of nature, while -to them it appeared far to transgress the modest limits of truth. -Of course such explosions repelled and pained, sometimes revolted, -the sensibilities of the delicate and fastidious, while the more -ungirdled and terrific they were, so much the greater was the pleased -and wondering approval of those whose sympathies were stormed and -self-surrendered. Such was the histrionic fault of excess in Forrest, -if it may not rather be called the fault of those whose natures were -keyed so much below his that they could not come into tune with him. - -The defect corresponding to this excess was lack of _souplesse_, -physical and spiritual mobility. He was unquestionably deficient, when -tried by a severe standard, in bright, alert, expectant, rich freedom -of play in nerves and faculties. His disposition was comparatively -obstinate in its pertinacity, and his body adhesive in its heaviness. -This gave him the ponderous weight of unity, the antique port of the -gods, but it robbed him in a degree of that supreme grace which is the -ability to compass the largest effects of impression with the smallest -expenditure of energy. It cannot be denied that he needed exactly what -Garrick had in such perfection, namely, that detached personality, -that quicksilver liberty and rapidity of motion, which made the great -English actor such a memorable paragon of variety and charm. Yet, -when these abatements are all allowed, enough remains amply to justify -his large historic claim in the honest massiveness and glow of his -delineations, set off alike by the imposing physique fit to take the -club and pose for a Farnesian Hercules, by a studious and manly art -unmarred with any insincere trickery, and by a powerful mellow voice of -vast compass and flexible intonation, whose declamation, modelled on -nature, and without theatrical affectation, ever did full justice to -noble thoughts and beautiful words. - -Cibber said, in allusion to Betterton, "Pity it is that the momentary -beauties from an harmonious elocution cannot be their own record, -that the animated graces of the player can live no longer than the -instant breath and motion that presents them, or at best but faintly -glimmer through the memory or imperfect attestation of a few surviving -spectators." Could the author of this biography paint in their true -forms and colors and with full completeness the once vivid and vigorous -achievements of the buried master, had he with sufficient knowledge and -memory command of some notation whereby he could record every light and -shade of each great rōle so that they might be revived from the dead -symbols in all the lustre of their original reality, even as a musician -translates from the dormant score into living music an overture of -Mozart or a symphony of Beethoven, then were there a deathless Forrest -breathing in these pages who should stir the souls of generations -of readers to rise and mutiny against the depreciating estimates of -his forgotten foes and the encroachments of literary oblivion. But, -alas! to such a task the pen that essays the tribute is unequal, and -the writer must be content with the pale presentments he can but -imperfectly produce, sighing to think how true is the refrain of regret -taken up in every age by those who have mourned a departed actor, and -never better worded, perhaps, than in the famous lines by Garrick: - - "The painter dead, yet still he charms the eye; - While taste survives, his fame can never die. - But he who _struts his hour upon the stage_ - Can scarce extend his fame for half an age. - Nor pen nor pencil can the _actor_ save,-- - The art and artist share one common grave." - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -TWO YEARS OF RECREATION AND STUDY IN THE OLD WORLD. - - -The parting cheers died into silence, the ship began to speed through -the spray, the forms of his friends receded and vanished, the roofs and -spires of the city lowered and faded, the sun sank in the west, the -hills of Neversink subsided below the horizon, and only the gliding -vessel and her foamy wake broke the expanse of ocean and sky, when the -outward-bound Forrest for the first night sought his berth, relieving -the sadness of his farewell to America with thoughts of what awaited -him in Europe and Asia. - -Life spread before him an alluring prospect, and nothing which he could -ask to encourage and stimulate his aspirations seemed to be wanting. -When he looked back, he could not fail to be grateful. Beginning the -struggle under such depressing circumstances,--poor, friendless, -uneducated,--he had won a handsome fortune, a national fame, a host -of admiring friends, and no inconsiderable amount of cultivation and -miscellaneous knowledge. And now, at twenty-eight, with two long years -of freedom from all responsibility and care before him, blessed with -superabundant health and strength and hope, he was on his way to the -enchanted scenes of the Old World,--the famous cities, battle-fields, -monuments, art-galleries, and pleasure-gardens,--of which he had read -and dreamed so much. He was going with an earnest purpose to improve -himself as well as to enjoy himself. This spirit, with a well-filled -purse, and the fluent knowledge of the French language which he had -acquired in New Orleans, were important conditions for the realization -of his aim. And thus, with alternate recollections of those left -behind, observations of the scenery and experiences of marine life, -mapping out the series of places he meant to visit, and thinking over -what he would do, the days wore by. He spread his cloak sometimes on -the deck in the very prow of the vessel, and lying on it upon his -back, so that he could see nothing but the sky and clouds, continued -there for hours, allowing the scene and the strong sensations it -awoke to sink into his soul, feeling himself a little speck floating -on a larger speck between two infinities. He said he often, years -afterwards, associated the remembrance of this experience with speeches -of Lear and Hamlet when representing those characters on the stage. - -[Illustration: EDWIN FORREST. ĘT 21] - -A fortnight of monotony and nausea, sprinkled with a few excitements, -passed, and the transatlantic shore hove in view, as welcome a vision -as his eyes had ever seen. Landing at Havre, he bade adieu to Captain -Forbes and the good ship Sully, made his way at once to Paris, and, -taking apartments, settled down to that delightful course of mingled -recreation and study to which he had long been looking forward. - -A voyage across the ocean and a two years' residence in Europe for a -young American full of eager curiosity and ambition, cut loose from -the routine and precedents of home and friends, cannot but constitute -an epoch of extreme importance in his life. This must be true in its -effects on the development of his personal character, detaching him -and bringing out his manhood; and, if he is the votary of any liberal -art, true also in its influence on his professional culture. In 1834 -such an enterprise was a greater event than it is now. The number of -American travellers in Europe was nothing like what it has grown to -be since. Furthermore, the multiplication of books and descriptive -letters, giving the most minute and vivid accounts of all that is most -interesting in a journey or residence in the different countries then -visited by Forrest, has been so great, that any prolonged presentation -of his adventures and observations there would now seem so out of date -and out of place as to be an impertinence. It will suffice for all the -legitimate ends of a biography if a few characteristic specimens of -what befell him and what he saw and did are furnished from his letters, -his diary, and his subsequent conversation. These will indicate the -spirit of the man at that time, and show something of the advantages, -personal and professional, which he gained from the social and artistic -sources of instruction opened to him while abroad. It will be seen -that, however strong the attractions of pleasure were to him, he did -not neglect the opportunities for substantial profit, but, keeping -his faculties alert to observe new phases of human nature and fresh -varieties of social life, he was especially careful to drink in the -beauties of natural scenery and to study the expressive possibilities -of the human form, as illustrated in the works of the greatest artists -of ancient and modern time. - -The following letter was written shortly after his arrival in Paris: - -"To say that I am pleased with what I have thus far seen of Paris -would be a phrase of very inadequate meaning: I am surprised and -delighted. I have been to the Louvre, the Tuileries, Place Vendōme, -St. Cloud,--here, there, and everywhere,--and I have not yet seen a -twentieth part of the objects which claim a stranger's attention. One -cannot go into the streets for a moment, indeed, but something new -attracts his curiosity; and it seems to me that my senses, which I -have heretofore considered adequate to the usual purposes of life, -ought now to be enlarged and quickened for the full enjoyment of the -objects which surround me. I have, of course, visited some of the -theatres, of which there are upwards of twenty now open. A number -of the best actors, however, are absent from the city, fulfilling -provincial engagements, and may not be expected back for a month or -more. I went to the Théātre Porte St. Martin the other night, to see -Mademoiselle Georges, now, on the French stage, the queen of tragedy. -I saw her perform the part of Lucrece Borgia, in Victor Hugo's drama -of that name. Her personation was truly beautiful,--nay, that is too -cold a word; it was grand, and even terrible! Though a woman more -than fifty years old, never can I forget the dignity of her manner, -the flexible and expressive character of her yet fine face, and the -rich, full, stirring, and well-modulated tones of her voice. How -different is her and nature's style from the sickly abortions of -the present English school of acting, lately introduced upon the -American stage!--the snakelike writhing and contortion of body, the -rolling and straining of the eyeballs till they squint, the shuffling -gait, and the whining monotone,--how different, I say, from all this -is the natural and easy style of Mademoiselle Georges! In her you -trace no servile imitations of a bad model; but you behold that sort -of excellence which makes you forget you are in a theatre,--that -perfection of art by which art is wholly concealed,--the lofty and -the thrilling, the subdued and the graceful, harmoniously mingling, -the spirit being caught from living nature. I had been led to believe -that, in France, the highest order of tragic excellence had died -with Talma. It is not so. I consider Mademoiselle Georges the very -incarnation of the tragic muse. - -"The French, it must be allowed, understand and practise the art of -living independently. They find you furnished apartments according -to your own taste and means--comfortable, handsome, or gorgeous--in -any part of the city or its environs. In your rooms you may either -breakfast, dine, and sup, or take only your coffee there, and dine at -a restaurant. This is to me, a bird of passage, and desirous of taking -a bird's-eye view of things, a delightful mode of living. Paris is -filled with restaurants and cafés of all sorts and sizes, where you -may obtain your 'provant,' as Captain Dalgetty would style it, at what -price you please, from the humble sum of a few sous up to the emptying -of a well-lined purse. Ladies, gentlemen, and whole families may be -seen at these places, enjoying their repast, and the utmost order and -decorum prevail. Some of these cafés are magnificently furnished. I -breakfasted in one yesterday the furniture and decorations of the -salon of which cost eighty thousand francs. Another agreeable thing -in Paris is, that you may one moment be in the midst of fashion, -pomp, and all the hollowness of the flattering crowd, and the next -buried in the sincere quiet of your own chamber, your very existence -blotted from the memories of those with whom, the unsophisticated -might have imagined, your society was of the utmost consequence. I say -this is pleasant when properly understood and appreciated. All that -is required of you is the superficial courtesy of life, which costs -a well-bred man nothing; and in return you have a well-dissembled -friendship, looking like truth, but which they would not have you to -cherish as a reality for the world. The sentiments of the heart are -quite too dull and too troublesome for their mercurial temperament; -and hence you seldom hear of a Frenchman's having a false friend." - -The professional bias which so strongly dominated among the -associations in the mind of Forrest led him very early after his -arrival in the French metropolis, to visit the tomb of Talma. Carrying -a fresh laurel crown under his cloak, he sought out the consecrated -place among the crowd of undistinguished graves, reverently laid -his tribute there, and lingered long in meditation on the career, -the genius, the renown of the greatest stage-actor of France, and -the lessons to be learned from his life and character by ambitious -successors in his art. Thus, like Byron at the grave of Churchill, did -the player draw his profitable homily from "the glory," though, unlike -the morbid bard, he did not think of "the nothing, of a name." - -One incident occurred in the experience of Forrest in Paris which has -much significance on several accounts. He had formed a very pleasant -acquaintance with the manager of one of the theatres. This manager -had a protégé of whose nascent talent as an actor he cherished a high -estimate. The youth was to make his début, and the manager asked the -American tragedian to attend the performance and give his opinion of -the promise it indicated. At the close of the play, asked to state his -candid impression without reserve, Forrest said to the manager, "He -will never rise beyond a respectable mediocrity. It is a perfectly -hopeless case. There are no deeps of latent passion in him, no -lava-reservoirs. His sensibility is quick, but all superficial. But -that Jewish-looking girl, that little bag of bones with the marble face -and flaming eyes,--there is demoniacal power in her. If she lives, and -does not burn out too soon, she will become something wonderful." That -little bag of bones was the then unknown Rachel! - -The next selection presented from his correspondence was written to -Leggett several months later, and soon after Jackson's recommendation -of reprisals if the American claims on France were not paid: - -"You see I still date from the gay metropolis of France. The -fascinations of Paris have held me longer than I intended; but I mean -to break from them by the first of next month, and cross into Italy. -I have read the President's admirable message: it breathes a spirit -worthy of himself, worthy of the occasion, worthy of my country. I -refer particularly, of course, to his views relative to France. His -energetic and manly sentiments have had the effect here of once more -_Americanizing_ Americans, and revived within them that love of country -which the pageantry and frivolity, the dreamy and debasing luxury of -this metropolis serve materially to enervate. The Chamber of Deputies -has not yet recovered from the shock occasioned by the unanticipated -recommendations of the message. Opinion is divided as to the course -which will be pursued; but from all I hear, and all I observe, I am -strongly inclined to believe that when they have recovered from their -bewilderment they will come to the conclusion that, in this instance at -least, honesty is the best policy; and perhaps they may consider also -that discretion is the better part of valor. - -"By the way, I was presented to Louis Philippe on the third and last -evening of the usual presentations. I was accompanied by Mr. ----, -of Boston. We crossed over to the palace of the Tuileries (which is -nearly opposite to our hotel) about nine o'clock in the evening, -passed unquestioned by the numerous guards who throng the avenues of -the great court-yard, and entered the vestibule of the palace, filled -with an army of servants in rich liveries, standing in form, with all -the stiffness of militia officers on drill. We next ascended to an -elevated mosaic pavement, where we encountered two secretaries prepared -to receive the names of visitors. On entering the palace, we ascended -a grand staircase, the stone balustrade of which is beautifully -ornamented with lyres and snakes, under suns,--the crests of Colbert -and Louis XIV. On the first landing is the Salon of the Hundred Swiss, -which has four Ionic columns, and is ornamented with four statues of -Silence, two sitting and two erect. We next passed into the state -apartments. The first is the Salon of the Marshals, occupying the -whole of the centre pavilion, and having a graceful balcony on each -side. The walls are hung with portraits of the marshals of France -by the most eminent artists, and it also contains busts of several -distinguished French generals. In the next room, which is called the -Salon of the Nobles, we found a concourse of ladies and gentlemen, -comprising the orders of nobility, and all richly and appropriately -attired. This apartment is set off with gold, representing battles, -marches, triumphs, surrounded with ornaments and allegorical figures. -The Salon of Peace, which is the next room, contains also many costly -decorations; but I had less opportunity to observe these, as the crowd -became each moment denser and denser, and to make our way through it -demanded all our attention. This human current at last débouched -in the Salle du Trōne, and, diffusing itself quickly around it, its -waves subsided like those of an impetuous torrent when it pauses in -the valley and spreads itself out, as if in homage, at the mountain's -foot. I need not tell you of the beauty of the throne, the richness -of its carved work, the profusion of gold ornaments with which it is -sprinkled, the gorgeousness of the crimson canopy which overhangs it, -or the pride-kindling trophies which are dispersed in picturesque -clusters at its sides. These things, and numerous like accessories, -your fancy will present to you with sufficient accuracy. - -"The king had not yet entered, but was expected every moment; and the -interval afforded me an opportunity of studying the brilliant scene. -The effect at first was absolutely dazzling. The plumed and jewelled -company constantly moving and intermingling, so that the light played -in a thousand trembling and shifting beams, which flashed in arrowy -showers not only at every motion, but almost every respiration, of the -diamond-covered groups, and these groups multiplied to infinity by -the reflections of magnificent mirrors surrounded by chandeliers that -diffused excessive lustre through the room, presented a scene to me -which, as I eagerly gazed on it, almost pained me with its surpassing -splendor. - -"In the anxious hush of expectation, the old ladies, as if in -melancholy consciousness of the decay of their natural charms, busied -themselves in arranging their diamonds to the most dazzling effect -of brilliancy, while the young demoiselles threw hurried glances at -each other, scrutinizing their relative pretensions in the way of -decorations and personal beauty. The varieties of human character -found time to display themselves even in the brief and anxious period -of suspense while waiting for the entrance of royalty. Pride, envy, -jealousy, ambition, coquetry, were all at work. Here an antique and -embroidered dandy twisted his long and grizzly mustachios with an -air of perfect satisfaction, whilst his bump of self-esteem seemed -demanding immediate release from his tightened peruke. There an old -Spanish general talked loudly of the wars, and 'fought his battles -o'er again.' From a pair of melting eyes a fair one on one hand threw -languishing glances on the favored youth at her side, while the ruby -lip of another curled with contempt as a lighter figure or a fairer -face swept by. - -"But a general movement of the crowd soon gave a new direction to -my thoughts; and my eyes, from studying the various features of the -splendid crowd, were now attracted to those of the king, who had just -entered the apartment. For a moment all was bustle. The ladies arranged -themselves along the sides of the spacious salon, and Louis Philippe, -with his queen, the two princesses, and the two dukes, Orleans and -Nemours, together with the officers and dames of honor, passed along -the line, politely and familiarly conversing with the ladies. After -satisfying our curiosity by gazing on the royal family, and having -followed them to the Salon of Peace, we returned again to the Salle -du Trōne, where we took seats in front of the royal chair. Here I -sat meditating on the gaudy and empty show for some time, when an -officer suddenly entered and exclaimed, '_Messieurs, la Reine!_' and -immediately the queen entered. I rose and bowed, which she graciously -acknowledged, and passed into the apartment beyond, called the Hall -of Council. The king, with the rest of the family, attended by the -courtiers, followed the queen. The ladies had now all been presented, -and most of them had retired. About a hundred gentlemen were assembled -at the door of the Council-chamber, and myself and friend had scarcely -joined the group when the doors opened, and one by one those before us -passed in. A gentleman usher at the door demanded the names of those -who passed, and announced them to the court. After hearing those of -sundry marquises, counts, and others announced, it at last came to -my turn. My name was audibly repeated, I entered, and made my début -before the King of France with not half the trepidation I experienced -on presenting myself for the first time before a _sovereign_ in New -York--I mean the sovereign people--on an occasion you will recollect. -The king addressed a question to me in French, and after exchanging a -few sentences I bade him farewell, bowed to the queen and others of the -royal family, and withdrew. - -"Our plain republicans often laugh at the mimic monarchs of the stage -for their want of grace and dignity. A trip to court would satisfy them -that real monarchs are not always overstocked with those qualities. - -"I some time ago had the pleasure of an introduction to the celebrated -Mademoiselle Mars. She received me very cordially, and through her -polite offices the freedom of the Théātre Franēais was presented to -me. Of all the actresses I have ever seen, M'lle Mars stands first in -comedy. In her you perceive the natural ease and grace which should -characterize the most finished lady of the drawing-room; and her quiet -yet effective style of acting is the most enchanting and delicate -triumph of the mimic art. You cannot witness one of her performances -without thinking that the genius of comedy belongs exclusively to -the French stage. Do not suppose that my opinion is influenced by -personal attentions: it was formed before I had had the pleasure of -being presented to her. Though possessing a splendid fortune, she still -exerts, fortunately for the lovers of the drama, her unrivalled talents -in her laborious and difficult profession. She lives in a palace, and -even her _salle du billard_ is an apartment which would well serve for -a corporation dinner. - -"The great and almost the only topic of conversation in all circles -just now is the President's message, the recall of the French minister, -and the intimation to Mr. Livingston that his passports were at his -service. Allow a little time for the effervescence of public feeling -to subside, for the excitable temper of this mercurial nation to -grow calm, and I think the propriety of paying our claims will be -acknowledged. - -"While I scribble this desultory letter to you, I am with you in fancy, -and almost wish I were so in reality. I am tired of the glare and -frivolities of Paris, and long to tread again - - 'The piled leaves of the West,-- - My own green forest land.' - -"France is refined and polite; America is solid and sincere. France is -the land for pleasure; America the land for happiness. Adieu. I shall -go into Italy in a fortnight, from whence I will write you again." - -The following letter, addressed to another friend, was written about -three weeks after the foregoing one: - -"I am about bidding adieu to Paris, having been detained here by its -various fascinations much longer than I anticipated. I shall set out on -Tuesday next, with three young Americans, to travel by post through -Italy, so as to be in Rome before the termination of the Carnival. I -can at least claim the merit of not having been idle during my sojourn -in Paris, and the time has passed both agreeably and profitably. -Though the _dulce_ has been the chief object of my search, the _utile_ -has been found with it, and has not been altogether neglected, -neither, as a separate aim. New sources of various information have -opened themselves to my mind at every turn in this great and gay and -ever-changing metropolis; and whether I hereafter resume the buskin, -or play a more real part in the drama of life, I think I shall find -my gleanings here of service to me. I have mingled with all ranks -of people, from the monarch who wears 'the golden round and top of -sovereignty,' down to the lowest of his subjects, - - 'In smoky cribs, - Upon uneasy pallets stretching them.' - -"I have visited alike the perfumed chambers of the great and the poor -abodes of the lowly, the institutions of science, literature, and the -arts, the resorts of fashion, of folly, and of vice, and in all I -have found something which not merely served to fill up the passing -hour, but that furnished either substantial additions of knowledge or -agreeable subjects of future meditation and discourse. Human nature, -as modified by the different circumstances of life and fortune, -presents an ample and diversified volume to her student in Paris: and -in this bustling and glittering panorama, where everything seems most -artificial, one who looks beneath the surface may learn much of the -secret feelings, motives, passions, and genius of man. - -"The President's message still continues to be the theme of much -conversation. In the saloons of the theatres, in the cafés and -restaurants, and on the public promenades I frequently hear the name of -General Jackson uttered by tongues that never before were troubled to -syllable it, and which do not pronounce it 'trippingly,' according to -Hamlet's advice, but twist it into various grotesque sounds. Passing -through Ste. Pélagie the other day (a prison for debtors), I overheard -one of the inmates of that abode discussing with great vehemence the -question of indemnity. He held a newspaper in his hand, and, as I -passed, exclaimed, '_La France ne devrait pas payer les vingt-cinq -millions!_' A fellow-feeling, thought I, makes us wondrous kind. The -anecdote of the porter, the soldier, and the debtor, in the 'Citizen of -the World,' occurred to my mind. - -"By the way, the prison of Ste. Pélagie is a curious establishment. It -derives its name from an actress of the city of Antioch, who became a -penitent in the fifth century. No other prison in Paris presents so -diversified a picture, such a motley group of inmates, so singular an -association of rank, country, profession, and age. Barons, marquises, -and princes are among the cooped-up denizens of Ste. Pélagie. An -Austrian prince, one of these, is shut up here to answer the claims -of creditors to the amount of several millions. A café and restaurant -are maintained within the prison; and one entering these, were he not -reminded of his whereabouts by the gratings of the windows, might -easily imagine himself in the Café des Trois Frčres of the Palais Royal. - -"I regret that I was not in America to welcome James Sheridan -Knowles to our shores. I should have been glad to take the author of -'Virginius' and 'The Hunchback' by the hand,--ay, and by the heart -too; for, from all I hear, any man might be proud of his friendship. -But New York had this reception in her own hands, and it, no doubt, -was such a one as 'gave him wonder great as his content.' I remember, -very vividly, what sort of a reception she gave to a youth 'unknown to -fame,' in whom you are kind enough to take an interest,--a youth whose -highest ambition was only to strut his hour in those parts which the -genius of Knowles has created. Can I, then, doubt that to the dramatist -himself her greeting was most cordial? - -"Adieu! I shall probably meet with Bryant in Rome; and, in conversing -with him of past scenes and distant friends, shall almost feel myself, -for a time, restored to their society." - -The description of the first portion of his tour in Italy, in a long -letter to Leggett, also seems worthy of preservation, and will have a -various interest for the reader even now: - -"I left Paris on the 11th instant on my projected ramble through Italy. -It was not without regret that I at last quitted the gay and brilliant -metropolis of France, which I had entered a total stranger but a -few months before, but in which I had experienced the most grateful -courtesies, and formed friendships with persons whose talents and -worth have secured them an abiding place in my esteem. As the towers -of Notre Dame and the dome of the Pantheon faded from my sight, I -sighed an adieu to the past, and turned with somewhat of apathy, if not -reluctance, to the future. - -"At this season of the year the country of France presents to the -American traveller a cheerless appearance. Without forests to variegate -the scene with their many-colored garniture, and with rarely even a -hedge to define the boundaries of individual property, the country -looks somewhat like a wide, uncultivated common or storm-beaten -prairie; and in this state of 'naked, unfenced desolation,' even one of -those unsightly and zigzag structures which in America mark the limits -of contiguous farms would have been an agreeable interruption of the -monotony. The neat farm-houses of America, with all their accessories -bespeaking prosperity and thrift, are not met with here; but, instead, -a bleak, untidy hovel obtrudes itself on your sight, or your eyes, -turning from it, rest on a ruined tower or once proud chāteau tumbling -into decay. - -"I reached Lyons at midnight on the 13th, and spent the following day -in visiting the chief objects of interest in the city, among which were -the Museum of Antiquities and the Cathedral. My curiosity led me to -inspect the silk manufactories of this place; but the pleasure which I -should have derived from witnessing the beautiful creations of the loom -was wholly counteracted by the squalid and miserable appearance of the -poor creatures by whom the glossy fabrics are made,--attenuated, sickly -wretches, who waste their being in ineffectual toil, since the scanty -pittance which they earn is not enough to sustain life. My thoughts -reverted from these oppressed creatures to the slaves of America. The -condition of the latter is one of luxury in comparison. Yet they are -slaves,--how much is in a name! - -"I crossed the Alps by Mont Cenis. The toil of this achievement is a -different thing now from what it was in the time of Pompey, who has -the honor of being set down as the first that made the passage. From -his time till 1811 the journey must have had its difficulties, since -it could only be performed on foot, or with a mule or donkey. Napoleon -then came upon the scene, and--_presto, change_--in five months a -carriage-road wound by an easy ascent from the base to the cloud-capped -summit, and thence down into the sunny lap of Italy. Napoleon! wherever -he passed he has left traces of his greatness stamped in indelible -characters. A thousand imperishable monuments attest the magnificence -of his genius. Here, now, at all seasons, a practicable road traverses -Mont Cenis, running six thousand feet above the level of the sea, and -uniting the valley of the Arck in Savoy to that of Doria Ripuaria in -Piedmont. What a bugbear the passage of the Alps is to the uninitiated! -and all travellers seem disposed to encourage the deception. For my -own part, the tales I had heard prepared me to anticipate an encounter -with all sorts of difficulties, and that I should avoid them only by -'hair-breadth 'scapes.' When I first mentioned my intention of crossing -Mont Cenis in the month of February, a laugh of incredulity was the -only answer I received from certain 'holiday and silken fools.' And -yet, when I came to test the nature of those perils which seemed so -formidable viewed from Paris, judge my surprise at finding one of the -best roads I was ever wheeled over, stealing up into mid-heaven by -such a gentle ascent, that, were not one continually reminded of his -whereabout by the roar of foaming waters, as they leap from fragment -to fragment of the huge, dissevered rocks, and tumble into 'steep-down -gulfs,' he might almost fancy himself gliding smoothly over one of -those modern contrivances which have realized, in some measure, the -wish of Nat Lee's hero, and 'annihilated time and space.' - -"A Kentuckian once riding with me on the Albany and Troy turnpike, -after an interval of silence, in which he was probably comparing that -smooth road with the rough-hewn ways of his own State, suddenly broke -out, 'Well, this road has the leetlest tilt from a level I ever did -see!' The odd expression occurred to my mind more than once in crossing -the Alps. It may do to talk of the terrors of the Alps to certain -lap-nursed Europeans, who have never surmounted any but mole-hill -difficulties; but to Americans--or such Americans, at least, as have -seen something of their own magnificent country before hastening to -examine the miniature features of Europe--the Alps have no terror in -their threats. Land-Admiral Reeside or honest Joe Webster of Albany -would enjoy a hearty laugh to see for himself what Alpine dangers are, -and with one of his fast teams would contract to take you over the -mountains in no time at any season of the year. - -"I should possess a graphic pen, indeed, were I able to communicate to -you, by the faint coloring of words, anything like an adequate idea of -the lofty grandeur of the scene which was spread out beneath me as I -paused on the summit of the mountain to cast back one more lingering -look on France. The sun was just setting, and the slant rays lighted -with dazzling lustre the snowy peaks around me, and bathed in a flood -of light like molten gold the crags and flinty projections of the -lightning-scathed and time-defying rocks. A dark cloud, like a funeral -pall, overhung the valley; the mountain-torrent hoarsely brawled -along its devious channel half choked with thick-ribbed ice; and a -thousand features of rude magnificence filled me with admiration of the -sublimity which marks this home of the tempest and avalanche. At the -hotel where I supped, a number of the peasantry were making the most -of the Carnival-time with music, masking, and dancing,--_and all this -above the clouds_! - -"Day was just breaking when we entered Turin. The hum and stir of busy -life were just beginning, and the laborer, called from his pallet to -resume his toil, jostled in the street the sons of revelry, returning -jaded and worn out from the scenes of merriment. The traveller who -would view the Carnival in its most attractive guise should not break -in upon it with the pale light of morning, as what I saw on entering -Turin fully satisfied me. The lamps were still burning in the streets, -and the maskers wearily returning to their several homes. Poor -Harlequin, with sprained ankle, limped tediously away. Columbine hung -listlessly upon the arm of Pantaloon, whose chalky visage was without -a smile, and whose thoughts, if he thought at all, were probably -running much upon the same theme as honest Sancho's when he pronounced -a blessing on the man who first invented sleep. These exhausted -revellers, a weary sentinel here and there half dozing on his post, and -a houseless beggar wandering on his unappointed course, were the sights -that first drew my attention on entering the gates of Turin. - -"The streets of Turin are spacious and clean, and cross each other -at right angles. Their regularity and airiness were quite refreshing -after being so long confined to the dungeon-like dimensions and gloom -of the byways of a French town. But these spacious streets, like those -of all other Italian cities, are overrun with mendicants, and I have -already had occasion to observe that where palaces most abound so also -do beggars. The foundations of the lordly structures of aristocracy -everywhere alike are laid on the rights of man, and the cement which -holds them together is mixed with the tears of human misery. - -"Going to the church of St. Philip this morning, I encountered an old -man sitting on the pavement, supplicating for alms in heart-rending -tones. He could not have been less than eighty years of age, and his -long locks, of silvery whiteness, strayed thinly over his shrivelled -neck. His eyes were out,--those pure messengers of thought no longer -twinkled in their spheres,--but he still turned the orbless sockets to -each passer, imploring charity in the name of Him whose crucified image -he grasped in his attenuated fingers. I was touched by the spectacle, -and as I approached to drop my dole into his hand, I noticed a brass -plate hanging on his threadbare garment, the inscription on which -denoted that this mendicant had been regularly examined by the police, -and had taken out his license to beg! What a source this from which to -derive public revenue! What a commentary on the nature of government -in this oppressed country! What a contrast it suggested, in turning -my thoughts to my own land, where government is the people's choice, -the rulers their servants, and laws nothing more than recorded public -opinion! - -"On entering the church of St. Philip, I found before an altar blazing -with lights and enveloped in clouds of incense a priest performing -the impressive service of the Catholic Church. But the thing that -struck me was the democratic spirit which seemed to govern the -congregation in their public worship. I saw kneeling and mingling in -prayer the sumptuously clad and the ragged, the clean and the unclean, -the prince and the beggar. On the pavement at a little distance -from me lay extended a strapping mendicant, reduced in point of -clothing almost to the condition of Lear's 'unaccommodated man,' and -groaning out his prayers in tones that sounded more like curses than -supplications, while at his side, with graceful mien and placid brow, -knelt a Sardinian sylph, looking more like an angel interceding for -the prostrate wretch than a being of kindred nature asking mercy for -herself. - -"The museum of Turin is of great extent, and contains vast apartments -devoted to natural history, mineralogy, and other sciences. There -are here, besides, some rare specimens of antique Greek and Egyptian -sculpture. The finest collection of paintings is in the palace of the -duchess, among them pictures by Vandyke, Rubens, Teniers, Murillo, and -other 'approved good masters.' I was much struck with a full equestrian -portrait of his present majesty Charles Albert, by Horace Vernet. -Vernet is one of the very few whose horses _live_ on the canvas. -The one to which I now allude is not only exhibited in all his fair -proportions, with muscles, thews, and sinews that seem swelling with -life, but actual, not counterfeit, spirit shines in the sparkle of his -eye and is seen in the breath of his distended nostrils. - -"The Grand Opera House of Turin is very spacious, containing six rows -of boxes, dimly lighted by a single small chandelier suspended over the -centre of the pit. The rest of the lights are reserved for the stage, -by which the scenic effects are greatly heightened; but I doubt if -what is gained in that respect would reconcile an American audience to -sit in a sort of twilight so dim as scarcely to allow one to know the -complexion of the person sitting at his side. The performances were -very ordinary, and presented nothing worth mentioning or remembering." - -He rode into beautiful Genoa over that magnificent Corniche road whose -left side is diversified with stretching fields and olive-orchards -and soaring cliffs, whose right side the blue ocean fringes. The city -has a charm to the imagination of an American from its connection -with Columbus, and a charm to the eye from that lovely semicircle of -mountains embracing it, and which so slope to the waves of the sea -in front and blend with the clouds of the sky in the rear that it is -often impossible for the gazer to tell where earth ends and heaven -begins. It was Sunday when Forrest entered Genoa. Looking out into the -glorious bay, he saw an American ship of war riding proudly at anchor, -the beautiful banner of stars and stripes hanging at her peak, every -mast and spar and rope mirrored in the glassy flood below. His breast -thrilled at the sight. He hired a boatman to row him out. Clambering -up the side, he asked permission of the commander to come on deck and -to stand underneath the flag. It was granted, and, looking up at the -silken folds floating between him and heaven, he breathed deeply in -pride and joy. "The ship," he said, "was a fragment of my country -floated away here, and in touching it I felt reunited to the whole -again." - -He made a long tarry in Florence, studying the treasures of art for -which that city is so renowned. He became intimate with Horatio -Greenough, for whose genius--hardly yet appreciated as it deserves--he -felt the warmest admiration. "He favored me," writes Forrest, "with -a sight of his yet unfinished model for the statue of Washington, -which was ordered by our government. He has represented the Father of -his Country in a sitting posture, his left hand grasping the sword -intrusted to him by the people for the achievement of their liberties, -and his right pointing upward, as if to express reliance on the God of -battles and the justice of his cause. With what different emotions did -I regard this statue from those created by the marble honors paid to -the Cęsars of the olden time! How my heart warmed with patriotic ardor -and my eyes moistened as I looked on the reverend image of the great -sage and hero! As an American I felt allied to him,--as an American I -felt, too, with a consciousness that diffused a warm and grateful flush -upon my cheek, that I was an heir to that sacred legacy of freedom -which he and his compatriots bequeathed to their country." - -After visiting Rome, Naples, Venice, Verona, and other places of the -greatest interest in Italy, Forrest proceeded to Spain, where he spent -several delightful weeks. He made Seville his chief headquarters, -remembering the old Spanish proverb he had often heard, "Who sees not -Seville misses a marvel." One day, while riding on horseback in the -suburbs,--it being in the harvest-season,--he passed a vineyard in -which the peasants were at work. He saw one man standing with upturned -breast and outstretched arms to receive a bunch of grapes which another -man was cutting from a vine loaded with clusters so enormous that a -single one must have weighed forty or fifty pounds. At this sight he -reined in his horse, and his head sank on his bosom. The years rolled -back, and he was a boy again. Once more it was a Sunday afternoon in -summer, and through the open window of a house in Philadelphia the -sunshine was streaming across the floor where a young lad, with a -Bible in his hands, was laughing at the picture of two men carrying a -bunch of the grapes of Eshcol slung on a pole between them. Again the -hand of the mother was on the shoulder of the boy, and her dark eyes -fixed on his, and in his soul he heard, as distinctly as though spoken -audibly to his outward ear, the words, "Edwin, never laugh at the -fancied ignorance and absurdity of another, when perhaps the ignorance -and absurdity are all your own." The tears ran down his cheeks as, -starting up his horse, he said to himself, "Ah, mother, mother! dear -good soul, how wise and kind you were! What a fool I was!" - -From Spain Forrest returned for a flying visit to Paris, where he wrote -the following letter to his mother, which may be taken as a specimen of -the large number he sent to her during his absence: - - "PARIS, July 3d, 1835. - -"MY DEAR MOTHER,--Your letter of the 27th of May has this moment -reached me. How happy has the perusal of it made me! You write that -you have been sick, but that now you are well. How glad I am to hear -that you are restored! It is the dearest wish of my heart that health -and happiness may always be preserved to you,--to you and to my dear -sisters. Your welfare makes existence doubly sweet to me. I bear a -'charmed life' so long as you live and smile. All that I am I owe to -you. Your necessities prompted my ambition; your affection led me on -to triumph,--the harvest is your own, and my choicest wish is that you -may long live to enjoy it. I was in Naples the 9th of March last, the -anniversary of my birthday, and you were not forgotten. I drank a cup -of wine to you, and my heart grew proud while it acknowledged you the -source of its creation. - -"It gives me great pleasure to hear that James Sheridan Knowles called -to see you, and I regret that your indisposition prevented you from -seeing him. I am told he is a sincere and warm-hearted man; and when -such estimable qualities are joined to the rare talents which he -possesses, the individual who combines them is as 'one man picked out -of ten thousand.' - -"Mr. Wemyss, in sending to you the season-tickets (though you may -never use them), has acted like himself, and I most gratefully -acknowledge his politeness and courtesy. You say you are anxiously -counting the months and days until my return. In two months more we -shall have been parted for a year,--a whole year. That is a long time -in the calendar when hearts that love become the reckoners of the -hours. But the day draws on when we are to meet again; and after the -first moments of our happy greetings, when your blessing has confirmed -my return, and the emotions of the first hours shall be subdued into -the serene content that must surely follow, then will we regard our -present separation as a short dream of the past, and wonder that we -thought we were divided so long. - -"I will forward to you by the ship which will carry this letter a -small box containing the following articles, viz., a necklace made -from the lava of Vesuvius, beautifully carved and set in gold, -together with a pair of ear-rings, for sister Henrietta; a cameo of -the three Graces and a pair of lava ear-rings for Eleanora; a cameo of -the Apollo Belvedere and a pair of lava ear-rings for Caroline. The -two cameos Caroline and Eleanora will have set in gold, to wear as -breast-pins, and charge the expense thereof to my account. - -"Give my best respects to Goodman, and say how much I thank him for -his friendly attentions. I suppose Col. Wetherill is grubbing away at -his farm: or has he got tired of green fields and running brooks? If -you see him, say he is most gratefully remembered by me. I am glad -John Wall occasionally calls upon you. I like him much. And now, to -conclude, allow me to say to you, my dear mother, to be of good cheer, -for my wanderings will soon be over, and I shall again be restored to -you in unabated health and strength. And meanwhile, be assured that -your son, - - 'Where'er he roams, whatever clime to see, - His _heart_ untravelled fondly turns to thee.' - - EDWIN FORREST." - -His short stay in the principal cities of the German -Confederation,--now so wondrously consolidated and transformed into the -German Empire,--though highly edifying and satisfactory to him at the -time, yields nothing which calls for present record, unless, perhaps, -a passing entry in his diary at Dresden be worthy of citation. "Rose -from a refreshing siesta and walked upon the fashionable Terrace. -The evening was calm and beautiful. The flowers and shrubs profusely -growing, the music of a fine band, the rush and patter of children's -feet, with the rapture of their voices in joyous sport, the eyes -of their parents beaming on them with tranquillity and hope, made -all around appear a paradise. My brow alone seemed clouded; it was, -however, but for an instant, as a quick thought of home sprang through -my brain, and busy memories of _her_ who had once watched my infant -steps stirred about my heart. Would that, unimpeded by space, I could -waft all my fond wishes to her at this moment!" - -An excursion in Switzerland yielded him intense enjoyment. His studies -for the rōle of William Tell had made him familiar with this country, -and he longed to verify and complete his mental impressions by the more -concrete perceptions obtainable through the direct senses. To stand -in the village of Altorf and on the field of Grütli, to row a boat on -Lucerne and Unterwald, to scale the mountains and see the lammergeyer -swoop and hear the avalanche fall, to pause among the torrents and -precipices and cry aloud, - - "Ye crags and peaks. I'm with you once again; - I call to you with all my voice; I hold - To you the hands you first beheld, to show - They still are free!" - -must have given him no ordinary pleasure. At Chamouni he bought a copy -of that magnificent hymn of nature composed in this valley by Coleridge -during his visit here. Printed on a rough sheet, it was for sale at the -inn. Forrest had never seen it before. He climbed some distance up the -side of the great mountain. Reaching a grassy spot in full view of the -principal features of the landscape, he thrust his alpenstock in the -earth, hung his hat upon it, and, seating himself beside a beautiful -cascade whose steady roar mingled with his voice, he read aloud that -sublime poem whose solemn thoughts and gorgeous diction so well befit -the theme they treat. - - "Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star - In his steep course? So long he seems to pause - On thy bald awful head, O sovran Blanc! - The Arve and Arveiron at thy base - Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful form, - Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines - How silently!" - -Speaking of the incident long years afterward, he said he did not -think of it at the time as any sort of religious service, but that his -emotions really made it as genuine a one as the recital of a liturgy in -any pettier and less divine cathedral. - -From Germany he took ship to England. The following extract from a -letter home will give a glimpse of his experience in London, where it -was written: - -"I have been here about three weeks, and it gives me great pleasure to -say that, from the abundant proofs I have had of _English hospitality_, -it amply deserves that world-wide reputation which has rendered the -phrase proverbial. Among men of letters, among the intelligent and -worthy of the middling class of society, and among those of my own -profession, I have found nothing but the warmest cordiality and -kindness. So grateful, indeed, has been the welcome I have received, -and so agreeably has my time passed, that it is with exceeding regret I -am about to tear myself away. But, being desirous of seeing the north -of Europe before I return to my native land, I must take advantage of -the present season to travel into Russia, as I fear that the 'eager and -nipping air' of the north at a later period would bite too shrewdly for -me. To-night I set out with my friend Wikoff for Hamburg, and thence to -St. Petersburg and Moscow. - -"The present not being the season for theatricals in London, I have had -but scanty opportunities of judging of the merits of the performers. -I have seen Liston and Farren, however, both distinguished for their -talents, and both deservedly admired. Yet I have seen nothing to -alter the opinion which you know I have long entertained, that _Henry -Placide_ is the best actor on the stage in his own diversified range. - -"I am very often solicited to perform during my sojourn abroad, but to -all such requests my answer is invariably in the negative. I tell my -friends here, as I told those at home before leaving, that my object -in visiting Europe was not professional. Thanks to my countrymen! they -have obviated the necessity of my going on such a tour. - -"James Sheridan Knowles has come back, and I was at 'Old Drury' when -he reappeared. His reception was very warm and hearty, and after the -play (The Wife) he was called out, when he addressed the audience in -a few words expressive of his thanks for their cordial greeting, and -took occasion to advert, in very glowing terms, evidently prompted -by sincere feeling, to the kindness he had experienced in America. -He termed our country 'the bright land beyond the seas,' and our -country-people 'his brothers and sisters.' His acknowledgments of -gratitude were received by a full house with acclamations." - -During the passage of the steamer William Jolliffe from London to -Hamburg, Forrest evidently found no little amusement in studying the -peculiarities of his fellow-passengers. He writes thus, for example: -"Almost always when travelling in a public conveyance, if you notice, -you will observe some one who tries to attract attention by standing -out _in relievo_ from the rest. Actuated by such a low ambition was -an overgrown, unwieldy, almost spherical lady, dubbed on the way-bill -honorable, and said to be the wife of a member of Parliament. This -_dame passée_ strove to ape the manners of a girl of sixteen, and -occasionally, in a fit of would-be-young-again, gave her huge frame a -motion on the promenade-deck that looked for all the world like the -wallowing of a great sea-turtle in shallow water. She was of Spanish -descent, and seemed delighted to show off her mastery of this foreign -tongue, to the astonishment of the wonder-wounded Dutchmen, who, -attracted by her bright-red mantle trimmed with ermine, and amazed at -her knowledge of the strange tongue, gazed upon her with a sort of -stupid reverence." - -At Hamburg he attended a performance of Schiller's "Don Carlos," in -the great Stadt Theatre. "The building is very commodious, but badly -lighted by a single lustre depending from the dome. The play began at -half-past six and ended at eleven, and, as it seemed to me, was but -indifferently well represented. During these four and a half hours the -people paid the closest attention and showed no sign of uneasiness. How -an American audience would have shuffled!" - -In Hamburg Forrest had his first experience of a Russian bath. His own -description of this is interesting, as the delight in baths of all -kinds was a growing passion with him even to the very last. - -"Having reduced myself to nudity, a signal was given from an adjoining -apartment, like the theatrical noises which attend the splitting of -the charmed rock in the 'Forty Thieves.' A door now was opened upon -the side, a blanket thrown over my shoulders, and I was told in German -to go in. I obeyed. This was a small room, where the thermometer rose -to about one hundred. Here the blanket was taken from my shoulders, -and a door beyond opened, and in stalked a naked man, who motioned -me to follow him. I did so. I passed the portal, and was immediately -enveloped in steam and heat up at least to a hundred and ten of -Fahrenheit. This chamber was of oval shape, and had on one side three -or four shelves of wood, rising one above the other, on the first of -which I was told to sit down. After striving to breathe here for five -or six minutes, I was invited to sit upon the next, and after a certain -time to the next, and so on until I reached the last, near the ceiling, -where the heat must have been at least a hundred and twenty. By this -time the perspiration became profuse, and poured off in torrents. -The attendant now told me to descend to the third shelf; and then he -commenced rubbing and whipping me with fragrant twigs. Then I was -rubbed with soap, then told to stand in the centre of the floor, when -in a moment I was deluged with a shower of cold water, which seemed to -realize to me the refreshing thought of the poison-fevered monarch who -wished his kingdom's rivers might flow through his burning bosom. My -probation was now nearly over,--three-quarters of an hour at least in -this steaming purgatory. I returned to the first apartment, where I was -laid, almost exhausted, upon a couch, and covered with at least a dozen -blankets. Again the perspiration broke out upon me, and a boy stood by -to wipe the huge drops from my face and brow. One by one the blankets -were removed, and I was rubbed dry with white towels. Then I dressed -myself, paid for the bath, about a dollar, and something to the boys. -As I walked into the street, the atmosphere never before seemed so -pure. Every breath was like a delicious draught. At every step I felt -returning strength, and in about a half an hour a bottle of hock and a -dozen oysters made Richard wholly himself again." - -At St. Petersburg Forrest found much to interest him, especially the -tomb of Peter the Great, the numerous relics and specimens of his -handiwork so carefully preserved, and the magnificent equestrian statue -by Falconet, erected in his honor by Catherine. While crossing a bridge -that spans the Neva, he one day observed a covered boat gliding -beneath, manned by half a dozen soldiers. On inquiry, he learned that -the boat contained some Polish noblemen who had been condemned to -slavery and chains for the crime of loving liberty and their country -too well. He describes a visit to the Palace of the Hermitage, where -there was a fine collection of paintings, among them one ascribed to -Jules Romain,--a very curious representation of the creation of woman. -"Adam is asleep, like a melodramatic hero just fallen into a reverie, -with his head resting on his right hand, quite in an attitude. The -Deity, as usual, is given as an infirm old man dressed in azure, and is -pointing to the side of our primeval parent, out of which mother Eve -seems to slide like a thief from his hiding-place!" - -Moscow he found still more attractive and imposing, with its long, -romantic story, and the sublime tragedy of its conflagration in the -presence of the terror-struck army of Napoleon. A single extract from -his diary will suffice: "Went to the Kremlin. Passed the Holy Gate -with my hat on, unconscious of the _sacred_ precincts until a boor -of a Russian grunted at my ear and with violent gestures motioned -toward my head. It then struck me this must be the Holy Gate, through -which none dare pass without being uncovered. But, as I did not like -to be browbeaten into respect for their 'brazen images,' I passed -on sans cérémonie and without molestation. I walked to the terrace -which overlooks the gardens and the river, and looked down upon the -magnificent city, with her gorgeous palaces, her innumerable cupolas -and domes, dazzling amid the bright sunbeams with azure and gold. I -stood by the ancient residence of the Tsars, the scene of so much -history; and as I glanced over the immense assemblage of stately -structures spread far and wide across the vast plain below, all beaming -with as much freshness as if by the voice of magic they had just been -called into existence, my eyes drank in more delight than they ever -had before in looking upon a city, save only when in early life, -after an absence of years from my native place, I revisited my home. -The spectacle which Moscow presented was at the same time novel and -sublime. Its varied architecture was at once Oriental, Gothic, and -Classic, the delicate towering minarets of the East and the beauteous -majesty of the Grecian blending with the - - 'tall Gothic pile - Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads, - Bearing aloft the arched and ponderous roof. - Which by its own weight stands immovable.' - -"At night, it being the anniversary of the coronation of the Emperor, -the gardens about the Kremlin were magnificently illuminated, and -crowded, perhaps, with two hundred thousand people. The walls and -turrets of the Kremlin were filled with lamps wrought into the most -grotesque shapes and festooned with innumerable lights. So were the -trees, and in the dark and luxuriant foliage of the gardens they looked - - 'Like winged flowers or flying gems.'" - -From Moscow Forrest journeyed to Odessa, and thence through the Crimea -to Constantinople. Passing Balaklava and Inkerman and Sevastopol, -with what emotions he would have gazed about him could he but have -foreseen the terrific battles that were in twenty years' time to rage -there between the stubborn Slavonic power on one side and the leagued -array of France, England, and Turkey on the other! No such premonition -visiting his mind, he plodded on through the weary wastes till he -reached Aloupka, where the Count Woronzoff, General Nerisken, and the -Prince Gallitzin were resident proprietors of estates and lived in -sumptuous style. The Gallitzin family were intimate acquaintances of -that remarkable Russian lady, Madame Swetchine, whose conversion from -the Greek Church to the Roman, whose rare character and genius, great -friendships and brilliant salon in Paris, have secured for her name -such high and permanent celebrity. - -Taking a horse and a guide, Forrest started out from Aloupka to explore -one of the neighboring Tartar villages. - -"The houses are small, and generally built," he writes, "of stone, -with flat roofs made of logs covered with dirt and clay, smoothed so -as to form a comfortable floor to dry tobacco or grain upon. I asked -permission to enter one of the huts, which was immediately granted. I -found the clay floor scrupulously clean, the fire-place nicely swept, -and some woollen cloths spread upon raised surfaces on the sides of the -room, which seemed to serve as beds. The woman had a silver belt about -her, which, when I admired it, she took off and handed to me. I put it -around my waist. At this the children laughed. I gave them some money, -and mounted my horse and rode to the village church,--or mosque, as -they are Mohammedans. It was an old building of wood and stone, with -a ruinous wooden tower by its side, from which they cry to prayers. -I entered it. No one was there. There was a small wooden gallery at -one end, to which they ascend by a ladder. It was a shabby and dismal -place, and I hurried out of it back to the hotel." - -On the following day, with his friend Wikoff, Forrest dined with -the Count Woronzoff. "At five o'clock a cannon is fired as a signal -to dress for dinner. In a half an hour a second gun is fired, and -the guests are seated. Soon after the first gun we started for the -castle. I saw there for the first time the Countess Sabanska. I paid -my respects to her and retired to another part of the room, as she -was talking with several gentlemen. She was very animated in her -conversation, with particularly vivid gesticulation and expression of -face. The Count's Tartar interpreter was playing billiards with one -of the attendants. In a few minutes the Count and Countess entered, -followed by a train of ladies and gentlemen. He introduced me to his -lady, also to Madame Nerisken and the Princess Gallitzin and her -daughter. I led Madame Nerisken to the table, and sat between her -and the Countess Woronzoff, whom I found to be a most agreeable and -interesting woman. Count Woronzoff sat opposite, with the Princess -Gallitzin on one side and the Countess Sabanska on the other. The -conversation, conducted in French, was anything but intellectual, as -the growth of the prince's vines seemed the all-absorbing topic. The -Countess Sabanska had now changed her whole manner from the extreme -vivacity and gayety she first evinced, and had become silent and -melancholy. Her thoughts seemed to be far away. How I should have liked -to read the depths of her soul and know what was moving there! After -dinner some of the ladies smoked cigarettes, and others played cards." - -Constantinople opened to Forrest a fascinating glimpse of the -civilization of the East, with its ancient races of men, its strange -architecture and religious rites, its poetic costumes, its impressive -manners, and that glamour of mystery over all which makes Oriental life -seem to the Western traveller such a contrast to everything he has -been wonted to at home. He made the most of his time here in visiting -the historic monuments and trying to penetrate the open secrets of -Moslem habits and Turkish character; and he brought away with him, -on his departure for Greece, a crowd of mental pictures which never -lost their clearness or their interest. For the history of the city -of Constantine has been most rich in romance; and the scene unveiled -to the voyager who approaches it by daylight or by moonlight is a -vision of enchantment,--a wilderness of mosques, domes, cupolas, solemn -cypresses, and spouting fountains. On a beautiful day, when not a cloud -was in the sky nor a ripple on the Bosphorus, Forrest was surveying -the city and its environs from a boat in the midst of the bay, when he -saw, slowly approaching, a sumptuous barge, with awnings of silk and -gold, a banner with the crescent and inscriptions in Arabic floating -above, and a group of turbaned guards, with scimitars in their hands, -half surrounding a man reclined on a purple divan. "Who is that?" asked -Forrest of the guide. "That is the Padishah," was the reply. Forrest, -ignorant of this title of "the Shah of Shahs" for the Sultan of Turkey, -understood the guide to say, Paddy Shaw! and, supposing it to be some -rich Irishman who was cutting such a figure in the Golden Horn, was so -struck by the absurdity that he laughed aloud. The measured strokes -of the rowers, regular as a piece of solemn music, meanwhile had -brought the imperial freight nearly alongside. The guards looked at the -laughing tragedian as if they would have liked to chop his head off, or -bowstring him and sink him in a sack. The Sultan looked slowly at the -audacious American, without the slightest change of expression in his -sad, dark, impassive face,--and the two striking figures, so unlike, -were soon out of sight of each other forever! - -Passing over the notes of his tour in Greece, as covering matters -now hackneyed from the descriptions given by hundreds of more recent -travellers and published in every kind of literary form, a single -extract from a letter to his mother is perhaps worthy of citation: - -"From Constantinople I went to Smyrna, and thence into Greece. Here I -am now, at last, in the city of Athens, the glorious home not only of -the Drama, but also of so much else that has passed into the life of -mankind. Alas, how changed! With all the power of imagination which -I can conjure up, I am hardly able to convince myself that this was -the once proud city of Pericles, Plato, Ęschylus, Demosthenes, and the -other men whose names have sounded so grand in the mouths of posterity. -Looking on the tumbled temples and desolate walls, I have exclaimed -with Byron,-- - - 'Ancient of days! august Athena, where, - Where are thy men of might? thy grand in soul? - Gone,--glimmering through the dream of things that were. - First in the race that led to Glory's goal,-- - They're sought in vain, and o'er each mouldering tower, - Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.'" - -A personal adventure, also, that befell him at Athens, must not be -omitted. One beautiful afternoon, he had been inspecting the Parthenon -and what remained of its sculptured ornaments. Near where he stood, a -heap of skulls lay on the ground, skulls of some of the victims of the -last revolution, who had fallen in a battle of the Greeks and Turks. -His attention was drawn to the phrenological developments of several -of these skulls. Chancing at that moment to look down towards the -temple of Theseus, he saw, only a short distance from him, a man glide -from behind a column and walk away. The man was clad in the costume of -an Albanian, one of the most picturesque costumes in the world, and -looked as if he had freshly stepped out of a painting,--so beautiful -was the combination of symmetry in his form, grace in his motion, and -beauty in his dress. Perfectly fascinated, Forrest hastened forward and -addressed the stranger in English, in French, in Spanish; but vain was -every attempt to make himself understood. Just then Hill, the American -missionary for many years at Athens, came along. Forrest accosted him -with the inquiry, "Do you know who that man is yonder?" and, as much to -his amazement as to his delight, received the answer, "Why, do you not -know him? That is the son of Marco Bozzaris!" The lines of his friend -Halleck,-- - - "And she, the mother of thy boys. - Will, by her pilgrim-circled hearth, - Talk of thy doom without a sigh; - For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's; - One of the few, the immortal names - That were not born to die,"-- - -these lines, and his own parting scene with their author in New York -harbor, flashed into his mind, and he felt as if this incident alone -were enough to repay him for his whole journey. - -On his return once more to Paris, in a letter to his friend Leggett he -sketches in epitome the ground he has been over. An extract follows: - -"Since I saw you, I have indeed been in strange lands, and seen -strange sights. I have traversed the Baltic and the wide dominions -of the ambitious Autocrat,--crossed the Euxine and dipped into -Asia and European Turkey,--'kept due onwards to the Propontic and -Hellespont,'--wandered amid the faultless fragments of the 'bright -clime of battle and of song,'--sailed by the Ionian Isles,--visited -the chief towns of the Germanic Confederation,--and here I am at last, -safe and sound, in the ever-gay capital of France. I thank Heaven my -travelling in the 'far East' is at an end. One is badly accommodated -there in railroads and steamers. However, take it for all in all, -I have every reason to be satisfied with the voyage, for there is -no kind of information but must be purchased with some painstaking, -and one day I shall fully enjoy all this in calm retrospection from -the bosom of the unpruned woods of my own country. Yes, the sight -of the city of Moscow alone would amply repay one for all risks and -fatigues at sea. Never shall I forget my sensations when, from the -great tower of the Kremlin, one bright, sunny day, I looked down upon -that beautiful city. The numberless domes, beaming with azure and -with gold, the checkered roofs, the terraces, the garden slopes, the -mingling of all the styles and systems of architectural construction, -now massive and heavy, now brilliant and light, and everywhere fresh -and original, enchanted me. I am free to confess Russia astonished -me. I have sailed down the mighty Mississippi,--I have been in the -dark and silent bosom of our own forest homes,--I have been under -the eye of Mont Blanc and Olympus,--I grew familiar with Rome and -with London,--without experiencing the same degree of wonder which -fastened upon me in Russia. I thought there to have encountered with -hordes of semi-barbarians, yet I found a people raised, as it were, -at once from a state of nature to our level of civilization. Nor have -they apparently, in their rapid onward course, neglected the _means_ -to render their progress sure. And then, what an army,--a million -of men! and the best forms of men,--the best disciplined, and able -to endure the 'labored battle sweat' by their constant activity, the -rigor of their climate, and their ignorance of all pleasures which -serve to effeminate. The navy, too, though in an imperfect state -compared with the army (in sailors, not ships), will doubtless soon -hold a distinguished rank. Only think of such a power, increasing -every day,--stretching out wider and wider, and all confessing one -duty,--obedience to the will of the absolute sovereign!" - -About this time two significant entries are found in his diary. The -first one is: "Received intelligence of the death of Edwin Forrest -Goodman, the infant son of a friend. - - 'All his innocent thoughts - Like rose-leaves scattered.'" - -The second is this: "And so Jane Placide is dead. The theatrical people -of New Orleans then have lost much. She imparted a grace and a force -and dignity to her rōle which few actresses have been able so admirably -to combine. She excelled in a profession in the arduous sphere of which -even to succeed requires uncommon gifts, both mental and physical. Her -disposition was as lovely as her person. Heaven lodge and rest her fair -soul!" - -The reader will recollect Miss Placide as the friend about whom young -Forrest quarrelled with Caldwell and withdrew from his service. How -strangely the millions of influences or spirits that weave our fate fly -to and fro with the threads of the weft and woof! While he was writing -the above words in the capital of France, her remains were sleeping in -a quiet cemetery of the far South, on the other side of the world, with -the inscription on the slab above her,-- - - "There's not an hour - Of day or dreamy night but I am with thee; - There's not a wind but whispers o'er thy name, - And not a flower that sleeps beneath the moon - But in its hues of fragrance tells a tale - Of thee." - -He passed over to England again, to visit a few spots sacred in -his imagination which he had not seen in his former journey there. -Chief among these were the house and grave of Shakspeare, at -Stratford-upon-Avon. With the eagerness and devotion arising from the -lifelong enthusiasm of all his professional studies and experience, -reinforced by the feeling of the accumulated homage paid at that shrine -by mankind at large, he wandered and mused in the places once so -familiar with the living presence of the poet, and still seeming to be -suffused with his invisible presence. In the day he had made a careful -exploration of the church where the unapproachable dramatist lies -sepulchred. Late in the evening, when the moon was riding half-way up -the heaven, he clambered over the fence, and, while the gentle current -of Avon was lapping the sedges on its shore almost at his feet, gazed -in at the window and saw the moonbeams silvering the bust of the dead -master on the wall, and the carved letters of the quaint and dread -inscription on his tomb,-- - - "Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbear - To dig the dust encloséd here. - Blessed be he who spares these stones, - And cursed be he who moves my bones." - -What a contrast the picture of him in this night-scene at the -church-window would have made for those familiar with his appearance on -the stage in the wrath of Coriolanus, the remorse of Macbeth, the sneer -of Richard, the horror of Othello, or the tempest of Lear! - -It now lacked but a few days of being two years since Forrest left -America, and he began to feel powerfully drawn homewards. It had been -a period of unalloyed satisfaction, and he had much improved in many -ways, from his intercourse with different forms and classes of society, -from his contemplation of natural scenery in many lands, from his study -of the masterpieces of art, from his criticism of the performances -of the distinguished actors and actresses whom he saw, and from his -reading of many valuable books, including, among lighter volumes, such -works as those of Locke and Spinoza. In this long tour and deliberate -tarry abroad, wisely chosen in his early manhood, before his nature had -hardened in routine, with plenty of money, leisure, health, freedom, -and aspiration, he had drunk his fill of joy. His brain and spine and -ganglia saturated with an amorous drench of elemental force, drunk with -every kind of potency, he swayed on his centres in revelling fulness of -life. He had been in these two exempted years like Hercules in Olympus, -with abundance of ambrosia and nectar and Hebe on his knee. But now -his heart cried out for home, and the sense of duty urged him to gird -up his loins for work again. Something of his feeling may be guessed -from the fact that he had copied into his journal these lines of Byron: - - "What singular emotions fill - Their bosoms who have been induced to roam, - With fluttering doubts if all be well or ill, - With love for many and with tears for some; - All feelings which o'erleap the years long lost, - And bring our hearts back to the starting-post." - -He took passage in the Poland, and, with no notable adventure on the -voyage, arrived at New York on the 5th of August, 1836, to be received -with cheers into the open arms of a crowd of his friends as he stepped -ashore, prouder than ever of his birthright of American citizenship. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -PROFESSIONAL TOUR IN GREAT BRITAIN. - - -Two weeks of rest in his Philadelphia home, in delightful reunion with -his mother and sisters, and two weeks more devoted to the banquets -and parties with which his rejoicing friends there and in New York -celebrated his return, passed quickly. He had now to prepare to say -good-bye again. For overtures of such a flattering character had -been made to him while in England to return and give a series of -performances in the principal British theatres, that he had accepted -them, and was engaged to be there early in October. The desire, -however, after his long absence, to see him on the stage was so -general, and was urged so eagerly, that he determined to appear for -a few nights. Accordingly, he played the parts of Damon, Othello, -and Spartacus for five nights in the Chestnut Street Theatre, in -Philadelphia, and the same parts, with the addition of Lear, in the -Park Theatre, in New York. The crowd and the excitement on the opening -night were almost unprecedented, all the passages to the house being -blocked with applicants two hours before the rising of the curtain. -At the first glimpse of the actor in his stately senatorial garb, the -multitude that filled the entire auditorium with a packed mass of faces -rose as by one impulse and hailed him with deafening applause, kept up -until it seemed as if it was not to end. He had never played better, by -general consent, than he did this night. And when the play closed, and -the enthusiastic ovation which had saluted his entrance was repeated, -he certainly had every reason to feel in truth what he expressed in -words: - -"Ladies and gentlemen, for this warm peal of hands and hearts I have -only strength in my present exhausted state to say, I thank you. It -convinces me that neither time nor distance has been able to alienate -from me your kind regards. I am unable to speak what I wish; but -I can sincerely say that you make me proud this evening. And the -remembrance of the cordial greeting, after no common absence, given -me here in this city of my birth and my affection, will go down with -me to my latest hour as one of the happiest scenes of my professional -life." - -A similar reception, only, if possible, still more flattering in the -vastness of the throng and the fervor of the tributes, awaited him in -New York. Box tickets were sold at auction for twenty-five dollars -each,--a fact to which there had not at that time been anything like a -parallel known in this country. For his six performances he received -three thousand dollars, and the profit of the manager was estimated -at six thousand dollars. The public greeted his strong points with a -warmth which seemed to show that their admiration had grown during -his absence, and the critics spoke of an evident improvement in his -acting,--that it was less boisterous and more thoughtful than formerly. -Called out at the conclusion of the play, Othello, on the occasion of -his farewell, he alluded with deep emotions to the night, some ten -years before, when he had made his first appearance before a New York -audience. Then, a mere youth, just emerging from severe hardships, -and still oppressed by poverty and a dark prospect, with scarcely a -friend, he had tremblingly ventured to enact the part of Othello for -the benefit of a distressed brother-actor. The generous approbation -then given him had lent a new zeal to his ambition and a new strength -to his motives. From that hour his course had been one of unbroken -prosperity, for which he desired to return his most heartfelt thanks -to his countrymen, and to assure them that he would do his best not -to dishonor them in the mother-country, to which he was then bound. -"I shall carry with me," he added, "an indelible remembrance of your -kindness; and I hope that the recollection will be mutual, so that I -may say, with the divine Shakspeare,-- - - 'Our separation so abides and flies - That yon, remaining here, yet go with me, - And I, hence fleeting, still remain with you.'" - -The audience responded to his speech with tempestuous huzzas, and he -withdrew, carrying this flattering scene fresh in his memory as he set -sail for his courageous enterprise on the other side of the sea. - -It was a courageous and somewhat ominous adventure. For it is to be -remembered that the relationships of England and the United States were -very different in 1836 from what they are in our day. The memories -of the Revolutionary war and of the war of 1812 were still keen and -bitter; and the feelings of intellectual inferiority and literary -vassalage to the mother-country among the Americans engendered a sense -of wounded pride or irritable jealousy excessively sensitive to British -criticism, which, on the other hand, was generally marked by a tone of -complacent arrogance or condescending patronage. No American actor, at -least none of any note, had yet appeared on the boards in England. All -such international favors were on the other side,--and they had been -most numerous and long-continued. The illustrious Cooper, an Englishman -by birth and education, though so long domesticated in this country -both as citizen and actor as to be almost considered an American, had -been ignominiously hooted down on the most famous stage in London -amidst opprobrious cries of "Away with the Yankee! Send him back!" What -reception now would be vouchsafed to an American tragedian, fresh from -nature and the woods of the West, and all untrained in the methods of -the schools, who should dare essay to rival the glorious traditions -of old Drury Lane within her own walls?--this was a question which -caused many wise heads to shake with misgivings, and might well have -deterred any less fearless spirit than that of Forrest from putting it -to the test. But he believed, obvious as the antipathies and jealousies -between the two countries were, that the fellow-feeling and the love of -fair play were far stronger. In a speech delivered in his native city -the evening before his departure, he expressed himself thus: - -"The engagement which I am about to fulfil in London was not of my -seeking. While I was in England I was repeatedly importuned with -solicitations, and the most liberal offers were made to me. I finally -consented, not for my own sake, for my ambition is satisfied with the -applauses of my own countrymen, but partly in compliance with the -wishes of a number of American friends, and partly to solve a doubt -which is entertained by many of our citizens, whether Englishmen would -receive an American actor with the same favor which is here extended -to them. This doubt, so far as I have had an opportunity of judging, -is, I think, without foundation. During my residence in England, I -found among the English people the most unbounded hospitality, and -the warmest affection for my beloved country and her institutions. -With this impression, I have resolved to present to them an American -tragedy, supported by the humble efforts of the individual who stands -before you. If I fail--I fail. But, whatever may be the result, the -approbation of that public which first stamped the native dramatist and -actor will ever be my proudest recollection." - -Of all the friends to whom Forrest bade adieu, not one beside was -so dear to him as Leggett. The heart-ties between them had been -multiplied, enriched, and tightened by unwearied mutual acts of -kindness and service, and a thousand congenial interchanges of soul in -intimate hours when the world was shut out and their bosoms were opened -to each other without disguise or reserve. The letter here added speaks -for itself: - - "OFFICE OF THE EVENING POST, - "NEW YORK, Sept. 19th, 1836. - -"DEAR MADAM,--I had the pleasure of accompanying your son Edwin -yesterday as far as Sandy Hook, and seeing him safely on his way for -Liverpool, with a fine breeze, in a fine ship, and with a fine set of -fellow-passengers. He was accompanied down the bay by a large number -of his friends, who, on the steamboat parting from the ship, expressed -their warm feelings for him in many rounds of loud and hearty cheers. -We kept in sight of the vessel till near sundown, by which time she -had made a good offing. Andrew Allen had gone on board with his -baggage the day previous, and everything was prepared for him in the -most comfortable manner. While we were on board the vessel with him, -we were invited by the captain to sit down to a collation prepared for -the occasion, and had the satisfaction of drinking to his health and -prosperous voyage, not only across the Atlantic Ocean, but across the -ocean of life also, in a glass of sparkling champagne. It would have -given me the most unbounded happiness to have been able to accompany -him to Europe, as he desired; but circumstances rendered it impossible -for me to gratify that wish. I am with him in _heart_, however, and -shall look most eagerly for the tidings of his safe arrival and -triumphant reception. Whatever news I get concerning him which I -think may be of interest to you, I shall take pleasure in immediately -communicating. Mrs. Leggett bade me remember her most affectionately -to you and your daughters, and to say that, should you visit New York -at any time during your son's absence, she shall expect you to make -her house your home. In this wish I most fully concur. Allow me to -assure you, madam, that - - "With great respect, - "I am your obed't serv't, - "WM. LEGGETT. - "MRS. REBECCA FORREST." - -James K. Paulding, a close and dear friend of Forrest, met him one -sunshiny day in New York at the corner of Nassau and Ann Streets, -and expostulated with him against going across the sea to play. -"Washington," he said, "never went to Europe to gain an immortality. -Jackson never went there to extend his fame. Many others of our -greatest and most original men never visited the other hemisphere to -add lustre to their names. And why should you? Stay here, and build -yourself an enduring place in the mind of your own country alone. That -is enough for any man!" He spoke with extreme eloquence, heedless of -the busy throng who hurried by absorbed in so different a world from -that whose prospects kindled the idealistic and ambitious friends. -When Forrest was sailing out of the harbor, he recalled these words -with strong emotion, and felt for a moment as if he were guilty of a -sort of treachery to his own land in thus leaving it. Though the whole -incident, as here set down, may appear overstrained, it is a true -glimpse of life. - -Forrest made his first professional appearance in England in Drury Lane -Theatre, on the evening of the 17th of October, 1836, in the rōle of -Spartacus, before an audience which crowded the house in every part -to its utmost capacity. His great American fame had preceded him, and -there was an intense curiosity felt as to the result of his experiment. -The solicitude was especially keen among the two or three hundred of -his countrymen who were present, and who knew the extreme democratic -quality of the play of the Gladiator. The tremendous bursts of applause -which his entrance called out soon put an end to all doubt or anxiety. -The favor in advance certified by the unanimous and long-continued -cheers he confirmed at every step of the performance, and wrought to -an extraordinary pitch at the close, when he was recalled before the -curtain and greeted with overwhelming plaudits. He returned his thanks -for the honor done him, and was loudly applauded when he said he was -sure that England and America were joined by the closest good-will, and -that the more enlightened portion of their population were superior -to any feeling of national jealousy. But on attempting to include the -author of the Gladiator in the approving verdict which the audience had -given himself, he was interrupted by numerous protests and repeated -cries, "Let us see you in some of Shakspeare's characters!" - -The Courier of the next morning said,-- - -"America has at length vindicated her capability of producing a native -dramatist of the highest order, whose claims should be unequivocally -acknowledged by the Mother Country; and has rendered back some portion -of the dramatic debt so long due to us in return for the Cookes, the -Keans, the Macreadys, the Knowleses, and the Kembles, whom she has, -through a long series of years, seduced, at various times, to her -shores,--the so long doubted problem being happily solved by Mr. Edwin -Forrest, the American tragedian, who made his first appearance last -night on these boards, with a success as triumphant as could have been -desired by his most enthusiastic admirers on the other side of the -Atlantic. Of the numerous striking situations and touching passages in -the play, Mr. Forrest availed himself with great tact, discrimination, -and effect; now astounding all eyes and ears by the overwhelming -energy of his physical powers, and now subduing all hearts by the -pathos of his voice, manner, and expression. The whole weight of the -piece rests upon him alone, and nobly does he sustain it. His action -is easy, graceful, and varied; and his declamation is perfectly free -from the usual stage chant, catchings, and points. Indeed, nature -alone seems to have been his only model." - -The "Sun" of the same date said,-- - -"Mr. Edwin Forrest, who has long held the first rank as a tragic actor -in America, made his first appearance here last night in a new drama, -also of American growth, entitled the _Gladiator_. The acting of Mr. -Forrest as Spartacus was throughout admirable. His very figure and -voice were in his favor, the one being strongly muscular, the other -replete with a rough music befitting one who in his youth has dwelt, -a free barbarian, among the mountains. He electrified his audience; -indeed, we have not heard more enthusiastic bursts of applause shake -the walls of an English theatre since _Othello_ expired with poor -Kean. The great recommendations of Mr. Forrest as a tragedian we take -to be strong passion, and equally strong judgment. In the whirlwind -of his emotions he never loses sight of self-control. He is the -master, not the slave, of his feelings. He appeals to no fastidious -coterie for applause; he is not remarkable for the delivery of this or -that pretty tinkling poetic passage; still less is he burdened with -refined sensibility, which none but the select few can understand; far -otherwise; he gives free play to those rough natural passions which -are intelligible all the world over. His pathos is equally sincere and -unsophisticated. His delivery of the passage,-- - - 'And one day hence, - My darling boy, too, may be fatherless,'-- - -was marked by the truest and tenderest sensibility. Equally successful -was he in that pleasing pastoral idea,-- - - 'And Peace was tinkling in the shepherd's bells, - And singing with the reapers;' - -which, had it been written in Claude's days, that great painter would -undoubtedly have made the subject of one of his best landscapes. - - 'Famine shrieked in the empty corn-fields,'-- - -a striking image, which immediately follows the preceding one, was -given by Mr. Forrest with an energy amounting almost to the sublime. -Not less impressive was his delivery of - - 'There are no Gods in heaven,' - -which bursts from him when he hears of the murder of his wife and -child by the Roman cohorts. Mr. Forrest has made such a hit as has -not been made since the memorable 1814, when Edmund Kean burst on -England in Shylock. America may well feel proud of him; for though -he is not, strictly speaking, what is called a classical actor, yet -he has all the energy, all the indomitable love of freedom that -characterizes the transatlantic world. We say this because there were -many republican allusions in the play where the man spoke out quite as -much as the actor, if not more. Having seen him in Spartacus, we no -longer wonder at his having electrified the New World. A man better -fitted by nature and art to sustain such a character, and a character -better fitted to turn the heads of a nation which was the other day in -arms against England, never appeared on the boards of a theatre. At -the fall of the curtain he received such a tempest of approbation as -we have not witnessed for years." - -The Morning Advertiser said,-- - -"When to the facts of a new play and a new actor is superadded the -circumstance that both the author and the player of the new tragedy -are Americans, and the first who ever tempted the intellectual taste -of the British public by a representation on the English stage, -the crowds which last night surrounded the doors long before they -were thrown open are easily accounted for. The applause which Mr. -Forrest received on his _entrée_ must have been very cheering to that -gentleman. He possesses a countenance well marked and classical; his -figure, a model for stage effect, with 'thew and sinew' to boot. His -enunciation, which we had anticipated to be characterized by some -degree of that _patois_ which distinguishes most Americans, even the -best educated, was almost perfect 'to the last recorded syllable,' -and fell like music on the ears. We here especially point to the less -declamatory passages of the drama; in those portions of it where he -threw his whole power of body and soul into the whirlwind, as it were, -of his fury, his display of physical strength was prodigious, without -'o'erstepping the modesty of nature.' The inflections of his voice -frequently reminded one of Kean in his healthiest days, yet there -did not appear the manner of a copyist. He was crowned with loud and -unanimous plaudits at least a dozen times during the representation." - -The Court Journal gave its judgment thus: - -"This chief of American performers is most liberally endowed by nature -with all the finest qualities for an actor. With a most graceful and -symmetrical person, of more than the ordinary stature, he has a face -capable of the sternest as of the nicest delineations of passion, -and a voice of deep and earnest power. We have never witnessed a -presence more noble and commanding,--one that, at the first moment, -challenged greater respect, we may write, admiration. As an actor, -Mr. Forrest is fervent, passionate, and active: there is no child's -play in whatever he does; but in the most serious, as in the slightest -development of feeling, he puts his whole heart into the matter, and -carries us away with him in either the subtlety or the strength of his -emotion. With powers evidently enabling him to outroar a whirlwind, he -is never extravagant,--he is never of 'Ercles' vein; his passion is -always from the heart, and never from the lungs. His last two scenes -were splendidly acted, from the strength, the self-abandonment of the -performer; he looked and moved as if he could have cut down a whole -cohort, and died like a Hercules. The reception of Mr. Forrest was -most cordial; and the applause bestowed upon him throughout the play -unbounded. At the conclusion of the tragedy he was called for, and -most rapturously greeted." - -The Times described the figure, face, and voice of the actor, gave a -long abstract of the play, and said,-- - -"He played with his whole heart, and seemed to be so strongly imbued -with the part that every tone and gesture were perfectly natural, and -full of that fire and spirit which, engendered by true feeling, carry -an audience along with the performer. He made a powerful impression on -the audience, and must be regarded as an able performer who to very -considerable skill in his profession adds the attraction of a somewhat -novel and much more spirited style of playing than any other tragic -actor now on our stage." - -The following extract is from the Atlas: - -"If we were to estimate Mr. Forrest's merits by his performance of -the Gladiator, we should, probably, underrate, or, perhaps, mistake -the true character of his genius. The very qualities which render him -supreme in such a part would, if he possessed no other requisites, -unfit him for those loftier conceptions that constitute the highest -efforts of the stage. It would be impossible to produce a more -powerful performance, or one in all respects more just and complete, -than his representation of the moody savage Thracian. But nature has -given him peculiar advantages which harmonize with the demands of -the part, and which, in almost any other character in the range of -tragedy, would either encumber the delineation or be of no avail. -His figure is cast in the proportions of the Farnese Hercules. The -development of the muscles, indeed, rather exceeds the ideal of -strength, and, in its excess, the beauty of symmetrical power is -in some degree sacrificed. His head and neck are perfect models of -grandeur in the order to which they belong. His features are boldly -marked, full of energy and expression, and, although not capable of -much variety, they possess a remarkable tone of _mental_ vigor. His -voice is rich and deep, and susceptible of extraordinary transitions, -which he employs somewhat too frequently as the transitions of -feeling pass over his spirit. The best way, perhaps, of describing -its varieties is to say that it reminded us occasionally of Kean, -Vandenhoff, and Wallack, but not as they would be recalled by one who, -in the dearth of his own resources, imitated them for convenience, -but by one in whom such resemblances are natural and unpremeditated. -Mr. Forrest's action is bold, unconscious, and diversified; and the -predominant sentiment it inspires is that of athletic grace. In the -part of Spartacus all these characteristics were brought out in the -most favorable points of view; and the performance, exhausting from -its length and its internal force, was sustained to the close with -undiminished power. There is certainly no actor on the English stage -who could have played it with a tithe of Mr. Forrest's ability." - -In response to the invitation or challenge to appear in some of the -great Shakspearean rōles, Forrest appeared many nights successively -in Othello, Macbeth, and Lear, and in them all was crowned with most -decisive and flattering triumphs. The praise of him by the press was -generous, and its chorus scarcely broken by the few dissenting voices, -whose tone plainly betrayed an animus of personal hostility. A few -examples of the newspaper notices may fitly be cited,--enough to give a -fair idea of the general impression he made. - -The Globe, of October 25th: - -"Mr. Forrest selected as his second character the fiery Othello, 'who -loved not wisely, but too well.' There was something nobly daring in -this flight, so soon, too, after he whose voice still dwells in our -ears had passed from among us. To essay before an English audience any -character in which Edmund Kean was remembered was itself no trifling -indication of that self-confidence which, when necessary, true genius -can manifest. To make that attempt in Othello was indeed daring. -And nobly, we feel proud to say, did the performance bear out the -promise. In the Senate scene his colloquial voice told well in the -celebrated address to the Seniors of Venice. He did not speak as if -the future evils of his life had even then cast their shadows upon -him. The calm equability of the triumphant general and successful -lover pervaded his performance throughout the first two acts, with -the exception of the scene of the drunken brawl in the second, where -he first gave token of the fiery elements within him. The third act -was a splendid presentment throughout. He had evidently studied the -character with the judgment of a scholar, 'and a ripe and good one:' -each shade of the jealous character of the easy Moor, from the first -faint guessings at his tempter's meaning to the full conviction of his -wife's dishonesty, was brought out with the touch of a master-hand, -and embodied with a skill equalling that of any actor whom we have -seen, and far, very far superior to the manner in which any other of -our living performers could attempt it. This third act alone would -have placed Mr. Forrest in the foremost rank of his profession had -he never done anything else; and so his kindling audience seemed to -feel, as much in the deep watching silence of their attention as in -the tremendous plaudits which hailed what on the stage are technically -called 'the points' he made. - -"In the two succeeding acts he was equally great in the passages which -called forth the burning passions of his fiery soul; but we shall not -at present particularize; where all was good it would be difficult, -and we have already nearly run through the dictionary of panegyric. In -accordance with a burst of applause such as seldom follows the fall of -the curtain, _Othello_ was announced for repetition on Wednesday and -Friday." - -The commendation of the London Sun was still stronger: - -"Mr. Forrest last night made his appearance here in the arduous -character of Othello. The experiment was a bold one, but was -completely successful. We entertain a vivid recollection of Kean in -this part; we saw his Moor when the great actor was in the meridian -vigor of his powers, and also when he was in his decline and could -do justice only to the more subdued and pathetic parts of the -character; and even with these recollections on our mind, we feel -ourselves justified in saying that Mr. Forrest's Othello, if here -and there inferior in execution to Kean's, was in conception far -superior. There is an elevation of thought and sentiment,--a poetic -grandeur,--a picturesqueness, if we may use such an expression, in -Mr. Forrest's notion of the character, which Kean could never reach. -The one could give electrical effect to all its more obvious points, -turn to admirable account all that lay on its surface; the other -sounds its depths,--turns it inside out,--apprehends it in a learned -and imaginative spirit, and shows us not merely the fiery, generous -warrior, the creature of impulse, but the high-toned, chivalrous -Moor; lofty and dignified in his bearing, and intellectual in his -nature,--such a Moor, in short, as we read of in the old Spanish -chronicles of Granada,--and who perpetrates an act of murder not so -much from the headstrong, animal promptings of revenge, as from an -idea that he is offering up a solemn and inevitable sacrifice to -justice. In the earlier portion of the character Mr. Forrest was -rather too drawling and measured in his delivery; his address to the -Senators was judicious, but not quite familiar enough; it should -have been more colloquial. It was evident, however, that throughout -this scene the actor was laboring under constraint; he had yet to -establish himself with his audience, and was afraid of committing -himself prematurely. Henceforth he may dismiss this apprehension; for -he has proved that he is, beyond all question, the first tragedian of -the age.... We have spoken of this gentleman's Othello in high terms -of praise, but have not commended it beyond its deserts. In manly and -unaffected vigor; in terrific force of passion, where such a display -is requisite; but, above all, in heartfelt tenderness, it is fully -equal to Kean's Othello; in sustained dignity, and in the absence -of all stage-trick and undue gesticulation, it is superior. Perhaps -here and there it was a little too elaborate; but this is a trivial -blemish, which practice will soon remedy. On the whole, Mr. Forrest -is the most promising tragedian that has appeared in our days. He -has, evidently, rare intellectual endowments; a noble and commanding -presence; a countenance full of varying expression; a voice mellow, -flexible, and in its undertones exquisitely tender, and a discretion -that never fails him. If any one can revive the half-extinct taste for -the drama, he is the man." - -The Carlton Chronicle said,-- - -"It is impossible that any actor could, in person, bearing, action, -and utterance, better fulfil your fair-ideal of the noble Moor. All -the passages of the part evincing Will and Power are delivered after -a manner to leave the satisfied listener no faculty except that of -admiration. His bursts of passion are terrifically grand. There is -no grimace,--no exaggeration. They are terrible in their downright -earnestness and apparent truth. Nothing could be more heart-thrilling -than the noble rage with which he delivered the well-known passage,-- - - 'I had rather be a toad, - And live upon the vapor of a dungeon, - Than keep a corner in the thing I love, - For others' uses;' - -nothing more glorious than the burst in which he volleyed forth the -following passage, suppressed by the barbarians of our theatres,-- - - 'Like to the Pontic Sea, - Whose icy current and compulsive course - Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on - To the Propontic and the Hellespont; - Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace, - Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love, - Till that a capable and wide revenge - Swallow them up.' - -Throughout the part, as he enacted it, there were several new -readings, in the player's phrase. They were all good,--they all -conveyed to us, who love Shakspeare, new ideas. Forrest, apart from -his playing, is no common man. In many scenes of the play, in which -it was the fashion to rant, Forrest contented himself with the -appropriate display of dignified and quiet power. This was beyond -praise." - -The following extract is from the notice in the John Bull: - -"It is where Iago first attempts to rouse the jealousy of Othello, -and, having created the spark, succeeds in fanning it to a consuming -fire, that Mr. Forrest may be said to have been truly great. Slowly he -appeared to indulge the suspicion of his wife's infidelity; in silent -agony the conviction seemed to be creeping upon him,--his iron sinews -trembling with dreadful and conflicting emotions,--rapid as thought -were his denunciations; and, with all the weakness of woman, he again -relapsed into tenderness,--pain had a respite, and hope a prospect. -Then came his fearful and startling challenge to Iago, ending,-- - - 'If thou dost slander her, and torture me, - Never pray more: abandon all remorse; - On horror's head horrors accumulate: - Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed; - For nothing canst thou to damnation add - Greater than that.' - -"The almost savage energy with which this passage was delivered -produced an indescribable effect. Three long and distinct rounds of -applause testified how highly the audience was delighted with this -master-effort; and the most prejudiced must have been convinced that -they were witnessing the acting of no ordinary man." - -The critique in the Albion was a notable one: - -"Mr. Forrest made his first appearance on our boards on Monday -last, in the part of Othello. Mr. Forrest possesses a fine person, -an excellent thing in either man or woman; but, though this has -been much dwelt upon by the London critics, it is but a very minor -affair when speaking of such a man as Mr. Forrest. He carries -himself with exceeding grace and dignity, and his tread is easy -and majestic: he dresses with taste and magnificence. The picture -which he presented of the Moor was one of the most perfect which -we have witnessed. He gave us to see, like Desdemona, 'Othello's -visage in his mind,' of which he furnished us with a beautiful -and highly-finished portrait. Not content with acting each scene -well, he gave us a consistent transcript of the whole matter. Each -succeeding scene was in strict keeping with those that had preceded -it, showing that the actor had grasped the whole plot from beginning -to end, and that, from commencement to catastrophe, he had embodied -himself into strict identity with the person represented. His early -scenes were distinguished by a quiet and calm dignity of demeanor, -which, concomitant with the deepest tenderness of feeling, and a -high tone of manliness, he seems to have conceived the basis of -the Moor's character. In his address to the Senate, this dignified -self-possession, and a sense of what was due to himself, he made -particularly conspicuous. As the interest of the tragedy advanced, -we saw, with exceeding pleasure, that Mr. Forrest was determined to -depend for success upon the precept set forth by Shakspeare, 'To hold -the mirror up to nature.' With proper confidence in his own powers, he -disdained to overstep the prescribed bound for the sake of producing -effects equally at variance with nature and heterodox to good taste. -In the scene where he quells the drunken brawl, his acting throughout -was strikingly impressive of reality. Some of his ideas were novel, -and beautifully accordant with the tone of the character which he -wished to develop. Such was his recitation of the passage,-- - - 'Silence that dreadful bell! it frights the isle - From her propriety.' - -From the general group he turned to a single attendant who stood at -his elbow, and delivered the command in a subdued tone, as though -it were not intended for the ear of the multitude. This, though -effective, was judicious, and not overstrained. His dismissal of -Cassio was equally illustrative of the spirit to which we have -alluded. The audience testified their approbation by a loud burst -of applause. The final scene with Iago was beautifully played: the -gradual workings of his mind from calmness to jealousy were displayed -with striking effect. The transitions of emotion in the following -splendid passage were finely marked: - - 'If I do prove her haggard, - Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings, - I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind, - To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black, - And have not those soft parts of conversation - That chamberers have: Or, for I am declined - Into the vale of years; yet that's not much: - She's gone: I am abused: and my relief - Must be to loathe her. O the curse of marriage, - That we can call these delicate creatures ours, - And not their appetites! I'd rather be a toad, - And live upon the vapor of a dungeon, - Than keep a corner in the thing I love, - For other's uses. - Desdemona comes!' - -The burst of mixed passions with which he uttered the first of these -sentences was terrific. His voice then sank into tones the most -touching, expressive of complaining regret. The conclusion seemed to -have excited him to the most extreme pitch of loathing and disgust, -and, as he sees Desdemona advancing, he, for a few moments, gazed upon -her with horror. The feeling gave way, and all his former tenderness -seemed to return as he exclaimed,-- - - 'If she be false, O then Heaven mocks itself,-- - I'll not believe it.' - -The subsequent scene with Iago, a trial of physical as well as mental -strength, was well sustained. It is here that Iago, by a series of -artful manoeuvres, screws the Moor up to the sticking-place. To -the conclusion of the scene the vehement passions are continually -increasing, and the difficulty is for an actor so to manage his powers -as to give full effect to the whole, without sinking into apparent -tameness in the last imprecation. We will not attempt any description -of the bedchamber scene. The reiterated and protracted plaudits of the -audience showed how highly it was appreciated. The dying-scene was -equally novel and excellent. At the fall of the curtain the audience -testified their delight and approbation by the most marked and -vehement applause, which continued for several minutes." - -The London Journal gave a long account of Forrest's Lear, of which this -extract contains the substance: - -"We have been much amused by the conflict of opinion respecting this -representation. Some describe it as one of the most magnificent -triumphs of this or any age. Another denounces the performance as an -idle and false imposition, and the actor as an ignorant empiric, who -has crossed the Atlantic solely to practise on the gullibility of John -Bull. We do not think John quite so gullible; we do not believe that -in matters of intellectual recreation he is so apt to take - - 'Those tenders for true pay - Which are not sterling.' - -We consider it may be pretty safely taken as a general rule that the -large popularity of any artist is here synonymous only with great -talent. We had also seen quite enough of Mr. Forrest to convince -us that he is a man of real talent, with very little, if any, mere -trickery in his acting, so that to stigmatize him as a quack or an -impostor was as great a violation of truth as of good feeling. At -the same time, it is right we should remark that the estimate we -had formed of his genius, from his previous representations, was -not sufficiently high to induce a belief in all that his eulogists -pronounced on his Lear. We, therefore, came to the conclusion that -in this case, as in others where opinions are so remote from each -other, the truth would, probably, be found midway between the two -extremes; and, on seeing and judging for ourselves on Monday night, -found our conclusion fully warranted. The general conception of the -'poor old king' is most accurately taken, and his general execution -of it fervid, earnest, and harmonious. He has evidently grappled -with the character manfully, and he never lets go his hold. The -carefulness of his study is sometimes a little too obvious, giving -an injurious hardness and over-precision. The awful malediction of -Goneril--that fearful curse, which can scarcely be even read without -trembling--was delivered by Mr. Forrest with a power and intensity -we never saw surpassed by any actor of Lear. It was an exhibition -likely to follow a young play-goer to his pillow and mix itself with -his dreams. Shakspeare has here given us a wild burst of uncontrolled -and uncontrollable rage, mixed with a deep pathos, which connects -the very terms of the curse with the cause of the passion,--an awful -prayer for a retribution as just as terrible. All this Mr. Forrest -evidently understood and felt; and he therefore made his audience feel -it with him. The almost supernatural energy with which Lear seems to -be carried on to the very termination of the malediction, when the -passion exhausts itself and him, was portrayed by Mr. Forrest with -fearful reality and effect. He also greatly excelled in the passage,-- - - 'No, you unnatural hags, - I will have such revenges on you both, - That all the world shall--I will do such things,-- - What they are yet, I know not; but they shall be - The terrors of the earth.' - -His delivery of these lines was marked with the same truth and power -as the curse, and very finely displayed the energy of will and -impotence of action which form so touching a combination in Lear's -character. But perhaps the very best point in Mr. Forrest's Lear, -because the most delicate and difficult passage for an actor to -realize, was his manner of giving the lines,-- - - 'My wits begin to turn.-- - Come on, my boy: how dost, my boy? Art cold? - I am cold myself.... - Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart - That's sorry yet for thee.' - -This beautiful passage is extremely touching, and Mr. Forrest fully -felt and adequately illustrated its pathos and its beauty." - -Another of the authorities in British journalism, whose title the -writer cannot recover, wrote thus: - -"If Mr. Forrest is great in Othello, we do not hesitate to say he is -much greater in Lear. Here the verisimilitude is perfect. From the -moment of his entrance to the finely-portrayed death, every passion -which rages in that brain--the love, the madness, the ambition, the -despair--is given the more forcibly that it flashes through the -feebleness of age. In that powerful scene where the bereaved monarch -laments over his dead daughter, Mr. Forrest acted pre-eminently well. -He bears in her lifeless body and makes such a moan over it as would -force tears from a Stoic. None, we think, who heard him put the -plaintive but powerful interrogatory,-- - - 'Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, - And thou no breath at all?'-- - -followed by the bitter and melancholy reflection,-- - - 'O! thou wilt come no more, - Never! never! never! never! never!' - -will ever forget the anguish depicted on Mr. Forrest's features, or -the heart-piercing melancholy of his tones. Mr. Forrest evinced, -throughout, a fine conception of the character. He did not surprise us -by a burst of genius now and then. His performance was equable,--it -was distinguished in every part by deep and intense feeling. The curse -levelled against Goneril (one of the most fearful passages ever penned -by man) was given with awful force. The last member of the speech-- - - 'That she may feel - How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is - To have a thankless child!'-- - -was poured forth with an unrestrained but natural energy that acted -like an electric shock on the audience; a momentary silence succeeded -it; but immediately afterwards a simultaneous burst of applause -attested the great triumph of the actor. His mad-scenes, when, -delighting in a crown and sceptre of straw, Lear proclaims himself -'every inch a king,' were admirably conceived, and no less admirably -acted. There was no straining after effect,--there was no grimacery. -We saw before us the 'poor, weak, and despised old man,'--the 'more -sinned against than sinning,'--reduced to a state of second childhood, -and paying the too severe penalty which his folly and his credulity, -in listening to the hyperboles of his elder daughters and rejecting -the true filial affection of his youngest and once his most beloved -child, exacted from him." - -It may be well, also, to quote what was said by the "London Times" of -November 5th: - -"The part of Lear is one which many otherwise eminent actors have -found above, or at least unsuited to, their capacities. Mr. Forrest -played it decidedly better than anything he has as yet essayed in -this country. His conception of the character is accurate, and his -execution was uncommonly powerful and effective. If it be, as it -cannot be disputed that it is, a test of an actor's skill that he -is able to rivet the attention of the audience, and so to engage -their thoughts and sympathies that they have not leisure even to -applaud on the instant, he may be said to have succeeded most -completely last night. From the beginning of the play to the end, -it was obvious that he exercised this power over the spectators. -While he was speaking, the most profound silence prevailed, and it -was not until he had concluded that the delight of the audience -vented itself in loud applause. This was particularly remarkable -in his delivery of Lear's curse upon his daughters, the effect of -which was more powerful than anything that has lately been done on -the stage. It is not, however, upon particular passages that the -excellence of the performance depended; its great merit was that it -was a whole, complete and finished. The spirit in which it began was -equally sustained throughout, and, as a delineation of character and -passion, it was natural, true, and vigorous, in a very remarkable -degree. The mad-scenes were admirably played; and the last painful -scene, so painful that it might well be dispensed with, was given -with considerable power. The great accuracy and fidelity with which -the decrepitude of the aged monarch was portrayed was not among the -least meritorious parts of the performance. The palsied head and -quivering limbs were so correctly given as to prove that the actor's -attention has been sedulously devoted to the attempt to make the -performance as perfect as possible. A striking proof of his sense of -the propriety of keeping up the illusion he had created was manifested -in his reappearance, in obedience to the loud and general call of -the audience, at the end of the tragedy. He came on, preserving the -same tottering gait which he had maintained throughout, and bowed his -thanks as much in the guise of Lear as he had acted in the drama. This -would have been almost ridiculous in any but a very skilful actor: -in him it served to prevent too sudden a dissipation of the dramatic -illusion." - -The critical notices of the Macbeth of Forrest were of the same average -as the foregoing estimates of his other parts, though the faults -pointed out were generally of a description the exact opposite of those -currently ascribed to his acting. He was considered too subdued and -tame in the part: - -"Mr. Forrest essayed the difficult character of Macbeth, for the -first time in this country, on Wednesday evening. We are inclined -to think that this highly-gifted actor has not often attempted this -part; because, though his performance displayed many noble traits of -genius, yet it could not, as a whole, boast of that equally-sustained -excellence by which his personation of Lear and of Othello was -distinguished. We were highly gratified by his exertions in that -part of the second act which commences with the 'dagger soliloquy,' -and ends with Macbeth's exit, overwhelmed with fear, horror, and -remorse. There is no man on the stage at present who could, in this -scene, produce so terrific an effect. Never did we see the bitterness -of remorse, the pangs of guilt-condemning conscience, so powerfully -portrayed. The storm of feeling by which the soul of Macbeth is -assailed, spoke in the agitated limbs of Mr. Forrest, and in the wild, -unearthly glare of his eye, ere he had uttered a word. On his entrance -after his bloody mission to Duncan's chamber, Mr. Forrest introduced -a new and a very striking point. Absorbed in the recollection of the -crime which he has committed, he does not perceive Lady Macbeth till -she seizes his arm. Then, acting under the impulse of a mind fraught -with horror, he starts back, uttering an exclamation of fear, as if -his way had been barred by some supernatural power. This fine touch, -so true to the scene and to nature, drew down several rounds of -applause. In the banquet scene, too, his acting was very fine; and the -greater part of the fifth act was supported with extraordinary energy. -That passage in which, having heard that 'a wood does come toward -Dunsinane,' Macbeth exclaims to the messenger,-- - - 'If thou speak'st false, - Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive, - Till famine cling thee:--if thy speech be sooth, - I care not if thou dost for me as much,'-- - -was delivered with astonishing force. Mr. Forrest gave those -melancholy reminiscences which occasionally float over the saddened -mind of Macbeth with intense and searching feeling. There was, -however, in many parts of his performance a lack of power. Mr. Forrest -was too subdued,--too colloquial. The speech of Macbeth, after the -discovery of the murder,-- - - 'Had I but died an hour before this chance, - I had lived a blessed time,'-- - -was delivered with most inappropriate calmness. Macbeth would have -here 'assumed a virtue though he had it not,' and poured forth his -complainings in a louder tone. Again, Macbeth's answer to Macduff, who -demands why he has slain the sleepy grooms,-- - - 'Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, - Loyal and neutral, in a moment?--No man!'-- - -was wholly deficient in spirit, until Mr. Forrest came to the last -member of the sentence, which was given with due and proper emphasis. -In the rencounter with Macduff, where Macbeth declares that he 'bears -a charmed life,' the passage ought to be uttered as the proud boast -of one who was confident of supernatural protection, and not in a -taunting, sneering manner. Mr. Forrest's error is on the right side, -and is very easily corrected. Doubtless, in his future performance of -the character he will assume a higher tone in those parts of the play -to which we have alluded." - -The Morning Chronicle said,-- - -"Mr. Forrest appeared last evening in the character of Macbeth, and in -the performance of it fully sustained the reputation he has already -obtained in the parts of Othello and Lear. Mr. Forrest brings to the -performance of Shakspeare's heroes an energy and vigor, tempered -with a taste and judgment, such as we rarely find combined in any -who venture to tread the stage. There is, besides, a reality in his -acting, an actual identification of himself with the character he -impersonates, stronger than in any actor we have ever seen. If this -was remarkable in his performance of Othello and Lear, it is not less -so in the performance of Macbeth. From the first act to the last--from -his first interview with the weird sisters, whose vague prophecy -instills into the mind that feeling of 'vaulting ambition' which -leads him to the commission of so many crimes, to the last scene, in -which he finds his charms dissolved, and begins, too late, to doubt -'the equivocation of the fiend'--he carried the audience completely -with him, and made them at times wholly unmindful of the skill of the -actor, from the interest excited in the actions of Macbeth." - -In addition to his renderings of Spartacus, Othello, Lear, and Macbeth, -Forrest appeared also as Damon, and achieved a success similar to that -he had won in the same part at home. - -"The part of _Damon_ is decidedly beneath Mr. Forrest's acknowledged -talents. No man could, however, have made more of the character than -he did, whether he appeared as the stern, uncompromising patriot, the -deep-feeling husband and father, or the generous and devoted friend. -His rebuke of the slavish senate, who crouch at the feet of the tyrant -Dionysius, was delivered with calm and earnest dignity; but his two -great scenes were that in which he learns that his freedman, Lucullus, -has slain his horse to prevent the anxious Damon from arriving in time -to rescue his beloved Pythias from the hands of the executioner; and -that with which the piece concludes, where, breathless and exhausted, -he rushes into the presence of his despairing friend. - -"The burst of passionate fury with which he assailed the affrighted -freedman, in the former scene, was awfully fearful; and his expression -of wild, frantic, overwhelming joy when he beholds Pythias in safety, -and can only manifest his feelings by hysteric laughter, was perfectly -true to nature. Mr. Forrest's performance was most amply and justly -applauded." - -The actor had every reason to feel well pleased with the results of his -bold undertaking. His emotions are expressed in a letter written to -his mother under date of Liverpool, January 2d, 1837, in the course of -which he says,-- - -"Before this you have doubtless heard of my great triumphs in Drury -Lane Theatre; though I must confess I did not think they treated -the Gladiator and my friend Dr. Bird fairly. Yet, as far as regards -myself, I never have been more successful, even in my own dear land. -In the characters of Shakspeare alone would they hear me; and night -after night in overwhelming crowds they came, and showered their -hearty applause on my efforts. This, my dear mother, is a triumphant -refutation of those prejudiced opinions so often repeated of me in -America by a few ignorant scribblers, who but for the actors would -never have understood one line of the immortal bard." - -But a fuller statement of his impressions in London, with interesting -glimpses of his social life there, is contained in a letter to Leggett: - -"... My success in England has been very great. While the people -evinced no great admiration of the Gladiator, they came in crowds to -witness my personation of Othello, Lear, and Macbeth. I commenced my -engagement on the 17th of October at 'Old Drury,' and terminated it -on the 19th of December, having acted in all thirty-two nights, and -represented those three characters of Shakspeare twenty-four out of -the thirty-two, namely, Othello nine times, Macbeth seven, and King -Lear eight,--this last having been repeated oftener by me than by any -other actor on the London boards in the same space of time, except -Kean alone. This approbation of my Shakspeare parts gives me peculiar -pleasure, as it refutes the opinions very confidently expressed by a -certain _clique_ at home that I would fail in those characters before -a London audience. - -"But it is not only from my reception within the walls of the theatre -that I have reason to be pleased with my English friends. I have -received many grateful kindnesses in their hospitable homes, and in -their intellectual fireside circles have drunk both instruction and -delight. I suppose you saw in the newspapers that a dinner was given -to me by the Garrick Club. Serjeant Talfourd presided, and made a very -happy and complimentary speech, to which I replied. Charles Kemble -and Mr. Macready were there. The latter gentleman has behaved in the -handsomest manner to me. Before I arrived in England, he had spoken -of me in the most flattering terms, and on my arrival he embraced the -earliest opportunity to call upon me, since which time he has extended -to me many delicate courtesies and attentions, all showing the native -kindness of his heart, and great refinement and good breeding. The -dinner at the Garrick was attended by many of the most distinguished -men. - -"I feel under great obligations to Mr. Stephen Price, who has shown -me not only the hospitalities which he knows so well how to perform, -but many other attentions which have been of great service to me, and -which, from his long experience in theatrical matters, he was more -competent to render than any other person. He has done me the honor to -present me with a copy of Shakspeare and a Richard's sword, which were -the property of Kean. Would that he could bestow upon me his _mantle_ -instead of his weapon! Mr. Charles Kemble, too, has tendered me, in -the kindest manner, two swords, one of which belonged to his truly -eminent brother, and the other to the great Talma, the theatrical idol -of the _grande nation_. - -"The London press, as you probably have noticed, has been divided -concerning my professional merits; though as a good republican I ought -to be satisfied, seeing I had an overwhelming majority on my side. -There is a degree of dignity and critical precision and force in their -articles generally (I speak of those against me, as well as for me, -and others, also, of which my acting was not the subject) that place -them far above the newspaper criticisms of stage performances which we -meet with in our country. Their comments always show one thing,--that -they have read and appreciated the writings of their chief dramatists; -while with us there are many who would hardly know, were it not -for the actors, that Shakspeare had ever existed. The audiences, -too, have a quick and keen perception of the beauties of the drama. -They seem, from the timeliness and proportion of their applause, to -possess a previous knowledge of the text. They applaud warmly, but -seasonably. They do not interrupt a passion and oblige the actor to -sustain it beyond the propriety of nature; but if he delineates it -forcibly and truly, they reward him in the intervals of the dialogue. -Variations from the accustomed modes, though not in any palpable new -readings,--which, for the most part, are bad readings, for there is -generally but one mode positively correct, and that has not been left -for us to discover,--but slight changes in emphasis, tone, or action, -delicate shadings and pencillings, are observed with singular and -most gratifying quickness. You find that your study of Shakspeare has -not been thrown away; that your attempt to grasp the character in its -'gross and scope,' as well as in its details, so as not merely to know -how to speak what is written, but to preserve its truth and keeping in -a new succession of incidents, could it be exposed to them,--you find -that this is seen and appreciated by the audience; and the evidence -that they see and feel is given with an emphasis and heartiness that -make the theatre shake. - -"Though my success in London, and now here, has been great beyond my -fondest expectations; though the intoxicating cup of popular applause -is pressed nightly, overflowing, to my lips; and though in private I -receive all sorts of grateful kindnesses and courtesies,--yet--yet--to -tell the truth--there are moments when a feeling of homesickness comes -upon me, and I would give up all this harvest of profit and fame which -I am gathering, to be once more in my 'ain hame' and under 'the bright -skies of my own free land.'" - -The above estimate of British dramatic criticism is a little -rose-colored, from the imperfect experience of the writer at the time. -It was not long before he knew more of it in its less attractive -aspect. For he found that the same unhappy influences of personal -prejudice and spite, of ignorance and spleen, of cabal interest and -corruption, which betrayed themselves in the American press, were -conspicuously shown also in the English. Only a few months before -the arrival of Forrest, a company of French players from Paris had -attempted to perform in London, and had been subjected to treatment, -through the instigation of the rival theatres, which had caused their -failure and deeply disgraced and mortified the public. The intense -self-interest and notorious jealousy of prominent players, as a class, -produced in London, as elsewhere, cliques who set up as champions each -of its favorite performer, and strove to advance him, not only by -rightful means, but likewise by the illegitimate method of putting his -competitors down. The chosen literary tool of a great tragedian, the -newspaper critic who arrogates to represent his interests, very often -volunteers services with which his principal has nothing to do. It was -so in London while Forrest played in Drury Lane. Macready, Vandenhoff, -Charles Kemble, Charles Kean, and Booth all had rival engagements. -Three different newspapers were the respective organs of three of these -actors. All three agreed in depreciating and abusing the stranger, -while each one at the same time spoke with detraction and sneers of the -favorites of the other two. While the general press spoke fairly of -each performer, and gave Forrest such notices as more than satisfied -him and his friends, these special papers indulged in fulsome eulogy -of their chosen idol and assailed the others with satire and insult. -For example, one writer says of Kean, "He stars in country theatres, -where his power of exaggerating the faults of his father's acting gives -delight to the unwashed of the gallery, who like handsome dresses, -noise, stamping, bustle, and splutter." A second says of Booth, "Bunn, -in his drowning desperation, catches at straws. He has put forward -Booth, the shadow and foil of Kean in bygone days. His Richard seems -to have been a wretched failure." A third says of Macready in Othello, -in the scene with Iago and Brabantio, "He comes on the stage with -the air of a sentimental negro rehearsing the part of Hamlet." And a -fourth characterizes the voice of Macready "as a combination of grunt, -guttural, and spasm." After such specimens of "criticism" on their own -countrymen, one need not feel surprised to read notices of a foreigner, -inspired by the same spirit, like the following from the "Examiner": -"Mr. Forrest has appeared in Mr. Howard Payne's foolish compilation -called Brutus. This is an American tragedy, and not ill-suited, on the -whole, to Mr. Forrest's style. The result was amazingly disagreeable." -The animus of such writing is so obvious to every person of insight -that it falls short of its mark, and does no injury to the artist -ridiculed. The writer shows himself, as one of his contemporaries said, -not a critic, but a caviller,--a gad-fly of the drama. - -Among the squibs that flew on all sides among the partisans, abounding -in phrases like "the icy stilts and bombastic pomposity of Vandenhoff," -"the stiff and disagreeable mannerism of Macready," "the affected, -half-convulsive croaking of Charles Kean," "the awkward ignorance and -brutality of Forrest," the American actor was treated, on the whole, as -well as the English ones. A gentleman who had a private box in Drury -Lane lent it to a friend to see Forrest in Othello. But it was one of -his off-nights, in which Booth was substituted as Richard. The next -morning these lines appeared in a public print, as full of injustice as -such things usually are: - - "Of Shakspeare in _barns_ we have heard; - Yet who has the patience, forsooth, - To witness King Richard the Third, - Enacted to-night in a--BOOTH? - The order to you I have brought, - Not liking the Manager's trick; - For instead of the FORREST I sought, - He now only offers a _stick_." - -The impression he made, however, his great and unquestionable success, -are best shown by certain salient facts with which the dramatic -critics, prejudiced or unprejudiced, had nothing to do: the brilliant -public banquet given in his honor by the Garrick Club, with Thomas Noon -Talfourd in the chair; the exhibition, at the Somerset House, of his -full-length portrait as Macbeth in the dagger-scene; and the numerous -valuable presents made to him by various eminent men, including a -superb original oil-portrait of Garrick;--these tell their own story. -At the close of his first engagement a testimonial was given him by -his fellow-actors, every one of them spontaneously joining in the -contribution. It was, as the "Morning Herald" described it, "a splendid -snuff-box of tortoise-shell, lined and mounted with gold, with a mosaic -lid, and the inscription,-- - -"To Edwin Forrest, Esq., the American tragedian, from the performers -of the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, in testimony of their admiration of -his talent as an actor, and their respect for him as a man. 'His worth -is warrant for his welcome hither.'--SHAKSPEARE." - -The prolonged stay of Forrest in England was ostensibly to continue -for another season the brilliant professional life there opened to -him. But, in reality, a tenderer attraction constituted his principal -motive. He had met in the fashionable circles of the art life of London -a young lady of extreme beauty and of accomplished manners, thoroughly -imbued with musical and dramatic tastes, who had quite won his heart. -This was Catherine Norton Sinclair, daughter of a very distinguished -English vocalist. Miss Sinclair, with much force of character and -grace and vivacity of demeanor, had a personal loveliness which gave -her distinction wherever she appeared, and an ingenuous sympathetic -expression which made her a general favorite. She was the first and -only woman whom Forrest, with all his earnest but not absorbing -amours, had ever seriously thought of marrying. Her image, fixed in -his bewitched imagination wherever he went, made him impatient to be -with her again in fact. This was the magnet that drew him, after every -departure, so quickly back to London. The maiden, on the other hand, -was as much enamored as the man. More than thirty-six years afterwards, -when he was lying cold in his coffin, and so much of joy and hope and -pain and tragic grief lay buried between their separated souls, she -said, "The first time I saw him--I recall it now as clearly as though -it were but yesterday--the impression he made was so instantaneous -and so strong, that I remember I whispered to myself, while a thrill -ran through me, 'This is the handsomest man on whom my eyes have ever -fallen.'" On meeting they were mutually smitten, and the passion grew, -and no obstacles intervened, and they were betrothed. The intervals -between his starring engagements in the chief cities of the United -Kingdom he spent in courtship. It was a period of divine intoxication, -which they alone who have had a kindred experience can understand, when -life was all a current of bliss in a world sparkling with enchantment. -A favorite poet has said,-- - - "Oh, time is sweet when roses meet, - With June's soft breath around them; - And sweet the cost when hearts are lost, - If those we love have found them;" - -and it was in 1837, on one of the fairest days of an English June,--a -day which, no doubt, they fondly supposed would stand thenceforth as -the most golden in all the calendar of their lives,--that the happy -pair were married, in the grand old cathedral of Saint Paul, in London. -The officiating clergyman was the Rev. Henry Hart Milman, a man equally -renowned as preacher, scholar, historian, and poet. The service was -performed in an imposing manner, before a brilliant assemblage, with -every propitious omen and the loving wishes of the multitude of friends -whose sympathies were there from both sides of the sea. Then followed -the long, delicious honeymoon, in which newly-wed lovers withdraw from -the world to be all the world to each other. Every benediction hovered -over them,--love, youth, health, beauty, fortune, the blessing of -parents, the pride of friends, the gilded vision of popularity. Nor -was the entrancement of their dream broken when they found themselves, -in the autumn, at home in the Republic of the West, welcomed with -outstretched hands by the friendly throng, who, as they came in sight, -stood shouting on the shore. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -MERIDIAN OF SUCCESS AND REPUTATION.--NEW RŌLES OF FEBRO, MELNOTTE, AND -JACK CADE. - - -The interest of his friends and of the public at large in the returning -actor was increased by the laurels he had won in the mother-country, -and the prize hanging on his arm, whose beauty lent a choicer domestic -lustre to his professional glory. Wherever he played, the theatre -was crowded to overflowing, and the receipts and the applause were -unprecedented. The only alloy in his cup--and this was not then so -copious or so bitter as it afterwards became--was the acrimonious and -envenomed criticism springing alike from the envious and malignant, who -cannot see any one successful without assailing him, and from those -whose tastes were displeased or whose prejudices were offended by his -peculiarities. - -While fulfilling an engagement in Boston, he received a very -characteristic letter from Leggett, which may serve as a specimen of -their correspondence. It will be seen that the tragedian had urged on -the editor the writing of a play for him on the theme of Jack Cade and -his rebellion. He afterwards induced Conrad to reconstruct his play of -Aylmere, which in its original form was not suited to his ideas. - - "NEW YORK, Wednesday evening, Oct. 25th. - -"MY DEAR FORREST,--I was in hopes of having a line from you before -this time, telling the Boston news, or so much of it at least as -concerns you and yours, which is what I care to hear. But you are -determined, I suppose, to maintain the character you have so well -earned, of being a most dilatory correspondent. I have had the -pleasure of hearing this evening, however, through another channel, -that you are drawing full houses; and I trust that all is going on -well in other respects. Placide and I took a walk out to Bloomingdale -last Sunday afternoon, and as we were returning we conjectured that -you and Catherine were just sitting down at the board of Mr. and Mrs. -Manager Barry. - -"I have been down town this evening for the first time these several -days. I extended my walk to the Park Theatre, where Miss Tree was -performing _Rosalind_. The house was about $500; that at the National, -Vandenhoff, could not have exceeded $300. Miss Tree's engagement will -conclude with her benefit on Friday evening, when she will probably -have between $900 and $1000, making her average for the eleven nights -about $650. This is considered a very handsome business. Mad. Caridora -Allen opens on Monday evening, and her box sheet already shows a fine -display of fashionable names. She will have a full and _fine_ house. -She has been giving a touch of her quality at some of the soirées -of the exclusives, and is pronounced just the thing. The Woodworth -benefit limps tediously along. The returning of your money makes a -good deal of talk, and the conduct of the committee is much censured. -The motive, to injure you, and foist up Vandenhoff at your expense, -will meet with a sad discomfiture. My good public is too clear-sighted -to be humbugged in so plain a matter. - -"I hope you continue to make yourself acquainted with that insolent -patrician _Coriolanus_. He was not quite so much of a democrat as you -and I are; but that is no reason why we should not use him if he can -do us a service. I wish Shakspeare, with all his divine attributes, -had only had a little of that ennobling love of equal human liberty -which is now animating the hearts of true patriots all over the world, -and is destined, ere long, to effect a great and glorious change in -the condition of mankind. What a vast and godlike influence he might -have exerted in moulding the public mind and guiding the upward -progress of nations, if his great genius had not been dazzled by the -false glitter of aristocratic institutions, and blinded to the equal -rights of the great family of man! Had I a little of his transcendent -intellect, I would assert the principles of democratic freedom in a -voice that should 'fill the world with echoes.' - -"My own affairs remain in _statu quo_. I am still undetermined what -to do. I have been solicited to write for the democratic 'Monthly -Review,' just established in Washington, and there is some talk among -the politicians here of getting up a morning paper, and offering me -the place of principal editor. I have been turning over the Jack Cade -subject; but I confess I am almost afraid to undertake it. The theme -is a grand one, and I warm when I think of it; but I must not mistake -the ardor of my feelings in the sacred cause of human liberty for -ability to manage the mighty subject. Besides, the prejudices and -prepossessions of the world are against me, with Shakspeare on their -side. Who must not feel his feebleness and insignificance when called -to enter the list against such an antagonist? I must do something, -however, and shortly; for I can now say, with _Jaffier_, though unlike -him I am not devout enough to thank Heaven for it, that I am not worth -a ducat. - -"I took a walk out to New Rochelle on Monday afternoon, and returned -yesterday morning. I need not say that you were the theme of much -of the conversation while I was there. Many questions were asked me -concerning your 'handsome English wife.' - -"I shall long very earnestly for the 18th of December to arrive, when -I count upon enjoying another month of happiness. 'How happily the -days of Thalaba went by' during the five weeks of your late sojourn in -this city! I shall not speedily forget those pleasant evenings. - -"It is past midnight now, and Elmira has been long in bed; otherwise I -should be enjoined to add her love to mine. - -"Good-night, and God bless you both. - - "Yours ever, - "WM. LEGGETT." - -Not long after his return from England, some of the most distinguished -of his fellow-citizens joined in giving him the compliment of a public -dinner. The festival was of a sumptuous and magnificent character, -and drawing together, as it did, nearly all the marked talent and -celebrity of Philadelphia, the honor was felt to be one of no ordinary -value. Nicholas Biddle was president, supported by six vice-presidents -and eleven managers. The banquet was held on the 15th of December, -1837. Over two hundred gentlemen sat down at the table. Mr. Biddle -being kept away by a severe illness, the chair was occupied by Hon. -J. R. Ingersoll; Mr. Forrest was on his right, and in the immediate -vicinity were Chief-Justice Gibson, Judge Rogers, Recorder Conrad, -Colonel Swift, Mayor of the city, Dr. Jackson, of the University of -Pennsylvania, Prof. Mitchell, Dr. Calhoun, Dean of Jefferson College, -Morton McMichael, Robert Morris, R. Penn Smith, and Messrs. Dunlap, -Banks, Bell, and Doran, members of the Convention then sitting to -revise the Constitution of the State. Leggett was present from New -York, by special invitation. - -The room was elegantly ornamented. The name of the chief guest was -woven in wreaths around the pyramids of confectionery, branded on the -bottles of wine, and embossed about various articles of the dessert. No -pains were spared to add to the entertainment every charm of grace and -taste adapted to gratify its recipient. One of the city papers said, -the next morning,-- - -"On no former occasion in Philadelphia has there been so numerous and -brilliant an assemblage for any similar purpose. The selectness of -the company, the zeal and enthusiasm they exhibited, and the cordial -greetings they bestowed, must have been especially gratifying to the -feelings of Mr. Forrest, springing as these testimonials did from a -proud recognition of his worth as a townsman." - -The following letter explained the absence of the chosen president of -the day: - - "PHILADELPHIA, Dec. 15th, 1837. - -"_Hon. R. T. Conrad,_ - -"MY DEAR SIR,--I regret much that indisposition will prevent me -from joining your festival to-day. Feeling, as I do, an intense -nationality, which makes the fame of every citizen the common property -of the country, I rejoice at all the developments of intellectual -power among our countrymen in every walk of life, and I am always -anxious to do honor to high faculties combined with personal worth. -Such a union the common voice ascribes to Mr. Forrest, and I would -have gladly added my own applause to the general homage. But this -is impracticable now, and I can therefore only convey through you a -sentiment which, if it wants the vigorous expression of health, has at -least a sick man's sincerity. It is,-- - -"The genius of our country, whenever and wherever displayed,--honor to -its triumphs in every field of fame. - - "With great regard, yours, - "N. BIDDLE." - -The cloth having been removed, Mr. Ingersoll rose, and said,-- - -"The friends of the drama are desirous of paying a merited tribute of -respect and esteem to one of the most distinguished and successful -of its sons. Well-approved usage upon occasions not dissimilar has -pointed to this our cheerful greeting as a fitting method for carrying -their desires into effect. It combines the compliment of public and -unequivocal demonstration with the kindness and cordiality of social -intercourse. It serves to express at once _opinions_ the result of -deliberate judgment, and _sentiments_ warm and faithful from the heart. - -"To our guest we owe much for having devoted to the profession which -he has selected an uncommon energy of character and peculiar personal -aptitudes. They are both adapted to the happiest illustrations of -an art which, in the absence of _either_, would want a finished -representative, but, by a rare combination of faculties in _him_, is -enabled effectually 'to hold the mirror up to nature.' It is an art, in -the rational pleasures and substantial advantages derived from which -all are free to participate, and a large proportion of the educated and -liberal-minded avail themselves of the privilege. It is an art which, -for thousands of years, has been practised with success, admired, -and esteemed; and the men who have adorned it by their talents have -received the well-earned plaudits of their age, and the honors of a -cherished name. - -"To our guest we owe the acknowledgment (long delayed, indeed) of the -sternest critics of an experienced and enlightened public, not our own, -that of one department at least of elegant literature our country has -produced the brightest living representative. - -"To our guest we owe especial thanks that he has been the prompt, -uniform, and liberal patron of his art; that dramatic genius and merit -have never appealed to him for aid in vain; that he has devoted the -best-directed generosity, and some of his most brilliant professional -efforts, to their cause. - -"To our guest we owe unmeasured thanks that he has done much by his -personal exertion, study, and example, to identify our stage with the -classic drama, and that he has made the more than modern Ęschylus--the -myriad-minded Shakspeare--_ours_. - -"We owe him thanks, as members of a well-regulated community, that, by -the course and current of his domestic life, the reproaches that are -sometimes cast upon his profession have been signally disarmed. - -"And, in this moment of joyous festivity, we feel that we owe him -unnumbered thanks that he has offered us an opportunity to express for -him an unfeigned and cordial regard. - -"These sentiments are embraced in a brief but comprehensive toast, -which I will ask leave to offer,-- - -"The _Stage_ and its MASTER." - -Amid loud and long applause, Forrest rose, bowed his acknowledgments, -and replied,-- - -"MR. PRESIDENT AND GENTLEMEN,--I feel too deeply the honor this day -rendered me to be able to express myself in terms of adequate meaning. -There are times when the tongue is at best but a poor interpreter of -the heart. The strongest emotions do not always clothe themselves in -the strongest language. The words which rise to my lips seem too cold -and vapid to denote truly the sentiments which prompt them. They lack -that terseness and energy which the occasion deserves. - -"The actor usually comes before the public in a 'fiction, in a dream -of passion,' and his aim is to suit his utterance and the ''havior of -the visage' to the unreal situation. But the resources of my art do not -avail me here. This is no pageant of the stage, to be forgotten with -the hour, nor this an audience drawn to view its mimic scenes. - -"I stand amidst a numerous throng of the chiefest denizens of my native -city, convened to do me honor; and this costly banquet they present -to me, a munificent token of public regard. I feel, indeed, that I am -no actor here. My bosom throbs with undissembled agitation, and in -the grateful tumult of my thoughts I cannot 'beget a temperance to -give smoothness' to my acknowledgments for so proud a tribute. In the -simplest form of speech, then, let me assure you from my inmost heart, -I thank you. - -"I have but recently returned from England, after performing many -nights on those boards where the master-spirits of the stage achieved -their noblest triumphs. You have heard from other sources with what -kindness I was received, and with what bounteous applause my efforts -were rewarded. Throughout my sojourn abroad I experienced only the most -candid and liberal treatment from the public, and the most elegant and -cordial hospitality in private. But I rejoice that the time has come -round which brings me again to the point from which I started; which -places me among those friends whose partial kindness discovered the -first unfoldings of my mind, and watched it with assiduous care through -all the stages of its subsequent development. The applause of foreign -audiences was soothing to my pride, but that which I received at home -had aroused a deeper sentiment. The people of England bestowed their -approbation on the results of long practice and severe study, but my -countrymen gave me theirs in generous anticipation of those results. - -"_They_ looked with indulgence on the completed statue; _you_ marked -with interest from day to day the progress of the work till the rough -block, by gradual change, assumed its present form. Let me hope that it -may yet be sculptured to greater symmetry and smoothness, and better -deserve your lavish regard. - -"The sounds and sights which greet me here are linked with thrilling -associations. Among the voices which welcome me to-night I distinguish -some which were raised in kind approval of my earliest efforts. Among -the faces which surround this board I trace lineaments deeply stamped -on my memory in that expression of benevolent encouragement with which -they regarded my juvenile attempts, and cheered me onward in the outset -of my career. I look on your features, sir" (said Mr. F., addressing -himself to the Mayor of the city, who occupied a seat by his right), -"and my mind glides over a long interval of time, to a scene I can -never forget. Four lustres are now nearly completed since the event -occurred to which I allude. - -"A crowd was gathered one evening in the Tivoli Garden, to behold -the curious varieties of delirium men exhibit on inhaling nitrous -oxide. Several years had then elapsed since the great chemist of -England had made known the singular properties of exhilarating gas; -and strange antics performed under its influence by distinguished -philosophers, poets, and statesmen of Europe were then on record. It -was yet, however, a novelty with us, and the public experiments drew -throngs to witness them. Among those to whom the intoxicating agent -was administered (on the occasion referred to) there chanced to be a -little unfriended boy, who, in the instant ecstasy which the subtle -fluid inspired, threw himself into a tragic attitude and commenced -declaiming a passage from one of Shakspeare's plays. 'What, ho!' he -cried, 'young Richmond, ho! 'tis Richard calls; I hate thee, Harry, for -thy blood of Lancaster.' But the effect of the aerial draught was brief -as it was sudden and irresistible. The boy, awaking as from a dream, -was surprised to find himself the centre of attraction,--'the observed -of all observers.' Abashed at his novel and awkward position, he shrunk -timidly from the glances of the spectators, and would have stolen in -haste away. But a stranger stepped from the crowd, and, taking him -kindly by the hand, pronounced words which thrilled through him with -a spell-like influence. 'This lad,' said he, 'has the germ of tragic -greatness in him. The exhilarating gas has given him no new power. It -has only revealed one which lay dormant in him before. It needs only to -be cherished and cultivated to bring forth goodly fruit.' - -"Gentlemen, the present chief magistrate of our city was that -benevolent stranger, and your guest to-night was that unfriended boy. -If the prophecy has been in any degree fulfilled,--if since that time -I have attained some eminence in my profession,--let my full heart -acknowledge that the inspiriting prediction, followed as it was with -repeated acts of delicate and considerate kindness, exercised the -happiest influence on the result. It was a word in season; it was a -kindly greeting calculated to arouse all the energies of my nature and -direct them to a particular aim. Prophecy oftentimes shapes the event -which it seems only to foretell. One shout of friendly confidence at -the beginning of a race may nerve the runner with strength to win the -goal. - -"Happy he who, on accomplishing his round, is received with generous -welcome by the same friends that cheered him at the start. Among such -friends I stand. You listened with inspiring praise and augury to the -immature efforts of the boy, and you now honor with this proud token of -your approbation the achievements of the man. - -"You nurtured me in the bud and early blossom of my life, and 'labored -to make me full of growing.' If you have succeeded, 'the harvest is -your own.' - -"Mr. President and gentlemen, allow me to offer you, in conclusion, as -my sentiment,-- - -"_The Citizens of Philadelphia_--Alike ready at the starting-post to -cheer genius to exertion, and at the goal to reward it with a chaplet." - -The newspaper reporter who described the occasion said,-- - -"It is not possible to convey by words any idea of the effect produced -by this speech. His delivery was natural, forcible, and unaffected; and -in many passages all who heard him were moved to tears. At the allusion -to Colonel Swift, the Mayor of the city, the whole company rose, and, -by a common impulse, gave six hearty cheers. Mr. Forrest sat down -amidst the most vehement applause." - -Several sentiments were read, and excellent speeches made in response. -Morton McMichael ended his eloquent remarks thus: - -"Before I sit down, however, allow me to call upon one whose genuine -eloquence will atone for my tedious prattle. For this purpose I shall -presently ask the company to join me in a health to one now near me, -who, though young in years, has already secured to himself a ripe -renown,--one who, in various departments of literature, has shown a -vigorous and searching mind,--one who, in all the circumstances in -which he has been placed, whether by prosperous or adverse fortune, has -so acquitted himself, that in him - - 'Nature might stand up - And say to all the world, this is a man.' - -I allude, sir, to the author of 'Conrad of Naples,' a tragedy which, -though written in the early years of nonage, bears upon it the -unmistakable impress of rich and fruitful soil. Nor is this the only -thing which my friend--for I am proud to call him so--has achieved in -the difficult walks of the tragic drama. His 'Jack Cade' is a fine, -spirited, stirring production, full of noble sentiments, clothed in -striking language; and if it could only be so fortunate as to secure -for the representative of its hero our own Spartacus, its success upon -the stage would be as pre-eminent as its deserts are ample. As an -essayist, too, this gentleman has made himself extensively known by -the energy and brilliance of his style, the justness and solidity of -his ideas, and the comprehensive range of his information. In years -gone by, his contributions to the press of this city were everywhere -recognized by their bold and manly eloquence; and in the gentle -pursuits of the Muses he has exhibited a fervor of thought and a -delicacy of expression seldom surpassed by any of our native poets. But -I see, sir, that my praises are distasteful to him, and I therefore at -once propose - -"_Robert T. Conrad_--Distinguished alike by his success as a dramatist, -his skill as a poet, and his rich, ready, and glowing eloquence." - -The Hon. R. T. Conrad then addressed the company, as follows: - -"To those who are acquainted with the gentleman who has just taken -his seat, no act of generosity or kindness coming from him can be -wholly unexpected. I will not, therefore, plead, in extenuation of -my inability to return a suitable acknowledgment, the surprise which -his flattering reference to me, and the still more flattering manner -in which that reference was received, have excited. I may, however, -regret that the excess of his kindness deprives me of the power of -speaking the gratitude which it inspires,--gratitude which is only -rendered more profound by a consciousness that his praises are partial -and undeserved. The excitement which, when tranquil, fans and kindles -expression, when turbulent, overwhelms and extinguishes it. I feel this -on the present occasion. The compliment is not only beyond my ambition, -but beyond my strength. It comes to me as Jupiter did to the ambitious -beauty of old, consuming while it embraces. I am not, however, so -completely consumed in my blushes but that enough of me is left to say -to the gentleman who has done me this honor, and to the company who -joined in it, that I thank him and them most sincerely. - -"Mr. McMichael has alluded to my former connection with the drama. The -memory of friendship alone could have retained or revived a thought -of my humble association, at an earlier period of my life, with the -literature of the stage. To me the recollection of those studies will -ever be grateful. Even the severest and most ascetic student can have -no reason to regret the time spent in the contemplation of the rich -stores of the British drama. He who has dwelt amid its glorious -structures--who has had the wizard spell of its mighty masters thrown -over his spirit--can never recur to it without enjoyment. Years may -pass over him, and the current of life drift him far away from those -pursuits, but, when recalled by an occasion like the present, he will -come back to them with all his former feelings,-- - - 'Feelings long subdued, - Subdued, but cherished long.' - -He will find all its haunted paths familiar to him, and the flowers -that bloom around those paths as fresh and as bright as when they first -sprang forth at the call of genius. Its ancient and lofty halls will -ring with the old and well-known voices, and its gorgeous and grotesque -creations pass before him like things of life and substance, rather -than the airy nothings of the imagination. If such be its ordinary -magic, how potent is the spell when the vision becomes half real; when -the leaves of the drama, like the written responses of the ancient -oracles, flutter with supernatural life; when the figures start from -the lifeless canvas and live and move and have their being in the -mighty art of a Forrest! Who that has stepped within the charmed circle -traced by his wand would sell the memory of its delight? - - 'His is the spell o'er hearts - Which only acting lends, - The youngest of the sister arts, - Where all their beauty blends: - For poetry can ill express - Full many a tone of thought sublime, - And painting, mute and motionless, - Steals but a glance of time. - But by the mighty actor brought, - Illusion's perfect triumphs come, - Verse ceases to be airy thought, - And sculpture to be dumb.'" - -Mr. Conrad, with an allusion to the Hon. Joseph R. Chandler, gave this -sentiment: - -"_The Press_--The source and safeguard of social order, freedom, and -refinement." - -Mr. Chandler said,-- - -"In the concluding portion of the remarks of the gentleman who -immediately preceded me, there was an allusion to my early acquaintance -with the distinguished guest of the evening. The gentleman was right, -sir. I can boast a long acquaintance with our guest, and an early -appreciation of those talents which have so often delighted us, and -which have led their possessor to his present eminence. I was among -those who witnessed the scene which has been so graphically described -by the gentleman himself, and among those who, having such ample means, -prophesied that success which has been attained; and I now see around -me many who are gratified this evening at the full evidence of their -prophecy's fulfilment. - -"For more than twenty years, sir, I have had occasion to mark the -progress of our guest. I hope that the new relations into which that -gentleman has entered will not make offensive the unfortunate extent of -my reminiscence; it includes only a part of the years of my manhood, -while it extends far down into his boyhood. It extends to a time when -the first bud of his professional greatness began to blow; but even -then what struck his admirers as a new development could not have been -new to him,--an earlier love of the profession must have begotten some -consciousness of latent talent,--and when has a love of a pursuit, -and a consciousness of powers to prosecute it, failed to give hopes -of success? Well, sir, step by step has that gentleman ascended the -ladder, until he has reached the topmost round; and now, from the proud -eminence which he has attained, he invites us to look back with him, -and to glory in the means whereby he did ascend. Sir, he may glory in -them; and we, as his friends, may join in the felicitation. Steady and -rapid as has been that ascent, there is none to complain. The hundreds -of his profession whom he has passed in his upward flight have cheered -him on, and rejoiced in his success, as the deservings of talent and -toil. No envious actor repines at his lower station, but all feel that -their profession is honored in the achievements of its most successful -member. - -"But, sir, I feel that the object of this delightful festival is not -to reward the brilliant achievements of a performer: proud as we may -be, as Philadelphians, of his success, we have a higher motive; we -feel, and would by these ceremonies express, that our townsman has -successfully trod a path dangerous to all, and that green as is the -chaplet which he has acquired as an actor, its beauty and redolence are -derived from his virtues as a _man_. The credit of high professional -excellence is awarded, and the man admired,--that in the case of our -honored guest it has served to give exercise to the virtues of the -citizen, the friend, and the relative. - -"On another, a former occasion, I united with many citizens now here in -a festival to a gentleman of eminence as an actor and of high credit -as a dramatic author. I allude to Mr. Knowles. The hospitalities of -the evening were acknowledged by the recipient, and were made most -gratifying to those who extended them. But how different were they from -those of this occasion! They lacked the interest of early associations, -the sympathy of common citizenship: the fame we celebrated was great, -but it was not _our own_. The occasion then was not like _this_; we -come here not to be hospitable, nor to extend courtesy to a stranger. -We come to express an appreciation of talent, our respects for -faculties nobly but meekly borne, our gratitude for true Americanism -exhibited abroad, and our appreciation of the gentleman at home,--to -say to the world that even as a stranger they may applaud the actor in -proportion to his deservings, because here at home, where he is fully -known, the _man_ is loved. - -"Sir, alone and unaided has Forrest gained his present eminence, by -the ascending power of talents and perseverance alone; the press has -found time only to record his conquests of fame, and this festival is -the _spontaneous_ offering of admiring citizens to one of their number, -who, in doing so much for himself, has reflected honor on them. - -"The Philadelphia press, however, sir, will ever feel it a duty to find -it a pleasure to encourage talents of a high order, and to promote -their appreciation and reward. I speak the more confidently, as I stand -among those of its directors who are concerned themselves in such a -course, and who feel their responsibility in this respect to society." - -Richard Penn Smith responded to a toast with much felicity. He said -"he recalled with pleasure his intercourse with Mr. Forrest, for whom -he wrote his tragedy entitled _Caius Marius_, but regretted that even -the transcendent talents of his friend could not save his hero from -perishing among the ruins of Carthage." - -Mr. Smith said that "on such an occasion it would be unpardonable -to overlook one who stood foremost in the ranks of our dramatic -writers,--a gentleman who had distinguished himself by his various -talents as an artist and an author, and whose dramatic works would -ultimately secure him an enviable fame." He referred to Wm. Dunlap, of -New York, and read the following letter: - - "NEW YORK, December 11th, 1837. - -"GENTLEMEN,--I received, on the evening of the 9th instant, your -polite letter, doing me the honor of requesting my presence at a -public dinner to be given to Edwin Forrest on the 15th instant. -Nothing but the progress of winter, which I see around me, and feel -within, could prevent my testifying in person how highly I appreciate -the invitation of the committee and the gentleman to whom the public -mark of esteem is to be given. Permit me to offer a toast: - -"The American Actor, who, both in public and private life, upholds the -honor of his country,--Edwin Forrest. - - "WILLIAM DUNLAP." - -"Mr. President," said Mr. Smith, "I will offer you a toast, which I -have no doubt will be cordially responded to,-- - -"_William Dunlap_--The Nestor of the American Drama. May he live to see -the edifice become what his foundation promised!" - -The President called upon Mr. Charles Ingersoll, chairman of the -Committee of Invitation, for a sentiment, to which Mr. Ingersoll -responded: - -"MR. CHAIRMAN,--I have been desired by the committee to propose the -health of a gentleman who is among us,--a friend of our immediate -guest,--who has left his business in a sister city to comply with their -invitation to give us his presence to-day,--a gentleman well known in -the department of letters, as our guest upon your right is in that of -the drama, as peculiarly and characteristically American. We are met to -congratulate upon his successes a man radically American. The occasion -is, therefore, appropriate to the cultivation of nationality,--a virtue -which, though it is said to have grown into a weed in our political -and individual relations, we have never been accused of fostering -overmuch in literature and the arts; and he who cultivates it there -deserves our signal approbation. Short of that illiberality which -impedes the march of improvement, let us cherish a partiality, an -honest, homely prejudice, for what is our own. To know ourselves is not -the whole circle of wisdom; we must love ourselves too. Who sees an -American audience crowd to an American play and turn from Shakspeare -to call for Metamora and the Gladiator, and does not acknowledge in -this fond prejudice the germ of excellence? Patriotism itself is a -blind preference of our own earth; and shall there be no patriotism in -letters? Take from Walter Scott his local prepossessions,--his Scotch -kings, Scotch hills, Scotchmen, and the round of characters that he -carries with him to all times and all places wherever his scene be -laid,--deprive him, in a word, of his nationality, and what is he? -Cut from his harp his own strings, and where is his music? There is -no virtue without excess; such is human imperfection. Give us, then, -_nationality_, which is but a phase of patriotic feeling; give us -excess of it. Let us love the yet barren hills of our own literature, -and we shall learn to make them wave and smile with harvests. Let our -authors, like the gentleman we are about to drink to, strike their -roots into their native soil and spread themselves to their native sun, -and, like him, they will flourish. I propose - -"A health and a hearty welcome to Mr. Leggett, whose pen, pointed -by a genius that is his own, is directed by a heart that is all his -country's." - -Mr. Leggett said, that "to be complimented on such an occasion, and by -such an assemblage, with a particular notice, was an honor to which -he knew not how to reply. The courteous hospitality which made him a -partaker with them in their festal ovation to his distinguished friend -was an honor so far beyond his deserts as to call for his warmest -acknowledgments. But 'the exchequer of the poor,' thanks alone, -contained no coin which he dared offer in requital of the obligation -they had conferred. - -"It is often lamented" (Mr. L. remarked) "that the actor's art, though -more impressive in its instant effects than painting or sculpture, -stamps no enduring memorial of its excellence, and that its highest -achievements soon fade from recollection, or survive only in its -vague and traditionary report. This complaint did not seem to him -altogether just. We best know how to estimate causes from the effects -they produce. The consequences of actions are their most lasting and -authentic chroniclers. What portrait, or what statue, could have -conveyed to us so exalted a notion of the loveliness of Helen of Troy -as the ten years' war provoked by her fatal charms? What 'storied urn -or animated bust' could have perpetuated the memory of Roscius like the -honors bestowed on him by the Roman Senate, the eulogium of Cicero, and -the tears--more eloquent than words--shed by that immortal orator upon -his grave? - -"When I look around me, and behold this capacious hall thronged with -men eminent for station, admired for talent, and valued for various -private worth, and when I reflect on the object which convenes them -here, I cannot admit the peculiar perishableness of the actor's fame, I -cannot admit that he merely 'struts and frets his hour upon the stage, -and then is heard no more.' You have reared a monument to one actor, at -least, gentlemen, which will long commemorate his greatness, and convey -to your children, and your children's children, a lively impression of -the genius and virtues which elicited so proud and enviable a tribute!" - -Mr. Leggett returned his sincere thanks for the honor of inscribing -his name on so enduring a record, and said he was proud to have it -associated with the proceedings of that day. - -In conclusion, he asked the company to fill their glasses to the -following sentiment: - -"_Philadelphia_--The Rome of the new world in this, that she has given -a second Roscius to mankind, while another of her sons bids fair to win -for her Athenian distinction by rivalling the fame of Ęschylus." - -Passing over the other speeches as of little interest now, it may -be well to state that among the letters of excuse read was one from -Washington Irving, regretting that it was not in his "power to join -in this well-merited tribute to theatrical genius and private worth;" -one from William Cullen Bryant, saying that it would give him "the -greatest pleasure to unite in any testimony to the professional merit -and personal worth of Mr. Forrest;" one from John P. Kennedy, who -"would rejoice in such an opportunity to acknowledge his share of the -indebtedness which the country at large owes to a gentleman whose -fame in his profession has become common property;" and one from the -celebrated player W. E. Burton, enclosing this happy toast: "The -Stage of Life,--although cast into inferior parts at the commencement, -industry and perseverance may eventually place us in the principal -characters. May we be found perfect at the conclusion of the play!" - -Songs and music were interspersed among the addresses, the famous -vocalist Henry Russell singing several of his most exquisite ballads -with unrivalled effect; and the occasion, altogether, was one of -unclouded enjoyment in the passage and of lasting satisfaction in the -retrospect. - -Forrest now purchased a house in New York, and established his home -there. He took a pew in the church of the Rev. Orville Dewey, the -brilliant Unitarian divine, on whose pulpit ministrations he was for a -series of years a regular attendant whenever he was in the city. The -attraction of this extremely original and eloquent preacher had drawn -together the most intellectual and cultivated congregation in New -York; and his influence, silently and in many an unrecognized channel, -has been diffusing itself ever since. The bold, rational, poetic, -yet profoundly tender and devout style of thought and speech which -characterized the sermons of Dewey had a great charm for Forrest, and -they were never forgotten by him. He always believed in a God whose -will is revealed in the laws of the material universe, and in the -rightful order of human life, and he bowed in reverence at the thought -of this mysterious Being, though often perplexed with doubts as to -particular doctrines, and always a sworn enemy to religious dogmatism. - -The next event which interrupted the regular movement of his -professional and private life was the delivery of the oration at the -celebration, in the city of New York, of the sixty-second anniversary -of the Declaration of the Independence of the United States. The -celebration was held under the auspices of the Democratic party. Party -feeling was intense at the time, and to be the orator of the day on -the Fourth of July, in the chief metropolis of the land, was an honor -greatly coveted. The choice of Forrest showed the estimation in which -he was held, while, on the other hand, his personal celebrity and -magnetism lent unusual interest to the occasion. The popular desire -to hear him had been fed and fanned to the highest pitch by the -opposing newspaper comments, called out by the singular incident of -a political party selecting a tragedian as their orator. The services -were held in the old Broadway Tabernacle. Five thousand tickets of -admission had been given out, but the multitude rushed resistlessly -in, regardless of tickets, till the enormous building was stuffed to -suffocation. The oration, in its sentiments, its style, its delivery, -was extraordinarily successful. It was hailed with the most extravagant -admiration and praise. In thought and feeling it was really creditable -to its author, but its fervid rhetorical sentences and popular temper -were so exactly suited to the tastes of those who heard it, that their -estimate of its literary rank and philosophic value was stimulated -to a level that must seem amusing to any sober judge of such things. -The author's own opinion of it was modest enough, as appeared in -the apologetic preface he prefixed to it when published. Yet it -expressed his honest convictions and those of his auditors with so -much picturesque vigor, and those convictions were so generous and so -genuinely American, that the popularity of the oration was no matter of -wonder. It was printed in full in numerous journals, and many thousands -of copies in pamphlet form were distributed. Two or three extracts from -it are appended, to serve as specimens of its quality and indications -of the mind and heart of the author. - -"FELLOW-CITIZENS,--We are met this day to celebrate the most august -event which ever constituted an epoch in the political annals of -mankind. The ordinary occasions of public festivals and rejoicings lie -at an infinite depth below that which convenes us here. We meet not in -honor of a victory achieved on the crimson field of war; not to triumph -in the acquisitions of rapine; nor to commemorate the accomplishment -of a vain revolution which but substituted one dynasty of tyrants for -another. No glittering display of military pomp and pride, no empty -pageant of regal grandeur, allures us hither. We come not to daze our -eyes with the lustre of a diadem, placed, with all its attributes of -tremendous power, on the head of a being as weak, as blind, as mortal -as ourselves. We come not to celebrate the birthday of a despot, but -the birthday of a nation; not to bow down in senseless homage before a -throne founded on the prostrate rights of man, but to stand erect in -the conscious dignity of equal freedom and join our voices in the loud -acclaim now swelling from the grateful hearts of fifteen millions of -men in acknowledgment of the glorious charter of liberty our fathers -this day proclaimed to the world. - -"How simple, how sublime, is the occasion of our meeting! This vast -assemblage is drawn together to solemnize the anniversary of an event -which appeals not to their senses nor to their passions, but to -their reason; to triumph at a victory, not of might, but of right; -to rejoice in the establishment, not of physical dominion, but of an -abstract proposition. We are met to celebrate the declaration of that -inestimable principle which asserts the political equality of mankind. -We are met in honor of the promulgation of that charter by which we -are recognized as joint sovereigns of an empire of freemen; holding -our sovereignty by a right indeed divine,--the immutable, eternal, -irresistible right of self-evident truth. We are met, fellow-citizens, -to commemorate the laying of the corner-stone of democratic liberty. - -"Threescore years and two have now elapsed since our fathers ventured -on the grand experiment of freedom. The nations of the earth heard -with wonder the startling principle they asserted, and watched the -progress of their enterprise with doubt and apprehension. The heart of -the political philanthropist throbbed with anxiety for the result; the -down-trodden victims of oppression scarce dared to lift their eyes in -hope of a successful termination, while they knew that failure would -more strongly rivet their chains; and the despots of the Old World, -from their 'bad eminences,' gloomily looked on, aghast with rage -and terror, and felt that a blow had been struck which loosened the -foundation of their thrones. - -"The event illustrates what ample cause there was for the prophetic -tremors which thrilled to the soul of arbitrary power. Time has stamped -the attestation of its signet on the success of the experiment, and -the fabric then erected now stands on the strong basis of established -truth, the mark and model of the world. The vicissitudes of threescore -years, while they have shaken to the centre the artificial foundations -of other governments, have but demonstrated the solidity of the simple -and natural structure of democratic freedom. The lapse of time, while -it dims the light of false systems, has continually augmented the -brightness of that which glows with the inherent and eternal lustre of -reason and justice. New stars, from year to year, emerging with perfect -radiance in the western horizon, have increased the benignant splendor -of that constellation which now shines the political guiding light of -the world. - -"How grand in their simplicity are the elementary propositions on -which our edifice of freedom is erected! A few brief, self-evident -axioms furnish the enduring basis of political institutions which -harmoniously accomplish all the legitimate purposes of government to -fifteen millions of people. The natural equality of man; the right of -a majority to govern; their duty so to govern as to preserve inviolate -the sacred obligations of equal justice, with no end in view but the -protection of life, property, and social order, leaving opinion free as -the wind which bloweth where it listeth: these are the plain, eternal -principles on which our fathers reared that temple of true liberty -beneath whose dome their children congregate this day to pour out their -hearts in gratitude for the precious legacy. Yes! on the everlasting -rock of truth the shrine is founded where we worship freedom; and - - 'When the sweeping storm of time - Has sung its death-dirge o'er the ruined fanes - And broken altars of the mighty fiend - Whose name usurps her honors, and the blood, - Through centuries clotted there, has floated down - The tainted flood of ages,'-- - -that shrine shall stand, unshaken by the beating surge of change, and -only washed to purer whiteness by the deluge that overwhelms all other -political fabrics. - -"To the genius of Bacon the world is indebted for emancipating -philosophy from the subtleties of the schoolmen, and placing her -securely on the firm basis of ascertained elementary truth, thence to -soar the loftiest flights on the unfailing pinions of induction and -analogy. To the genius of Jefferson--to the comprehensive reach and -fervid patriotism of his mind--we owe a more momentous obligation. What -Bacon did for natural science, Jefferson did for political morals, that -important branch of ethics which most directly affects the happiness -of all mankind. He snatched the art of government from the hands that -had enveloped it in sophisms and mysteries that it might be made an -instrument to oppress the many for the advantage of the few. He -stripped it of the jargon by which the human mind had been deluded -into blind veneration for kings as the immediate vicegerents of God -on earth; and proclaimed in words of eloquent truth, which thrilled -conviction to every heart, those eternal self-evident first principles -of justice and reason on which alone the fabric of government should be -reared. He taught those 'truths of power in words immortal' you have -this day heard; words which bear the spirit of great deeds; words which -have sounded the death-dirge of tyranny to the remotest corners of the -earth; which have roused a sense of right, a hatred of oppression, an -intense yearning for democratic liberty, in myriads of myriads of human -hearts; and which, reverberating through time like thunder through the -sky, will, - - 'in the distance far away, - Wake the slumbering ages.' - -"To Jefferson belongs exclusively and forever the high renown of having -framed the glorious charter of American liberty. This was the grandest -experiment ever undertaken in the history of man. But they that -entered upon it were not afraid of new experiments, if founded on the -immutable principles of right and approved by the sober convictions of -reason. There were not wanting then, indeed, as there are not wanting -now, pale counsellors to fear, who would have withheld them from the -course they were pursuing, because it tended in a direction hitherto -untrod. But they were not to be deterred by the shadowy doubts and -timid suggestions of craven spirits, content to be lashed forever round -the same circle of miserable expedients, perpetually trying anew the -exploded shifts which had always proved lamentably inadequate before. -To such men the very name of experiment is a sound of horror. It is a -spell which conjures up gorgons, hydras, and chimeras dire. They seem -not to know that all that is valuable in life--that the acquisitions of -learning, the discoveries of science, and the refinements of art--are -the result of experiment. It was experiment that bestowed on Cadmus -those keys of knowledge with which we unlock the treasure-houses of -immortal mind. It was experiment that taught Bacon the futility of -the Grecian philosophy, and led him to that heaven-scaling method of -investigation and analysis on which science has safely climbed to -the proud eminence where now she sits, dispensing her blessings on -mankind. It was experiment that lifted Newton above the clouds and -darkness of this visible diurnal sphere, enabling him to explore the -sublime mechanism of the stars and weigh the planets in their eternal -rounds. It was experiment that nerved the hand of Franklin to snatch -the thunder from the armory of heaven. It was experiment that gave this -hemisphere to the world. It was experiment that gave this continent to -freedom. - -"Let us not be afraid, then, to try experiments merely because they -are new, nor lavish upon aged error the veneration due only to truth. -Let us not be afraid to follow reason, however far she may diverge -from the beaten path of opinion. All the inventions which embellish -life, all the discoveries which enlarge the field of human happiness, -are but various results of the bold experimental exercise of that -distinguishing attribute of man. It was the exercise of reason that -taught our sires those simple elements of freedom on which they founded -their stupendous structure of empire. The result is now before mankind, -not in the embryo form of doubtful experiment; not as the mere theory -of visionary statesmen, or the mad project of hot-brained rebels: it -is before them in the beautiful maturity of established fact, attested -by sixty-two years of national experience, and witnessed throughout -its progress by an admiring world! Where does the sun, in all his -compass, shed his beams on a country freer, better, happier than this? -Where does he behold more diffused prosperity, more active industry, -more social harmony, more abiding faith, hope, and charity? Where are -the foundations of private right more stable, or the limits of public -order more inviolately observed? Where does labor go to his toil with -an alerter step, or an erecter brow, effulgent with the heart-reflected -light of conscious independence? Where does agriculture drive his team -a-field with a more cheery spirit, in the certain assurance that the -harvest is his own? Where does commerce launch more boldly her bark -upon the deep, aware that she has to strive but with the tyranny of the -elements, and not with the more appalling tyranny of man? - - * * * * * - -"The day is past forever when religion could have feared the -consequences of freedom. In what other land do so many heaven-pointing -spires attest the devotional habits of the people? In what other land -is the altar more faithfully served, or its fires kept burning with a -steadier lustre? Yet the temples in which we worship are not founded -on the violated rights of conscience, but erected by willing hands; -the creed we profess is not dictated by arbitrary power, but is the -spontaneous homage of our hearts; and religion, viewing the prodigious -concourse of her voluntary followers, has reason to bless the -auspicious influence of democratic liberty and universal toleration. -She has reason to exclaim, in the divine language of Milton, 'though -all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the earth, so -truth be in the field, we do injuriously, by licensing and prohibiting, -to misdoubt her strength. Let her and falsehood grapple! for who -ever knew truth put to the worse in a free and open encounter? Her -confuting is the best and surest suppressing.' The soundness of this -glorious text of religious liberty has now been approved to the world -by the incontestable evidence of our national experience, since it is -one of those 'columns of true majesty' on which our political fabric -stands. Let bigotry and intolerance turn their lowering eyes to our -bright example, and learn the happy, thrice happy consequences, both -to politics and religion, from placing an insuperable bar to that -incestuous union, from which, in other lands, such a direful brood of -error's monstrous shapes have sprung. - -"It is one of the admirable incidents of democracy, that it tends, -with a constant influence, to equalize the external condition of man. -Perfect equality, indeed, is not within the reach of human effort. - - 'Order is heaven's first law, and, this confest, - Some are and must be greater than the rest,-- - More rich, more wise.' - -"Strength must ever have an advantage over weakness; sagacity over -simplicity; wisdom over ignorance. This is according to the ordination -of nature, and no institutions of man can repeal the decree. But -the inequality of society is greater than the inequality of nature; -because it has violated the first principle of justice, which nature -herself has inscribed on the heart,--the equality, not of physical or -intellectual condition, but of moral rights. Let us then hasten to -retrace our steps wherein we have strayed from this golden rule of -democratic government. This only is wanting to complete the measure of -our national felicity. - -"There is no room to fear that persuasion to this effect, though urged -with all the power of logic and all the captivating arts of rhetoric, -by lips more eloquent than those which address you now, will lead -too suddenly to change. Great changes in social institutions, even -of acknowledged errors, cannot be instantly accomplished without -endangering those boundaries of private right which ought to be held -inviolate and sacred. Hence it happily arises that the human mind -entertains a strong reluctance to violent transitions, not only where -the end is doubtful, but where it is clear as the light of day and -beautiful as the face of truth; and it is only when the ills of society -amount to tyrannous impositions that this aversion yields to a more -powerful incentive of conduct. Then leaps the sword of revolution from -its scabbard, and a passage to reformation is hewn out through blood. -But how blest is our condition, that such a resort can never be needed! -'Peace on earth, and good will among men,' are the natural fruits of -our political system. The gentle weapon of suffrage is adequate for -all the purposes of freemen. From the armory of opinion we issue forth -in coat of mail more impenetrable than ever cased the limbs of warrior -on the field of sanguinary strife. Our panoply is of surest proof, for -it is supplied by reason. Armed with the ballot, a better implement of -warfare than sword of the 'icebrook's temper,' we fight the sure fight, -relying with steadfast faith on the intelligence and virtue of the -majority to decide the victory on the side of truth. And should error -for awhile carry the field by his stratagems, his opponents, though -defeated, are not destroyed: they rally again to the conflict, animated -with the strong assurance of the ultimate prevalence of right. - - 'Truth crushed to earth shall rise again; - The eternal years of God are hers; - But error wounded writhes in pain, - And dies among his worshippers.' - -"What bounds can the vision of the human mind descry to the spread of -American greatness, if we but firmly adhere to those first principles -of government, which have already enabled us, in the infancy of -national existence, to vie with the proudest of the century-nurtured -states of Europe? The Old World is cankered with the diseases of -political senility and cramped by the long-worn fetters of tyrannous -habit. But the empire of the West is in the bloom and freshness of -being. Its heart is unseared by the prejudices of 'damned custom;' its -intellect unclouded by the sophisms of ages. From its borders, kissed -by the waves of the Atlantic, to - - 'The continuous woods - Where rolls the Oregon and hears no sound - Save his own dashing;' - -from the inland oceans of the North, to the sparkling surface of the -tropical sea, rippled by breezes laden with the perfumes of eternal -summer, our vast theatre of national achievement extends. What a course -is here for the grand race of democratic liberty! Within these limits a -hundred millions of fellow-beings may find ample room and verge enough -to spread themselves and grow up to their natural eminence. With a -salubrious clime to invigorate them with health, and a generous soil to -nourish them with food; with the press--that grand embalmer not of the -worthless integuments of mortality, but of the offsprings of immortal -mind--to diffuse its vivifying and ennobling influences over them; with -those admirable results of inventive genius to knit them together, by -which space is deprived of its power to bar the progress of improvement -and dissipate the current of social amity; with a political faith which -acknowledges as its fundamental maxim the golden rule of Christian -ethics, 'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you;' with these -means, and the constantly-increasing dignity of character which results -from independence, what bounds can be set to the growth of American -greatness? A hundred millions of happy people! A hundred millions of -co-sovereigns, recognizing no law but the recorded will of a majority; -no end of law but mutual and equal good; no superior but God alone!" - -The keen admiration for Forrest prevalent among the democratic masses -had already led to frequent suggestions of him as a candidate for -political honors. His appointment as orator quickened the scent of -friends and foes in this direction. In the public prints the thought -of his nomination was advocated by some and satirized by others. The -following paragraph gives a glimpse into the life of the time: - -"There is talk of sending our tragedian to Washington, to act a real -part on the political stage. By all means. Look at the play-writers -in Parliament,--Sheridan, Bulwer, Shiel, Talfourd! Our friend Knowles -is spoken of for a seat in the Commons. Why not Forrest? Down with -all illiberality, we say, in such matters. Let Forrest have a seat -in Congress. We like variety. And in these dog-days we like a little -frolic and fun, and insist upon a thundering audience for the oration -to begin with, and then we will clear the way for the Congressional -election. But fair and softly: what are we to do with his friend -Leggett? They cannot be separated: they must go together, like two -figs in a jar. If Forrest has a seat in Congress, Leggett must have a -stool near him. He can have a seat like a delegate, you know, from a -Territory, having a voice but no vote. We can manage that. He can go -from Coney Island without opposition, and it is essentially necessary -that he should go. Suppose Forrest should break down in a speech on the -Northeastern boundary, on the currency, on the Western land interests, -or on any other great constitutional or legal question, he has only to -turn round to his friend and say, in that remarkably silver voice of -his, '_York, you are wanted!_'" - -Some scurrilous spirits charged that the oration delivered by Forrest -was not his own composition, but was furnished by his friend Leggett. -Leggett immediately published a point-blank denial, and affirmed that -he had nothing whatever to do with it. In a short time the anticipated -move was made; and, after careful consideration, it received the -following reply: - - "PHILADELPHIA, Oct. 17th, 1838. - -"TO GEORGE SEAMAN, JOHN A. MORRILL AND EDMUND J. "PORTER. - -"GENTLEMEN,--The circular letter addressed to me by you as Chairman -and Secretaries of the New York Democratic Republican Nominating -Committee for nominating Representatives to Congress, reached me -just as I was leaving the city, and I embrace the earliest moment of -leisure since my arrival here to write you in reply. - -"To the first question proposed by the Nominating Committee, I take -great pleasure in returning an affirmative answer. The complete -separation of the political affairs of the country from the private -interests of trade, and especially from those of corporate banking -institutions, I regard as a consummation greatly to be desired by -every friend of popular government and of the equal rights of man. I -have already, on a recent public occasion, expressed my sentiments on -this subject, in general terms indeed, but with an earnestness which, -in some measure, may have evinced how deeply-seated is my dread of the -selfish and encroaching spirit of traffic, and of the aristocratic -character and tendency of chartered monopolies, wielding, almost -without responsibility, the fearful instrument of associated wealth. -Not only do I approve most cordially the plan of the administration -for an independent treasury, and the separation of Bank and State, but -fervently do I hope that the same democratic principles of legislation -may guide the action of every member of the confederacy until, at no -distant day, the last link shall be sundered which now, in any portion -of this republic, holds the general and equal good of the community in -fatal subserviency to the sordid interests of a few. - -"To the first branch of your second question, also, I respond in the -affirmative; and so strong is my desire for the success of those -measures in support of which the Democracy is now contending, that, -although my professional engagements will call me, at the time of the -election, to a distance from the city of New York, I shall not let a -very considerable pecuniary sacrifice deter me from visiting it during -the three days, that my ballot may swell the majority which, I trust, -the Democracy of the metropolis of the Empire State will give on the -side of those contested principles which seem to me to lie at the very -foundation of popular liberty and to be essential to the permanency of -our political fabric. - -"But to your last inquiry,--while impressed with a lively sense of -gratitude to those who have deemed my name worthy to be placed among -the number from which you are to select persons to discharge the -important duty of representatives to the national legislature,--I am -constrained to offer you a negative reply. - -"It was intimated to me, when I was honored with an invitation to -pronounce an address before the Democracy of New York on the late -Anniversary of our Independence, that my name might possibly be -afterwards put in nomination on the list of candidates for Congress. -While I consented, promptly and cheerfully, to deliver the oration, -I at the same time explicitly disclaimed any ulterior views. The -duties of legislation, I thought, could not be adequately discharged -without more preparatory study and reflection than I had yet found -time to bestow upon the subject, and I felt unwilling to owe to the -misjudging partiality of my fellow-citizens an honor due to the merits -of some worthier man, as sincere in the cause of Democracy as myself, -and more able to do it service. My plans had also been arranged to -pursue my present profession for a few years longer, during which time -I hoped that the sedulous devotion of my leisure to political study -and observation might render me more capable, should I hereafter be -called to any public trust, of filling it with credit to myself and -advantage to the community. These are the views which I expressed in -reply to the committee by whom I was invited to deliver an oration on -the Fourth of July; and by these views my mind continues to be swayed. -I therefore, gratefully acknowledging the partial kindness of that -estimate of my talents and character which placed my name before you, -respectfully decline being a candidate for nomination. - - "With much consideration, - "I have the honor to be, etc., - "EDWIN FORREST." - -The "Broker of Bogota" was in many respects the most meritorious of -all the prize-plays elicited by Forrest. It was written by Robert -Montgomery Bird, but was of a wholly different order from his other -tragedies. Brought out first in 1834 with marked success, it had -been suffered to lie in neglect for some time, both because of the -difficulty of finding satisfactory performers for the secondary parts -in it, and because the piece, while especially admired by refined -and cultivated judges, lacked those showy scenes and exciting points -which attract the crowd. But it was ever a particular favorite with -Forrest himself, who always delighted to play it, and always spoke of -it with enthusiasm and with deep regret that it was so much too fine -for his average audiences that he was obliged largely to lay it aside -for noisier and more glaring performances with not one tithe of its -merit. Having taken unwearied pains to perfect himself even to the -very minutest details in the representation of the title-rōle, he now -reproduced this play, and continued occasionally to repeat it, wherever -he felt confident of an appreciative audience, up to his last year upon -the stage. In the series of plays with which the name of Forrest is -identified, this one is of so unique a character that we must try to -give some distinctive idea of it; though it is difficult to do so. - -The great passions of patriotism, liberty, ambition, revenge, public -spirit and enterprise, with their imposing accompaniments of conflict -and spectacle, are wholly absent from the piece. And yet it was -written expressly for Forrest, and by one who knew him in his inmost -peculiarities. And, despite the seeming strangeness of the assertion, -he never appeared in a part better fitted to his true being. It is a -purely domestic drama, a drama of individual and family affections and -trials. Its delineation was a dissection of the human heart in its -most common and familiar elements, only carried by circumstances to an -extreme intensity. - -Baptista Febro is an old man doing a large business in Bogota as a -banker, conveyancer, money-lender, and legatee. He is widely known -and respected for his ability and his scrupulous integrity; he is -honest, frank, and humble to his employers; nevertheless imperative in -his family, though just and kind. The two pre-eminent passions which -dominate him are his personal honor and his parental affection. His -daughter Leonor is devotedly attached to her father; but his son Ramon -is a dissipated and ungrateful youth, whose vicious ways cause the -old man the keenest anguish. Febro turns his son away and refuses him -support, hoping by the consequent distress to lead him to repentance -and reformation. His heart torn with anxiety and bleeding with wounded -love, he watches for some signal of improvement or some overture for -reconciliation from his prodigal boy; but in vain. Ramon meanwhile, who -is more weak than wicked, is the helpless tool of an abandoned young -noble, Caberero, whom he has taken for a friend. Caberero is a cool, -dashing villain, utterly without conscience or fear, a brilliant and -hardened scoundrel, who fairly illuminates with his lurid deviltry -every scene in which he appears. Febro, learning these facts, sends -for Caberero and has a personal interview with him. He first attempts -to hire Caberero to give up his intimacy with Ramon and leave the -young man in freedom to follow the promptings of his own better nature -and the solicitations of his father. The contrast of the invulnerable -insolence of the rascal, his shameless betrayal of his own unprincipled -character and habits, with the earnest affection and simple sincerity -and honorable concern which agitated the old man, was a moral lesson of -the strongest kind, set in a dramatic picture of the finest art. Then, -finding all efforts at persuasion useless, the scorn and indignation of -the righteous man and the injured father gradually mount in his blood -till they break out in a paralyzing explosion of gesture and speech. -Towering in the grandeur of his own moral passion, and backed by that -dynamic atmosphere, of public opinion which invisibly enspheres the -good man pitted against the scoundrel, the broker makes the noble cower -and flee before the storm of his angry contempt. - -Ramon is slowly driven to desperation by his vices and their natural -fruits. Caberero, malignantly resenting the denunciation and disdain of -Febro, resolves to break into his vaults and rob him of his deposits. -With diabolical ingenuity he entangles Ramon in the plot. They succeed, -and arrange matters so that it seems as if the robbery were a pretence -and a fraud on the part of the broker himself. He is brought before the -viceroy, accused, and condemned. Deprived of his property, of his son, -and, above all of his honor, the unhappy old man is almost crushed; -yet his consciousness of virtue sustains him, and his bearing in the -presence of the real culprits and his deceived judges, marked by every -sign and attribute of conscious rectitude as he appeals to God for his -final vindication, is a most impressive revelation of human nature -in a scene of extraordinary trial. Meanwhile, the shame and grief of -Febro are topped by a new calamity. Tidings are brought him that his -daughter has eloped, and that he is left desolate indeed. But now -Juanna, the betrothed of Ramon, who believes Febro incapable of the -dishonor charged on him, meets the young man and denounces him for not -defending his father. He tells her the facts of the case. Amazed at -such baseness, her conscience treads their troth under foot, and she -spurns the hideous criminal, and flies to the viceroy to vindicate -Febro. There she finds the broker searching for his daughter. Her story -is told and verified. The joy and gratitude and noble pride of the -old man at the removal of the stigma from his name made an exquisite -moral climax. Then it is also announced to him that his daughter is -not lost, but is the honorable wife of the son of the viceroy. This -delightful surprise breaks on his previous pleasure like a new morn -risen on mid-noon. But, alas, his hapless and guilty Ramon,--where is -he? What dreadful fate awaits him? At this moment a messenger enters -with the statement that Ramon, in a revulsion of remorse and despair, -had committed suicide by precipitating himself from a cliff. The sudden -reversal of emotion in the already over-tried Febro is too much; it -snaps the last chord. As if struck in the brain with an invisible but -deadly blow, he gazes first wildly, then vacantly, around, stretches -out his hands in a piteous gesture of supplication, staggers, and falls -lifeless on the floor. - -To those who thought of Forrest as heaving the most ponderous bar and -fitted only for the rugged characters of the gymnastic school, his -impersonation of the "Broker of Bogota" was a surprise. There were -no sensational adjuncts in it, no roll of drum, gaudy procession, -or drawing of swords,--nothing but the naked, simple drama of real -life in its familiar course. But he never exhibited a more perfect -piece of professional workmanship. His portraiture of the business -dealings between the upright and courteous old broker and his varied -customers,--the torturing struggle of his sense of justice and his -parental affection,--the withering curse in which his pent agony burst -on the sneering villain in whom he saw the spoiler of his boy,--the -heart-rending wail with which he sorrowed over the sinfulness of his -darling, "Would to Heaven he had never been born!"--the alternating -crisis of suspense and fulfilment as the plot proceeds through gloom -and gleam of crime and innocence to the last awful climax, where the -mystery is transferred from time and human judgment through despair -and death into eternity and to the unknown tribunal there,--all were -represented with the almost microscopic fidelity of a pre-Raphaelite -picture. Nothing seemed wanting, nothing seemed superfluous. Every -tone, every glance, every gesture, every step, contributed towards -shaping out the ideal. The performance bore the impress of a study -as close and patient as that given to a household scene in the -masterpieces of the Dutch school of painting. But to appreciate it as -it deserved there was required an audience of psychologists, critically -interested in the study of human nature, and curious as to its modes -of individual manifestation. The general multitude must feel it to be -rather dull and tiresome. It was in this respect like the "La Civile -Morte" of Salvini, which, though perhaps his most absolutely perfect -piece of acting in its minute truth, was yet felt by many to be -tedious,--by the few to be most marvellous in its fascination. - -One of the most striking examples of the skill and power of Forrest as -an artist is given in the distinction he always made in his rendering -of old age as seen respectively in Richelieu, in Lear, and in Febro. -How does he translate the wily craft, the pitilessness, the mocking -tenderness, of the first of these? He does it in so just and human -a manner, with so little of that blunt and electrizing power which -he displays in some other parts, that one who had not seen him in -Lear would be disposed to believe this his greatest representation -of age. The broken yet gigantic power of the old Lear in his fearful -malediction of Goneril is overwhelming, and gives a new idea of the -possible force of an aged and almost worn-out man. Lear is savagely -straightforward and honest. In the first scenes he sweeps the -spectators along with him in his passion and his rage. When maddened by -the injuries of his unnatural children, he still is artful and clear. -His very actions are unmistakable indications of his thoughts, and -the last scene of the tragedy deserves to stand alone as a picture of -suffering age in which past energy and passion spasmodically assert -themselves. Let this be contrasted with the half-simulated decadence -of Richelieu's powers. One feels from the very manner of the artist -that this is but partially real,--that a moment of success may kindle -into new life the man prostrated by bodily weakness. It comes, and -for the moment he looms before us, as if recreated by the success -of the intrigue which makes him again the genuine king of France. -Very different from Richelieu and from Lear is the portrait Forrest -gave of Febro. Here we have hale and honorable age, plain, sincere, -outspoken. There is nothing of the jocularly-dissembling craft of the -cardinal,--nothing of the ferocious passion of the discrowned monarch; -but all of the self-respect and candid bearing of an honorable servant, -the deep affection and authority of a father, and the impulsiveness of -a strong, genuine man. It is a more modest histrionic picture, none the -less true because less majestic. - -The reader will be pleased to peruse the following genial critique -on Forrest as the "Broker of Bogota" from the pen of an unnamed but -reflective and tasteful writer, who first saw the play in Washington in -1864: - -"We are glad that we have seen Forrest in the 'Broker of Bogota.' -His rendering of this conception has given us a nearer and a warmer -view of him. In this impersonation he puts off the armor of sternness -and inflexibility, and lets us into the world of a _heart_ in which -there are green arbors clad with sweet flowers, where lingering -sunlight wanders and happy birds sing. Right glad are we that we have -seen this picture of Forrest, for it has an eloquent breath for our -common humanity. It has given us a glimpse of _his_ nature which long -ago we should have rejoiced to see revealed, but whose richness we -dreamed not was there. What a volume is a man's life! The heart's -story,--always going on, always deepening the great drama of our being -as it progresses to the mortal act,--this story, in a strong inveterate -nature, writes in the public bearing and in all the features that -falsehood as to his sensibilities which the dreadful pen of pride -alone engraves. But we do not complain because the proud man _in the -conflict_ wears this covering of steel. In a mortal struggle with the -world it is often his only safety. Heaven help the weak who falter and -fall among the soft valleys of the heart when there are fastnesses -of strength to scale! We are told of victims fatally poisoned by the -breath of a flower whose fragrance floats at the base of a mountain -where it strikes its roots. That lost one, suffocated by perfume, -and that mountain, emblem of endurance and strength, are fit types -of the thought we would convey. But then we do _not_ love that any -man who towers in influence above his fellows shall go thus to the -grave!--that, like Byron, for example, he shall live in posterity -shamed by a record which is a libel upon the romance of his soul, and -written, too, by his own deathless genius. It is for this reason that -we are glad to have seen Forrest as the 'Broker of Bogota.' Here he -uplifts the veil, tears away the mask, and exhibits the tenderness -which, like a deep vein of gold, is intermixed with the iron in the -mine where his intellect sinks the shaft. Forrest, all of him, his -virtues and his faults, is an American product. He is no common man. -His power has a wider range than is given to that of the mere actor. -This is evident from the fact that all over the nation he elicits the -warmth of the partisan. His friends love him as men love a leader. His -enemies, we think, do not understand him. If apology, therefore, be -needed, thus we have given it for this somewhat personal criticism. We -regard the Broker as Forrest's masterpiece. In it there are vehement -power, flexibility, tenderness, sensibility, and all the light and -shade which belong to our full humanity. The story of the play is the -love of an honest, haughty, avaricious, fond old man for an erring -son, whom he seeks to redeem from dissipation and bad friends. It is -the love of the father for his boy, compared to which his coffers of -gold become as dross in his sight,--always peeping with the eyes of a -dove from the ark of the old man's heart, waiting for the deluge of -evil passions to subside in his child, that the olive-branch may be -wafted to him,--it is this love, sublime in forgiveness, ample for -protection, and which at last breaks his heart, that is so painted -here by the player as to make a dramatic movement of which Shakspeare -might have been the author. And it is this which we have called _the -poem of Forrest's heart_. A man of his intractable mould could not thus -simulate. There is a limit to that sort of power which art cannot pass. -In every detail this picture is so tenderly toned, so livingly brought -from the canvas, that it must be a _real_ revelation." - -Another new part which Forrest in 1838 essayed with good success was -that of Claude Melnotte, in the brilliant and popular play of "The Lady -of Lyons," by Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton. Forrest, never having seen the -play performed, created his rōle afresh, and was the first actor who -ever represented it in America. This drama, as is well known to the -theatrical and reading world, is rich in eloquent language and in the -varied movement and surprises of its plot, shifting from the still -life of the peasant class to the pomp and clang of court and camp. -The hero is the son of a poor gardener, who, in his humble garb and -lot, has a soul full of poetry and aspiration. He falls in love with -the proud Pauline Deschapelles, and writes to her impassioned verses, -which she scorns as coming from one so much beneath her in station. -Claude, half maddened, assumes the dress and rank of the Prince of -Como, and wooes and wins and weds her. Then, revealing his true name -and person, he enlists in the army, goes to the wars, fights his way to -an illustrious renown and the baton of a marshal, returns, and wooes -and wins his bride anew. The whole character and the motives of its -situations differ most widely from all the parts in which Forrest had -gained his celebrity as an actor; and his friends shook their heads -with doubt when he proposed to attempt so novel and foreign a part. But -his intelligence and art proved quite competent to the undertaking. The -transformation he underwent, as shown by his picture when costumed for -the character, is a surprising evidence of his true dramatic faculty. -Instead of the weighty tragedian, whose Romanesque stateliness and -volcanic fire filled out the ideals of Virginius, Brutus, Spartacus, -he became a gay and ardent Frenchman, elastic with ambitious hope -and love. The ponderous gave way to the romantic, declamation to -conversational ease, monotone to graceful variety. The wooing breathed -the music of sincerity, the tones of martial pride rang like a trumpet, -and the gorgeous diction of the speeches never had better justice done -to it. A judicious critic of that day said, "We were never before -so astonished as at the real, genuine triumph of Forrest in Claude -Melnotte,--a part we had imagined so utterly unsuited to his genius. He -made many points of the most effective excellence; one, for example, -was in reading over the letter of Bauseant twice, the first time in -a rapid, half-conscious, half-trusting manner, the second time in a -slow, careful, and soliloquizing style. Nothing could be more natural -than this. But we cannot do justice to the acting, as a whole, in any -words at our command. It was in conception thoroughly studied and yet -easy, consistently wrought out, beautiful from beginning to end, from -the tender enveloping of the form of Pauline in his cloak to the calm -and respectful lifting from the table of the marriage settlement. -The critic who can harshly ridicule such a sincere and remarkable -performance must have in his nature something bitterly hostile to the -actor." Yet it must be confessed, however well the art of Forrest -overcame the difficulties of the rōle, it was not one really suited -to the spontaneities of his nature. The satire of his prejudiced -censors stung him more than the average approval gratified him, and -the performance was year by year less frequently repeated, and finally -was dropped. Still, there were in it many passages exemplifying the -high mission of the drama to refresh, to teach, and to uplift those -who submit themselves to its influence, when an eloquent interpreter -with contagious tones breathes glorious sentiments in charming words. -For instance, what a heavenly revelation and longing must be given by -this speech to souls of imaginative tenderness chafing under the grim -realities of care and hate and neglect! - - "Nay, dearest, nay, if thou wouldst have me paint - The home to which, could Love fulfil its prayers, - This hand would lead thee, listen!--A deep vale, - Shut out by Alpine hills from the rude world; - Near a clear lake, margined by fruits of gold - And whispering myrtles; glassing softest skies, - As cloudless, save with rare and roseate shadows, - As I would have thy fate! - A palace lifting to eternal summer - Its marble walls, from out a glossy bower - Of coolest foliage musical with birds, - Whose songs should syllable thy name! At noon - We'd sit beneath the arching vines, and wonder - Why Earth could be unhappy, while the heavens - Still left us youth and love! We'd have no friends - That were not lovers; no ambition, save - To excel them all in love; we'd have no books - That were not tales of love,--that we might smile - To think how poorly eloquence of words - Translates the poetry of hearts like ours! - And when night came, amidst the breathless heavens - We'd guess what star should be our home when love - Becomes immortal; while the perfumed light - Stole through the mists of alabaster lamps, - And every air was heavy with the sighs - Of orange-groves, and music from sweet lutes, - And murmurs of low fountains that gush forth - I' the midst of roses!--Dost thou like the picture?" - -And how, to any susceptible nature not yet deadened with prosaic -conceit, veneered with supercilious knowingness, such a strain as -this, livingly expressed on the stage, would reveal the superiority -of faith and affection to the grinding strifes of material rivalry, -and open that celestial world of the ideal wherein the pauper may be a -millionaire, the drudge an emperor! - - "Pauline, by pride angels have fallen ere thy time: by pride-- - That sole alloy of thy most lovely mould-- - The evil spirit of a bitter love, - And a revengeful heart, had power upon thee. - From my first years, my soul was filled with thee: - I saw thee midst the flowers the lowly boy - Tended, unmarked by thee,--a spirit of bloom, - And joy, and freshness, as if Spring itself - Were made a living thing, and wore thy shape! - I saw thee, and the passionate heart of man - Entered the breast of the wild-dreaming boy; - And from that hour I grew--what to the last - I shall be--thine adorer! Well,--this love. - Vain, frantic, guilty, if thou wilt, became - A fountain of ambition, and a bright hope; - I thought of tales that by the winter hearth - Old gossips tell,--how maidens sprung from kings - Have stooped from their high sphere; how Love, like Death, - Levels all ranks, and lays the shepherd's crook - Beside the sceptre. Thus I made my home - In the soft palace of a fairy Future! - My father died; and I, the peasant-born, - Was my own lord. Then did I seek to rise - Out of the prison of my mean estate, - And, with such jewels as the exploring Mind - Brings from the cares of Knowledge, buy my ransom - From those twin gaolers of the daring heart,-- - Low Birth and iron Fortune. Thy bright image, - Glassed in my soul, took all the hues of glory, - And lured me on to those inspiring toils - By which man masters men! For thee I grew - A midnight student o'er the dreams of sages! - For thee I sought to borrow from each Grace, - And every Muse, such attributes as lend - Ideal charms to Love. I thought of thee, - And Passion taught me poesy,--of thee. - And on the painter's canvas grew the life - Of beauty!--Art became the shadow - Of the dear starlight of thy haunting eyes!" - -In such examples the speaker behind the footlights becomes a more -thrilling preacher in a more genial pulpit, and teaches, for whoever -will heed, the most precious lessons in our existence. - -The tragedy of "Jack Cade, the Bondman of Kent," was written by Robert -T. Conrad, who, in a prefatory note, acknowledges his "indebtedness -to the judgment and taste of Mr. Forrest in its preparation for the -stage," and ascribes "its flattering success at home and abroad to the -eminent genius of that unrivalled tragedian." Conrad took the name of -the despised rebel, cleared it of the odium and calumny with which -four hundred years of fierce prejudice had encrusted it, and presented -the notorious insurrectionary leader not as a vulgar demagogue and a -brutal leveller, but as an avenging patriot, who felt the wrongs of -the down-trodden masses and animated them to assert their rights. In -place of Jack Cade the coarse and contemptible upstart pictured in -Shakspeare, Conrad paints the portrait of Jack Cade the great English -democrat of the fourteenth century. He held that there were good -grounds in historic truth for this view; and, at all events, it was the -only view of the character which his sympathies could embrace and shape -to his purpose of producing a play at once suited to the personality -of Forrest as an actor and constituting an impassioned argument for -democracy. The tragedy is all on fire with democratic conviction and -passion. It breathes throughout the most intense feeling of the wrongs -and claims of the oppressed common people. It is a sort of battle-song -of liberty, written in blood and set to music. If a poetic license, it -was a generous one, thus to attempt to redeem from infamy the leader of -a popular movement against the monstrous kingly, priestly, and baronial -outrages under which the laboring classes had suffered so long, and -attract the admiration of the people to his memory and his cause. Such -was the feeling of Leggett, also, who longed to try his own hand at -a drama on this very theme, but could never quite raise his literary -courage to the point. - -The main motive of the tragedy, then, is the exaltation of the -sublimest of mortal aspirations,--the grand idea of popular liberty and -equality--against unjust and cruel prerogative. It is a burning oration -and poem of democracy. It is full of the horrible wrongs of the feudal -system, the dreadful crime and ferocity of the past, but likewise -penetrated and glorified with those thrilling sentiments of justice, -freedom, and humanity which forecast the better ages yet to be. Thus, -while European and retrospective in the revengeful temper that glows -in its situations, it is American and prophetic in the moral and -social coloring which irradiates its plot. And herein is indicated the -secret of its immense popularity. The Jack Cade of Forrest stirred the -great passions in the bosom of the people, swept the chords of their -elementary sympathies with tempestuous and irresistible power. From -the first to the last it secured and maintained a success similar to -that which had previously crowned Metamora and Spartacus. The Lear -of Forrest was the storm, and his Broker of Bogota the rainbow, of -his passion. Othello was his tornado, which, pursuing a level line -of desolation, had on either side an atmosphere of light and love -that illumined its dark wings. Macbeth was his supernatural dream and -entrancement of spasmodic action. Hamlet was his philosophic reverie -and rambling in a charmed circle of the intellect. But Jack Cade was -his incarnate tribuneship of the people, the blazing harangue of a -later Rienzi inflamed by more frightful personal wrongs and inspired -with a more desperate love of liberty. In it he was a sort of dramatic -Demosthenes, rousing the cowardly and slumberous hosts of mankind to -redeem themselves with their own right hands. - -The opening of the play brings before us a vivid picture of the -condition of the working-class, and the temper it had engendered; and -at the same time skilfully foreshadows the character of the hero. - - "_The hovels of the bond discovered._ JACK STRAW, DICK PEMBROKE, ROGER - SUTTON (_bondmen_), _dressed coarsely, with implements of labor, as if - going to their work_. - - _Straw._ Of corn three stinted measures! And that doled - With scourge and curse! Rough fare, even for a bondman. - - _Pembroke._ Yet must he feed, from this, his wife and children; - What if they starve? Courtnay cares not for that. - - _Sutton._ His music is the lash! He makes him merry - With our miseries. Our lords are hot and harsh, - Yet are they milder than their mongrel minions. - - _Straw._ I'd cheerly toil, were Courtnay yoked this day - Unto my plough. - - _Pembroke._ He seizes on the havings, - The little way-found comforts of the bond, - Nor vouchsafes e'en a 'Wi' your leave, good man.' - - _Sutton._ Man, matron, maid,--alas that it is so! - All are their victims. - - _Pembroke._ Would we were not men, - But brutes,--they are used kindlier! - - _Straw._ Men are we not. - Brutes only would bear this. Bond have there been - Who brooked it not. - - _Pembroke._ Who were they? - - _Straw._ Old Cade, one; - Who struck down the Lord Say,--not this base coystrel, - Courtnay, but e'en Lord Say,--because he spurned him. - - _Pembroke._ He died for it. - - _Straw._ But what of that? 'Tis better - To die than thus to live. His stripling son,-- - Young Cade,--remember you Jack Cade? - - _Pembroke._ Not I. - Our Sutton must. - - _Sutton._ He who, some ten years gone, - Fled from the barony? - - _Straw._ The same. Well, he, - A bondman and a boy, stood by, when Say - Wronged the pale widow Cade, by a base jest - Upon the husband he had scourged to death. - What think you did the boy? - - _Pembroke._ Rebuked his lordship? - - _Straw._ He struck him down, and 'scaped the barony. - He hath ne'er since been heard of. So he won - Both liberty and vengeance. - - _Sutton._ A brave boy! - 'Twas Friar Lacy taught him this: and he - Says that all men are in God's image made, - And all are equal." - -The good democratic priest, Lacy, whose loving care and instructions -had largely moulded the mind of young Cade, says to the poor yeoman,-- - - "I've told you oft - That man to man is but a brother. All, - Master and slave, spring from the self-same fount; - And why should one drop in the ocean flood - Be better than its brother? No, my masters! - It is a blasphemy to say Heaven formed - The race, a few as men, the rest as reptiles." - -The wretched hut of the lonely widow Cade is shown. She soliloquizes,-- - - "A heavy lot and hopeless! - Stricken with years and sorrow, and bowed down - Beneath the fierce frown of offended power! - The poor have no friends but the poor; the rich-- - Heaven's stewards upon earth--rob us of that - They hold in trust for us, and leave us starveling. - They shine above us, like a winter moon, - Lustrous, but freezing." - -She sighs for the return of her boy, who, when he fled from his tyrants -to seek a land where his heart might throb without the leave of a -master, had promised that he would come back some day in honor to -avenge her and to redeem his class. Meanwhile, he has become a stalwart -and experienced man. Under the name of Aylmere, he has won distinction -in the armies of Italy, and delved in the lore of the schools, but -never lost sight of his origin and his early hatred of the oppressors -of the poor. He now, disguised, enters the cot of his mother with -his wife, Mariamne, and their child. He is unrecognized. Lacy, with -fatherly pride, tells him of the brave boy missed so long, and proceeds -to describe how he had behaved when Lord Say had insulted his mother: - - "The proud lord would have spurned him; but young Cade"-- - -Here Aylmere, with sudden impulse, springs up, throws off his cloak, -and cries, with an exulting laugh,-- - - "I struck him to my feet! I've not forgot it! - How kissed his scarlet doublet the mean earth. - Beneath a bondman's blow, and he a lord! - That memory hath made my exile green! - Look up, my mother, Cade hath kept his covenant. - Could you read all my exile's history. - You would not blush for it. And now I've come - To shield and comfort thee." - -This affecting scene was made to thrill every beholder to tears. As the -poor widow sank fainting under the shock of surprise and joy, and her -son knelt at her feet, all his own mother used to rise in his heart, -and his acting was no simulation, but the breathing truth itself. - -The ruminations of the exiled Cade in Italy, whose altars, unwarmed -for a thousand years, were then lit up with the rekindled fires of -free-born Rome,--how he remembered his pale mother, and burned to -redeem his brethren, the herded and toil-worn bondmen,--this was -described in a speech of amazing eloquence, whose delivery was so -imaginative and natural in its free fervor that the images seemed -visibly presented while the tones palpitated among the pulses of their -hearers: - - "One night, - Racked by these memories, methought a voice - Summoned me from my couch. I rose,--went forth. - The sky seemed a dark gulf, where fiery spirits - Sported; for o'er the concave the quick lightning - Quivered, but spoke not. In the breathless gloom, - I sought the Coliseum, for I felt - The spirits of a manlier age were forth; - And there against the mossy wall I leaned, - And thought upon my country. Why was I - Idle, and she in chains? The storm now answered. - It broke as heaven's high masonry were crumbling. - The beetled walls nodded and frowned i' the glare; - And the wide vault, in one unpausing peal, - Throbbed with the angry pulse of Deity! - I felt I could amid the hurly laugh, - And, laughing, do such deeds as fireside fools - Turn pale to think on. - The heavens did speak like brothers to my soul, - And not a peal that leapt along the vault - But had an echo in my heart. Nor spoke - The clouds alone; for o'er the tempest's din - I heard the genius of my country shriek - Amid the ruins, calling on her son,-- - On me! I answered her in shouts, and knelt,-- - Ev'n there in darkness, mid the falling ruins, - Beneath the echoing thunder-trump,--and swore - To make the bondmen free." - -Domestic scenes occur, where the stern revolutionist, burning to avenge -the hoarded injuries of his class, unbends in tender endearments. -These two phases of his character heightened each other as the ivy -sets off the oak or the flower the rock. Both aspects were equally -planted in his nature, and so were equally spontaneous and truthful -in his playing. In one mood he says to Mariamne, with fond murmuring -inflections of voice, the very music of caressing love,-- - - "Life's better joys spring up thus by the wayside; - And the world calls them trifles, 'Tis not so. - Heaven is not prodigal, nor pours its joys - In unregarded torrents upon man; - They fall, as fall the riches of the clouds - Upon the parched earth, gently, drop by drop. - Nothing is trifling that love consecrates." - -New associations ruffling this mood away, the spirit of his fierce -mission sweeps through his soul, and his voice has the sonorous accents -of a clarion: - - "I cannot be - The meek and gentle thing that thou wouldst have me. - The wren is happy on its humble spray; - But the fierce eagle revels in the storm. - Terror and tempest darken in his path; - He gambols mid the thunder; mocks the bolt - That flashes by his red, unshrinking eye, - And, sternly-joyful, screams amid the din: - Then shakes the torrent from his vigorous wing, - And soars above the storm, and looks and laughs - Down on its struggling terrors. Safety still - Reward ignoble ease:--be mine the storm. - Oh for the time when I can doff - This skulking masquerade, and rush into - The hottest eddy of the fight, and sport - With peril!" - -When they bring him accounts of the sufferings heaped on the poor by -their lords, he rejoices that the day of their deliverance is hastened -thus; for, he philosophizes, - - "'Tis better, being slaves, that we should suffer. - Men must be thus, by chains and scourges, roused. - The stealthy wolf will sleep the long days out - In his green fastness, motionless and dull; - But let the hunter's toils entrap and bind him, - He'll gnaw his chained limbs from his reeking frame, - And die in freedom. Left unto their nature, - Men make slaves of themselves; and it is only - When the red hand of force is at their throats - They know what freedom is." - -One scene of the play which he made wonderfully exciting was where the -licentious Lord Clifford steals into his cottage and offers violence -to Mariamne. Unexpectedly, as if he sprang up out of the earth just in -time to save his wife, Cade appears. He seemed an avatar of avenging -Providence as, hurling the base lord back, he loomed above him, with -uplifted dagger, his grand physical and moral superiority saying, as -plainly as speech, - - "Heaven, not heraldry, makes noble men." - -With a fierce laugh he hisses out the words in a staccato of stinging -sarcasm,-- - - "This is a noble death! The bold Lord Clifford - Stabbed by a peasant, for no braver feat - Than toying with his wife! Is 't not, my lord, - A merry jest? - - _Clifford._ Thou wilt not slay me, fellow? - - _Aylmere._ Ay, marry will I! And why should I not? - - _Clifford._ Thou durst not, carle. - - _Aylmere._ Durst not!" - -At the urgent solicitation of Mariamne, he spares the recreant noble; -but, before letting him go, he utters this speech in a manner which -appears to melt wonder, musing, scorn, and threatening into one -simultaneous expression: - - "Good Heaven! that such a worm, so abject, vile, - Should eat into the root of royalty, - And topple down whole centuries of empire! - I will not crush you, reptile, now: but mark me! - Steel knows no heraldry, and, stoutly urged, - Visits the heart of a peer with no more grace - Than it would pierce a peasant's. Have a care! - The eagle that would seize the poor man's lamb - Must dread the poor man's vengeance; darts there are - Can reach you in your eyrie,--ay, and hands - That will not grieve to hurl them. Get thee gone!" - -Left alone with himself, he soliloquizes,-- - - "And yet I slew him not! But--but--'twill come! - It heaps my shame to heighten my revenge; - And I will feast it fully. Would 'twere here, - Here now! Oh, my arm aches, and every pulse - Frets like a war-horse on the curb, to strike - These bold man-haters down. 'Twill come, 'twill come! - And I will quench this fire in a revenge - Deep as our sufferings, sweeping as their wrongs!" - -Another magnificent passage was the reply of Cade to the question -of the insurrectionists, what they should demand if they rose. -He replied,--mien, voice, and words, soul, face, and tongue, all -conspiring to one electric result of eloquence,-- - - "God's first gift,--the blessed spirit - Which he breathed o'er the earth.-- - 'Tis that which nerves the weak and stirs the strong; - Which makes the peasant's heart beat quick and high, - When on his hill he meets the uprising sun - Throwing his glad beams o'er the freeman's cot, - And shouts his proud soul forth,--'tis Liberty! - We will demand - All that just nature gave and they have taken: - Freedom for the bond! and justice in the sharing - Of the soil given by Heaven to all; the right - To worship without bribing a base priest - For entrance into heaven; and all that makes - The poor man rich in Liberty and Hope! - Rend we a single link, we are rewarded. - Freedom's a good the smallest share of which - Is worth a life to win. Its feeblest smile - Will break our outer gloom, and cheer us on - To all our birthright. Liberty! its beam - Aslant and far, will lift the slave's wan brow, - And light it up, as the sun lights the dawn." - -The meeting of Aylmere and Lord Say in the lonely wood was rendered in -a way that formed a picture of retributive and awful sublimity. Say was -the lord who long years before had caused the elder Cade to be tortured -and murdered. And more recently he had ordered the burning of the widow -Cade's cottage and forced her to perish in the flames. The avenger -confronts this man, but is ignorant of his name and person: - - "_Say._ Sirrah! I am a peer! - - _Aylmere._ And so - Am I--thy peer, and any man's--ten times - Thy peer, an thou'rt not honest. - - _Say._ Insolent! - My fathers were made noble by a king! - - _Aylmere._ And mine by a God! The people are God's own - Nobility; and wear their stars not on - Their breasts, but in them!--But go to! I trifle. - - _Say._ Slave! I am the treasurer of the realm,--Lord Say! - - _Aylmere_ (_with a laugh of passionate triumph_). - Fortune, for this I do forgive thee all! - Heaven hath sent him here for sacrifice. - The years have yielded up that hour so long - And bitterly awaited. Thou must die! - - _Say._ Thou wouldst not slay me, fellow! - - _Aylmere._ Slay thee! Ay, by this light, as thou wouldst slay - A wolf! Bethink thee; hast not used thy place - To tread the weak and poor to dust; to plant - Shame on each cheek, and sorrow in each heart? - Hast thou not plundered, tortured, hunted down - Thy fellow-men like brutes? Is not the blood - Of white-haired Cade black on thy hand? And doth not - Each wind stir up against thee, fiend! the ashes - Of her whom yesternight you gave the flames? - Slay thee, thou fool! Why, now, what devil is it - That palters with thee, to believe that thou - Canst do such deeds and live! - - _Say._ I am unarmed; - 'Twere craven thus to strike me at advantage. - - _Aylmere_ (_with a scornful laugh and throwing away the dagger_). - Why, so it were! Hence, toy! - But those the tiger hath against thee!--Now - For vengeance, justice for the bondmen!" - -Before the glorious insurrection of the toilsmen against their tyrants -is fairly afoot. Cade is entrapped into the power of his foes and -doomed to execution. Heart-sick of the cruelty of the rich and strong, -the unhappiness of the poor and weak, the failure of the generous -aspirants who would fain set things right, he said,--and his voice -had the sound of a consoling psalm swelling and fading along funeral -vaults,-- - - "So be it! Death! the bondman's last, best friend! - It stays th' uplifted thong, hushes the shriek, - And gives the slave a long, long sleep, unwhipped - By dreams of torture. In the grave there is - No echo for the tyrant's lash; - And the poor bond knows not to shrink, or blush, - Nor wonder Heaven created such a wretch. - He who has learned to die, forgets to serve - Or suffer! Thank kind Heaven, that I can die!" - -But by a fortunate turn of affairs he escapes from his prison in season -to head the decisive battle. - - "_Lacy._ Thank Heaven! thou'rt free! - - _Aylmere_ (_laughs_). Ay! once more free! within my grasp a sword. - And round me freemen! Free! as is the storm - About your hills; the surge upon your shore! - Free as the sunbeams on the chainless air; - Or as the stream that leaps the precipice, - And, in eternal thunder, shouts to Heaven, - That it is free, and will be free forever! - - _Straw._ Now for revenge! Full long we've fed on wrong: - Give us revenge! - - _Aylmere._ For you and for myself! - England from all her hills cries out for vengeance! - The serf, who tills her soil, but tastes not of - Her fruit, the slave that in her dungeon groans, - The yeoman plundered, and the maiden wronged, - Echo the call, in shrieks! The angry waves - Repeat the sound in thunder; and the heavens, - From their blue vaults, roll back a people's cry - For liberty and vengeance!" - -The peasants are victorious, and bring in a rabble of nobles and -priests as prisoners. They now have the sinister luxury of turning the -tables on their masters. This was done with a sarcasm whose relish -seemed to smack to the very bones and marrow. - - "_Lord._ You will not dare to hold us? - - _Aylmere._ Heaven forefend! - Hold a lord captive! Awful sacrilege! - Oh, no! We'll wait on you with trembling reverence! - Ay, veil our brows before you,--kneel to serve you! - What! hold a lord! - - _Archbishop._ He mocks us. - - _Aylmere._ Save your lordships! - Pembroke, take hence and strip these popinjays, - These moths that live for lust and slaughter! strip them, - Garb their trim forms and perfumed limbs in russet. - And drive them to the field! We'll teach you, lords, - To till the glebe you've nurtured with our blood; - Your brows to damp with honorable dew, - And your fair hands with wholesome toil to harden. - - _Lord._ Thou wilt not use us thus? - - _Aylmere._ And wherefore not? - - _Lord._ Heaven gave us rank, and freed that rank from labor. - - _Aylmere._ Go to! thou speak'st not truth! Would Heaven, thou fool, - Wrest nature from her throne, and tread in dust - Millions of noble hearts, that worms like thee - Might riot in their filthy joys untroubled? - Heaven were not Heaven were such as ye its chosen." - -The triumphant insurgents compel from the king the promise of a -charter declaring the bondmen free. But, at the height of his success -and glory, Cade is stabbed by a nobleman whom he has condemned to be -executed for his insufferable crimes. As he lies in a dying state, -a cry is heard without, declaring the proclamation of the charter. -Mowbray rushes in, bearing it unrolled, and displaying the royal seal. -Cade starts up with a wild burst of joy, seizes the charter, kisses -it, clasps it to his bosom, sinks to the floor with one slow, expiring -sigh,--and the curtain falls on the dead Liberator of the Bondmen of -England. - -It is a terrible play, full of the ravage of fearful passions, but it -is also full of that truth and that justice which are attributes of -God, and work their retributive results in hurricanes of hatred and -battle, as well as sow their blessings in milder forms. The chronic -political and social experience of mankind has always been terrible; -and the drama, to be true to its full function, must sometimes teach -terrible lessons terribly. The implacable animosity of Cade, his -vendetta-hunt for revenge, his frenzied curse on the murderous noble -who had mixed the blood and gray hairs of his mother with the ashes -of her cottage, his gloating satiation of his vengeance at last, -are not beautiful, but may be edifying. Provoked by such frightful -wrongs as he had known, and enlarged by connection with a whole race -similarly treated for ages, they appeal to the deepest instinct that -sleeps in the crude blood of human nature,--the wild tooth-for-tooth -and eye-for-eye justice of equivalent reprisals taken nakedly man to -man. This indomitable basis of barbaric manhood, with all its dread -traditions of even-handed retribution, was powerful in Forrest. He -believed in it as a natural revelation of the divine justice, and he -delighted in a part on the stage in which he could make its ominous -signals blaze against those who could wrong the poor or trample on -the weak; for thus he glorified the democrat he was by nature through -the democrat he displayed in his art. It is obvious that such a -performance must be extremely offensive to several classes of persons, -and give rise to expressions of censure and disgust. And here is a -key to considerable of the vindictive and contemptuous criticism -levelled against Forrest. But all such criticism is incompetent and -unfair, because springing from personal tastes and moods, and not from -standard principles. Unquestionably, those types of man representing -the moral ideals which tend to woo towards us the better future they -prophesy, are more lovely and benignant than the types representing -the real products and makers of history in the past, with all their -merits and faults. But judgment must not be pronounced on the dramatic -impersonation of a character from negative considerations of its -ęsthetic or ethical inferiority to other forms of character. It is -to be rightly judged from its truth and power in its own kind and -range; for that is all that the player professes to exhibit. And, -furthermore, this is to be said in behalf of the moral influence of -a character represented on the stage whose energies spurn hypocrisy -and mean compromises, whose passions flame straight to their marks -without cowardice or disguise,--that such a character is far more -noble and wholesome than any of those common types of men who have no -originality of nature, no spontaneous power, but are made up of timid -imitations and a conventional worship of custom and appearance. One is -often tempted to say, Better the free impulses of that stronger and -franker time when the passions of men broke out through their muscles -in deeds of genuine love, righteous wrath, and lurid crime, than the -pale, envious, and sneaking vices that thrive under a civilization of -money, law, and luxury. Better express a hostile feeling through its -legitimate channels than secrete it to rankle in the soul. This was -the thought of Forrest; and there is, no doubt, some truth in it. But -it is to be said, on the other side, that the cultivated suppression -of antipathies weakens them, and it is by this method chiefly that the -world moves in its slow progress from the barbarisms of revenge to the -refinements of forgiveness. - -It remains, in conclusion, also to be said, that whatever exceptions -the religious moralist or the fastidious critic may take to Cade, as -delineated by the author and as incarnated by the actor, he was never -the assassin, but always the judge,--his vengeance never the blow -of caprice, but always of Nemesis. Nor did he ever play the selfish -demagogue. His heart was pure, his hands were clean, his soul was -magnanimous, and his tongue was eloquent: - - "I seek not power: - I would not, like the seeled dove, soar on high - To sink clod-like again to earth. I know - No glory, save the godlike joy of making - The bondmen free. When we are free, Jack Cade - Will back unto his hills, and proudly smile - Down on the spangled meanness of the court, - Claiming a title higher than their highest,-- - An honest freeman!" - -So far from being a vulgar agitator, catering to the prejudices of the -mob, he strives to restrain them from every extravagance, teaching them -their duty in golden words: - - "Liberty gives nor light nor heat itself; - It but permits us to be good and happy. - It is to man what space is to the orbs, - The medium where he may revolve and shine, - Or, darkened by his vices, fall forever!" - -Certainly such a dramatic rōle has ample moral justification in what it -is from all fault-finding based on what it is not. The writer and the -player might join hands and say, in the language of their own hero,-- - - "We cannot fail! - The right is with us, God is with the right, - And victory with God." - -The performance was no mere strutting piece of empty histrionics, but -the carefully-studied and conscientious condensation into three hours -of a whole vigorous and effective life, devoted in a spirit of profound -justice to the avenging of wrongs and the disinterested service of the -needy. And in a world where the lives of most men are absorbed in the -gratification of pecuniary greed, sensual desire, or social vanity, -such a representation must be ennobling in its legitimate influence. If -in any instance its exhibition fed class-hatred or personal ferocity, -the blame lay with the spectator, not with the player any more than -it is a fault in the sunshine that it makes vinegar sourer. The true -moral result of the artistic portrayal of condign punishment is not to -cultivate the spirit of vengeance, but to dissuade from that primary -infliction of wrong which breeds punishment. - -Leggett died in 1838, just as he had received an appointment to -Guatemala, a late and reluctant tribute from the triumphant political -party of which he was one of the noblest ornaments. He had been too -true to the principles of democracy to be popular with the partisan -leaders. They feared and disliked him for his incorruptible integrity -and his uncompromising devotion to impartial humanity and justice. -He perished before he was forty years old, in the midst of his -chivalrous warfare against slavery, a sacrifice to his heroic toils -and the over-generous fire of his enthusiasm. He had felt, as Forrest -said in his Fourth of July Oration, "If in any respect the great -experiment which America has been trying before the world has failed -to accomplish the true end of government,--the greatest good of the -greatest number,--it is only where she herself has proved recreant -to the fundamental article of her creed." Accordingly, reckless of -his selfish interests, he toiled to reform his party and bring its -practice up to its theory. His stern earnestness made enemies and held -him back from patronage. Forrest found in him a congenial spirit, and -loved him better than a brother. He furnished him first and last in his -two literary enterprises, the "Critic" and the "Plaindealer," about -fifteen thousand dollars, all of which was lost. After this, when the -unfortunate struggler was in extreme pecuniary and mental distress, the -two friends one evening were supping together in a private compartment -in a restaurant. The gloom, despondency, and haggard air of Leggett -alarmed his friend. "Has anything dreadful happened? What is the -meaning of this?" said Forrest. "Ah, my good friend," answered Leggett, -"it means that I am in absolute despair, and I am going to end the -miserable conflict now and here." He snatched the carving-knife from -the table and was on the point of thrusting it into his heart, when -Forrest seized his arm, exclaiming, "Good God, Leggett, be reasonable, -be calm! This is not just to your family or to your friends." "But," -replied the unhappy man, "I am overwhelmed with debts: in another -week I shall have no roof over my head; and I see no prospect of -better days." The actor was deeply moved, and his voice faltered a -little. "Come, come," he said, "I have abundance, and am piling up -more. Why should you not share in it? I will relieve you of your worst -embarrassments with cash; and I have a nice house at New Rochelle, just -vacated by its tenant. I will give it to you freely, gladly. You are -still a young man; you have great talents and reputation; and there -is glorious work for you in the world yet. Come, cheer up, my good -fellow." And he took his friend by the arm, and did not leave him until -he received from him at his own door a hearty "God bless you, my dear -friend, and good-night!" - -Forrest kept his word to the amount of about six thousand dollars more. -It was an act of impulsive love and aid to a noble man who deserved -it, and to whom the giver felt greatly indebted for his ever-faithful -friendship and sound counsels and the inspiring example of his -character. It was a secret which he never betrayed to the world at all. -It is now told for the first time by the biographer, to whom it was -reluctantly narrated in the course of those confidential communications -which reserved nothing. - -Reputations fade out so fast, and the worthiest are forgotten so soon, -in our hurrying land and day, that the average reader can hardly be -supposed to know much, if anything, of this earliest and best friend -of Forrest. His quality of manhood is to be seen in the tribute of his -political and literary associate, William Cullen Bryant: - - "The earth may ring from shore to shore - With echoes of a glorious name, - But he whose loss our hearts deplore - Has left behind him more than fame. - - "For when the death-frost came to lie - Upon that warm and mighty heart, - And quench that bold and friendly eye, - His spirit did not all depart. - - "The words of fire that from his pen - Were flung upon the lucid page - Still move, still shake the hearts of men, - Amid a cold and coward age. - - "His love of truth, too warm, too strong, - For hope or fear to chain or chill, - His hate of tyranny and wrong, - Burn in the breasts he kindled still." - -And his moral portrait is still more firmly drawn in prose in this -extract from the memorial of him by John G. Whittier: "William Leggett! -Let our right hand forget its cunning when that name shall fail to -awaken generous emotions and aspirations for a higher and worthier -manhood. True man and true democrat; faithful always to liberty, -following wherever she led, whether the storm beat in his face or -on his back; unhesitatingly counting her enemies his own; poor, yet -incorruptible; dependent upon party favor as a party editor, yet -risking all in condemnation of that party when in the wrong; a man of -the people, yet never stooping to flatter the people's prejudices; he -is the politician of all others whom we would hold up to the admiration -and imitation of the young men of our country. What Fletcher of Saltoun -is to Scotland, and the brave spirits of the old Commonwealth time are -to England, should Leggett be to America." - -Forrest sorrowed deeply and long over the death of this brave man -and devoted friend. He never forgot him, nor ceased, in unbent and -affectionate hours, to recall his memory, with pleasing incidents of -their intercourse in those earlier days which wore romantic hues when -old age had stolen on the retrospective survivor. - -A good example now occurs of those numerous bitter and cruel newspaper -attacks on Forrest, elicited by his great professional success, his -prominence before the public, and his brusque individuality. A paper, -fitly called "The Subterranean,"--edited by a brawling politician named -Mike Walsh,--whose motto was "Independent in everything, neutral in -nothing," published an article, a column in length, the substance of -which was as follows: - -"William Leggett.--His Widow.--Disgraceful Conduct of Ned -Forrest.--Ingratitude of the Democracy. - -"Leggett, like ourselves, battled boldly against all the power and -corruption of the Democratic party, and untiringly strove to achieve a -radical reform in its abuses. The purity of his principles proved fatal -to him. He was hunted and baited while living, the same as we have been -since his death, by every paltry and polluted scoundrel whose grasping -avarice is likely to be affected by the elevation of the destitute and -forlorn portion of their fellow-men. - -"If battling for the oppressed and degraded portion of the human family -is to subject a man, while living, to want, misery, ingratitude, and -persecution, and to embitter his dying moments with the knowledge -that when dead his family will be left destitute in a selfish -world,--receiving the sneers of his enemies and the neglect of his -friends,--you will find but few possessed of sufficient courage to -tread so thorny, cheerless, and disheartening a path. - -"We know not how to characterize the conduct of Ned Forrest in this -matter. Leggett found him in an obscurity from which he never could -have emerged by any effort of his own. With a magnanimous generosity -peculiar to men of great minds, he tendered the use of his intellect -and purse. Forrest gladly accepted it; and to that aid is he chiefly -indebted for the immense fortune which he has subsequently acquired. -Mrs. Leggett called on him the other day, and with a cold, heartless, -hell-born ingratitude, which we would have scarcely expected from the -most irredeemable hunker in existence, he treated her as though she -were the greatest stranger on earth,--refusing the common civility due -even to a stranger." - -The purpose of this outrageous libel was a political one. It was -designed to break down the popularity of the favorite actor with the -New York Democracy, who were then again talking of bringing him into -official life. Walsh wished to make him unavailable as a candidate, so -as to keep the way open for another. In accordance with the programme, -means were taken to stir up indignation and excitement to mobocratic -pitch. It was noised abroad that there would be a riot. The theatre, -for the first time in years when he played, was but half full, and -with very few ladies. But Mrs. Forrest, with Mrs. Leggett at her side, -and a few other lady friends, were in a front box. When the player -came forward as the curtain rose, there was dead silence. Instead of -beginning the performance, he addressed the audience: - -"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,--Allow me to say a few words to you in -vindication of myself from a slanderous attack which has been made -upon me by an obscene paper called 'The Subterranean,' and repeated -by the 'Herald,' the characteristics of which print I will not shock -your feelings by naming. To those who know me personally, I trust it is -unnecessary for me to repel such foul aspersions, but to those who do -not know me, I beg leave to submit the following very short letter: - - "'NEW YORK, October 30th, 1843. - -"'MY DEAR FRIEND,--I have seen with surprise and astonishment in the -'New York Herald' of to-day an article which purports to be an extract -from a certain print published in this city, and said to be edited -by a Mr. Walsh; and I have no hesitation in declaring every charge -contained therein, so far as regards yourself, to be entirely false. -Yours, - - "'ELMIRA LEGGETT.' - -"Ladies and Gentlemen,--I am sorry to be obliged to intrude upon you -even for these few minutes, but, however small my pretensions may be as -an actor, you must allow me to say that I value my character as a man -and a citizen far higher than I should all the fame ever acquired by -all the actors that ever lived, from the days of Roscius down to our -own." - -At the conclusion of this pithy speech the audience rose and applauded -with enthusiasm, amidst which Forrest retired for a few seconds, and -then re-appeared as the Cardinal Richelieu. - -The "Herald" of the next morning said: - -"He evidently suffered from considerable nervous excitement; but that -passed away gradually, and in the closing scenes he was great,--worthy -of himself,--worthy of the warmest applause of the most judicious of -his audience. Had it not been for the timely publication in yesterday's -'Herald,' we would have had materials for a much more exciting -paragraph. A formidable band of rowdies had been organized; a riot -would undoubtedly have taken place had not the information given by us -led to the publication of Mrs. Leggett's letter in the 'Evening Post,' -and to judicious proceedings on the part of two worthy citizens who are -engaged in collecting a subscription for her benefit. - -"It was an interesting scene:--the living vindicating his conduct to -the dead, whose arm while in life had so well sustained him, and in the -presence of _that_ witness." - -Another instance of that personal abuse, of that annoying public -interference with private affairs, from which eminent artists, -particularly of the dramatic profession, suffer so much, was given -in connection with the proposition for a theatrical benefit for the -poor in Philadelphia. Forrest met this impertinence with a spirit of -resolute independence and common sense so characteristic that it is -worth while to relate the circumstances. In our country, subserviency -to public opinion is so common, a cowardly conformity to what fashion -commands or one's neighbors expect is so much the rule, that vigorous -assertions of individuality are wholesome, and every resolute rejection -on good grounds of the dictation of meddlers is exemplary. With all -his democracy, Forrest was ever a man quite competent to this style. -When the aforesaid benefit had been for some time officiously urged, -and Forrest did not see fit to volunteer his services, a great many -articles were printed reflecting on him for his backwardness, and -virtually demanding that he should come forward. He took advantage of -his great popularity, and risked it in so doing, to rebuke this kind of -procedure and to assert for himself and his professional associates the -right to dispose of their time and earnings as they themselves should -choose. This letter speaks for itself: - -"DEAR SIR,--Your letter has just been received, in which you are -signified as the organ of several philanthropic gentlemen of this -city, desirous of obtaining my sentiments in relation to the -much-talked-of 'Benefit for the Poor.' - -"You, sir, in common with my fellow-citizens with whom I have the -honor to be personally acquainted, will do me the justice to think -that I am not altogether void of 'tear-falling pity,' or that my -sympathies are entirely shut against the sufferings of the poor. So -far from this, sir, I am disposed to do all in my power to alleviate -their distresses, and will most cheerfully give two hundred dollars -(my price for one night's performance), or five hundred, nay, one -thousand, if _any one_ of your numerous anonymous correspondents, who -display so much anxiety for the relief of the poor, will 'go and do -likewise.' An act like this will argue a greater sincerity to serve -their fellow-creatures than the officious disposal of the time and -exertions of others (which costs _them_ nothing), or their boasted -philanthropy through the medium of the public press. - -"From the numerous applications made to me to perform for charities -in almost every city that I visit, in my own defence I have found -it necessary to make a rule which prevents the exertion of my -_professional_ services in behalf of any charity, excepting that of -the Theatrical Fund for the relief of decayed or indigent actors. The -necessity of making such a rule will at once be obvious to you. For -if I performed for one and denied another, I must give offence; and -if I answered all the demands of this nature made upon me, my time -and energies must be thrown away upon others, to the total neglect -of myself and those who have the most immediate claims upon me. The -actor's profession 'is the means whereby he lives;' and who shall -dictate to him the disposal of his hard-earned gains, any more than to -the mechanic, the merchant, or the advocate? - -"I thank you, sir, for the opportunity which you have afforded me of -vindicating myself in regard to this matter, and of making known my -reasons for declining to perform on the occasion referred to. - - "Very respectfully, - "Your ob't servant, - "ROBERT MORRIS, Esq. "EDWIN FORREST." - -The editor of the paper in which the letter was published added, "Now -let us see whether the benevolent souls who have been egging him on to -the execution of their purposes will show a generosity like his own!" - -Travelling over the country amidst all kinds of people and scenes, as -he did in his avocation, Forrest naturally had many adventures. Two or -three of these may be narrated as having intrinsic interest or throwing -light on his character. He was once on board a Mississippi steamer when -a passenger, whose name and destination were unknown, was attacked by -the cholera in its most violent form. He was a dark, stalwart man, who -had been promenading the deck, showily dressed, a pistol projecting -from his left breast-pocket, a bowie-knife dangling under his right -arm. The unknown man felt that he was doomed, and had only just time -and strength to say that he had some money on his person, before -sinking back dead in the presence of the horror-struck throng. The -captain took from around the waist of the unfortunate man a quilted -belt, a foot in width, in which were packed thirteen thousand dollars -in gold eagles. As there was no known claimant for the money, it was -agreed that it should be given to a hospital in New Orleans. The boat -was anchored, and they hurriedly wrapped the body in a long roll of -canvas and placed it in a rude box, and went on shore to bury it. It -was a still, starlight night in August; and as the company landed on -their sombre errand, the wide waters of the river gleamed between its -dark shores. A continuous wood of gigantic cotton-wood trees stretched -from the bank, their trunks and boughs clasped by great vines, which -looked, among the fantastic shadows flung by the pitch-pine torches, -like so many serpents crawling in every direction. Digging a trench, -they lowered the box into it, with no other service than the muttered -words, "In the name of God we commit this body to the ground," threw -the earth over it, and returned and proceeded on their way. The -experience was a most impressive and dramatic one, the circumstances of -the scene combining to color and frame it into a vivid natural cartoon. - -The following anecdote was published many years ago in the "Sunday -Courier," under his own signature, by Charles T. Heiner, of Baltimore, -and the narrative is known to be strictly authentic. It is given here -in his words, abbreviated: - -"After a long absence, I found myself sailing up the Mississippi -River, bound for home. One morning, as I left my state-room, I saw -the passengers gathered on the forward deck. Inquiring the cause, I -was told that a man had just died who had left, without protection, -two children, a boy of seven years and a girl of five. The wife of -the man, I was also told, had recently died, and the children were -now orphans, and friendless and destitute. My informant had scarcely -ceased speaking, when I observed a gentleman of herculean mould and -dignified air, who possessed great personal beauty, pass by where I was -sitting, having on his arm the little daughter of the deceased, who -was sobbing bitterly, her little face nestled close to his breast. The -boy, who was also sobbing, the stranger led by the hand, and, while his -lips quivered and tears stood in his eyes, he was soothing the little -mourners with words of hope and kindness, his full, rich voice being -modulated to the tender tones of a woman. Much moved by the scene, I -followed them and a large number of passengers into the cabin, where I -found the two orphans standing in the centre of the group, their arms -around each other's necks, mingling their tears and sobs. - -"'Come, come, be a little man,' said the stranger to the boy; 'don't -cry. I will take care of you,--I will be your father.' And he drew the -little girl to him and wiped the tears from her eyes, regardless that -his own were also overflowing, while the members of the group around -showed no less feeling than he. - -"One of the number called the assembly to order by nominating a -chairman, a Mr. Jones, a planter, whose estate was about thirty miles -farther up the river. He accepted the office, and said that, with the -assent of the company, he would take charge of the orphans and rear and -educate them. This proposition was well received by all the passengers -except the stranger, who, during these proceedings, had been sitting -apart in conversation with the little waifs that the act of God had -cast upon the stream of charity. Hastily loosening the arms of the -little girl from about his neck, he stepped forward and addressed the -group. - -"'I have been forestalled,' said he, 'by the gentleman who has made -the proposal to which you have just listened. He has children,--I have -none. I will take one of these children, and here pledge my honor to -rear it with the same tenderness that I would exercise if it were my -own. Let me divide with your chairman these gifts of Providence, and I -will give him the privilege of electing which to take.' - -"The silence which followed these remarks was broken by the voice of -the little boy, who was old enough to comprehend the nature of what -was passing, and who had been an eager listener to the words of the -stranger, and whose hand he now seized in both his own. 'Oh, don't take -me from my sister!' said he. 'When father died, he told me I must never -leave her. Let us both go with you; she loves me very much, and father -said that in a little while I should be strong enough to work for her. -Don't take her away from me!' And the little fellow's voice trembled, -and he looked imploringly into the stranger's face, who was melted to -tears by this appeal. - -"'You shall not be separated, my little hero,' replied the stranger, -'but shall remain together.' Then, turning to the group, he said,-- - -"'I will relinquish my claim to your chairman; but it must be on -two conditions. The first is, that he shall draw on me annually for -one-half of all the expenses which may be incurred in the rearing and -educating of these orphans; and here is the first instalment of one -hundred dollars.' - -"'I cheerfully assent to that,' replied Mr. Jones. 'What is the other?' - -"'That if you should die, or circumstances should prevent your -continuing their protector, they shall be sent to me.' - -"'I also agree to that.' - -"'Take them, then, and may God bless them and you!' said the stranger, -as he kissed the weeping orphans, who, in that brief space of time, -with the quick instincts of children, had learned how much he was their -friend. - -"The bell rang, planks were taken in, and, ten minutes after the scene -I have described, the steamer was once again puffing on her course, -leaving the little ones and their new friend standing on the bank of -the river waving us their sorrowful adieu. - -"'Who is that gentleman?' said I to one of the passengers, whom I had -drawn apart. - -"'Why, don't you know him? That is FORREST, the tragedian!'" - -A letter written by Mrs. Forrest to her youngest sister-in-law, -Eleanora, while absent with Edwin on one of his distant theatrical -engagements, may find a fitting place here, for the interest of its -domestic allusions and of its description of the scenery on their -journey: - - "BUFFALO, August 29th, 1843. - -"MY DEAR ELEANORA,--According to the promise made in Philadelphia, -I will endeavor to give you some account of our travels in the Far -West. From New York we went first to Detroit, where Edwin was engaged -to perform for six nights; but the business was so good that he was -induced to remain eleven. - -"On leaving Detroit, we took the railroad to Jackson, the capital -of Michigan, and then proceeded by stage to a village called Battle -Creek, in all a journey of about one hundred and thirty miles. There -we remained overnight. After this we abandoned the public conveyances -so long as we travelled in Michigan,--the routes taken by the stages -being generally through the most uninteresting portions of the -country, and the additional expense of a private conveyance being -small, and the additional comfort great. Leaving Battle Creek, our -road lay through one of the most beautiful portions of the State. For -nearly twenty miles we rode through magnificent forests of huge old -oaks, unencumbered by any undergrowth, and surrounded on all sides -by wild flowers of every form and hue, roses, lilies, and the vivid -scarlet lobelia everywhere growing up in the richest luxuriance. -Occasionally we proceeded for a mile or two along the banks of the -Kalamazoo River, a most picturesque stream, but so shallow that it -may be easily forded almost anywhere. Sometimes we came to a natural -meadow hundreds of acres in extent, on which apparently no tree or -shrub has ever grown. These meadows are universally surrounded by high -banks and immense trees, the growth of ages, which leads one naturally -to suppose that they may have been the beds of lakes, of which there -are a great number in this part of the country. These meadows are of -infinite advantage to the farmer, yielding him fine crops of hay and -saving him the labor of at least one generation, which would otherwise -be employed in clearing away the trees. We spent some portion of a -day in the village of Kalamazoo in walking about the place in search -of Edwin's lots, which eventually we found. As the railroad will be -completed to this place next year, these lots will in all probability -be worth something. At Kalamazoo we remained one night, and started -the next morning for Prairie Ronde. Here we saw one of the wonders of -the western country, a magnificent prairie, fifteen miles across, the -greater portion of it in a high state of cultivation, the soil very -fine, and the farms in a flourishing condition, with a neat little -village in the centre. Those prairies, however, which are wholly -uncultivated present a much finer prospect to the traveller, being an -immense sea of wild flowers, stretching as far as the eye can reach, -without a tree or a shrub to interrupt the view. We remained one night -at a village on White Pigeon Prairie, about thirty miles from the last -one I named, and the next day proceeded to Niles. Our road, during -the greater portion of the morning, was through the woods, and by -the side of the St. Joseph River. The scenery is very beautiful. On -entering the village of Niles, Goodman, who was standing at the door -of his store, immediately recognized Edwin and stopped the carriage. -He insisted on our going to his house, which Edwin at first refused, -but Goodman said he had been expecting us all the week, and seemed -so anxious about the matter that Edwin finally consented to go. I am -sure you will be glad to hear that Edwin settled all his business with -Goodman, and is satisfied that he has acted honestly. We remained -there two days and a half, and he and Mrs. Goodman made us very -comfortable. They have a neat little cottage, and two acres of land -adjoining it, and apparently every comfort which they can require. -On leaving Niles, we went to St. Joseph, and there took the boat to -Chicago, a very pretty town finely situated on Lake Michigan. After -remaining here a day, we took a steamboat for the Upper Lakes, and in -two days reached Mackinaw, a most beautiful little island, where there -is an annual meeting of most of the Indian tribes, who gather there to -receive their pay from the Government. We at first purposed remaining -a few days there; but finding that there were no accommodations for -us, and that the boat would remain long enough to allow of our seeing -all that we wished, we walked on shore, saw a sufficient number of -Indians to satisfy all reasonable curiosity, and in a condition which -tends to destroy the romantic ideas we are apt to form of them. We -returned to our boat, which, after stopping at several places, -brought us in three days more to Buffalo. I must not omit to tell -you that on Sunday we had a sermon from an Episcopal minister, and, -there being no time the same day for any other, on Monday we had a -long discourse from a Mormon preacher; but, my paper being so nearly -full, I must not attempt to describe him. Edwin is going to play ten -or twelve nights here, and then we go to New York. I think this trip -has been of service to him; and he is of the same opinion. He is now -in excellent health. I have but little room left to make the many -inquiries I would wish concerning you and all in Tenth Street. I hope -your dear mother is fast recovering the use of her arm, and that her -health in other respects is good. We should like much to hear how she -is, and should be very glad to receive a few lines from you. I trust -that you and your sisters are all well, and that you escaped the -influenza. Edwin desires his love to mother, Henrietta, Caroline, and -yourself. In this I beg most heartily to join, and remain ever, - - "Yours, affectionately, - "CATHARINE FORREST." - -Forrest, after playing in Nashville in 1842 or 1843, visited Jackson -at the Hermitage, in Tennessee, where the venerable ex-President was -passing in peaceful retirement the last days of his stormy life. -Jackson, who was himself one of the greatest actors who ever appeared -off the stage, had often seen him act, knew him well, and not only made -him welcome, but insisted on his staying with him as his guest. Forrest -did so, and extremely enjoyed the intercourse with the celebrated man -for whom he had always cherished the greatest political and personal -admiration. It was in the height of the agitation about the annexation -of Texas to the United States. While there, Forrest broached this -topic. In an instant the stooped and faltering sage was all alive, -for he felt a passionate interest in the subject. In a few minutes, -warming with his own action, he rose to his feet, seized a map in his -left hand, and entered vehemently into the whole argument in behalf -of the project on political, commercial, and social grounds. As his -eyes glanced from point to point on the map, they glowed like two gray -balls of fire. His right hand followed the direction of his eyes, and -the pitch of his voice obeyed the inflections of his hand. His cheeks -flushed, his white hair flew back like the mane of an aged lion, his -head rose on his lifted and dilated neck, the motions of his limbs -and torse were made straight from their joints, and he inveighed with -the mien of an angry prophet. Forrest was actually startled by the -spectacle of so sudden a change from drooping decrepitude to sublime -power. He never forgot it as the best unintentional lesson he had ever -received in dramatic expression. He afterwards bore in mind this proof -of the electric capacity of feeble old age to be suddenly charged and -emit lightnings and thunders, when he modelled the great explosions of -his Richelieu. - -Year on year now passed by with the fortunes of the player still -wearing an aspect nearly all smiles. Though liberal, he was prudent, -and the investments of his large income were always marked by shrewd -foresight. His strength was enormous, his health and spirits for the -most part were unvarying, his popularity was unabated, caps tossed for -him in the theatre and eyes turned after him in the street, his home -was blessed with love and peace, and his mother and sisters gave him -the pleasure of seeing their steady happiness in the honorable repose -and comfort he had provided for them. Well might he be an agreeable and -cheerful man, genial with his friends, delighting in his profession, -proud of his country and his countrymen, unpoisoned and undepressed as -yet by misjudgment and abuse. So things were with him when, in 1845, -attracted by a handsome managerial offer, moved by the desire of his -wife to revisit her early home, and encouraged by the recollection of -his flattering success before, with a strong hope of enhancing it in -repetition, he resolved to cross the sea once more, and, in a selection -of his favorite characters, present himself anew on the British Stage. - -There was at this time one ominous element working in him which had -been the cause of considerable irritation to him already, and which -was to be unexpectedly aggravated in the experience now immediately -before him. In his twenty years of professional life with its waxing -celebrity he had encountered so many jealousies and slanders, so -much envy, meanness, and treachery,--in his intimacy with artists, -politicians, and other ambitious men his sharp discernment had seen so -much base plotting and backbiting, so much pushing of the unworthy into -prominence by dishonorable methods, and so much sacrificing of the -meritorious and modest by falsehoods and shameless tricks of superior -address,--that his early estimate of the average of human nature had -been lowered and some degree of distrust and reserve developed. The -change was not conspicuous, but it had begun, and it foreboded further -evil. He had an open, truthful nature, especially characterized by love -of justice and detestation of all double-faced or underhanded dealings. -He was also a man of a deep and sensitive pride. Finding himself -assailed continually with incompetent and acrimonious criticism, and -in some cases pursued with malignant libels, he was naturally nettled -and angered. With a man of his warm and tenacious temper the experience -was a dangerous one, which tended to feed itself and to grow by what it -fed on. Had he been gifted with that saintly spirit which bears wrong -and insult with meek or magnanimous forgiveness, he would have escaped -a world of strife and suffering. But in regard to injuries he was an -Indian rather than a saint. Accordingly, the interested opposition and -coarse abuse he met put him on probation for misanthropy. Fortunately, -his reason and sympathy were too strong to yield to the temptation. -But in his later career we shall see what was originally his generous -outward struggle with adversity and the social conditions of success -partially changed into a bitter inward conflict with men. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -SECOND PROFESSIONAL TOUR IN GREAT BRITAIN, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.--THE -MACREADY CONTROVERSY AND RIOT. - - -Few persons have any adequate idea of the prevalence, the force, the -subtile windings of envy and jealousy among men, especially among those -classes into whose life the principle of rivalry directly enters. The -more patiently and profoundly any one studies the workings of these -passions in his own soul, the larger will be his estimate of the part -they play in society. And then, if his experience be such as to admit -him to the secrets behind the scenes of social life, revealing to him -the selfish collusions, plots, bribes, and wire-pullings concealed -beneath the conventional appearances of openness and fair-play, his -allowance for the operation of sinister forms of self-love will receive -another important enlargement. No other class is so keenly beset by -these malign suspicions and grudges, these base motives to depreciate -and supplant one another, as those who are competitors for public -admiration and applause. There are obvious reasons for this fact, and -the fact itself is notorious and unquestionable. The annals of the -stage in all its departments, tragic, comic, operatic, teem and reek -with the animosities and cabals of those who have seemed to dislike -one another in even proportion as they were favorites of the public. -Forrest, with all his faults, was remarkably free from this mean and -odious vice of professional envy. He never sought by hidden means or -dishonorable arts of any kind either to gain laurels for himself or -to tarnish or tear off the laurels of others. He was always ready to -applaud merit in another, and always rejoiced generously to have his -fellow-actors generously praised when they deserved it. When on the -stage, he did not strive to monopolize everything, and add greatness -and lustre to his own part by belittling and darkening the parts -of others. He was not that kind of man. He had too strong a sense -of justice, too much pride and too much sympathy, to be capable of -such action. The form his self-love took when excited in hostility -was an angry resentment of injustice. The injustice might be fancied -sometimes, but it was that which he identified with the offender, -and hated accordingly. And his wrath manifested itself not in secret -or overt measures of injury, not in a silent malignity circulating -poisonously in the heart and brain, but in frank and passionate -expression on the spot, in hot gestures, flashes of face, and strokes -of voice. He vented his indignation extravagantly, like Boythorn, but -elaborated no methods of doing harm, and was incapable, in his haughty -self-respect, of purchasing a critic or consciously slandering a rival. - -Garrick had such a prurient vanity, so morbid a dread of censure and -love of praise, that he not only persuaded hostile critics not to -attack him and friendly ones to write him up, but also freely used -his own skilful pen for the same purpose. He wrote anonymous feeble -condemnations of his own acting, and then replied to them anonymously -with convincing force, thus inflaming the public interest. Voltaire -is well known to have done the same thing. But these were both men of -vanity, not of pride. Vanity hates rivals, and is monopolizing and -revengeful, and a mother of all meannesses. Pride furiously resents -attacks on itself, but does not spontaneously attack others. It asks -but freedom and a fair field. Deny these, and it grows dangerous. When -any one assailed or undertook to lower Daniel Webster, he was met -with the most imperious repulse and transcendent scorn. The kindling -wrath of the haughty giant was terrible. But the mere supposition that -he could ever have stooped to offer a bribe to any one, or to curry -favor of any one, is absurd. Forrest was a man of the same mould. The -anger of such natures at any meddlesome attempt to disparage them has -this moral ground, namely, it is their aroused instinct of spiritual -self-preservation. The man of vulgar inferiority, in his coarse and -complacent stolidity, cares little for the estimates others put on -him. But the man conscious of a great superiority--a Webster or a -Forrest--is keenly alive to whatever threatens it. His sphere of mental -life enormously surpasses his sphere of physical life. The elemental -rhythm of his being, which marks the key-note of his constitution -and destiny, has a more massive and sensitive swing in him than in -average persons, and his feelings are intensely quick to drive back -every hostile or demeaning valuation ideally shrivelling and lowering -his rank. The consciousness of such a man is so vital and intelligent -that it intuitively reports to him every sneer, derogatory judgment, -or insulting look, as something intended to compress and hamper his -being of its full volume and freedom of function. Thus Forrest could -not meekly submit to be undervalued or snubbed; but he had no natural -impulse to undervalue or snub others, or to imagine that they stood in -his way and must be thrust aside. - -The distinguished English actor, William Charles Macready, with whom -circumstances brought the American into a professional rivalry which -deepened into bitter enmity, was a man in every respect of a very -different type. All his life he had an extreme distaste and a moral -aversion to his profession; yet, by dint of incessant intellectual -and mechanical drill, he placed himself for a term of years at its -head in Great Britain. He was of vanity and irritability and egotistic -exactingness all compact, insanely sensitive to neglect and censure, -greedily avid of notice and admiration. He seemed scarcely to live -in the direct goals of life for their own sakes, but to be absorbed -in their secondary reflections in his own self-consciousness and in -his imaginations of the opinions of other people concerning him and -his affairs. A man of a morbidly introspective habit, a discontented -observer, a spiritual dyspeptic, he coveted social preferment and -shrank from the plebeian crowd,-- - - "And 'twas known - He sickened at all triumphs not his own." - -This severe estimate is unwillingly recorded, but it is amply -justified by his own memoirs of himself, posthumously published under -the editorship of his literary executor. His diary so abounds in -confessions and instances of bad temper, vanity, arrogance, angry -jealousy, and rankling envy, that it serves as a pillory in which -he exhibits himself as a candidate for contempt. In an article on -"Macready's Reminiscences," the "Quarterly Review" (English) says, -"Actors have an evil reputation for egotism and jealousy. No one ever -lay more heavily under this imputation than Mr. Macready while on the -stage. We have heard the greatest comedian of his time say of him, -'Macready never could see any merit in any actor in his own line until -he was either dead or off the stage.' The indictment was sweeping, but -this book almost bears it out. In his own words, the echo of applause, -unless given to himself, fills him 'with envious and vindictive -feelings.' He abhors and despises his own profession. While still on -the stage he says, 'It is an unhappy life. We start at every shadow -of an actor, living in constant dread of being ousted from popularity -by some new favorite.' After leaving the stage he says, 'I can now -look my fellow-men, whatever their station, in the face and assert my -equality.' And these things he says in the face of the fact that he -owed all his consequence to his success as an actor." - -Macready had played a successful series of engagements in the United -States in 1843. He was well received, much praised, and carried home a -handsome sum, though the profit was mostly his own, since the managers -generally made little, and many of them actually lost by him. He -was not popular with the multitude, but was favored by the selecter -portion of the public. His enjoyment, too, of the eulogies written on -his acting was a good deal dashed by the censure and detraction in -which some of the writers for the press indulged. His social success, -however, was unalloyed. He and Forrest up to this time were on good -terms, terms of genuine kindness, though any strong friendship was -out of the question between natures so incompatible. Forrest had -honorably refused urgent invitations from several managers of theatres -in different cities to play for them at the time Macready was acting -in rival houses. The two or three weeks of his engagement in New York -Macready spent in the house of Forrest, who received a very cordial -letter of thanks from Mrs. Macready, in London, in acknowledgment of -his generous attentions and hospitality to her absent husband. - -There were at that time many Englishmen connected with the leading -newspapers in this country. They naturally felt that the cause -of Macready was their own, and expatiated on the beauties of his -performances, not a little to the disparagement of the American player. -On the other hand, the national feeling of other writers affirmed the -greater merits of their own tragedian. By natural affinity the English -party drew to themselves the dilettante portion of the upper stratum of -society, the so-called fashionable and aristocratic, while the general -mass of the people were the hearty admirers of Forrest. The cold and -measured style of the foreigner, his rigid mannerism and studied -artificiality, were frequently spoken of in unfavorable contrast with -the free enthusiasm, the breathing sincerity and impassioned power, of -the native player. Forrest was called a rough jewel of the first water, -who scorned to heighten his apparent value by false accompaniments; -Macready a paste gem, polished and set off with every counterfeit gleam -art could lend. The fire of the one was said to command honest throbs -and tears; the icy glitter of the other, the dainty clappings of kid -gloves. Such expressions plainly betray the spirit that was working. -These comparisons--though there were enough of an opposite character, -painting the Englishman as a king, Forrest as a boor--greatly irked and -nettled Macready. And it was known that he went back to England with a -good deal of soreness on this point. - -When Forrest made his first appearance in London, at Covent Garden -Theatre, a few months after the return of Macready from his American -trip, the latter, as well as all his compeers, Charles Kemble, -Charles Kean, and Vandenhoff, was without any London engagement. This -circumstance of itself was calculated to quicken jealousy towards an -intruding foreigner who threatened to attract much attention. However, -as it is known that Forrest had nothing to do with the depreciating -notices of Macready written in America, it is to be supposed that none -of the English tragedians had any hand whatever in the scurrilous -critiques of Forrest written in their country, or in the attempt -made to break him down and drive him from the London stage. But such -conspicuous personages always have in their train, among the meaner fry -of dramatic critics and their hangers-on, plenty of henchmen who are -eager to do anything in the fancied service of their lords, even to -the discredit and against the will of those whose cause they affect to -sustain. - -On the evening of the 17th of February, 1845, as Forrest appeared in -the character of Othello, he was saluted with a shower of hisses, -proceeding from three solid bodies of claqueurs, packed in three -different parts of the house. So often as the legitimate audience -attempted any expression of approval, it was overpowered by these -organized emissaries. Beyond any doubt it was a systematic plan -arranged in advance under the stimulus of national prejudice and -personal interest, whoever its responsible authors were or were not. -Forrest, though profoundly annoyed, gave no open recognition whatever -of the outrage, but went steadily on with his performance to the end. -The next evening, when he played Macbeth, the disturbances were more -determined than before; but the large majority of the crowded assembly -upheld the actor by their applause, and again he gave no heed to the -interruptions and insults. The force of the conspiracy was broken, and -gave no further overt signal, and the engagement was played through -triumphantly. But Forrest left Covent Garden with a bitter and angry -mind. He ruminated unforgivingly, as it was his nature to, on the -injurious and unprovoked treatment he had received. For the hisses, -suborned as they evidently were, did not constitute the worst abuse he -had to bear. Three or four of the London newspapers, known as organs of -special dramatic interests, most notably the organ of the bosom friend -of Macready, noticed him and his performances in a tone of comment -shamefully without warrant in truth. A few specimens will suffice to -prove the justice of this statement: - -"Mr. Forrest's Othello is a burlesque of the elder Kean's mannerisms, -his air of depressed solemnity, prolonged pauses, and startling -outbursts, with occasional imitations of Vandenhoff's deep-voiced -utterance, varied by the Yankee nasal twang. His presence is not -commanding, nor his deportment dignified; for the assumption of -grandeur is not sustained by an imaginative feeling of nobleness. His -passion is a violent effort of physical vehemence. He bullies Iago, and -treats Desdemona with brutal ferocity. Even his tenderness is affected, -and his smile is like the grin of a wolf showing his fangs. The killing -of Desdemona was cold-blooded butchery." - -"Our old friend Mr. Forrest afforded great amusement to the public by -his performance of Macbeth. Indeed, our best comic actors do not often -excite so great a quantity of mirth. The change from an inaudible -murmur to a thunder of sound was enormous. But the grand feature was -the combat, in which he stood scraping his sword against that of -Macduff. We were at a loss to know what this gesture meant, till an -enlightened critic in the gallery shouted out, 'That's right! sharpen -it!'" - -"Of Mr. Edwin Forrest's coarse caricature of Lear we caught a glimpse -that more than sufficed to show that the actor had no conception of -the part. His Lear is a roaring pantaloon, with a vigorous totter, a -head waving as indefatigably as a china image, and lungs of prodigious -power. There only wanted the candlewick mustaches to complete the stage -idea of a choleric despot in pantomime." - -"Mr. Forrest's Richard the Third forms no exception to those murderous -attacks upon Shakspeare which this gentleman has so ruthlessly made -since his arrival amongst us. Since the time of that elder Forrest, who -had such a hand in the murder of the princes in the Tower, we may not -inappropriately take this last execution of Richard at Drury Lane to be - - 'The most arch deed of piteous massacre - That ever yet this land was guilty of.' - -"We have tried very hard, since witnessing the performance, to discover -the principle or intention of it; but to no effect. We remember -some expressions, however, in an old comedy of Greene's, which may -possibly suggest something to the purpose. 'How,' says Bubble, on -finding himself dressed out very flauntingly indeed,--'how apparel -makes a man respected! The very children in the street do adore me!' -In almost every scene Mr. Forrest blazed forth in a new and most -oppressively-gilded dress, for which he received precisely the kind of -adoration that the simple Bubble adverts to." - -But while the hostile papers characterized the change in the acting -of Forrest from what it was on his earlier visit as an unaccountable -deterioration, and censured him without reason, other journals took -up his defence, praised his performances warmly, and affirmed that he -had made great improvement. What the former stigmatized as a becoming -dull, cold, and formal, the latter eulogized as an outgrowing of former -extravagance and an acquiring of refinement, measure, and repose. As -he went on playing, his opponents diminished in numbers and virulence, -while his supporters increased, and at last he had conquered a real -triumph. It will be well to quote a few of the notices which appeared -in friendly and impartial quarters in contrast to those of an opposite -character already cited. - -The Athenęum, in speaking of his opening night in Macbeth, said, "Mr. -Forrest's former manner has received considerable modification and -become mellowed with experience. He has learned that repose is the -final grace of art. In the startling crises of the play his voice and -action, both without effort, spring forth with crushing effect, not -because he is an actor who chooses thus to manifest strength, but -because he is a strong man, who simply exerts his excited energies. -Macbeth, as he now performs it, is a calm and stately, almost a -sculpturesque, piece of acting." - -The Sun called his Lear a decisive triumph, and used the following -words: - -"Those contrasts, in which he delights, all tell well in the character -of Lear, and they were used with excellent discrimination and great -effect. There was something appalling in the bursts of fury with which -that weak-bodied but intensely-impassioned old man was occasionally -convulsed. The tottering gait, the palsied head, the feeble footsteps -of old age were admirably given; but the deep voice and the manly -contour of the figure showed that it was the old age of one who had -been, in the heyday of life, 'every inch a king.' It was the old -oak tottering to its fall, but the monarch of the forest still. The -passion, too, was most artistically worked up to a climax, increasing -in intensity from the scene in which he casts off Cordelia, through -the scene in which he curses Goneril, until in the scene in which -he becomes convinced of the treason of Goneril, when it became the -desolating hurricane, destroying even reason itself. The scenes with -Edgar were beautifully given. The different phases of the approach -of madness were admirably marked. You could see, as it were, reason -descending from her throne. The scene with Gloucester, too, was very -fine; the biting apothegms which Shakspeare has in this scene put into -the mouth of Lear were given with heartless, bitter, scornful, laughing -sarcasm, which is perhaps one of the most unfailing characteristics of -madness. The recognition of Cordelia was beautifully touching, and the -lament over her dead body was given with an expression of heart-rending -pathos of which we did not before imagine Mr. Forrest capable." - -The praise given by the Times was still more emphatic: - -"Mr. Forrest's Lear is, from beginning to end, a very masterly, -intelligent, and powerful performance, giving evidence of the most -careful and attentive study of the author's meaning, steering clear, at -the same time, of all fine-drawn subtleties and tricky point-making, -and affording a well-grasped and evenly-sustained impersonation of -that magnificent and soul stirring creation. He is certainly a better -Lear than any our own stage has afforded for some time. Although, -from Mr. Forrest's personal appearance, one would with difficulty -imagine him capable of looking the old man, fourscore and upwards, all -the attributes of age and feebleness, the palsied head and tottering -walk, are admirably assumed, and are never lost sight of throughout -the performance. At his first appearance he was received with -considerable applause, which was repeatedly renewed as he continued -with the scene,--commencing in a tone of kingly dignity and paternal -affection, and, after Cordelia's reply, gradually giving place to the -suppressed workings of his rage, which at last burst forth, at Kent's -interference, into an ungovernable storm, and lit up his features with -the most withering expression of fury. The curse at the end of the -second act, which was pronounced by Mr. Forrest in one scream of rage, -his body tremulously agitated with the violence of his emotion, brought -down burst after burst of applause, which lasted considerably after -the fall of the drop; and indeed an attempt was made to introduce that -very unusual compliment when the play is still unfinished, a call for -the actor. Such displays of physical power, although in this instance -perfectly called for and necessary, are not, however, the chief or the -best points on which the merits of Mr. Forrest's performance rest. -The scene where he discovers Kent in the stocks, and is subsequently -confronted with his two daughters, whose insults finally drive him off -distracted, was acted with great play and variety of expression,--Mr. -Forrest passing from one emotion to the other with childish fitfulness, -and displaying a keen and discriminate perception. The mad scenes -also in no less degree evinced the higher qualities of the actor. The -declamatory bursts of passionate satire on the vices and weaknesses -of the world, chaotically mingled with the incoherences of madness, -had evidently been a subject of minute study, and were shaded with -admirable nicety, the features constantly expressing the alternate -return of light and darkness on the old man's brain. In the last -act, the touching simplicity and tenderness of his manner, when too -exhausted for violent emotion, and the last burst of feverish energy -over the body of Cordelia, were equally well conceived. If there be any -fault to find, it was with the death, which was, perhaps, too minutely -true in its physical details. - -"Mr. Forrest was called for at the conclusion, and received -enthusiastic marks of approbation." - -The following extract is from a notice of his Othello by the John Bull: - -"Mr. Forrest's former visit to this country must be fresh in the -memory of theatrical amateurs. His talents were then generally -admitted; but it was remarked that, though he possessed force, it -was more of a physical than a moral kind, and that his action was -more akin to melodrama than to tragedy. Since that time Mr. Forrest -seems considerably changed, and for the better. His action has become -more quiet, chaste, and subdued. It is now, perhaps, too careful and -measured, and we rather missed something of his former rough and -somewhat extravagant energy. We cannot help thinking that one or two -of our contemporaries have relied rather on their remembrance of what -Mr. Forrest _was_ than their perception of what he _is_. On the whole, -his representation of Othello well merited the immense applause it -received." - -Scores of notices like these in the best portion of the English press -prove conclusively enough the malignity of writers who could denounce -their American visitor as a theatrical impostor, worthy of nothing -but contempt. The London Observer, for example, could find nothing -better to say of the Metamora of Forrest than this: "His whole dramatic -existence is a spasm of rage and hatred, and his whole stage-life -one continuous series of murder, arson, and destruction to life and -property in its most hideous form. What a pity he could not be let -loose upon the drab-colored swindlers of Pennsylvania! Mr. Forrest did -not indicate one of the characteristics of the American Indian except -that wretched combination of sounds between a whine, a howl, and a -gobble, which is designated the war-whoop by those who think more of -poetry than of truth. Besides this sin of omission, he has to answer -for those sins of commission which so sadly deface his impersonation -of every part he has appeared in, namely, that cool, nonchalant -manner, that slow motion, and that ridiculous style of elocution, now -whispering, now conversational, ever and anon screaming, roaring, -bellowing, and raving, but never sustained, truthful, or dignified: - - 'List to that voice! Did ever discord hear - Sounds so well fitted to her untuned ear?'" - -The Age and Argus spoke of the most extraordinary contrast of the -conduct of a part of the press towards Mr. Forrest to the treatment he -received when he acted at Drury Lane in 1836, and said, "Many persons -intimate that had he been now engaged there instead of appearing at the -Princess's, the theatrical reporters would have been unable to discover -a single fault in his performances,--managerial tact being competent -to guide the honest opinions of most of these gentry. The 'Observer' -endeavors to depict Mr. Forrest as a fool, an idiot, whose performance -is simply ludicrous; albeit we have reason to believe the writer is -the self-same person who seven years ago tried to write him up as a -first-rate tragedian." - -Forrest thought, from some direct proofs and a mass of circumstantial -evidence, he could trace the fierce hostility with which he was met -to its chief source in Macready. He may have been mistaken; but such -was his belief. Macready, returning from America irritated towards him -as a more than formidable rival before the people, was now idle, and -had repeatedly failed to draw a remunerative audience in London. In -fact, such was the temper of the man that when manager Bunn was nightly -losing money by him, and, in order to make him break his engagement, -purposely vexed him by casts which he disliked, he one night rushed -off the stage in a fury, and, without a word of provocation, fell on -Bunn, a much smaller and weaker man, and beat him so dreadfully that -the poor manager lay in bed in frightful agony for two weeks. He was -prosecuted, convicted, and forced to pay a hundred and fifty pounds -damages. Macready was the intimate friend of the theatrical critic -who abused Forrest the most unrelentingly. He was the intimate friend -of Bulwer Lytton, who refused the request of Forrest to be allowed to -appear in his two plays of "Richelieu" and "The Lady of Lyons." He was -the intimate friend of Mitchel, the manager of the English theatrical -company in Paris, who rudely refused to see Forrest when he applied to -him for an interview. This last circumstance was especially mortifying, -as he had informed his friends before leaving home that he intended to -perform in Paris, and flattering notices of him and of his purposed -appearance among them had been published in the French press.[A] -Macready himself had failed to make an impression in Paris, and the -English company there was not pecuniarily successful. Forrest believed, -whether correctly or not, that his rival had interfered to prevent his -engagement there. Thus his antagonism was edged with a sharper hate. - -[A] "Forrest a reēu le surnom de Talma de l'Amérique, et ce surnom -n'est point immérité. Forrest, de stature plus grande, plus athlétique -que Talma, a avec lui une certaine ressemblance de tźte. Il a étudié -ce grand modčle auquel il a gardé une sorte de culte, et, dans son -dernier voyage de Paris, en 1834, sa premičre visite fut ą la tombe du -grande artiste, sur laquelle il alla modestement et secrčtement déposer -une couronne. Il y a quelque choses de touchant et d'éloquent dans cet -hommage apporté des rives lointaines du Nouveau-Monde ą celui qui fut -le roi du théātre européen. Forrest a dans son répertoire certains -rōles qui auront pour le public franēais un grand attrait de nouveauté. -Tel est, par exemple, celui de l'Indien Metamora, qu'il rend avec tant -d'énergie et de sauvage vérité. A son talent de premier ordre, Forrest -a dū non-seulement une réputation sans rivale en ce pays, mais encore -une trčs-belle fortune. Il est aussi haut placé comme homme que comme -artiste. Il est l'un des tribuns les plus éloquents du parti démocrate, -et il été un moment question de le nommer représentant du peuple au -congrčs. Il a donc tout espčce de titres ą une réception brillante et -digne de lui de la part du peuple parisien, si hospitalier ą toutes -les gloires. A sa titres nombreux ą cette hospitalité, M. Forrest en -a ajouté un encore, s'il est possible, par la maničre honorable et -cordiale dont il a parlé de la France dans le discours d'adieu qu'il -a adressé l'autre jour aux habitans de Philadelphie. Voici la fin -de ce _speech_: 'Pendant le voyage que je vais faire ą l'étranger, -je me propose de donner quelque représentations dans la capitale -de la France, oł je recevrai, je n'en doute pas, l'accueil le plus -bienveillant et le plus cordial. Je crois que je ne hasarde rien en -osant tant espérer. Je parle d'aprčs ma connaissance personnelle du -peuple franēais, au sein duquel je sais qu'un Américain est toujours -bien venu. Un Américain se souvient avec gratitude que la France a été -l'alliée, l'amie de son pays, dans la guerre de son indépendance, et la -nation franēaise n'a point oublié que c'est ą l'exemple de l'Amérique -qu'elle doit son initiation ą la grande cause de la liberté humaine.'" - -Meanwhile, the respective adherents of the rivals fanned the flames of -the quarrel by their constant recriminations in the press, and kept -the controversy spreading. Criticisms, accusations, rejoinders, flew -to and fro between the assailants and the champions of each side. An -extract from an article by one of the best-informed of the English -friends of the American actor, though obviously written with a bias, -yet throws light in several directions. He says, "There are half a -dozen writers for the press in London who are recipients of constant -attentions from the clique with which Macready lives, a clique of wits, -artists, authors, and men-about-town, who hover in the outskirts of -high life and form a barrier stratum between the lesser aristocracy and -the critics. The critics support upward, the clique transmit notice -downward, and Macready controls this clique by the consequence he has -as favored by the noblemen who play the patron to his profession. -Forrest is a true republican, and cannot be a courtier,-- - - 'He would not flatter Neptune for his trident.' - -He neglects the finical rules and scorns to observe the demands of the -courtly circles which arrogate all superiority to themselves." Under -these circumstances a growing dislike and a final collision between the -men were inevitable by the logic of human nature. - -Thus the quarrel went on, nor was confined to the scene of combat. -Its echoes rolled back to America, growing as they went, and adding, -somewhat extravagantly, to their individual import a national -significance. A long article appeared in the "Democratic Review," -entitled "Mr. Forrest's Second Reception in England." A portion of it -will be found still to possess interest and suggestiveness: - -"It is the fortune of this country to send over the water from time to -time men who are palpable and obvious embodiments of its spirit, and -who do not fail, therefore, to stir the elements among which they are -cast. - -"Daniel Webster was one of these; and we all recollect how his motions -were watched, his words chronicled, his looks at court, in Parliament, -and at agricultural dinners taken down. They felt that he was a genuine -piece of the country, and, in presence of his oak-ribbed strength of -person and understanding, acknowledged that he belonged to the land he -came from. Mr. Forrest is another of these; quite as good in his way; -struck out of the very heart of the soil, and vindicating himself too -clearly to be misunderstood, as a creature of its institutions, habits, -and daily life. His biography is a chapter in the life of the country; -and taking him at the start, as he appears on the Bowery stage (a -rugged, heady, self-cultured mass of strength and energy thrown down -in the most characteristic spot in the American metropolis), and -running on with him through all his career, in the course of which it -became necessary for him more than once to take society by the collar, -down to the day when, in his brass-buttoned coat, he set out for this -second expedition to Europe, we shall find him American every inch, the -growth of the place, and well entitled to make a stir among the smooth -proprieties of the Princess's Theatre. And he has done so. When, after -an absence of something like seven years, he heaves up his sturdy bulk -against the foot-lights on the English house, the audience know him at -once to be genuine: but lurking in the edges of the place are certain -sharp-eyed gentlemen, who in the very teeth of the unquestionable force -before them, massive, irregular it may be, discover that Mr. Forrest -has lapsed from his early manner, and has subsided into tameness and -effeminacy! - -"Mr. Forrest's English position at this moment is, in our view, just -what his true friends would desire. He is carrying his audiences with -him; and has from the press just the amount of resistance required to -rouse him to new efforts, and to bring out the whole depth and force of -New-Worldism in him, to play an engagement such as he has never played -before, and to measure himself in assured strength by the side of the -head of the English school. - -"Mr. Macready, an admirable performer, succeeds by subduing all of the -man within him; because he ceases, in the fulfilment of his function -as an actor, to have any fellowship with the beatings and turmoils and -agitations of the heart. He is classical in spirit, in look, and action. - -"It is because he is a man of large heart, and does not forget it in -all the mazes of the stage, that Mr. Forrest has sway with the house. -He never loses sight of the belief that it is he, a man, with men -before him, who treads the boards, and asks for tears, and sobs, and -answers of troubled hearts. It is no painted shadow you see in Forrest; -no piece of costume; no sword or buckler moving along the line of light -as in a procession; but a man, there to do his four hours' work; it may -be sturdily, and with great outlay of muscular power, but with a big -heart; and if you fail to be moved, you may reasonably doubt whether -sophistication has not taken the soul out of you, and left you free to -offer yourself for a show-case or a clothier's dummy. - -"We take an interest in Mr. Forrest because we see in him elemental -qualities characteristic of the country, and we feel therefore any -slight put upon him as, in its essence, a wound directed at the country -itself. He carries with him into action, upon the stage, qualities -that are true to the time and place of his origin. Whether rugged or -refined, he is upon a large scale, expansive, bold, gothic in his -style; and it is not, therefore, matter of wonder that he should have -encountered, both at home and abroad, the hostility of simpering -elegance and dainty imbecility." - -Concluding his London engagement, Forrest proceeded to the principal -cities of the United Kingdom and appeared in his leading rōles, and was -uniformly greeted with full houses and unstinted applause. The tone of -the press towards him was everywhere highly flattering. At Sheffield -in particular his success was great. The dramatic company were as -much pleased with him as the audiences were, and took occasion on his -closing night to express their sentiment in a manner which gratified -him deeply. After the tragedy of Othello, Mr. G. V. Brooke, who had -sustained the part of Iago, invited Forrest to meet the theatrical -company in the green-room, and, entirely to his surprise, addressed him -thus: - -"SIR,--A most pleasing duty has devolved upon me, in being deputed by -my brother actors to express the gratification and delight we have -experienced in witnessing your powerful talent as an actor, and your -courteous and gentlemanly bearing to your brother professors of the -sock and buskin. I am obliged to be very brief in my remarks, as some -of the gentlemen around me will have, in a very short time, to be on -duty at the post of honor. Allow me, then, sir, before you return to -the land of your birth, of which you are a brilliant ornament, to -present you, in the name of myself and brother actors, with this small -testimonial of our esteem, and to wish that health and prosperity may -attend you and Mrs. Forrest, whatever part of the globe it may be your -lot to visit." - -The following was the inscription on the testimonial, which was a very -elegant silver snuff-box: "Presented to Edwin Forrest, Esq., by the -members of the Sheffield Theatrical Company, as a mark of their esteem -for him as an ACTOR and a MAN. January 30, 1846." - -Forrest replied in the following words: - -"I accept this gratifying token of the kind feeling entertained -towards me by the members of this company with mingled sentiments of -pride and satisfaction. Believe me, there is no praise that could be -awarded to my professional exertions so dear to me as that which is -offered by my brother actors; for they who, through years of toil, -have labored up the steep and thorny pathway which leads to eminence -in our laborious art, can alone appreciate the difficulties that must -be encountered and overcome. I shall ever look back with sincerest -pleasure to my intercourse with the Sheffield dramatic corps, to whose -uniform kindness I am greatly indebted for their prompt and cordial -co-operation in all the professional duties which we have been called -upon to perform together. Both here and at Manchester I have found you -always ready and willing to second my views, and any request made to -you at rehearsal in the morning you have never failed to perform with -alacrity and promptitude at night. - -"You have in the kindest terms alluded to the courtesy which you -have been pleased to say has characterized my conduct towards all -the members of the company. In reply, I can only say, you have, each -and all, met me with an entirely correspondent feeling, and I thank -you from my heart. These same courtesies shown to one another are -productive of a vast amount of good. I cannot but remember that I, too, -have gone through the 'rough brake,' that I, too, began the profession -in its humblest walks; and I have not forgotten the pleasing and -inspiring emotions that were awakened in my youthful breast when I have -received a kind word, or an approving smile, from those who were 'older -and better soldiers' than myself. And at the same time my experience -has taught me that there is no one engaged in the art, be he ever so -humble, but some advantage may be gleaned from his observations. As I -knew not until this moment of your kind intention to present me with -this flattering testimonial, I am wholly unprepared to thank you as I -ought. There are feelings too deep to be expressed in words; and such -are my feelings now. - -"Once more, I thank you: and permit me to add that, should any here, by -life's changing scene, be '_discovered_' in my country, I shall take -sincerest pleasure in promoting his views to the best of my ability." - -While at Sheffield, Forrest attended a banquet given in honor of the -birthday of Robert Burns. In response to a toast proposed by the -chairman, "The health of Mr. Edwin Forrest, and Success to the Drama in -America," he said some of his earliest human and literary memories were -linked together with the story of Scotland and the genius of Burns. -His own father had left the Scottish hills to seek his fortune in an -American city. His earliest tutor, who had taken a generous interest -in him in his opening boyhood, and taught him to recite some of the -finest of the poems of Burns, was another Scottish emigrant,--Wilson -the ornithologist. After a few other words, he closed by reciting the -eloquent poem of his friend Fitz-Greene Halleck in memory of Burns, -which was received with vociferous cheering: - - "Praise to the Bard! His words are driven, - Like flower-seeds by the far winds sown, - Where'er beneath the arch of heaven - The birds of fame have flown. - - "Such graves as his are pilgrim-shrines, - Shrines to no code or creed confined,-- - The Delphian vales, the Palestines, - The Meccas of the mind." - -The Manchester Guardian published a critique on the Spartacus of -Forrest quite remarkable for its intelligent discrimination and choice -diction. As a description it is very just, but utterly mistaken in its -apparent implication that the spiritual should be made more distinctly -superior to the physical in this part. The writer seems not to have -remembered that Forrest was impersonating a semi-barbaric gladiator, -in whom, when under supreme excitement, the animal must predominate -over the intellectual. It would be false to nature to depict in such a -man under such circumstances ideality governing sense, reason calmly -curbing passion. It would be as absurd as to give a pugilist the mental -splendor and majesty of a Pericles. The way in which the critic paints -Forrest as representing Spartacus is exactly the way in which alone -the character could be represented without a gross violation of truth: - -"This is, perhaps, of all others, the character in which Mr. Forrest -most excels; nay, stands alone. It implies and demands great physical -strength, a man of herculean mould, and we doubt if ever we shall again -look upon so fine a model of the lionhearted Thracian. That he is a -barbarian, too, is in favor of the actor; for what would be blemishes -in the polished Greek or haughty Roman are in keeping with the rude, -untutored nature of the Thracian mountaineer. Since his former visit, -Mr. Forrest has certainly improved, especially in the less showy -passages of the play; and we admire him most in the quiet asides, the -quick and clear directions as to the disposition of his troops, and -any other portions of the dialogue that do not demand great emotion. -In these he is natural and truthful. As before, when he comes to the -delineation of the deeper passions of our nature, it is by energetic -muscular action, and by the fierce shoutings or hoarse raving of his -voice, that he conveys the idea,--not by any of the nicer touches of -mental discrimination and expression. This course--an original one, in -which perhaps he stands supreme--is most effective, or rather least -defective, in this play, for the reason already given: in it his -acting is of a high, but certainly not of the highest, order. It is -the material seeking to usurp the throne of the ideal; physical force -clutching at the sceptre of the intellectual; with what success the -immutable laws of matter and mind will now, as ever, pronounce, in -their irreversible decrees. Still, it is an extraordinary histrionic -picture, which all lovers of the drama should contemplate. It is not a -thing to be laughed at or sneered down. Power there is; at times great -mental, as well as physical, power; but in the thrilling situations -of the piece, that which should be the slave becomes the master; and -energy of body reigns supreme over subordinated intellectual expression -and mental dignity. He is the Hercules, or the Polyphemus, not the -high-souled hero; and, in his fury, the raging animal rather than the -goaded and distracted man." - -In Ireland, the acting of Forrest, the magnetic power of his -personality, the patriotic sentiments and stirring invectives against -tyranny with which his Spartacus and Cade abounded, conspired to -arouse a wild enthusiasm in his passionate and imaginative audiences, -and his appearances at Cork, Belfast, Dublin, were so many ovations. -The effect of his Jack Cade may be seen in this notice from the Cork -Examiner: - -"The object of the writer seems to be to rescue Cade from the -defamation of courtly chroniclers and historians, who, either imbued -with an aristocratic indifference to the wrongs of an oppressed -people, or writing for their oppressors, misrepresented the motives -and ridiculed the power of the Kentish rebel. In this the author has -succeeded; for he flings round the shoulders of the rustic the garb -of the patriot, and fills his soul not only with a deep and thorough -hatred of the oppressors who ground the people to the earth and held -them down in bondage, but breathes into his every thought a passionate -and beautiful longing after liberty. The powerful representation of -such a play must produce a corresponding impression upon any audience; -how strong its appeal to the sympathies of an _Irish_ audience, may be -better imagined than described. It abounds with passionate appeals to -liberty, withering denunciations of oppression, and stinging sarcasms, -unveiling at a glance the narrow foundation upon which class-tyranny -bases its power and usurpation. In fact, from beginning to end, it is -an animated appeal to the best sympathies of MAN, stirring him to the -depths of his nature, as with a trumpet's blast. - -"An objection might be made to some passages, that they are too -declamatory; but this is rather praise to the discrimination and -fidelity of the author to nature, than a reproach. When a leader has to -stir men's blood, to make their strong hearts throb, he uses not the -'set phrase of peace,'--he does not ratiocinate like a philosopher, -insinuate like a pleader; he talks like a trumpet, with tongue of -fire and with words of impassioned eloquence. Sufferings, wrongs, -indignities, dishonor to gray hairs and outrage to tender virginhood, -are not to be tamely told of, but painted with vivid imagination until -the heart again feels its anguish and the brow burns at the wrong. This -is the direct avenue to men's hearts,--the only way to rouse them to -desperate action; and hence the justice of Cade's declamation, when -addressing the crushed bondmen of Kent. - -"Mr. Forrest's Aylmere had nothing in it of the actor's trick,--it -was not _acting_. He seemed thoroughly and entirely to identify himself -with the struggles of an enslaved people; and as every spirit-stirring -sentence was dashed off with the energy of a man in earnest it seemed -as if it had its birthplace in the heart rather than in the conceiving -brain. One passage, in which he calls down fierce imprecations on -the head of Lord Say, the torturer of his aged father and the coward -murderer of his widowed mother, was magnificently pronounced by Mr. -Forrest, amidst thunders of applause, as if the sympathy of the -audience ratified and sanctified the curse of the avenging son. Such is -the power of true genius!--such the force of passion, when legitimate -and earnest!" - -At Cork he received the compliments of a poet in the happy lines that -follow: - - "O'er the rough mass the Grecian sculptor bent, - And, as his chisel shaped the yielding stone, - Rising, the world-enchanting Venus shone, - And stood in youth and grace and beauty blent. - Thus o'er each noble speaking lineament - Of thy fine face, thy genius, FORREST, shines, - And paints the picture in perfection's lines. - With plastic skill Prometheus formed the clay; - Yet soul was wanting in the image cold - Till through its frame was shed life's glorious ray - And fire immortal lit the mindless mould. - Thus, while thy lips the poet's words unfold, - With the rough ore of thought thy fancies play, - And, with a Midas power, turn all they touch to gold!" - -On his farewell night he acted Macbeth to a brilliant house. As -the drop-scene fell at the close of the last act, deafening shouts -re-echoed through the house, with calls for Forrest, which, on his -coming in front of the curtain to acknowledge them, were renewed and -kept up for a considerable time, the people rising _en masse_, and -paying the most marked tribute of their estimation. On silence being -restored, he said,-- - -"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,--Exhausted as I must necessarily feel, owing -to the character I have sustained, I cannot find language adequate to -express the sentiments that fill my bosom, neither am I able to return -suitable acknowledgments for the kindness which you are pleased to -evince towards me. I beg to thank you sincerely for the cordiality -and courtesy which I have experienced from the hospitable citizens of -Cork during my short sojourn in this 'beautiful city.' Long shall I -remember it, and in returning to my native country I shall bear with me -the grateful recollection of that courtesy and hospitality; and, when -there, I shall often think with pleasure and pride on the flattering -reception you were pleased to honor me with. I wish you all adieu, and -hope that the dark cloud that overhangs this fair country will soon -pass away; that a happier and brighter day will beam on her, and that -Ireland and her people will long enjoy the prosperity and happiness -they are so eminently entitled to, and which are so much to be desired." - -He was quite as triumphant in Dublin as in Cork. The notice of his -opening in Othello shows this: - -"Mr. Forrest, the American tragedian, made his first appearance on -Monday night, as Othello. The selection of the character was, for an -actor of great power, most judicious; for in all the glorious range -of Shakspeare's immortal plays there is not one so powerful in its -appeal to the sympathies of our nature, so masterly in its anatomy of -the human heart, or so highly-wrought and yet so beautiful a picture -of passion,--nor, for the actor, is there any character requiring more -delicacy of perception and personation in its details, nor so much -of terrible energy of the wrung heart and stormy soul in its bursts -of frenzied passion. An actor without a heart to feel and an energy -to express the fearful passion of the gallant Moor, whose free and -open nature was craftily abused to madness, could give no idea of the -character, and must needs leave the audience as cold and unmoved as -himself. - -"But, to one glowing with the divine fire of genius, that wonderful -electricity by which the inmost nature of man is moved, and masses are -swayed as if by the wand of an enchanter, Othello is a noble character -for the display of his power,--a resistless spell, by which the eye -and ear and soul of the audience are held and moved and swayed. We -must admit that such an actor is Mr. Forrest, and that such is the -effect which his personation of the loving, tender, gentle, duped, -abused, maddened Moor produced upon us, and seemed to produce upon -his audience. From the rising to the falling of the curtain the -house was hushed in stilled, almost breathless, attention; and it -was not until stirred by some electrifying burst of passion that the -pent-up feeling of his listeners vented itself in such applause, such -recognition of the justness and naturalness of the passion, as man -gives to man in real life, and when, as it were, the interests of the -actor and the spectators are one. This species of involuntary homage -to the genius of his personation arose not only from the power which -a consummate actor acquires over the feelings of others, but from the -entire absence of all those contemptible tricks of the stage, those -affectations of originality, of individuality,--that is, stamping -the counterfeit manner of the actor upon the sterling ore of the -author,--those false readings and exaggerated declamations, which call -down injudicious but degrading approbation. Mr. Forrest is free from -all these defects. And yet his 'reading' is singularly telling. Not -one passage--nay, not one word--of the vivid, picturesque, nervous, -wondrous eloquence of the poet is lost upon the audience. What might -puzzle in the closet is transparent on the stage. The quaint form in -which the divine philosophy of Shakspeare clothes itself seems, by his -reading, its fit and apposite garb,--as if none other could so well -indicate its keen and subtile meaning. And all this is done without -aiming at 'points,' or striving after 'effects.' Then his tenderness -is tenderness--his passion, passion. Possessing a noble voice, running -from the richest base to the sweetest tenor,--if we might so describe -it,--full of flexibility, and capable of every modulation, from the -hurricane of savage fury to the melting tenderness of love, Mr. -Forrest can express all those varied and oftentimes opposite emotions -which agitate our nature, and which Shakspeare, as its most masterly -delineator, represents in all its phases in his immortal creations, and -not least in Othello. We were much struck with the beautiful fidelity -with which Mr. Forrest's look, gesture, tone, and manner painted the -gradual growth of jealousy, from the first faint, vague doubt, to its -full and terrible confirmation, and the change of Othello's nature, -from the frank soldier and the doting husband to the relentless fury of -the avenger. To our mind it was a noble picture,--bold, beautiful, and -delicate." - -An event illustrative of the spirit of Forrest occurred on his -last evening in Dublin. The play was "Damon and Pythias." The -Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland entered the theatre with a noble party, -escorted by a military company with martial music. The audience rose -with the curtain, and joined the whole dramatic corps in singing "God -save the Queen." Forrest never once during the play looked towards the -vice-regal box; and in the bows with which he acknowledged an honorary -call from the audience at the close, he studiously avoided seeing -the group of titularly-illustrious visitors. He was a democrat; he -liked the Irish and disliked their English rulers, and he would not -in his own eyes appear a snob. His taste and delicacy in the act were -questionable,--his sturdy honesty unquestionable. It reminds one of -Goethe and Beethoven standing together when the victorious Napoleon -passed in his pomp on the way to Berlin. Both were men of genius and -of nobleness; but the one was socially freed by cosmopolitan culture -and health, the other socially enslaved by natural inheritance and -morbidity. They acted with equal honesty, but in a very different way, -as Napoleon went by. Goethe made a low bow, and stood with inclined -front; Beethoven crushed his hat over his brows, and thrust himself -more stiffly up. Neither he nor Forrest could play the courtier. They -could not in social relations abnegate self and react impersonally -on others. They must assert that they were themselves, and were -democratically willing to allow everybody else the same privilege. - -The reception of Forrest in Scotland, notably at Glasgow and Edinburgh, -was all that he could have asked. The first literary organ of Edinburgh -pronounced its judgment thus: "The three leading characteristics of -Mr. Forrest's acting appear to us to be, a bold intellectual grasp of -the written soul of his author; a remarkably vigorous and striking -execution, accompanied by an apparent contempt for mere conventional -rules or customs; and a rare faculty of expressing by the face what -neither pen can write nor tongue tell." - -It was at Edinburgh that the actor performed what may perhaps be called -the most unfortunate and ill-omened deed in his life. Attending the -theatre to see Macready play Hamlet, he had applauded several good -points made by his rival. But in the scene where the court are about -assembling to witness the play within the play, and Hamlet says to -Horatio,-- - - "They are coming to the play; I must be idle. - Get you to a place," - -Macready gallopaded two or three times across the stage, swinging his -handkerchief in rapid flourishes above his head. As he was affecting -to be mad, it does not seem that the action was in any extreme out -of character. But it struck Forrest as inexcusably unworthy, and a -desecration of the author. Accordingly, with his usual unpausing -forthrightness and reckless disregard of appearances, he gave vent -to his disgust in a loud hiss. Macready glowered at him and waved -his handkerchief towards him with an air of contemptuous defiance, -and repeated his movement. The right of a spectator to express his -condemnation of an actor by hissing is unquestioned. Had not Forrest -been himself a brother actor, and in unfriendly relations with -the performer, his hiss would not have been much noticed or long -remembered. But the special circumstances of the case gave it an -indelicacy and a bad taste which aggravated its import and led to -lasting consequences of hatred and violence. The following letter -addressed by Forrest to the editor of the London Times explains the -occasion which called it forth, and furnishes the reasons which in the -mind of its writer justified his primary deed, though they will hardly -be sufficient to justify it in the minds of impartial readers: - -"SIR,--Having seen in your journal of the 12th inst. an article headed -'Professional Jealousy,' a part of which originally appeared in the -'Scotsman,' published in Edinburgh, I beg leave, through the medium of -your columns, to state that at the time of its publication I addressed -a letter to the editor of the 'Scotsman' upon the subject, which, as -I then was in Dumfries, I sent to a friend in Edinburgh, requesting -him to obtain its insertion; but, as I was informed, the 'Scotsman' -refused to receive any communication upon the subject. I need say -nothing of the injustice of this refusal. Here, then, I was disposed -to let the matter rest, as upon more mature reflection I did not -deem it worth further attention: but now, as the matter has assumed -a 'questionable shape,' by the appearance of the article in your -journal, I feel called upon, though reluctantly, to answer it. - -"There are two legitimate modes of evincing approbation and -disapprobation in the theatre,--one expressive of approval by the -clapping of hands, and the other by hisses to mark dissent; and, as -well-timed and hearty applause is the just meed of the actor who -deserves well, so also is hissing a salutary and wholesome corrective -of the abuses of the stage; and it was against one of these abuses -that my dissent was expressed, and not, as was stated, 'with a view of -expressing his (my) disapproval of the manner in which Mr. Macready -gave effect to a particular passage.' The truth is, Mr. Macready -thought fit to introduce a fancy dance into his performance of Hamlet, -which I thought, and still think, a desecration of the scene, and at -which I evinced that disapprobation for which the pseudo-critic is -pleased to term me an 'offender'; and this was the only time during -the performance that I did so, although the writer evidently seeks, in -the article alluded to, to convey a different impression. It must be -observed, also, that I was by no means 'solitary' in this expression -of opinion. - -"That a man may manifest his pleasure or displeasure after the -recognized mode, according to the best of his judgment, actuated by -proper motives, and for justifiable ends, is a right which, until now, -I have never once heard questioned; and I contend that that right -extends equally to an actor, in his capacity as a spectator, as to any -other man. Besides, from the nature of his studies, he is much more -competent to judge of a theatrical performance than any _soi-disant_ -critic who has never himself been an actor. - -"The writer of the article in the 'Scotsman,' who has most -unwarrantably singled me out for public animadversion, has carefully -omitted to notice the fact that I warmly applauded several points of -Mr. Macready's performance, and more than once I regretted that the -audience did not second me in so doing. - -"As to the pitiful charge of 'professional jealousy' preferred against -me, I dismiss it with the contempt it merits, confidently relying upon -all those of the profession with whom I have been associated for a -refutation of the slander. - - "Yours respectfully, - "EDWIN FORREST." - March, 1846. - -On the appearance in an Edinburgh paper of the severe letter alluded -to in the foregoing, the indignation of Forrest was so intense that -he resolved to inflict summary punishment on its cause. In the early -evening he made an elaborate toilet, donning his best dress-suit, -putting on an elegant pair of kid gloves, carefully sprinkling himself -with cologne, and sought the dramatic critic, whom he supposed to -be the offender, in his customary seat in the upper tier of boxes. -Confronting the writer, he fixed his eyes on him, and through his set -teeth, in the deadliest monotone of suppressed passion, this question -glided like a serpent of speech: "Are you the author of the letter -in the 'Scotsman' relative to my hissing Macready?" The man shrunk a -little, and replied, "I am not." "It is fortunate for you that you are -not; for had you been, by the living God I would have flung you over -the balcony into the pit!" said Forrest, and left the box. - -Besides this frightful instance of his angered state of mind, an -amusing one occurred while he was at Edinburgh. He was rehearsing, -when the proprietor and manager of the theatre, a diminutive and -foppish man, with a mincing squeak of a voice, came into the front and -disturbed the actors. Forrest did not recognize him, and cried out, -"Stop that noise!" The intruder retorted, with injured dignity, "This -is my theatre, sir; and I shall make as much noise in it as I please, -and when I please!" The explosive tragedian towered down upon him and -blazed out, in thunder-tones, "Damn you and your theatre! If you ever -dare to interrupt me again in this way when I am rehearsing, I will -knock your damned head off from your damned shoulders!" The terrified -proprietor shrunk away, and did not show himself in the house again -till the day after the tragedian's engagement had ended. Then Forrest -was in the dressing-room, packing his things, when he saw the manager -enter the adjoining room, where the treasurer was sitting. The dapper -little man advanced with nimble step, rubbing his hands briskly, and -asked, in his dapper little voice, "Has the great American pugilist -left town?" Forrest broke into hearty laughter at the ludicrous -contrast, and came forward with both hands extended, and they parted as -very good friends. - -On the Fourth of July, Forrest presided at the celebration of the -anniversary of their national independence held by the Americans in -London, at the Lyceum Tavern. The building was decorated with American -flags, and the intellectual exercises after the dinner, introduced -by the chairman with an effective speech in defence and eulogy of -republican institutions, were sustained till a late hour with much -enthusiasm. - -While in London--it may possibly be that the adventure occurred -during his previous visit--Forrest called, by invitation, on Jerome -Bonaparte, who was then residing there, and who had seen several of -his impersonations, and had expressed a high opinion of their merits. -In the course of their conversation, Forrest asked Jerome if he had -been personally acquainted with Talma. Smiles broke over the face -of the ex-king like sunny couriers from a hive of sweet memories, -as he replied, in an exquisitely-modulated voice, "I had the honor -of knowing that distinguished man well, and I esteemed him for his -character as much as I admired him for his art. He was an honest -patriot, who regarded not the fashions of the day. When Napoleon was -a poor corporal, Talma was his friend, and gave him free passes to -the theatre. He was equally the friend of the emperor, but asked no -preferment or gift from him. He was a republican at the first, and -he remained a republican to the last. His soul, sir, was as sublime -off the stage as his acting was on it." As he spoke these words, -Forrest says, a beam of reminiscent joy seemed at once to light up his -countenance and brighten his voice. - -It was the end of August that the player, sore and weary of his exile, -ardently longing for home, sailed for his beloved America, where he -well knew a welcome of no ordinary character would greet him. And so it -proved. The current tone of the press breathed a hearty friendliness. -It assured him that his countrymen had followed his career from his -boyhood to his present proud position with a growing interest, and -that his recent experience abroad had deepened their attachment to -him. Whatever bars had from time to time presented themselves, he had -readily overpassed or brushed away, and he was congratulated on having -always made good his position with the decisive energy characteristic -of his country. He was told that he had secured the affections of the -masses of the people to such a degree that his name was a proverb among -them, and they would now spring to welcome him home as very few are -welcomed. - -He waited but four days before appearing as Lear at the Park Theatre. -The New York Mirror says, "The house was crowded to excess. The pit -rose in mass, and long and loud was the applause, clapping of hands, -thumping of canes, waving of hats and handkerchiefs, ending with nine -cheers for Edwin Forrest, given with heart and soul. The recipient -evidently felt it all. Long may this relation between actor and people -be unbroken! It is for the good of both that it should exist. As a man, -Mr. Forrest is worthy of this confidence; as the representative of Lear -and the greatest nobleness of Shakspeare, and the loftiest minds of the -drama, he is trebly worthy of it, for he stands the representative of -an heroic truth and dignity. It is impossible that the people should -witness such a performance as that of King Lear without elevation and -purification of character. On Mr. Forrest's part such a reception must -recall to him, more forcibly than the language of any critic, the -responsibility that rests upon him as one of the chief representatives -of the American stage, an institution which, being yet in its infancy, -has capacity for good or evil, the development of which rests upon -the present generation. Those who look upon the stage now with any -interest regard it with respect to the future, and demand in any actor -or dramatic author a reverence for the theatre, and some services -in its cause. If we thought the theatre would always remain in its -present condition in this country, we should abandon it in despair. But -it cannot so remain, any more than our literature can remain merely -imitative, or our political life low and pestilent as it is. The stage -must rise. No one can render more aid to the cause than Mr. Forrest." - -At the close of the play he was honored with the same enthusiastic -greeting as at his entrance, and he said, "Ladies and Gentlemen,--I -have not words fitly to acknowledge a reception so kind, so cordial, -so unexpected. It has so overpowered me that I cannot convey to you -the grateful emotions of my heart. Yet, while a pulse beats here or -memory continues, I shall ever remember the emotions of my soul at this -reception. Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you." - -The marked advance in the taste and finish of his performance was -owned by all. The Albion said, "He is infinitely more subdued and -quiet in his acting; his readings are more elaborated and studied. -His action and attitudes are more classic in their character; and a -dignified repose, rendered majestic at times by his imposing figure, -gives a tone to his performances wholly unlike the unrepressed energy -and overwhelming physical power that formerly were the prominent -characteristics of his style. As an instance of the beauty of his -present subdued style we would instance the passage in Lear commencing -at - - 'You see me here, you gods, a poor old man'-- - -"The whole of this passage was given in a strain of subdued, -heart-broken pathos, exquisitely natural and effective. Similar touches -of genuine feeling are now thrown into his Othello,--which are perfect -triumphs of the art,--as are likewise those well-known bursts of -intense passion, given with a force of physical power unapproachable -perhaps by any living actor. - -"Mr. Forrest occupies so prominent a position in his own country, as -the greatest living American actor, as the founder of a school,--for -he has literally founded a school, as may be seen from his numerous -imitators,--and from the influence of his high name,--that we mark -these changes in his style as especially worthy the attention of his -younger and less experienced cotemporaries." - -On his benefit night, in response to the call of the auditory, he -made a brief speech, whose tenor showed that he fully felt the -responsibility of his position and meant to be faithful to it. -Returning his thanks, he added, "And, in the hope that you may -continue to approve my efforts, they shall henceforth be employed, -most strenuously, to bring the American stage within the influence -of a progressive movement, to call forth and encourage American -dramatic letters, to advance the just claims of our own meritorious -and deserving actors. Yet, while I shall endeavor to exert an -influence favorable to American actors, you will do me the justice -to believe that I am animated by no ungenerous motives towards the -really deserving of any other country; for I should blush to imitate -that narrow, exclusive, prejudiced, and, I may add, anti-American -feeling which prescribes geographical limits to the growth of genius -and talent. True worth is the birthright of no country, but is the -common property of all. And, ladies and gentlemen, if it pleases you to -applaud and to second, in this endeavor, my humble efforts, I will say -to you, in the language of the old Cardinal in the play,-- - - "'There's no such word as _fail_!'" - -Amidst the cheers elicited by these words, as he made his bow, a -garland, enclosing a copy of verses addressed to him, fell at his feet. -He raised it and retired, while the orchestra struck up "Home, Sweet -Home!" - -He then received another flattering compliment from many of the most -prominent of his fellow-citizens: - - "NEW YORK, Oct. 10th, 1846. - -"EDWIN FORREST, ESQ. - -"DEAR SIR,--The undersigned, your friends and fellow-citizens, -desirous of expressing to you personally the high estimation they -entertain for your public and private character, avail themselves of -the occasion of your return from Europe to invite you to a public -dinner, and request that you will set apart one of the few days you -are to remain with us, that may be most convenient to you, to accept -of this slight tribute to your professional excellence and private -worth. - - "We are, with great respect, - "Your obedient servants, - "WM. CULLEN BRYANT, - JAMES LAWSON, - SAML. WARD, - CORNELIUS MATHEWS, - WM. F. HAVEMEYER, - PARKE GODWIN, - FITZ-GREENE HALLECK, - B. F. VOORHIS, - PROSPER M. WETMORE, - JAMES F. OTIS, - C. A. CLINTON, - JAS. T. BRADY, - DAVID GRAHAM, JR., - L. B. WYMAN, - FRANCIS GRIFFIN, - DR. JOHN F. GRAY, - JOHN BRITTON, - ANDREW H. MICKLE, - E. K. COLLINS, - GEORGE DAVIS, - MOSES TAYLOR, - EVERT DUYCKINCK, - H. WEECKS, - E. R. HART, - ISAAC TOWNSEND, - A. INGRAHAM, - JONATHAN STURGIS, - A. G. STEBBINS, - THEODORE SEDGWICK, - GEORGE F. THOMSON, - CHARLES MINTURN, - GEORGE MONTGOMERY, - JOHN P. CISCO, - J. M. MILLER, - HENRY WIKOFF, - D. P. INGRAHAM, - JAS. PHALEN, - W. M. BECKWITH, - MORTIMER LIVINGSTON, - MINTHORNE TOMPKINS, - CHARLES P. DALY, - ROBT. H. MORRIS, - EDWD. VINCENT, - CHARLES M. LEUPP." - -To this letter he thus replied: - - "NEW YORK, Oct. 12th, 1846. - -"GENTLEMEN,--I have had the honor to receive your very kind -letter of the 10th inst., in behalf of a number of my friends and -fellow-citizens, inviting me to a public dinner, and requesting me to -name a day most convenient to myself for its acceptance. - -"It did not need this additional testimony to the many already -conferred upon me by my fellow-citizens of New York, to assure me of -their kind regard, and I feel for this, as well as for other tokens -of esteem, that I am indebted more to their kindness than to any -deserving upon my part. - -"I accept, however, with pleasure, the invitation you have conveyed -to me in such flattering terms, and, with permission, appoint Friday -next, the 16th instant, as the day to meet my friends as they propose. - -"I remain, gentlemen, yours, with sentiments of the highest respect -and regard, - - "EDWIN FORREST. - "To Messrs. WM. C. BRYANT, C. A. CLINTON, etc." - -Accordingly, the committee of arrangements proceeded to prepare for -the proposed welcome, and selected the New York Hotel as the place. A -large and distinguished company sat down to the banquet. William Cullen -Bryant presided, assisted by David Graham, Jr., James T. Brady, Charles -M. Leupp, and Egbert Benson, as Vice-Presidents. - -The first toast was "Our Country." - -The next--"The American Stage. Its brilliant morning gives promise of a -glorious day." - -In introducing the third toast, Mr. Bryant said, "It is with great -pleasure, gentlemen, that I proceed to fulfil a duty which your -kindness has laid upon me, that of proposing the health of the -distinguished man whom we are assembled to honor. A great actor, -gentlemen, is not merely an interpreter of the dramatic poet to the -sense of mankind; he is something more and greater: he is, in his -province, the creator of the character he represents. It is true that, -from the hints given by the framer of the drama, he constructs the -personage whom he would set before us; but he fills up an outline often -faint, shadowy, and imperfect, and gives it distinctness, light and -shade, and color; he clothes a skeleton with muscles, and infuses it -in the blood and breath of life, and places it in our midst, a being -of soul and thought and moved by the perpetual play of human passions. -Those who have seen the restorations of ancient statues by Michael -Angelo have admired the exquisite art, I should rather say the power -above art, with which the great Florentine--a genius, if ever one -lived--entered into the spirit of the old sculptors, and with what -faithful conformity to the manner of the original work, yet with what -freedom of creative skill, he supplied those parts which were wanting, -and animated modern marble with all the life of the antique. It is -thus with the artist of the stage: he supplies what the dramatist -does not give,--supplies it from the stores of his own genius, though -always in harmony with the suggestions of his author. He often goes -far beyond this: he sees in those suggestions features of character -which the author failed to perceive, or perceived but imperfectly, and -depths of passion of which he had no conception. With these he deals -like a skilful landscape painter, who from a few outlines in pencil, -which to the common eye appear confused and purposeless, brings out -upon the canvas a glorious scene of valley and mountain and dark woods -and glittering waters. Those who have read the Richelieu of Bulwer in -the closet and seen the Richelieu of Forrest on the stage will easily -comprehend what I mean; they have seen the sketch of the dramatist -matured and enriched, and wrought into consistence and strength, and -filled with power and passion, by the consummate art of the actor. How -well our friend has acquitted himself in what is justly esteemed the -highest effect of the histrionic art, that of personating the great -characters of Shakspeare's dramas, it is hardly necessary for me to -say, so ample and so universal is the testimony borne to his success -by intent and crowded audiences. The style of that divine poet is -so suggestive, the glimpses of character he casually but profusely -gives, are of such deep significance that he tasks the powers of the -stage more severely than any other author. To follow out all these -suggestions, to combine all these delicate and sometimes perplexing -traits of character into one consistent, natural, and impressive whole, -requires scarcely less a philosopher than an actor. And well has Mr. -F. sustained this difficult test. Never was the helpless and pathetic -yet majestic old age of Lear more nobly given, or in a manner to draw -forth deeper sympathies; never the struggle between love and suspicion -in the breast of Othello, his jealousy in its highest frenzy, and his -fine agony of remorse, more powerfully represented. After having placed -himself at the summit of his art by the successful representation of -these and other characters of Shakspeare in his own country, he has -lately returned to us with honors gathered in another hemisphere. It -is a source of satisfaction to the friends of Mr. Forrest that he -has not fallen a prey to the follies which so strongly tempt men of -his profession. He has given us another instance of the truth that a -great actor may be an irreproachable man; his private life has been an -example of those virtues which compel the respect even of that class -least disposed to look with favor on the profession of an actor,--such -an example as in the last century made Hannah More the personal friend -of David Garrick. In the intense competitions of the stage, Mr. Forrest -has obeyed a native instinct in treating his rivals with generosity, -and, when beset by calumny and intrigue, has known how to preserve the -magnanimous silence of conscious greatness. Genius may command our -admiration; but when we see the man of genius occupied only in the -endeavor to _deserve_ renown, and looking beyond the obstacles which -envy or malevolence lays in his path to the final and impartial verdict -of his fellow-men, our admiration rises to a higher feeling. Gentlemen, -I will no longer withhold from you the toast,--I give a name, without -a sentiment,--a name which suggests a volume of them,--I give you 'Our -guest, Edwin Forrest.'" - -The toast was drunk amidst a tempest of demonstrations. - -Mr. Forrest, manifestly agitated by the warmth of these tokens of good -will, replied in a speech which was interrupted with frequent applause. -He said, "Mr. President and gentlemen, I wish I could in adequate -language express my acknowledgments for the distinguished favor you -have conferred upon me this day. But the words which I endeavor to -summon to my lips seem poor and empty offerings in return for those -honors, deep and broad, with which your kindness loads me. The sounds -and sights that meet me here to bid me welcome,--the old familiar -voices that were raised in kind approval of my early efforts,--faces -whose smiles of sweet encouragement gave vigor to my heart to mount -the ladder of my young ambition,--this munificent banquet, spread with -no party views, the generous offering of my fellow-citizens of each -political faith,--the flattering sentiments so eloquently couched by -the distinguished man selected to impart them,--all these have stirred -my bosom with so many mingled feelings that, in the grateful tumult of -my thoughts, I cannot choose words to speak my thanks. A scene like -this is no fleeting pageant of the mimic art, to be forgotten with -the hour; but it is to me one of those sweet realities of life that -fill the heart and vibrate on the memory forever. Among the gratifying -tributes, both professional and personal, which you have paid me, you -have alluded in flattering terms to the silence I have ever observed -when assaulted by calumny or circumvented by intrigue. You will -pardon me, I am sure, if upon this occasion I break that silence for -a moment by referring to the opposition I encountered during my late -reappearance upon the London stage. An eminent English writer, in the -'North British Review,' makes these very just remarks: 'Our countrymen -in general have treated the Americans unkindly and unfairly, and have -been too much disposed to exaggerate their faults and to depreciate -their excellencies.' Here, then, we have an honest and candid avowal -of an indisputable fact. With regard to my own case, even before I had -appeared I was threatened with critical castigation, and some of the -very journals which, upon my former appearance in London, applauded me -to the echo, now assailed me with bitterest denunciations. Criticism -was degraded from its high office,--degraded into mere cavilling, -accompanied by very pertinent allusions to Pennsylvania bonds, -repudiation, and democracy. - - 'All, all but truth falls still-born from the press.' - -Relying implicitly upon the verity of this proposition, I quietly -awaited the expression of the 'sober second thought of the people;' -and I am happy to say I was not disappointed in the result. Their -approving hands rebuked the malice of the hireling scribblers, and -defeated the machinations of theatrical _cliques_ by whom these -scribblers were suborned. But enough of this. I now turn to contemplate -with pride and satisfaction my reception elsewhere. In Edinburgh,--the -most beautiful and picturesque city in Europe, where learning is a -delight and not an ostentation,--my reception professionally was -gratifying in the extreme, while nothing could exceed the friendly -hospitalities of private life, presented, as they were, by those -who to the highest intellectual culture unite the equally estimable -qualities of the heart. And as for Ireland, I need scarcely tell you -that in the land of the warm-hearted Irishman an American is always at -home. There, from the humblest as from the most exalted man he finds -a smile of welcome and a friendly grasp. How could it be otherwise -among a people so full of sensibility and impulse, of unselfishness -and magnanimity,--a people in whom misrule and tyranny have failed to -quench one spark of generous spirit, or to curdle one drop of the milk -of human kindness in their hearts? And now a word touching American -dramatic letters. One of the wishes nearest my heart has ever been -that our country should one day boast a Drama of her own,--a Drama -that shall have for its object the improvement of the heart, the -refinement of the mind,--a Drama whose lofty and ennobling sentiments -shall be worthy a free people,--a Drama whose eloquent and impressive -teaching shall promote the cause of virtue and justice, for on such -foundations must we rely for the perpetuity of our institutions. And -what is to prevent us from having such a Drama? Have we not in our -country all the materials, have we not the capacity for invention and -construction, and have we not pens (turning to Mr. Bryant) already -skilled in the sweet harmonies of immortal verse? In connection with -the cultivation and support of a National Drama, the friends of the -stage will not be unmindful of the claims of our own deserving actors, -among whom, I am proud to say, there are some may challenge successful -comparison with any of the 'Stars' that twinkle on us from abroad, -and, unlike most of those 'Stars,' they shine with their own and not -with a borrowed lustre. One of those actors, to whom I allude, is now -seated among you,--one who, in the just delineation of the characters -he represents, has now no equal upon the stage." (At this allusion to -Mr. Henry Placide, the applause was very enthusiastic.) "In conclusion, -Mr. President and gentlemen, permit me to offer as my sentiment, -'The Citizens of New York, distinguished for a bounty in which is no -winter,--an autumn 'tis that grows the more by reaping.'" (Drunk with -all the honors.) - -Mr. Forrest's toast was responded to by the following, by Mr. Mickle, -the Mayor: "The Drama,--it teaches us to honor virtue and talent. We -follow its dictates in rendering honor to our guest to-night." - -Mr. Mathews proposed the next toast: "American Nationality. In the -fusion of all its elements in a generous union under the influence of -a noble National Literature lies the best (if not the _only_) hope of -perpetuity for the American Confederacy." - -General Wetmore rose and alluded to an eminent man who was present at -the last public dinner given to Mr. Forrest in New York, one of his -dearest friends, and who was now in his grave, and gave "The Memory of -William Leggett," which was drunk standing, and in solemn silence. - -Other toasts were proposed, letters were read, speeches made, songs -sung, and every one seemed thoroughly to enjoy the occasion, which -closed by the whole company joining hands and singing "Auld Lang Syne." - -Yet, amidst all these honoring and most enjoyable experiences at home, -Forrest had brought back with him from abroad a burning grudge. Shut -up in his bones, it gnawed upon his comfort and peace. The different -theatrical and social parties knew of his grievances through the press. -Among his friends, of course, he conversed freely of them; and there -was a multitude of his admirers among the populace who were as loyal -to him as clansmen to their chief. Their passions exaggeratingly took -up what their intelligence knew little about, and they were ripe for -mischief whenever an opportunity and the slightest provocation should -be afforded them. This, it should be understood, without any purposed -stimulus or overt hint from him. Such was the state of things when -Macready once more came to America. The ingredients were ready for a -popular explosion if a spark should be blown on them. Had the English -tragedian kept silent, the latent storm might not have burst; but, -unhappily, he began at once to make allusions to conspiracies, to -enemies, to a certain class in the community,--allusions which were but -too quickly caught up and applied and resented. And so the virus worked. - -Place must here be found for a tender and tragic passage in the life of -Forrest, whose date remained thenceforth a sacred and solemn mark in -his memory,--the death of his mother. - -[Illustration: - -Dear Lawson, - - My Mother is dead. - That little sentence speaks - all I can say, and more--much - more. - Yours truly - Edwin Forrest. - James Lawson. - - June 25. 1847. - Philadelphia] - -This event occurred, after a brief and not painful illness, on the -twenty fourth of June, 1847, in the seventy-third year of her age. The -preceding fac-simile of the announcement of the sad event to one of his -oldest and dearest friends is expressive in its Spartan brevity. - -The day after the burial, one of the papers said, "The funeral of the -mother of Edwin Forrest, the great American tragedian, took place -yesterday. She was buried in St. Paul's churchyard. The emotions of -the actor on taking his last look at the parent who had always loved -and cherished him so tenderly were far more keen than any he had ever -feigned on the stage. We regard the mother of a man of fame and genius -with an involuntary feeling of reverence. We think of her care and -tutoring of her child in his earliest years." - -The grief of Forrest when the form of his mother sank from his sight -into the grave was indeed sharp and profound. His friend Forney said -to him afterwards, "I did not suppose you were so sensitive. I saw how -hard you had to struggle to control your feelings; and I think all the -more of you for it." - -The loss of his mother was a great misfortune to Forrest, not only -in the sorrow and the sense of impoverishment it gave his heart, but -also in removing the strong restraint she had exerted upon his growing -distaste for society, his deepening resentment at the insincerity and -injustice around him, and his consequent tendency to shut himself up -in himself. If few men ever had a better mother, it may truly be said -few men ever were more faithful in repaying their filial indebtedness. -The love which Forrest cherished for his mother was a charming quality -in his character, and the generous devotedness of his conduct to her -was one of the finest features of his life. He used often to say that -he owed to the early lessons she had taught him everything that was -good in him. "Many and many a time," he said, "when I was tempted to -do wrong, thoughts of my mother, of her love for me, of her faith and -character, of what she would wish me to do and to be, came and drove -the offending temptation away." - -We can see something, much, indeed, of her character, by reflection, in -the following letter written to her by Edwin from New Orleans in 1834, -on receipt of the tidings of the death of his brother William: - -[Illustration: MOTHER OF EDWIN FORREST.] - -"MY DEAR MOTHER,--We have experienced a deep and irreparable loss. -You are deprived of a dutiful and affectionate son, my dear sisters -of a most loving and devoted brother, and I have now none on earth to -call by that tender and endearing name. The intelligence of William's -death was a severe shock to me, so sudden, so unexpected. It seems but -yesterday that I beheld him in the pride of his strength and manhood; -and I can scarcely credit that his 'sensible warm motion has become a -kneaded clod, doomed to lie in cold abstraction and to rot.' Yet is -it a too sad reality, and we must try to bear our affliction as we -ought. After the dreadful impression of the blow, my first thought -was of _you_, my mother. I knew how truly and tenderly you loved him, -and with great anxiety I have felt how deeply you must deplore the -loss of him now. But for my sake, dear mother, for the sake of all -your children, whose chief study in life is to make you happy, do not -give way to grief, lest it impair your health and deprive you of the -enjoyment of the many happy years through which it is our prayer that -you may yet live to bless us. Whatever befalls any of your children, -you must have the great consolation of knowing that in all your -conduct towards them you have always been as faithful and kind and -exemplary as any parent could possibly be. - -"I have received letters from my friends Wetherill, Duffy, and -Goodman. When you next see those kind gentlemen, thank them in my name -for their grateful attention. - -"I shall be with you in about three weeks, and I long for the time -to come, that I may talk with you face to face about our dear -William, and try, by my redoubled devotion, to make up to you for his -departure. Give my love to Henrietta, Caroline, and Eleanora. - -"My dear mother, that your years may be long and increase in comforts -is the sincere prayer of your truly affectionate son, - - "EDWIN." - -From Vienna, under date of December 10th, 1835, he wrote thus to her: - -"MY DEAR MOTHER,--You express a wish that it may not be long before -I am restored to you. You cannot wish this more sincerely than I -do. For, to speak truth, I am weary with this wandering, and sigh -for the sincere and tranquil joys of home. I hope, with the pleasure -and instruction I have received from my journeyings, to entertain -you during some long and friendly winter evenings, when we shall be -cosily seated together in that snug little room of yours by a good -coal-fire. How happy we shall be, dear mother! Then shall I see in -those dark and expressive eyes of yours some occasional symptoms of -doubt at my strange narrations, which, of course, I shall render -both clear and probable by an abundance of testimony. Thus shall our -evenings pass with calm reflection on my 'travel's history,' and you -shall banish all regrets that I have stayed away from you so long. It -will be a melancholy pleasure to contemplate the relics of our poor -Lorman. Time, time, how fleeting and momentary is man's existence when -compared with thy eternal march!" - -In another letter to her during this same absence, he says, "Mother, -do you sometimes wish to see your wandering boy and take him to your -arms again? Why do I ask such a question? I know you do. Though all the -world should forget me, I shall still be cherished in your heart; and -your love is worth to me all the admiration of the world besides." - -At a later time he wrote, "Beloved mother, it has been so long since I -have heard from you, that I grow anxious to know that you are well and -in the tranquil enjoyment of the blessings of this life. If ever any -one deserved life's peaceful evening,--do not think I flatter,--that -person is yourself. When I reflect upon the trials of poverty you have -endured, how, under the most trying afflictions, you have sustained -yourself with such becoming dignity, I cannot withhold the unfeigned -homage which prompts me to say that I am as proud of you, who gave me -birth, as you can ever have been of me in the choicest hours of my -existence." - -And in the latest year of her life he wrote, "Dearly beloved mother, -is there not something I can send you which will give you pleasure? -Anything in the world which it is in my power to obtain you have -only to ask for in order to receive. You know I cannot experience a -keener happiness than in gratifying any desire of yours, to whom I owe -everything." - -In the diary he kept during his first visit to Europe, this quotation -from Lavater was copied, with the appended verses: "'I require nothing -of thee,' said a mother to her innocent son, when bidding him farewell, -'but that you bring me back your present countenance.' - - "'What shall I bring thee, mother mine? - What shall I bring to thee? - Shall I bring thee jewels that shine - In the depths of the shadowy sea?' - - "'Bring me that innocent brow, my boy! - Bring me that shadowless eye! - Bring me the tone of tender joy - That breathes in thy last good-bye!'" - -His mother ever remained in his memory a hallowed image of authority -and benignity, a presence associated with everything dear and holy. In -an hour of effusion, near the end of his own life, he said, "When I -saw her great dark eyes fixed on me, beaming with satisfied affection, -and listened to words of approval from her lips, O it was more to me -than all the public plaudits in the world! My God, what a joy it would -be to me now to kneel at her feet and worship her! And they say there -are such meetings hereafter. I know not, I know not. I hope it _is_ -so." He had her portrait over the foot of his bed, that her face, as -in his childhood, might be the last sight he saw ere falling asleep, -and the first to greet him when he awoke. And among the papers left at -his death the following lines were found in his handwriting, either -composed by him or copied by him from some unnamed source: - -"MY MOTHER'S GRAVE. - - "Here is my mother's grave. Dear hallowed spot, - The flight of these long years has changed thee not, - Though all things else have changed; e'en this sad heart, - In all, save thoughts of thee, which will not start, - But, woven in my being, burn again - With fires the torch of memory kindles still. - Though I have wandered far in distant spheres, - And mixed in many scenes of joy and tears, - And found in all, perchance, some friends, and loved - One who was even more, I ne'er have roved - From thee, my mother, and thy sacred grave. - I could forget, albeit a task severe, - All forms, all faces, all that love e'er gave, - Save thine, my mother,--that no time can wear. - I have but one sad wish when life is o'er,-- - Whatever fate is mine, on sea or shore, - Whoe'er may claim my ashes for a trust, - They still may come to mingle with thy dust. - 'Tis fit this troubled heart, when spent with care, - Again should turn to that unfailing breast, - And find at last the home my childhood shared,-- - The quiet chamber of my mother's rest." - -The wish has been fulfilled, and the forms of mother and son sleep side -by side where no pain, no harsh word, ever comes. - -In the September of 1848 Macready had made his reappearance on the -American stage. Some of the friends of Forrest, democrats who had -potent influence with the Bowery Boys, or the muscular multitude of -New York, called on him, and proposed to have the English tragedian -driven from the theatre. Forrest felt that such a course would be -unworthy of him, and, instead of giving him revenge, would dishonor -his name, and make his enemy of increased importance. He refused to -have anything to do with such an attempt, and urged his friends to -drop the matter entirely. They did so. When, however, Macready, taking -advantage of a call before the curtain to make a speech, told the -public that he had been assured that he was to be met by an organized -opposition, and thanked them for the flattering reception which had -"defeated the plan," "baffled his unprovoked antagonists, and rebuked -his would-be-assailants," fresh indignation was stirred, and a great -deal of bad blood kindled. In Philadelphia he was saluted with some -hissing amidst the great applause. He then took occasion to say of -Forrest, directly, "He did towards me what I am sure no English actor -would have done towards him,--he openly hissed me." This caused an -intense excitement in the house, with several personal collisions. The -next day Forrest published a letter in the "Pennsylvanian," replying -to Macready's speech, and arraigning his conduct and his character -in very severe terms. The statements in the letter may all have been -true and just, but it was written in an angry temper, and had better -not have been written. It was not in good taste, and, spreading the -contagion of an inflamed individual quarrel among the community, was of -bad influence. Where his passions were concerned, good taste was not -the motto of Forrest. Downright honesty and justice, rather than the -delicate standards of politeness, were his aim. Macready retorted in a -published card, to which Forrest responded indirectly in several long -letters to a friend. Thus the controversy waxed hotter, and excited -wider and angrier interest. And when the English actor was ready to -begin his closing engagement in New York, in May, 1849, the elements -for a storm were all ready. - -We can see the straight hitting from the shoulder of Forrest in every -sentence of his "Card." "I most solemnly aver and do believe that -Mr. Macready, instigated by his narrow, envious mind and his selfish -fears, did secretly suborn several writers for the English press to -write me down." We can see the wounded colossal arrogance of Macready -in the allusion to his antagonist entered in his diary at the time. -"The Baltimore papers characterize the performances of Forrest as -equal, if not superior, to mine, and speak of him as of an artist and a -gentleman. And I am to dwell in this country!" In the quarrel Macready -appears as a vain and fretful aristocrat, observant of the fashionable -code of courtesy, but capable of falsehood; Forrest as a proud and -revengeful democrat, scornful of the exactions of squeamish society, -and quite capable of bad taste. In both is visible the resentful and -morbid egotism of their profession in a blameworthy and repulsive form. -And the whole affair, on both sides, was undignified and ignoble in -its character; and in its public result--though, of course, neither of -them was directly responsible for this--it proved a murderous crime. -It reflects deep and lasting discredit both on the Englishman and on -the American. It may be of some use if it serves to illustrate the -contemptible and wicked nature of the vice of professional jealousy, -and to teach succeeding players whenever in their rivalry they meet -malignant envy or opposition, magnanimously to overlook and forget it. - -On the evening of May 7th, Macready was to appear in Macbeth at the -Astor Place Opera House. The entire auditorium was crowded with an -assembly of the most formidable character, resolved that the actor -should not be suffered to play his part. There were comparatively few -of the friends of Macready present, most of the seats being secured -by the hard-handed multitude, who had made the strife an affair of -classes and were bent on putting down the favorite of what they -called the kid-gloved and silk-stockinged gentry. It is disagreeable -thus to recall these odious distinctions, but the truth of history -necessitates it. Suffice it to say that the tragedian was overwhelmed -with hisses, yells, derisive cries, followed by all kinds of missiles. -Chairs were hurled from the gallery, smashing on the stage. When it -was found that life was in danger, the curtain was lowered and the -performance abandoned. Macready proposed to break his engagement and -return to England. But the press condemned in the most scorching terms -the outrage which had been done him, and insisted that he should appear -again, and should be upheld at any cost. A letter was also sent him, -signed by forty-eight gentlemen, including many of the most eminent and -influential names in the city, urging him to continue his performances, -and promising him the support of the community. He consented to repeat -the trial. - -In the mean time, the "Courier and Inquirer" had openly accused -Forrest of being the author of the violent scenes on the evening of -the seventh, but, convinced of its error, and threatened with a suit -for libel, had immediately retracted, and amply apologized for the -slander. Forrest had no share of any kind in any of these proceedings. -The worst that can be said of him is that he refused to interfere to -prevent the threatened violence. He sternly refused to interfere in the -slightest degree with the strife which had now detached itself from him -and fastened itself on the community and was raging between its top -and bottom. The defiant and scornful tone of the press towards those -whom it called rabble rowdies, lower classes, greatly incensed them, -and called forth the counter-epithets,--lordlings, English clique, -codfish-aristocracy. It was perfectly plain that a fearful tempest was -brewing. Both parties made preparations accordingly. The enemies of the -Englishman placarded the city with inflammatory handbills; and, on the -other hand, the civic authorities detailed three hundred policemen to -the scene of trial, and ordered two regiments of soldiers to be under -arms at their quarters. - -On the evening of the 10th of May, Forrest was acting the Gladiator -in the Broadway Theatre when Macready attempted to act Macbeth in the -Astor Place Opera House. The latter house had been so well packed by -its friends with stalwart men that the Bowery Boys who were able to get -seats found themselves in a most decided minority. Still, they were -numerous enough to make a chaos of diabolical noises when the curtain -rose, whereupon the most of them found themselves incontinently hustled -out into the street. But their party was too strong and filled now with -too terrible a temper to be thus easily circumvented. The mob instantly -assailed the theatre in front and rear. The thundering plunges with -which they rushed against the doors shook the building, and volleys of -stones shattered the barricaded windows, while the shouts and yells of -the crowd might be heard a half a mile away. Meanwhile, the Seventh -Regiment and the National Guards were marching to the spot. They were -received with scoffs and hoots, clubs and paving-stones. The officers, -both civil and military, used every exertion to quiet the rioters and -avoid the final alternative of shooting upon them. All was vain. The -more they harangued, expostulated, entreated, warned, threatened, the -madder the mob seemed to grow. Already a large number of the soldiers -were disabled by severe wounds, and it appeared as if soon their -thronging assailants might wrench their weapons from them. At last the -reluctant order was given by General Hall, "Fire!" A single musket -replied. The mob laughed in derision, and pressed forward. General -Sandford repeated, "Fire!" Only three shots followed the word. Colonel -Duryea shouted, "Guards, fire!" The whole volley instantly flashed -forth with that sharper and heavier report which distinguishes the -service-charge from the mere powder and paper of field-day. The glare -lit up a sea of angry faces. For an instant were clearly seen the human -forms clustered on the steps and roofs of the adjacent buildings, the -broken lamps and windows in front, the billowing multitude spread -through the square and streets,--and then all was dark. The mob broke -and fled, leaving thirty dead bodies on the ground, and as many -severely wounded. The law by its armed force vindicated its authority -at the cost of this frightful tragedy, and taught the passionate and -thoughtless populace a lesson which it is to be hoped no similar -circumstances will ever call for again. - - - - - Transcriber's Note: - - Italics are shown thus: _sloping_. - - Small capitals have been capitalised. - - [Illustration: EDWIN FORREST. ĘT. 21] has been corrected from at 28 - in the list of steel plates. - - Illustrations have been moved out of mid-paragraph. - - Variations in spelling and hyphenation are retained. - - Punctuation has been retained as published. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Life of Edwin Forrest, Volume 1 (of 2), by -William Rounseville Alger - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE OF EDWIN FORREST, VOL 1 *** - -***** This file should be named 61348-8.txt or 61348-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/1/3/4/61348/ - -Produced by David Edwards, Alan and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was -produced from images made available by the HathiTrust -Digital Library.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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