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-} - -/* Footnotes */ - -.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} - -.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: - none; -} - -/* Poetry */ - -.poem-container { - text-align: center; -} - -.poem { - display: inline-block; - margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; - text-align: left; - font-size: 85%; -} - -.poem br {display: none;} - -.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} - -.poem .i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem .i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem .i2 {display: block; margin-left: 1.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem .i10 {display: block; margin-left: 10em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem .i7 {display: block; margin-left: 7em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem .i1 {display: block; margin-left: .5em; padding-left: 3em; 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padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - -@media handheld { - .pagenum {visibility: hidden; display: none;} - - .poem {display: block; margin-left: 1.5em; font-size: 85%;} -} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -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.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="transnote"> - -<p class="c">Transcriber's Note:</p> - -<p>The tables of contents and steel plates reflect future volumes.</p> - -<p>See end of text for further notes.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" id="eddy"> -<img src="images/fig1.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption center gesperrt sans">EDWIN FORREST.<br /><span class="little">ĘT 45</span></p> -</div> - - -<h1><span class="gesperrt"> -LIFE<br /><br /> -<span class="half">OF</span><br /><br /> -<span class="xlarge">EDWIN FORREST,</span></span><br /><br /> -<span class="little">THE AMERICAN TRAGEDIAN.</span></h1> - -<p class="c little">BY</p> -<p class="c gesperrt">WILLIAM ROUNSEVILLE ALGER.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> - -<div class="i7">"All the world's a stage,</div> -<div class="i0">And all the men and women merely players."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p class="c">VOLUME I.</p> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p class="c medium gesperrt">PHILADELPHIA:</p> -<p class="c large gesperrt">J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.</p> -<p class="c">1877.</p> - -<hr class="r17" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c medium">Copyright, 1877, by <span class="smcap">J. B. Lippincott & Co.</span></p></div> - -<hr class="r17m" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c"> -<span class="medium">TO</span><br /> -<br /> -<span class="xlarge gesperrt">JAMES OAKES,</span><br /> -<br /> -<span class="little">THE</span><br /> -<br /> -TRUE PYTHIAS<br /> -<br /> -<span class="little">IN THE REAL LIFE OF THIS</span><br /> -<br /> -DAMON,<br /> -<br /> -<span class="large">THE FOLLOWING BIOGRAPHY</span><br /> -<br /> -IS INSCRIBED. -</p></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph2 gesperrt">PREFATORY NOTE.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p><span class="smcap">The Author</span> 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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph2 gesperrt">CONTENTS.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr> - <td></td> - <td class="tdr"><span class="little">PAGE</span></td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER I.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Prelude</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c1">13</a></td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER II.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Parentage and Family</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c2">32</a></td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER III.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Boyhood and Youth</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c3">55</a></td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER IV.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Psychological Origin, Variety, and Personal Uses of the Dramatic<br />Art</span></td> - <td class="tdrb"><a href="#c4">76</a></td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER V.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Dramatic Apprentice and Strolling Player</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c5">96</a></td> - </tr> - -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER VI.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Life in New Orleans.—Critical Period of Experience</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c6">113</a></td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER VII.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Breaking the Way to Fame and Fortune</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c7">140</a></td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER VIII.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Growth and Freshness of Professional Glory: Invidious Attacks<br /> -and their Causes</span></td> - <td class="tdrb"><a href="#c8">156</a></td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER IX.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Sensational and Artistic Acting.—Characters of Physical and Mental<br /> -Realism.—Rolla.—Tell.—Damon.—Brutus.—Virginius.<br /> -—Spartacus.—Metamora</span></td> - <td class="tdrb"><a href="#c9">193</a></td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER X.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Two Years of Recreation and Study in the Old World</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c10">262</a></td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XI.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Professional Tour in Great Britain</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c11">294</a></td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XII.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Meridian of Success and Reputation.—New Roles of Febro, Melnotte,<br /> -and Jack Cade</span></td> - <td class="tdrb"><a href="#c12">323</a></td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XIII.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Second Professional Tour in Great Britain, and its Consequences.—The<br /> -Macready Controversy and Riot</span></td> - <td class="tdrb"><a href="#c13">387</a></td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XIV.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Newspaper Estimates.—Elements of the Dramatic Art, and its True<br /> -Standard of Criticism</span></td> - <td class="tdrb">432</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XV.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Personal and Domestic Life.—Fonthill Castle.—Jealousy.—Divorce.<br /> -—Lawsuits.—Tragedies of Love in Human Life and in<br /> -The Dramatic Art</span></td> - <td class="tdrb">482</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XVI.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Professional Character of the Player.—Relations with Other<br /> -Players.—The Future of the Drama</span></td> - <td class="tdrb">523</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XVII.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Outer and Inner Life of the Man</span></td> - <td class="tdr">549</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XVIII.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Prizes and Penalties of Fame</span></td> - <td class="tdr">582</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XIX.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Friendships.—Their Essential Nature and Different Levels.—Their<br /> -Loss and Gain, Grief and Joy</span></td> - <td class="tdrb">606</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XX.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Place and Rank of Forrest as a Player.—The Classic, Romantic,<br /> -Natural, and Artistic Schools of Acting</span></td> - <td class="tdrb">639</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXI.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Historic Evolution and Social Uses of the Dramatic Art.—Genius<br /> -and Relationship of the Liberal Professions.—Hostility of the<br /> -Church and the Theatre</span></td> - <td class="tdrb">671</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXII.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Forrest in Seven of his Chief Roles.—Characters of Imaginative<br /> -Portraiture.—Richelieu.—Macbeth.—Richard.—Hamlet.<br /> -—Coriolanus.—Othello.—Lear</span></td> - <td class="tdrb">720</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXIII.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Closing Years and the Earthly Finale</span></td> - <td class="tdr">795</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">APPENDIX.</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap"> I. The Will of Edwin Forrest</span></td> - <td class="tdr">849</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">II. The Forrest Medals and Tokens</span></td> - <td class="tdr">855</td> - </tr> -</table> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a><br /><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph2 gesperrt">LIST OF STEEL PLATES.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr> - <td colspan="4"></td> - <td class="tdr"><span class="half">PAGE</span></td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td colspan="2">Portrait of <span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span> ętat. 45.</td> - <td colspan="2">Engraved by <i>Fred. Halpin</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#eddy">(Frontispiece).</a></td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc"> " " " </td> - <td class="tdr">21</td> - <td class="tdc">Engraved by</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Fred. Halpin</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#illus28">262</a></td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span> as</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Virginius</span></td> - <td class="tdc">"</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>W. G. Jackman</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#illus29">230</a></td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc">"</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Metamora</span></td> - <td class="tdc">"</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Jas. Bannister</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#illus30">237</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdc">"</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Spartacus</span></td> - <td class="tdc">"</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Fred. Halpin</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#illus31">249</a></td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Rebecca Forrest</span></td> - <td></td> - <td class="tdc">"</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>R. Whitechurch</i></td> - <td class="tdr">424</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span> as</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Shylock</span></td> - <td class="tdc">"</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>D. G. Thompson</i></td> - <td class="tdr">738</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc">"</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Macbeth</span></td> - <td class="tdc">"</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Augustus Robin</i></td> - <td class="tdr">739</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc">"</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Richard III.</span></td> - <td class="tdc">"</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>H. B. Hall & Sons</i></td> - <td class="tdr">746</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc">"</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Hamlet</span></td> - <td class="tdc">"</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>G. H. Cushman</i></td> - <td class="tdr">751</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc">"</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Othello</span></td> - <td class="tdc">"</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>G. R. Hall</i></td> - <td class="tdr">769</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc">"</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">King Lear</span></td> - <td class="tdc">"</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>G. H. Cushman</i></td> - <td class="tdr">781</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">Portrait of <span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span> ętat. 66</td> - <td class="tdc">"</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>H. B. Hall & Sons</i></td> - <td class="tdr">795</td> - </tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Forrest Medals</span></td> - <td></td> - <td class="tdc">"</td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Samuel Sartain</i></td> - <td class="tdr">855</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p class="c">The engravings of Mr. Forrest in character are after photographs by Brady.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a><br /><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p id="c1" class="ph2 gesperrt">LIFE OF EDWIN FORREST.</p> -</div> - - -<h2 class="gesperrt">CHAPTER I.</h2> - -<p class="c little">PRELUDE.</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span> 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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>I found in Edwin Forrest a man who must always live in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> -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 <i>deserves</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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, strut<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>ting, -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> -and biases, the envy and squeamishness which prejudice the -feelings and corrupt the judgments of the latter.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>It is very singular, and lamentable too, that while there are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> -members of his profession, and of a school for the public teaching -of the dramatic art.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The subject-matter of the drama, understood in its full dignity, -is nothing less than <i>the science of human nature and the art of -commanding its manifestations</i>. The exemplification of this in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> -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 thorough<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>bred -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> -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."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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 magnify<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>ing -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 id="c2" class="gesperrt">CHAPTER II.</h2></div> - -<p class="c little">PARENTAGE AND FAMILY.</p> - -<div class="figleft"> -<img src="images/fig2.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span> 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. <i>His</i> -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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>The foregoing sketch, brief and meagre as it is, presents all for -which the constructive materials exist.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>William Forrest and Rebecca Lauman were married in 1795,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Philadelphia</span>, August 1st, 1822. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Brother</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Riddle has removed her dwelling to a romantic scene in -Hamilton Villa. John Moore, advancing above mediocrity, per<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>formed -Alexander the Great for her benefit. Please write as early -as possible. Till then adieu. In haste, your affectionate brother,</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Edwin</span>."<br /> -</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>The following tribute was paid to him in one of the papers of -his native city on the day of his burial:</p> - -<p>"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 <i>sudden death</i> 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."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> -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 fore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>see -the end already behold all the tears it has cost glittering with -rainbows.</p> - -<p>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 <i>is</i> 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>is</i> 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 knowl<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>edge, -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 mys<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>terious -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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 id="c3" class="gesperrt">CHAPTER III.</h2></div> - -<p class="c little">BOYHOOD AND YOUTH.</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>During this period the life of the family presents little besides -that plain and humble story of toil, domestic fidelity, social strug<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>gle, -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> -"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</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"When chill November's surly blast</div> -<div class="i1">Made fields and forests bare,"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>and the exquisite verses "To Mary in Heaven,"—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Thou lingering star with lessening ray,</div> -<div class="i1">That lov'st to greet the early morn."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>This ludicrous failure was his first, and, with one exception, his -last, appearance in a female part.</p> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Hold, prompter, hold! a word before your nonsense;</div> -<div class="i1">I'd speak a word or two to ease my conscience.</div> -<div class="i1">My pride forbids it ever should be said</div> -<div class="i1">My heels eclipsed the honors of my head."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"And at one bound he saves himself—like me,"—</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Forrest turned a hand-spring and a flip-flap, and made his exit, -to the complete amazement of everybody in the theatre. He was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"What ho! young Richmond, ho! 'tis Richard calls:</div> -<div class="i1">I hate thee for thy blood of Lancaster,"—</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> -point. In the one example he was, as it would seem, morally -without excuse; in the other, pardonable, but scarcely to be -approved.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>sentiment</i> 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."</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> -country, and afterwards Secretary of the Treasury under General -Jackson.</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Turn we from State to view the mimic Stage,</div> -<div class="i1">Which gives the form and pressure of the age.</div> -<div class="i1">Each season brings its wonders, and each year</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span><div class="i1">Some unfledged buskins on our boards appear;</div> -<div class="i1">And Covent Garden sends us stage-sick trash</div> -<div class="i1">To gather laurels or to pocket cash.</div> -<div class="i1">A Phillipps comes to sing us Braham's airs,</div> -<div class="i1">And Wallack, Finn, and Maywood strut with theirs.</div> -<div class="i1">These sickly meteors dim our hemisphere,</div> -<div class="i1">While rare as comets Cookes and Keans appear:</div> -<div class="i1">These fopling twinklers, with their borrowed glare,</div> -<div class="i1">Will meet our censure when we cease to stare.</div> -<div class="i1">But the bright sun that gives our stage its rays</div> -<div class="i1">Still lights and warms us by its innate blaze.</div> -<div class="i1">We have a power to gild our drama's age,—</div> -<div class="i1"><span class="smcap">Cooper's</span> our Sun, his orbit is our stage.</div> -<div class="i1">Long may he shine, by sense and taste approved,</div> -<div class="i1">By fancy reverenced, and by genius loved!</div> -<div class="i1">And when retiring, mourned by every grace,</div> -<div class="i1">May <span class="smcap">Forrest</span> rise to fill his envied place!</div> -<div class="i1">Dear child of genius! round thy youthful brow</div> -<div class="i1">Taste, wit, and beauty bind thy laurel now.</div> -<div class="i1">No foreign praise thy native worth need claim;</div> -<div class="i1">No aid extrinsic heralds forth thy name;</div> -<div class="i1">No titled patron's power thy merit decked:—</div> -<div class="i1">The blood of Douglas will itself protect!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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":</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Scenes of my childhood, hail!</div> -<div class="i2">All hail, beloved years</div> -<div class="i0">When Hope first spread life's sail,</div> -<div class="i2">Ere sorrow came, or tears.</div> -<div class="i0">Hail to the blissful hours</div> -<div class="i2">Of life's resplendent morn,</div> -<div class="i0">When all around was flowers,</div> -<div class="i2">And flowers without a thorn!</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Hail, guardians of my youth!</div> -<div class="i2">Hail their instructions given,</div> -<div class="i0">Showing the path of Truth,</div> -<div class="i2">The flowery way to heaven!</div> -<div class="i0">All hail the reverend place</div> -<div class="i2">Where first I lisped His name,</div> -<div class="i0">Where first my infant lips</div> -<div class="i2">God's praises did proclaim!</div> -<div class="i0">Inestimable precious scenes,</div> -<div class="i2">Now faded and all past,</div> -<div class="i0">Can you not fling one ray serene</div> -<div class="i2">To cheer me on at last?</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span><br /> -<div class="i0">Ah, no! Life's winter has set in,</div> -<div class="i2">And storms and tempests rise;</div> -<div class="i0">A chaos infinite of sin</div> -<div class="i2">Sweeps full before my eyes.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"This frail habiliment of soul</div> -<div class="i2">Must shortly cease to be,—</div> -<div class="i0">Some planet then my goal,—</div> -<div class="i2">Home for eternity.</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Philada.</span>, Dec. 6, 1820.</p> - -<p>"To Mr. <span class="smcap">James H. Caldwell</span>, New Orleans. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p class="r7"> -"Yours truly,</p> -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span>.</p> - -<p>"Characters:</p> - -<ul><li>Douglas,</li> -<li>Octavian,</li> -<li>Chamont,</li> -<li>Zanga,</li> -<li>Zaphna,</li> -<li>Tancred."</li></ul> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Philadelphia</span>, 4th Feb'y, 1822.</p> - -<p>"Mr. <span class="smcap">Wm. Forrest</span>, Harrisburg. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Brother</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>"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</p> - -<p class="r7"> -"Your affectionate brother,</p> -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span>. -</p> - -<p>"P.S.—Heavy snow falling."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Philadelphia</span>, 15th April, 1822.</p> - -<p>"Mr. <span class="smcap">William Forrest</span>, Reading. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Brother</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>"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,</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Edwin</span>. -</p> - -<p>"P.S.—Henrietta says she is sorry you have two and a half -shirts, but that is better than she expected.</p> - -<p>"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!</p> - -<p>"We expect you by the return stage. So pack up your tatters -and follow the drum.</p> - -<p class="r"> -"E. F." -</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Philadelphia</span>, 1st June, 1822.</p> -<p> -"Mr. <span class="smcap">William Forrest</span>, York, Pa. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Brother</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>"I have the pleasure of informing you that your friend Sam<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"'There would have been a time for such a word.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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</p> - -<p class="r7"> -"Yours, affectionately,</p> -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Edwin F.</span> -</p> - -<p>"P.S.—Mother is longing for your return, and I hope it will -not be long ere our wishes are fulfilled."</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Philadelphia</span>, 7th Sept., 1822.</p> -<p> -"<span class="smcap">James Hewitt</span>, Esq., Boston. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p class="r7"> -"Your most obedient servant,</p> -<p class="r"> -"(In haste.) <span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span>. -</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 id="c4" class="gesperrt">CHAPTER IV.</h2></div> - -<p class="c little">THE PSYCHOLOGICAL ORIGIN, VARIETY, AND PERSONAL USES OF<br /> -THE DRAMATIC ART.</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Any</span> 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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>exhibition</i> 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 -<i>practised</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> -mice. This shows not only a dramatic gift, but also a clear purpose -in the use of it.</p> - -<p>This <i>playing 'possum</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Nor is this the only evil; for, in the third place, when the -savage mind, after such a training, affects to penetrate the invisible -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> -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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The point of interest demanding attention at this stage of our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> -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?</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>perfect his character by the characters of others</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>The outward universe in which we live is one and the same in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> -what to despise, what to admire, what to shun, what to imitate -or reproduce for the perfecting of their own characters and -conduct.</p> - -<p>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 <i>not</i> to do and how <i>not</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> -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?</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 por<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>trayals -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The lowest range of the histrionic inhabitations of the soul is -<i>obsession</i>, 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 <i>sympathetic domination</i>, 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 <i>voluntary assumption</i>, 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 <i>inspiration</i>, -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 <i>divine incarnation</i>, 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.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 id="c5" class="gesperrt">CHAPTER V.</h2></div> - -<p class="c little">THE DRAMATIC APPRENTICE AND STROLLING PLAYER.</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Accordingly, when, early in the September of 1822, it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> -was making, combined with the unstinted praise he received, kept -his spirits at a high point.</p> - -<p>The following letter, dated Pittsburg, October 10th, 1822, is -the earliest letter from him to his mother found among his papers -after his death:</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Mother</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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 <i>beautiful</i> Sister. -The long ride in the stage has made my hurdies so callous that -they would ward off a cannon-ball.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p class="r7"> -"Your affectionate son,</p> -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span>." -</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> -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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Oh, cruel was my parients, as tored my love from me;</div> -<div class="i1">And cruel was the great big ship as tooked him off to sea;</div> -<div class="i1">And cruel was the capitaine and the boswain and the men,</div> -<div class="i1">As didn't care a fardin if we never met agen."</div> -<div class="i18">(Tears.)</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Bondy's forest,—full of leaves;</div> -<div class="i4">Bondy's forest,—full of thieves;</div> -<div class="i4">They hold your bridle, take your cash,</div> -<div class="i4">And then they give your throat a gash.</div> -<div class="i3">Sing la, la, la, la, la."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>In contrast with the above-named comic casts, Forrest took the -second parts to the Damon, Brutus, and Virginius of the stars<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> -Pelby and Pemberton, and at his own benefit played Richard -the Third.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>During his first engagement in Cincinnati, Forrest boarded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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!"</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig3.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="c"> -Hamilton August 6th 1823<br /> -Due Wm. Cooper or order one<br /> -dollar & fifty cents for Value Recd<br /> -August 6th 1823—<br /> -Edwin Forrest -</p> - -<p>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 back<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>ward -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> -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!"</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"O God! that one might read the book of Fate,</div> -<div class="i1">And see the revolution of the times</div> -<div class="i1">Make mountains level, and the continent,</div> -<div class="i1">Weary of solid firmness, melt itself</div> -<div class="i1">Into the sea! and, other times, to see</div> -<div class="i1">The beachy girdle of the ocean</div> -<div class="i1">Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock,</div> -<div class="i1">And changes fill the cup of alteration</div> -<div class="i1">With divers liquors! O, if this were seen,</div> -<div class="i1">The happiest youth—viewing his progress through,</div> -<div class="i1">What perils past, what crosses to ensue—</div> -<div class="i1">Would shut the book, and sit him down and die."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 id="c6" class="gesperrt">CHAPTER VI.</h2></div> - -<p class="c little">LIFE IN NEW ORLEANS.—CRITICAL PERIOD OF EXPERIENCE.</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Forrest</span> 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.</p> - -<p>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 man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>ners -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>human magnetism</i>, and it is a factor of incomparable import -in the problem of human life.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> -will illustrate still better the atmosphere of the class of men -under whose patronizing influence Forrest came in the company -of his friend Bowie.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>It was from his friendship with Macaire—attending races, -going through stables, visiting armories, drills, and fields of re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>view—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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> -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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> -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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 care<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>ful -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.</p> - -<p>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!"</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> -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 <i>gooseflesh</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> -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:</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Petersburg</span>, July 26th, 1824. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Beloved Mother</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>"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 Lor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>man, -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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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,</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span>." -</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> -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!"</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> -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!"</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> -was wretched stuff, infernally poor stuff! Moses Y. Scott satirized -my poetry in some lines beginning,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'With paces long and sometimes scanty,</div> -<div class="i2p">Thus he rides on with Rosinante!'"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="c">TO ——.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Thy spell, O Love, is elysium to my soul;</div> -<div class="i1">Freely I yield me to thy sweet control;</div> -<div class="i1">For other joys let folly's fools contend,</div> -<div class="i1">Whether to pomp or luxury they tend.</div> -<div class="i1">Let sages tell us, what they ne'er believe,</div> -<div class="i1">That love must ever give us cause to grieve;</div> -<div class="i1">Mine be the bliss C——'s love to prove,</div> -<div class="i1">To love her still, and still to have her love.</div> -<div class="i1">If without her of countless worlds possessed,</div> -<div class="i1">I still should mourn, I still should be unblest.</div> -<div class="i1">For her I'd yield whole worlds of richest ore,—</div> -<div class="i1">Possessed of her, the gods could give no more.</div> -<div class="i1">For her, though Paradise itself were given,</div> -<div class="i1">I'd love her still, nor seek another heaven."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="c">TO MISS S—— ON HER LEAVING TOWN.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Ah, go not hence, light of my saddened soul!</div> -<div class="i2">Nor leave me in this absence to lament;</div> -<div class="i0">Thy going sheds dark chaos o'er the whole,—</div> -<div class="i2">A noonday night from angry Heaven sent.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Ah, go not where, now tow'ring to the skies,</div> -<div class="i1">Malignant hills to separate us rise;</div> -<div class="i1">For should those smiling eyes, attemp'ring every ray,</div> -<div class="i1">That now shine sweetly, lambent with celestial day,</div> -<div class="i1">Averted from me e'er on distant objects roll,</div> -<div class="i1">Melancholy's deep shade would shroud my lifeless soul.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Oh, stay thine eyes,—diffuse their animating ray,—</div> -<div class="i1">And with their smiling pleasures brighten all the day.</div> -<div class="i1">But if relentless 'gainst me with the fates you join,</div> -<div class="i1">Then go! though still my heart, my soul, is thine.</div> -<div class="i1">And when from me so distant thou art gone,</div> -<div class="i1">Oh, yield one sigh responsive to mine own!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"How slow they marched! each youthful face was pale,</div> -<div class="i1">And downcast eyes disclosed the mournful tale;</div> -<div class="i1">Grief was depicted on each manly brow,</div> -<div class="i1">And gloomy tears abundantly did flow</div> -<div class="i1">From each sad heart. For he whose breath had fled</div> -<div class="i1">Was loved by all,—in honor's path was bred.</div> -<div class="i1">I knew him well; his heart was pure and kind,</div> -<div class="i1">A noble spirit, and a lofty mind.</div> -<div class="i1">Virtue cast round his head her smiling wreath,</div> -<div class="i1">Which did not leave him on his bed of death.</div> -<div class="i1">His image lives, and from my grief-worn heart,</div> -<div class="i1">While life remains, will never, never part.</div> -<div class="i1">Weep, soldiers, weep! with tears of sadness lave</div> -<div class="i1">Your friend and brother's drear, untimely grave!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> -And thirdly, he desired to make a personal study of Indian -character, life, and manners.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> -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!"</p> - -<p>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!"</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 id="c7" class="gesperrt">CHAPTER VII.</h2></div> - -<p class="c little">BREAKING THE WAY TO FAME AND FORTUNE.</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">One</span> 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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The essential peculiarity of Kean's greatness in his greatest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> -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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Let fate do her worst, there are relics of joy,</div> -<div class="i4">Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy,</div> -<div class="i4">Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care</div> -<div class="i4">And bring back the features that joy used to wear.</div> -<div class="i4">Long, long be my heart with such memories filled!</div> -<div class="i4">Like the vase in which roses have once been distilled,—</div> -<div class="i4">You may break, you may ruin the vase, if you will,</div> -<div class="i4">But the scent of the roses will hang round it still."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 inde<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>pendent -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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio;</div> -<div class="i4">Wear your eye thus, not jealous,—nor secure."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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 <i>nor secure</i> 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."</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> -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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Gilfert had lost money at Albany, and, when he closed, his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He shut himself up in his room with his Shakspeare. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> -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!"</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> -effects of which he finally died. It bears date a little less than a -month after his début at the Bowery.</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">New York</span>, Dec. 3d, 1826. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Most beloved Mother</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> -medical attendance and every attention that kindness can show. -In a few days, without doubt, I shall be on the boards again.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"Tell Henrietta to write, and quickly, too.</p> - -<p class="r7"> -"Yours most affectionately,</p> -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span>." -</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"See how the stormy passions of the soul</div> -<div class="i1">Are <span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest's</span>, and at his control:</div> -<div class="i1">How he can drive the curdling blood along</div> -<div class="i1">Its choking channels—how his face and tongue</div> -<div class="i1">Can check the current as it seeks the brain,</div> -<div class="i1">Arrest its course, and bring it back again;</div> -<div class="i1">Freeze it when circling round the glowing heart,</div> -<div class="i1">Or thaw it thence, and bid it, melting, part;</div> -<div class="i1">Rouse up revenge for Tell's unmeasured wrongs</div> -<div class="i1">Until it echoes from a thousand tongues;</div> -<div class="i1">Or melt the soul of friendship quite away</div> -<div class="i1">When Damon claims his Pythias' dying day."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 id="c8" class="gesperrt">CHAPTER VIII.</h2></div> - -<p class="c little">GROWTH AND FRESHNESS OF PROFESSIONAL GLORY: INVIDIOUS<br /> -ATTACKS AND THEIR CAUSES.</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> 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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Enriched with Nature's brightest powers of mind,</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span><div class="i2">Deep is thy influence o'er man's feeling breast;</div> -<div class="i2">When fiercest passions come at thy behest</div> -<div class="i0">In all the magic strength of truth, they bind</div> -<div class="i0">'Neath their broad spell the pulses of the heart,</div> -<div class="i2">Freezing the soul with horror and dismay:</div> -<div class="i2">O'er Tarquin's corse, where Brutus leads the way,</div> -<div class="i0">Revenge stalks darkly forth: thy potent art</div> -<div class="i0">Recalls the aged Lear to tell his woes,</div> -<div class="i2">Enlisting in his cause each sense that thrills:</div> -<div class="i2">Stern Richard smiles upon the blood he spills:</div> -<div class="i0">Tell, patriot Tell, defies his tyrant foes.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Eagle-eyed Genius round thy youthful name</div> -<div class="i4">Flashes the brilliance of a deathless Fame!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> -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 judg<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>ment, -as inferior to a Kirke White writing verses of pale piety -while dying of consumption brought on by over-stimulus of -literary ambition.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> -played in his eyes, and his tongue seemed laved and lambent -with love.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>any</i> 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 <i>drill</i> 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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> -fitful; but drill is regular, symmetric, <i>rhythmical</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Boston</span>, February 7th, 1827. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Mother</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p class="r"> -"Evening, 11 o'clock. -</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"Why does not brother William write me oftener than he -does? Did you receive the $100 I sent you?</p> - -<p>"All court, every attention, is paid me here by the young men -of first respectability. These truly flattering attentions make me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"With sincerest love for sisters and brother, I am yours till -death.</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest.</span>" -</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Providence</span>, 20th June, 1827. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Mother</span>,—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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p class="r7"> -"Your affectionate son,</p> -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span>." -</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Mother</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"I shall write more fully anon.</p> - -<p class="r7"> -"Your affectionate son,</p> -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Edwin</span>." -</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> -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:</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"'<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>,—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 aborigi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>nal -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.'"</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p> -"<span class="smcap">To Mrs. Brown</span>:<br /> -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Madam</span>,—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."</p> - -<p>Signed by Edwin Forrest and fifteen other actors and actresses.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> -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."</p> - -<p>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:</p> - - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Ladies and Gentlemen</span>,—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 -<span class="smcap">American National Drama</span>.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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 <span class="smcap">Nature</span>.</p> - -<p>"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, <i>Adieu</i>."</p> - -<p>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;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 hun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>dreds -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>not</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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 affec<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>tions, -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 <i>is</i> 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.</p> - -<p>Still further, he incurred the special resentment of that class -of newspaper critics who expected to receive tribute from those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Finally, one more class of play-goers were continually censuring -Forrest, casting blame even on his best portrayals. They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> -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 <i>hold the mirror up -to nature</i>. 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> -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 <i>books purely American</i>, -to be placed in the library for the use of the young men of -Albany."</p> - -<p>To this letter an interesting reply was written by the president -of the Association, Amos Dean:</p> - - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"These constitute a whole, and the books from which that -whole is derivable must necessarily be '<i>books purely American</i>.' -We shall preserve and regard them as monuments of your -munificence."</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - - -<p>"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:</p> - - - -<div class="center"> -<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Philip Hone</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Wm. Dymock</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Cornelius W. Lawrence</span>, </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Gideon Lee</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Ogden Hoffman</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Henry Ogden</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">John Lorimer Graham</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Thatcher T. Payne</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">John Crumby</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">William M. Price</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Charles L. Livingston</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Robert H. Morris</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Daniel L. M. Peixotto</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">John Woodhead</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A. A. Cammann</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span><span class="smcap">George Meinell</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Abraham Asten</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Wm. T. M'Coun</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Washington Irving</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Isaac S. Hone</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Wm. C. Bryant</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">John V. Greenfield</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Prosper M. Wetmore</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">William Turner</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">William Leggett</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">William P. Hallett</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">George P. Morris</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">John M'Keon</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Wm. Dunlap</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">L. Minturn</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">George D. Strong</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Richard Riker</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Wm. Holland</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Andrew Warner</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">John S. Bartlett</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">J. Fenimore Cooper</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Thomas H. Perkins, Jr.</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fitz-Greene Halleck</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Francis W. Dana</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">William P. Hawes</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Wm. F. Whitney</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Wm. Gilmore Simms</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">David Hosack</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Robert W. Weir</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">James Monroe</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">R. R. Ward</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Oliver M. Lownds</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Wm. Henry Herbert</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">D. P. Ingraham</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">James Lawson</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Daniel Jackson</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Wm. H. Delano</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">James M. Miller</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Nathaniel Greene</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">F. A. Tallmadge</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">James Phalen</span>.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">James C. Smith</span>,</td><td class="tdl"></td></tr> -</table></div> - - - -<p>"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, <i>Histriom -Optimo</i>, <span class="smcap">Eduino Forrest</span>, <i>Viro Pręstanti</i>, and a figure of the genius -of Tragedy with suitable emblems on the other, surrounded, as -a legend, with the following quotation from Shakspeare, '<i>Great -in mouths of wisest censure</i>,' 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.</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> -necessary arrangements, and the following is their invitation addressed -to Mr. Forrest, together with his reply:</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">New York</span>, July 10, 1834.</p> -<p> -"To <span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span>, Esq. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p class="l"> -"With sincere esteem and respect, -</p> -<p class="c"> -"We are your ob't serv'ts,</p> - -<div class="center"> -<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">William Dunlap</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">R. R. Ward</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Henry Ogden</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">John V. Greenfield</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">William P. Hawes</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Abraham Asten</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">George D. Strong</span>, </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Prosper M. Wetmore</span>.</td></tr> -</table></div> - -<p class="r p2"> -"<span class="smcap">Washington Hotel</span>, July 12th, 1834. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Gentlemen</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"With your permission, gentlemen, I will name Friday, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> -25th instant, as the day when it will best comport with the -arrangements I have already made, to meet you as proposed.</p> - -<p class="c"> -"I am, with sentiments of great -</p> -<p class="r9"> -respect and regard, -</p> -<p class="r7"> -your ob't serv't, -</p> -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span>. -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -"Messrs. <span class="smcap">Wm. Dunlap</span>, and others. -</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"On the removal of the cloth the following regular toasts -were proposed:</p> - -<p class="c little">"REGULAR TOASTS.</p> - -<p>"1. <i>The Drama.</i>—The mirror of nature, in which life, like -Narcissus, delights to contemplate its own image.</p> - -<p>"2. <i>Shakspeare.</i>—Like his own Banquo, 'father of a line of -kings'—monarchs who rule with absolute sway the passions and -sympathies of the human heart.</p> - -<p class="p2">"Previous to offering the third toast, the chairman, Chancellor -McCoun, addressed the company in the following terms:</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"''Tis by the mighty actor brought,</div> -<div class="i2">Illusion's perfect triumphs come;</div> -<div class="i0">Verse ceases to be airy thought,</div> -<div class="i2">And sculpture to be dumb.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>"Gentlemen, I have thus far dwelt on points in this performer's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> -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 <i>performed well -his part</i>, and made esteem a twin sentiment with admiration in -every heart that knows him. I need not tell you, gentlemen, -that I speak of <span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span>.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"Mr. <span class="smcap">Forrest</span>, 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.</p> - -<p>"Gentlemen, I propose to you,—</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span>—Estimable for his virtues, admirable for his -talents. Good wishes attend his departure, and warm hearts will -greet his return.</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> -unaffected modesty returned his acknowledgments in a speech, -of which we believe the following is nearly an accurate report:</p> - -<p>"Mr. <span class="smcap">President and Gentlemen</span>,—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.'</p> - -<p>"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 <i>little</i> -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.</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"One allusion in your remarks has awakened emotions of the -keenest sensibility. It brings home to me more strongly than all -the rest how <i>deeply</i> 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 <i>from a whole community</i>?</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"Mr. President, in conclusion, let me express my grateful sense -of your goodness by proposing as a sentiment,—</p> - -<p>"<i>The Citizens of New York</i>—Distinguished not more by intelligence, -enterprise, and integrity than by that generous and noble -spirit which welcomes the stranger and succors the friendless.</p> - -<p>"This speech was delivered with remarkable feeling and dignity, -and received the most earnest applause of every one present. -The regular toasts were continued.</p> - -<p>"3. <i>Talent and Worth</i>—The only stars and garters of our -nobility.</p> - -<p>"4. <i>Hallam and Henry</i>—The Columbus and Vespucius of the -Drama,—who planted its standard in the New World.</p> - -<p>"5. <i>Garrick and Kean</i>—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.</p> - -<p>"6. <i>Kemble and Talma</i>—Their genius has identified their -memory with the undying fame of Shakspeare and Racine.</p> - -<p>"7. <i>George Frederick Cooke</i>—A link furnished by the Stage -to connect the Old World with the New. Britain nursed his -genius, America sepulchres his remains.</p> - -<p>"8. <i>The Dramatic Genius of our Country</i>—'The ruddy brightness -of its rise gives token of a goodly day.'</p> - -<p>"These sentiments having evoked suitable responses, letters -were read from the manager of the Park Theatre and a famous -American comedian.</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Theatre</span>, July 24, 1834. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Gentlemen</span>,—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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"With much respect, gentlemen, I remain your obedient servant,</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">E. Simpson</span>. -</p> - -<p class="r p2"> -"<span class="smcap">Jamaica, L.I.</span>, 24th July, 1834. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Gentlemen</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"I have the honor to be, gentlemen, your very obliged servant,</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">James H. Hackett</span>. -</p> - -<p>"Among the numerous volunteer toasts drank in the course of -the evening were the following:</p> - -<p>"<i>By the President</i>—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.</p> - -<p>"<i>By the First Vice-President</i>—Nature and Art: the stage has -united the antipodes of philosophy.</p> - -<p>"<i>By the Third Vice-President</i>—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!</p> - -<p>"<i>By the Hon. Cornelius W. Lawrence</i>—The Stage: talent may -distinguish, but virtue elevates, its professors.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> - -<p>"<i>By Thomas A. Cooper</i>—The Histrionic Art: may it prove triumphant -over the attacks of priestcraft and fanaticism!—equally -inimical to religion and the stage.</p> - -<p>"<i>By Nathaniel Greene, of Boston</i>—A kind welcome and just -estimate for foreign talent,—a proud confidence in that of native -growth.</p> - -<p>"<i>By William Leggett</i>—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.'"</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 id="c9" class="gesperrt">CHAPTER IX.</h2></div> - -<p class="c little">SENSATIONAL AND ARTISTIC ACTING.—CHARACTERS OF PHYSICAL<br /> -AND MENTAL REALISM.—ROLLA.—TELL.—DAMON.—BRUTUS.—<br /> -VIRGINIUS.—SPARTACUS.—METAMORA.</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">A nation</span> 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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 im<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>pulses, -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<i>feeling passed through thought and fixed in form</i>. 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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - -<p class="c little">ROLLA.</p> - -<p>One of the first characters in which Forrest enjoyed great -popularity was that of Rolla, the Peruvian hero. The play of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> -"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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> -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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> -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!"</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - -<p class="c little">TELL.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i7">"Well aimed, young archer!</div> -<div class="i0">There plays the skill will thin the chamois herd,</div> -<div class="i0">And bring the lammergeyer from the cloud</div> -<div class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>To earth; perhaps do greater feats,—perhaps</div> -<div class="i0">Make man its quarry, when he dares to tread</div> -<div class="i0">Upon his fellow-man. That little arm</div> -<div class="i0">May pull a sinewy tyrant from his seat,</div> -<div class="i0">And from their chains a prostrate people lift</div> -<div class="i0">To liberty. I'd be content to die,</div> -<div class="i0">Living to see that day. What, Albert!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i12">"I have sat</div> -<div class="i0">In my boat at night, when, midway o'er the lake,</div> -<div class="i0">The stars went out, and down the mountain gorge</div> -<div class="i0">The wind came roaring,—I have sat and eyed</div> -<div class="i0">The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled</div> -<div class="i0">To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head,</div> -<div class="i0">And think I had no master save his own.</div> -<div class="i0">You know the jutting cliff, round which a track</div> -<div class="i0">Up hither winds, whose base is but the brow</div> -<div class="i0">To such another one, with scanty room</div> -<div class="i0">For two abreast to pass? O'ertaken there</div> -<div class="i0">By the mountain blast, I've laid me flat along,</div> -<div class="i0">And while gust followed gust more furiously,</div> -<div class="i0">As if to sweep me o'er the horrid brink,</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span><div class="i0">And I have thought of other lands, whose storms</div> -<div class="i0">Are summer flaws to those of mine, and just</div> -<div class="i0">Have wished me there,—the thought that mine was free</div> -<div class="i0">Has checked that wish, and I have raised my head</div> -<div class="i0">And cried in thraldom to that furious wind,</div> -<div class="i0">Blow on! This is the land of liberty!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>And the following is another example, still happier in the climax -of its eloquence:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i5">"Scaling yonder peak,</div> -<div class="i0">I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow:</div> -<div class="i0">O'er the abyss his broad expanded wings</div> -<div class="i0">Lay calm and motionless upon the air,</div> -<div class="i0">As if he floated there without their aid,</div> -<div class="i0">By the sole act of his unlorded will,</div> -<div class="i0">That buoyed him proudly up. Instinctively</div> -<div class="i0">I bent my bow; yet kept he rounding still</div> -<div class="i0">His airy circle, as in the delight</div> -<div class="i0">Of measuring the ample range beneath</div> -<div class="i0">And round about: absorbed, he heeded not</div> -<div class="i0">The death that threatened him. I could not shoot—</div> -<div class="i0">'Twas liberty! I turned my bow aside,</div> -<div class="i0">And let him soar away."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>In this play Forrest presented four successive examples of that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> -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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i5">"They do it, Verner;</div> -<div class="i0">They do it! Look! Ne'er call me man again!</div> -<div class="i0">Look, look! Have I the outline of that caitiff</div> -<div class="i0">Who to the outraged earth doth bend the head</div> -<div class="i0">His God did rear for him to heaven? Base pack!</div> -<div class="i0">Lay not your loathsome touch upon the thing</div> -<div class="i0">God made in his own image. Crouch yourselves;</div> -<div class="i0">'Tis your vocation, which you should not call</div> -<div class="i0">On free-born men to share with you, who stand</div> -<div class="i0">Erect except in presence of their God</div> -<div class="i0">Alone."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Can I believe my eyes? He smiles. He grasps</div> -<div class="i1">His chains as he would make a weapon of them</div> -<div class="i1">To lay his smiter dead. What kind of man</div> -<div class="i1">Is this, that looks in thraldom more at large</div> -<div class="i1">Than they who lay it on him!</div> -<div class="i1">A heart accessible as his to trembling</div> -<div class="i1">The rock or marble hath. They more do fear</div> -<div class="i1">To inflict than he to suffer. Each one calls</div> -<div class="i1">Upon the other to accomplish that</div> -<div class="i1">Himself hath not the manhood to begin.</div> -<div class="i1">He has brought them to a pause, and there they stand</div> -<div class="i1">Like things entranced by some magician's spell,</div> -<div class="i1">Wondering that they are masters of their organs</div> -<div class="i1">And not their faculties."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The third example is fearless defiance of tyrannical power, -when, bound and helpless, he confronts the cowering Gesler with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> -majestic superiority. The Austrian governor says, "Ha, beware! -think on thy chains!" Tell replies, with swelling bosom and -flashing eyes,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Though they were doubled, and did weigh me down</div> -<div class="i1">Prostrate to earth, methinks I could rise up</div> -<div class="i1">Erect, with nothing but the honest pride</div> -<div class="i1">Of telling thee, usurper, to the teeth,</div> -<div class="i1">Thou art a monster! Think upon my chains!</div> -<div class="i1">Show me the link of them which, could it speak,</div> -<div class="i1">Would give its evidence against my word.</div> -<div class="i1">Think on my chains! 'They are my vouchers, which</div> -<div class="i1">I show to heaven, as my acquittance from</div> -<div class="i1">The impious swerving of abetting thee</div> -<div class="i1">In mockery of its Lord!' Think on my chains!</div> -<div class="i1">How came they on me?"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i5">"No: not enough:</div> -<div class="i0">It cannot take away the grace of life,—</div> -<div class="i0">Its comeliness of look that virtue gives,—</div> -<div class="i0">Its port erect with consciousness of truth,—</div> -<div class="i0">Its rich attire of honorable deeds,—</div> -<div class="i0">Its fair report that's rife on good men's tongues:</div> -<div class="i0">It cannot lay its hands on these, no more</div> -<div class="i0">Than it can pluck his brightness from the sun,</div> -<div class="i0">Or with polluted finger tarnish it."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> -whose condensed and tremulous murmuring betrays all the -crucified tenderness it refuses to express, he says,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Thou dost not know me, boy; and well for thee</div> -<div class="i1">Thou dost not. I'm the father of a son</div> -<div class="i1">About thy age; I dare not tell thee where</div> -<div class="i1">To find him, lest he should be found of those</div> -<div class="i1">'Twere not so safe for him to meet with. Thou,</div> -<div class="i1">I see, wast born, like him, upon the hills:</div> -<div class="i1">If thou shouldst 'scape thy present thraldom, he</div> -<div class="i1">May chance to cross thee; if he should, I pray thee,</div> -<div class="i1">Relate to him what has been passing here,</div> -<div class="i1">And say I laid my hand upon thy head,</div> -<div class="i1">And said to thee—if he were here, as thou art,</div> -<div class="i1">Thus would I bless him: Mayst thou live, my boy,</div> -<div class="i1">To see thy country free, or die for her</div> -<div class="i1">As I do!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i5">"To arms! and let no sword be sheathed</div> -<div class="i0">Until our land, from cliff to lake, is free!</div> -<div class="i0">Free as our torrents are that leap our rocks,</div> -<div class="i0">Or as our peaks that wear their caps of snow</div> -<div class="i0">In very presence of the regal sun!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> - - -<p class="c little">DAMON.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> -for the despot. He says, with a musing air first, then quickly -passing through indignant scorn to mournful expostulation,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Then Dionysius has o'erswayed it? Well,</div> -<div class="i1">It is what I expected: there is now</div> -<div class="i1">No public virtue left in Syracuse.</div> -<div class="i1">What should be hoped from a degenerate,</div> -<div class="i1">Corrupted, and voluptuous populace,</div> -<div class="i1">When highly-born and meanly-minded nobles</div> -<div class="i1">Would barter freedom for a great man's feast,</div> -<div class="i1">And sell their country for a smile? The stream</div> -<div class="i1">With a more sure eternal tendency</div> -<div class="i1">Seeks not the ocean, than a sensual race</div> -<div class="i1">Their own devouring slavery. I am sick</div> -<div class="i1">At my inmost heart of everything I see</div> -<div class="i1">And hear! O Syracuse, I am at last</div> -<div class="i1">Forced to despair of thee! And yet thou art</div> -<div class="i1">My land of birth,—thou art my country still;</div> -<div class="i1">And, like an unkind mother, thou hast left</div> -<div class="i1">The claims of holiest nature in my heart,</div> -<div class="i1">And I must sorrow for, not hate thee!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The soldiery shout,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"For Dionysius! Ho, for Dionysius!</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Damon.</i> Silence, obstreperous traitors!</div> -<div class="i1">Your throats offend the quiet of the city;</div> -<div class="i1">And thou, who standest foremost of these knaves,</div> -<div class="i1">Stand back and answer me, a Senator,</div> -<div class="i1">What have you done?"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i2">"<i>Procles.</i> But that I know 'twill gall thee,</div> -<div class="i0">Thou poor and talking pedant of the school</div> -<div class="i0">Of dull Pythagoras, I'd let thee make</div> -<div class="i0">Conjecture from thy senses: But, in hope</div> -<div class="i0">'Twill stir your solemn anger, learn from me,</div> -<div class="i0">We have ta'en possession of the citadel.</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Damon.</i> Patience, ye good gods! a moment's patience,</div> -<div class="i0">That these too ready hands may not enforce</div> -<div class="i0">The desperate precept of my rising heart,—</div> -<div class="i0">Thou most contemptible and meanest tool</div> -<div class="i0">That ever tyrant used!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Back! back! I say. He hath his armor on,—</div> -<div class="i1">I am his sword, shield, helm; I but enclose</div> -<div class="i1">Myself, and my own heart, and heart's blood, when</div> -<div class="i1">I stand before him thus.</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Damon.</i> False-hearted cravens!</div> -<div class="i1">We are but two,—my Pythias, my halved heart!—</div> -<div class="i1">My Pythias, and myself! but dare come on,</div> -<div class="i1">Ye hirelings of a tyrant! dare advance</div> -<div class="i1">A foot, or raise an arm, or bend a brow,</div> -<div class="i1">And ye shall learn what two such arms can do</div> -<div class="i1">Amongst a thousand of you."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>Finally, they pass the fatal vote, and cry,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"All hail, then, Dionysius the king.</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Damon.</i> Oh, all ye gods, my country! my country!</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Dionysius.</i> And that we may have leisure to put on</div> -<div class="i1">With fitting dignity our garb of power,</div> -<div class="i1">We do now, first assuming our own right,</div> -<div class="i1">Command from this, that was the senate-house,</div> -<div class="i1">Those rash, tumultuous men, who still would tempt</div> -<div class="i1">The city's peace with wild vociferation</div> -<div class="i1">And vain contentious rivalry. Away!</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Damon.</i> I stand,</div> -<div class="i1">A senator, within the senate-house!</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Dion.</i> Traitor! and dost thou dare me to my face?</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Damon.</i> Traitor! to whom? to thee?—O Syracuse,</div> -<div class="i1">Is this thy registered doom? To have no meaning</div> -<div class="i1">For the proud names of liberty and virtue,</div> -<div class="i1">But as some regal braggart sets it down</div> -<div class="i1">In his vocabulary? And the sense,</div> -<div class="i1">The broad, bright sense that Nature hath assigned them</div> -<div class="i1">In her infallible volume, interdicted</div> -<div class="i1">Forever from thy knowledge; or if seen,</div> -<div class="i1">And known, and put in use, denounced as treasonable,</div> -<div class="i1">And treated thus?—No, Dionysius, no!</div> -<div class="i1">I am no traitor! But, in mine allegiance</div> -<div class="i1">To my lost country, I proclaim thee one!</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Dion.</i> My guards, there! Ho!</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Damon.</i> What! hast thou, then, invoked</div> -<div class="i1">Thy satellites already?</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Dion.</i> Seize him!</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Damon.</i> Death's the best gift to one that never yet</div> -<div class="i1">Wished to survive his country. Here are men</div> -<div class="i1">Fit for the life a tyrant can bestow!</div> -<div class="i1">Let such as these live on."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Existence! what is that? a name for nothing!</div> -<div class="i4">It is a cloudy sky chased by the winds,—</div> -<div class="i4">Its fickle form no sooner chosen than changed!</div> -<div class="i4">It is the whirling of the mountain-flood,</div> -<div class="i4">Which, as we look upon it, keeps its shape,</div> -<div class="i4">Though what composed that shape, and what composes,</div> -<div class="i4">Hath passed—will pass—nay, and is passing on</div> -<div class="i4">Even while we think to hold it in our eyes,</div> -<div class="i4">And deem it there. Fie! fie! a feverish vision,</div> -<div class="i4">A crude and crowded dream, unwilled, unbidden,</div> -<div class="i4">By the weak wretch that dreams it."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i2">"<i>Dionysius.</i> What wonder is this?</div> -<div class="i0">Is he thy brother?</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Damon.</i> Not in the fashion that the world puts on,</div> -<div class="i0">But brother in the heart.</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Dion.</i> Oh, by the wide world, Damocles,</div> -<div class="i0">I did not think the heart of man was moulded</div> -<div class="i0">To such a purpose."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"When I beheld the means of saving you,</div> -<div class="i0">I could not hold my hand,—my heart was in it,</div> -<div class="i0">And in my heart the hope of giving life</div> -<div class="i0">And liberty to Damon—and—</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Damon.</i> Go on!</div> -<div class="i0">I am listening to thee.</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Lucullus.</i> And in hope to save you</div> -<div class="i0">I slew your steed.</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Damon.</i> Almighty heavens!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> -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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"To the eternal river of the dead!</div> -<div class="i1">The way is shorter than to Syracuse,—</div> -<div class="i1">'Tis only far as yonder yawning gulf,—</div> -<div class="i1">I'll throw thee with one swing to Tartarus,</div> -<div class="i1">And follow after thee!"—</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Mute expectation spreads its anxious hush</div> -<div class="i1">O'er the wide city, that as silent stands</div> -<div class="i1">As its reflection in the quiet sea.</div> -<div class="i1">Behold, upon the roof what thousands gaze</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span><div class="i1">Toward the distant road that leads to Syracuse.</div> -<div class="i1">An hour ago a noise was heard afar,</div> -<div class="i1">Like to the pulses of the restless surge;</div> -<div class="i1">But as the time approaches, all grows still</div> -<div class="i1">As the wide dead of midnight!</div> -<div class="i1">A horse and rider in the distance,</div> -<div class="i1">By the gods! They wave their hats, and he returns it!</div> -<div class="i1">It is—no—that were too unlike—but there!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Damon rushes in, looks around, exclaims, exultingly,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Ha! he is alive! untouched!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"I am here upon the scaffold! look at me:</div> -<div class="i4">I am standing on my throne; as proud a one</div> -<div class="i4">As yon illumined mountain where the sun</div> -<div class="i4">Makes his last stand; let him look on me too;</div> -<div class="i4">He never did behold a spectacle</div> -<div class="i4">More full of natural glory. Death is— Ha!</div> -<div class="i4">All Syracuse starts up upon her hills,</div> -<div class="i4">And lifts her hundred thousand hands. She shouts,</div> -<div class="i4">Hark, how she shouts! O Dionysius!</div> -<div class="i4">When wert thou in thy life hailed with a peal</div> -<div class="i4">Of hearts and hands like that one? Shout again!</div> -<div class="i4">Again! until the mountains echo you,</div> -<div class="i4">And the great sea joins in that mighty voice,</div> -<div class="i4">And old Enceladus, the Son of Earth,</div> -<div class="i4">Stirs in his mighty caverns. Tell me, slaves,</div> -<div class="i4">Where is your tyrant? Let me see him now;</div> -<div class="i4">Why stands he hence aloof? Where is your master?</div> -<div class="i4">What is become of Dionysius?</div> -<div class="i4">I would behold and laugh at him!</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Dionysius.</i> Behold me!</div> -<div class="i4">Go, Damocles, and bid a herald cry</div> -<div class="i4">Wide through the city, from the eastern gate</div> -<div class="i4">Unto the most remote extremity,</div> -<div class="i4">That Dionysius, tyrant as he is,</div> -<div class="i4">Gives back to Damon life and freedom."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> - - -<p class="c little">BRUTUS.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> -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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Yet, 'tis not that which ruffles me,—the gibes</div> -<div class="i1">And scornful mockeries of ill-governed youth,—</div> -<div class="i1">Or flouts of dastard sycophants and jesters,—</div> -<div class="i1">Reptiles, who lay their bellies on the dust</div> -<div class="i1">Before the frown of majesty!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>And the house was always electrified by the sudden transformation -with which then, passing from the words,</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i12">"All this</div> -<div class="i0">I but expect, nor grudge to bear; the face</div> -<div class="i0">I carry, courts it!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>he towered into prouder dimensions, and, as one inspired, delivered -himself in an outbreak of declamatory grandeur:</p> - - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i6">"Son of Marcus Junius!</div> -<div class="i0">When will the tedious gods permit thy soul</div> -<div class="i0">To walk abroad in her own majesty,</div> -<div class="i0">And throw this visor of thy madness from thee,</div> -<div class="i0">To avenge my father's and my brother's murder?</div> -<div class="i0">Had this been all, a thousand opportunities</div> -<div class="i0">I've had to strike the blow—and my own life</div> -<div class="i0">I had not valued at a rush.—But still—</div> -<div class="i0">There's something nobler to be done!—My soul,</div> -<div class="i0">Enjoy the strong conception! Oh! 'tis glorious</div> -<div class="i0">To free a groaning country,—</div> -<div class="i0">To see Revenge</div> -<div class="i0">Spring like a lion from the den, and tear</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span><div class="i0">These hunters of mankind! Grant but the time,</div> -<div class="i0">Grant but the moment, gods! If I am wanting,</div> -<div class="i0">May I drag out this idiot-feignéd life</div> -<div class="i0">To late old age, and may posterity</div> -<div class="i0">Ne'er hear of Junius but as Tarquin's fool!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i2">"<i>Brutus.</i> I'll tell a secret to thee</div> -<div class="i0">Worth a whole city's ransom. This it is:</div> -<div class="i0">Nay, ponder it and lock it in thy heart:—</div> -<div class="i0">There are more fools, my son, in this wise world,</div> -<div class="i0">Than the gods ever made.</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Titus.</i> Sayest thou? Expound this riddle.</div> -<div class="i0">Would the kind gods restore thee to thy reason—</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Brutus.</i> Then, Titus, then I should be mad with reason.</div> -<div class="i0">Had I the sense to know myself a Roman,</div> -<div class="i0">This hand should tear this heart from out my ribs,</div> -<div class="i0">Ere it should own allegiance to a tyrant.</div> -<div class="i0">If, therefore, thou dost love me, pray the gods</div> -<div class="i0">To keep me what I am. Where all are slaves,</div> -<div class="i0">None but the fool is happy.</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Titus.</i> We are Romans—</div> -<div class="i0">Not slaves—</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Brutus.</i> Not slaves? Why, what art thou?</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Titus.</i> Thy son.</div> -<div class="i0">Dost thou not know me?</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Brutus.</i> You abuse my folly.</div> -<div class="i0">I know thee not.—Wert thou my son, ye gods,</div> -<div class="i0">Thou wouldst tear off this sycophantic robe,</div> -<div class="i0">Tuck up thy tunic, trim these curléd locks</div> -<div class="i0">To the short warrior-cut, vault on thy steed,</div> -<div class="i0">Then, scouring through the city, call to arms,</div> -<div class="i0">And shout for liberty!</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Titus.</i> [<i>Starts.</i>] Defend me, gods!</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Brutus.</i> Ha! does it stagger thee?"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<p>The simulation had been dropped so gradually, the unconsciously -waxing earnestness of purpose and self-betrayal were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Said I for liberty? I said it not.</div> -<div class="i1">My brain is weak, and wanders. You abuse it."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"I was too sudden. I should have delayed</div> -<div class="i4">And watched a surer moment for my purpose.</div> -<div class="i4">He must be frighted from his dream of love.</div> -<div class="i4">What! shall the son of Junius wed a Tarquin?</div> -<div class="i4">As yet I've been no father to my son,—</div> -<div class="i4">I could be none; but, through the cloud that wraps me,</div> -<div class="i4">I've watched his mind with all a parent's fondness,</div> -<div class="i4">And hailed with joy the Junian glory there.</div> -<div class="i4">Could I once burst the chains which now enthrall him,</div> -<div class="i4">My son would prove the pillar of his country,—</div> -<div class="i4">Dear to her freedom as he is to me."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Slumber forsakes me, and I court the horrors</div> -<div class="i4">Which night and tempest swell on every side.</div> -<div class="i4">Launch forth thy thunders, Capitolian Jove!</div> -<div class="i4">Put fire into the languid souls of men;</div> -<div class="i4">Let loose thy ministers of wrath amongst them,</div> -<div class="i4">And crush the vile oppressor! Strike him down,</div> -<div class="i4">Ye lightnings! Lay his trophies in the dust!</div> -<div class="i12">[<i>Storm increases.</i></div> -<div class="i4">Ha! this is well! flash, ye blue-forkéd fires!</div> -<div class="i4">Loud-bursting thunders, roar! and tremble, earth!</div> -<div class="i3">[<i>A violent crash of thunder, and the statue of Tarquin, struck</i></div> -<div class="i34"><i>by a flash, is shattered to pieces.</i></div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span><br /> -<div class="i2m">What! fallen at last, proud idol! struck to earth!</div> -<div class="i4">I thank you, gods! I thank you! When you point</div> -<div class="i4">Your shafts at human pride, it is not chance,</div> -<div class="i4">'Tis wisdom levels the commissioned blow.</div> -<div class="i4">But I,—a thing of no account—a slave,—</div> -<div class="i4">I to your forkéd lightnings bare my bosom</div> -<div class="i4">In vain,—for what's a slave—a dastard slave?</div> -<div class="i4">A fool, a Brutus? [<i>Storm increases.</i>] Hark! the storm rides on!</div> -<div class="i4">Strange hopes possess my soul. My thoughts grow wild.</div> -<div class="i4">I'll sit awhile and ruminate."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"The fiends curse you, then! Lash you with snakes!</div> -<div class="i4">When forth you walk, may the red flaming sun</div> -<div class="i4">Strike you with livid plagues!</div> -<div class="i4">Vipers, that die not, slowly gnaw your heart!</div> -<div class="i4">May earth be to you but one wilderness!</div> -<div class="i4">May you hate yourself,—</div> -<div class="i4">For death pray hourly, yet be in tortures,</div> -<div class="i4">Millions of years expiring!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> - -<p>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!"</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"She's dead! Lucretia's dead! This is her blood!</div> -<div class="i1">Howl, howl, ye men of Rome.</div> -<div class="i1">Ye mighty gods, where are your thunders now?"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Brutus, the full gale of oratoric fire and splendor swelling his -frame and lighting his features, seizes the dagger, lifts it aloft, -and exclaims:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i10">"Heroic matron!</div> -<div class="i0">Now, now, the hour is come! By this one blow</div> -<div class="i0">Her name's immortal, and her country saved!</div> -<div class="i0">Hail, dawn of glory! Hail, thou sacred weapon!</div> -<div class="i0">Virtue's deliverer, hail! This fatal steel,</div> -<div class="i0">Empurpled with the purest blood on earth,</div> -<div class="i0">Shall cut your chains of slavery asunder.</div> -<div class="i0">Hear, Romans, hear! did not the Sibyl tell you</div> -<div class="i0">A fool should set Rome free? I am that fool:</div> -<div class="i0">Brutus bids Rome be free!</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Valerius.</i> What can this mean?</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Brutus.</i> It means that Lucius Junius has thrown off</div> -<div class="i0">The mask of madness, and his soul rides forth</div> -<div class="i0">On the destroying whirlwind, to avenge</div> -<div class="i0">The wrongs of that bright excellence and Rome.</div> -<div class="i10">[<i>Sinks on his knees.</i>]</div> -<div class="i0">Hear me, great Jove! and thou, paternal Mars,</div> -<div class="i0">And spotless Vesta! To the death, I swear,</div> -<div class="i0">My burning vengeance shall pursue these Tarquins!</div> -<div class="i0">Ne'er shall my limbs know rest till they are swept</div> -<div class="i0">From off the earth which groans beneath their infamy!</div> -<div class="i0">Valerius, Collatine, Lucretius, all,</div> -<div class="i0">Be partners in my oath."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The next scene was given with a contrast that came like enchantment. -A multitude of relatives and friends are celebrating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i10">"Such perfections</div> -<div class="i0">Might have called back the torpid breast of age</div> -<div class="i0">To long-forgotten rapture: such a mind</div> -<div class="i0">Might have abashed the boldest libertine,</div> -<div class="i0">And turned desire to reverential love</div> -<div class="i0">And holiest affection. Oh, my countrymen!</div> -<div class="i0">You all can witness when that she went forth</div> -<div class="i0">It was a holiday in Rome; old age</div> -<div class="i0">Forgot its crutch, labor its task,—all ran;</div> -<div class="i0">And mothers, turning to their daughters, cried,</div> -<div class="i0">'There, there's Lucretia!' Now, look ye, where she lies,</div> -<div class="i0">That beauteous flower by ruthless violence torn!</div> -<div class="i0">Gone! gone! gone!</div> -<div class="i2"><i>All.</i> Sextus shall die! But what for the king, his father?</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Brutus.</i> Seek you instruction? Ask yon conscious walls,</div> -<div class="i0">Which saw his poisoned brother, saw the incest</div> -<div class="i0">Committed there, and they will cry. Revenge!</div> -<div class="i0">Ask yon deserted street, where Tullia drove</div> -<div class="i0">O'er her dead father's corse, 'twill cry, Revenge!</div> -<div class="i0">Ask yonder senate-house, whose stones are purple</div> -<div class="i0">With human blood, and it will cry, Revenge!</div> -<div class="i0">Go to the tomb where lies his murdered wife,</div> -<div class="i0">And the poor queen, who loved him as her son,</div> -<div class="i0">Their unappeaséd ghosts will shriek, Revenge!</div> -<div class="i0">The temples of the gods, the all-viewing heavens,</div> -<div class="i0">The gods themselves, shall justify the cry,</div> -<div class="i0">And swell the general sound, Revenge! Revenge!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"He waved aloft the bloody dagger,</div> -<div class="i4">And spoke as if he held the souls of men</div> -<div class="i4">In his own hand and moulded them at pleasure.</div> -<div class="i4">They looked on him as they would view a god.</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span><div class="i4">Who, from a darkness which invested him,</div> -<div class="i4">Sprang forth, and, knitting his stern brow in frowns,</div> -<div class="i4">Proclaimed the vengeful will of angry Jove."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i7">"No, fellow-citizens!</div> -<div class="i0">If mad ambition in this guilty frame</div> -<div class="i0">Had strung one kingly fibre,—yea, but one,—</div> -<div class="i0">By all the gods, this dagger which I hold</div> -<div class="i0">Should rip it out, though it entwined my heart.</div> -<div class="i0">Now take the body up. Bear it before us</div> -<div class="i0">To Tarquin's palace; there we'll light our torches,</div> -<div class="i0">And, in the blazing conflagration, rear</div> -<div class="i0">A pile for these chaste relics, that shall send</div> -<div class="i0">Her soul amongst the stars. On!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>They sweep away to their victims, deliver the State, and seal an -ample vengeance.</p> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"This I concede; but more if thou attemptest,—</div> -<div class="i1">By all the gods!—Nay, if thou dost not take</div> -<div class="i1">Her image, though with smiling Cupids decked,</div> -<div class="i1">And pluck it from thy heart, there to receive</div> -<div class="i1">Rome and her glories in without a rival,</div> -<div class="i1">Thou art no son of mine, thou art no Roman!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> -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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Oh, my friend, horror invades my heart.</div> -<div class="i1">I know thy soul, and pray the gods to put</div> -<div class="i1">Thee to no trial beyond a mortal bearing."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Mastering his agitation by a mighty effort, Brutus responds,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"No, they will not,—they cannot."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"That youth, my Titus, was my age's hope,—</div> -<div class="i1">I loved him more than language can express,—</div> -<div class="i1">I thought him born to dignify the world."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The culprit kneels to him, and begs for clemency:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"A word for pity's sake. Before thy feet,</div> -<div class="i1">Humbled in soul, thy son and prisoner kneels.</div> -<div class="i1">Love is my plea: a father is my judge;</div> -<div class="i1">Nature my advocate!—I can no more:</div> -<div class="i1">If these will not appease a parent's heart,</div> -<div class="i1">Strike through them all, and lodge thy vengeance here!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Almost overpowered, Brutus hesitates a moment, rallies, straightens -himself up, and exclaims, with lofty dignity,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Break off! I will not, cannot hear thee further!</div> -<div class="i4">The affliction nature hath imposed on Brutus,</div> -<div class="i4">Brutus will suffer as he may.—Enough!</div> -<div class="i4">Lictors, secure your prisoner. Point your axes.</div> -<div class="i4">To the Senate—On!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Romans the blood which hath been shed this day</div> -<div class="i4">Hath been shed wisely. Traitors, who conspire</div> -<div class="i4">Against mature societies, may urge</div> -<div class="i4">Their acts as bold and daring; and though villains,</div> -<div class="i4">Yet they are manly villains. But to stab</div> -<div class="i4">The cradled innocent, as these have done,—</div> -<div class="i4">To strike their country in the mother-pangs</div> -<div class="i4">Of struggling childbirth, and direct the dagger</div> -<div class="i4">To freedom's infant throat,—is a deed so black</div> -<div class="i4">That my foiled tongue refuses it a name."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Here he pauses, falters a little, then slowly adds,—</p> - - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"There is one criminal still left for judgment:</div> -<div class="i1">Let him approach."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Titus is led in by the lictors, with the edges of their axes turned -towards him. He kneels.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Oh, Brutus! Brutus! must I call you father,</div> -<div class="i1">Yet have no token of your tenderness?</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Brutus.</i> Think that I love thee by my present passion,</div> -<div class="i1">By these unmanly tears, these earthquakes here,</div> -<div class="i1">Let these convince you that no other cause</div> -<div class="i1">Could force a father thus to wrong his nature.</div> -<div class="i1">Romans, forgive this agony of grief,—</div> -<div class="i1">My heart is bursting,—Nature must have way.</div> -<div class="i1">I will perform all that a Roman should,—</div> -<div class="i1">I cannot feel less than a father ought!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Justice holds its course, and the Consul sentences the guilty -citizen to the block:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i2">"<i>Brutus.</i> The sovereign magistrate of injured Rome</div> -<div class="i0">Condemns</div> -<div class="i0">A crime, thy father's bleeding heart forgives.</div> -<div class="i0">Go,—meet thy death with a more manly courage</div> -<div class="i0">Than grief now suffers me to show in parting;</div> -<div class="i0">And, while she punishes, let Rome admire thee!</div> -<div class="i0">Farewell!</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Titus.</i> Farewell forever!</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Brutus.</i> Forever! Lictors, lead your prisoner forth.</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span><br /> -<div class="i0">My hand shall wave the signal for the axe;</div> -<div class="i0">Then let the trumpet's sound proclaim its fall.</div> -<div class="i0">Poor youth! Thy pilgrimage is at an end!</div> -<div class="i0">A few sad steps have brought thee to the brink</div> -<div class="i0">Of that tremendous precipice, whose depth</div> -<div class="i0">No thought of man can fathom. Justice now</div> -<div class="i0">Demands her victim! A little moment,</div> -<div class="i0">And I am childless.—One effort, and 'tis past!—</div> -<div class="i0">Justice is satisfied, and Rome is free!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - - -<p class="c little">VIRGINIUS.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> -strength of the Roman character, the whole performance stood -forth in pre-eminent distinctness and vitality.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="illus29"> -<img src="images/fig4.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption r7"><span class="half">W. G. Jackman</span></p> -<p class="caption center sans little gesperrt">EDWIN FORREST AS</p> -<p class="caption center sans gesperrt">VIRGINIUS.</p> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i2">"<i>Virginius.</i> I wished to see you,</div> -<div class="i0">To ask you of your tasks,—how they go on,—</div> -<div class="i0">And what your masters say of you,—what last</div> -<div class="i0">You did. I hope you never play</div> -<div class="i0">The truant?</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Virginia.</i> The truant! No, indeed, Virginius.</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Virginius.</i> I am sure you do not. Kiss me!</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Virginia.</i> Oh! my father,</div> -<div class="i0">I am so happy when you are kind to me!</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Virginius.</i> You are so happy when I'm kind to you!</div> -<div class="i0">Am I not always kind? I never spoke</div> -<div class="i0">An angry word to you in all my life,</div> -<div class="i0">Virginia! You are happy when I'm kind!</div> -<div class="i0">That's strange; and makes me think you have some reason</div> -<div class="i0">To fear I may be otherwise than kind."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The parental tenderness of his manner, his speech, his kiss, -seemed to combine the love of a father and a mother in one. His<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> -hand meanwhile was playing with her tresses in a way suggestive -of unpurposed instinctive fondness, exquisitely touching.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i10">"Icilius!</div> -<div class="i0">Thou seest this hand? It is a Roman's, boy;</div> -<div class="i0">'Tis sworn to liberty,—it is the friend,</div> -<div class="i0">Of honor. Dost thou think so?</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Icilius.</i> Do I think</div> -<div class="i0">Virginius owns that hand?</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Virginius.</i> Then you'll believe</div> -<div class="i0">It has an oath deadly to tyranny,</div> -<div class="i0">And is the foe of falsehood! By the gods,</div> -<div class="i0">Knew it the lurking-place of treason, though</div> -<div class="i0">It were a brother's heart, 'twould drag the caitiff</div> -<div class="i0">Forth. Dar'st thou take this hand?"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Didst thou but know, young man,</div> -<div class="i4">How fondly I have watched her, since the day</div> -<div class="i4">Her mother died, and left me to a charge</div> -<div class="i4">Of double duty bound,—how she hath been</div> -<div class="i4">My pondered thought by day, my dream by night,</div> -<div class="i4">My prayer, my vow, my offering, my praise,</div> -<div class="i4">My sweet companion, pupil, tutor, child!—</div> -<div class="i4">Thou wouldst not wonder that my drowning eye</div> -<div class="i4">And choking utterance upbraid my tongue</div> -<div class="i4">That tells thee she is thine!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Her young beauty,</div> -<div class="i4">Trembling and blushing 'twixt the striving kisses</div> -<div class="i4">Of parting spring and meeting summer,"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>inflames him. He charges one of his minions to seize her, under<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> -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."</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i2">"<i>Lucius.</i> Your Virginia—</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Virginius.</i> Stop, my Lucius!</div> -<div class="i0">I am cold in every member of my frame!</div> -<div class="i0">If 'tis prophetic, Lucius, of thy news,</div> -<div class="i0">Give me such token as her tomb would,—silence.</div> -<div class="i0">I'll bear it better.</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Lucius.</i> You are still—</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Virginius.</i> I thank thee, Jupiter, I am still a father!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"I never saw you look so like your mother</div> -<div class="i4">In all my life!</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Virginia.</i> You'll be advised, dear father?</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span><br /> -<div class="i2"><i>Virginius.</i> It was her soul,—her soul, that played just then</div> -<div class="i4">About the features of her child, and lit them</div> -<div class="i4">Into the likeness of her own. When first</div> -<div class="i4">She placed thee in my arms,—I recollect it</div> -<div class="i4">As a thing of yesterday!—she wished, she said,</div> -<div class="i4">That it had been a man. I answered her,</div> -<div class="i4">It was the mother of a race of men.</div> -<div class="i4">And paid her for thee with a kiss. Her lips</div> -<div class="i4">Are cold now,—could they but be warmed again,</div> -<div class="i4">How they would clamor for thee!</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Virginia.</i> My dear father,</div> -<div class="i4">You do not answer me! Will you not be advised?</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Virginius.</i> I will not take him by the throat and strangle him!</div> -<div class="i4">But I <span class="smcap">COULD</span> do it! I could <span class="smcap">DO IT</span>!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Does no one speak? I am defendant here!</div> -<div class="i4">Is silence my opponent? Fit opponent</div> -<div class="i4">To plead a cause too foul for speech! What brow</div> -<div class="i4">Shameless, gives front to this most valiant cause,</div> -<div class="i4">That tries its prowess 'gainst the honor of</div> -<div class="i4">A girl, yet lacks the wit to know that they</div> -<div class="i4">Who cast off shame should likewise cast off fear!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i2">"<i>Virginius.</i> And are you the man</div> -<div class="i0">That claims my daughter for his slave?—Look at me,</div> -<div class="i0">And I will give her to thee.</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span><br /> -<div class="i2"><i>Claudius.</i> She is mine, then:</div> -<div class="i0">Do I not look at you?</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Virginius.</i> Your eye does, truly,</div> -<div class="i0">But not your soul.—I see it, through your eye,</div> -<div class="i0">Shifting and shrinking,—turning every way</div> -<div class="i0">To shun me. You surprise me, that your eye,</div> -<div class="i0">So long the bully of its master, knows not</div> -<div class="i0">To put a proper face upon a lie,</div> -<div class="i0">But gives the port of impudence to falsehood</div> -<div class="i0">When it would pass it off for truth. Your soul</div> -<div class="i0">Dares as soon show its face to me!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"There is one only way to save thine honor,—</div> -<div class="i1">'Tis this!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Lo, Appius! with this innocent blood</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span><div class="i1">I do devote thee to the infernal gods!</div> -<div class="i1">Make way there!</div> -<div class="i1">If they dare</div> -<div class="i1">To tempt the desperate weapon that is maddened</div> -<div class="i1">With drinking my daughter's blood, why, let them.</div> -<div class="i1">Thus, thus it rushes in amongst them. Way, there!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"'Tis ease! 'tis ease! I am content! 'Tis peace,—</div> -<div class="i1">'Tis anything that is most soft and quiet.</div> -<div class="i1">And after such a dream! I want my daughter.</div> -<div class="i1">Send me my daughter! Will she come, or not?</div> -<div class="i1">I'll call myself. Virginia!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Is it a voice, or nothing, answers me?</div> -<div class="i4">I hear a sound so fine there's nothing lives</div> -<div class="i4">'Twixt it and silence."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> -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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"I know nothing of her, Virginius, nothing.</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Virginius.</i> Do you tell me so?</div> -<div class="i1">Vile tyrant! Think you, shall I not believe</div> -<div class="i1">My own eyes before your tongue? Why, there she is!</div> -<div class="i1">There at your back,—her locks dishevelled, and</div> -<div class="i1">Her vestment torn,—her cheeks all faded with</div> -<div class="i1">Her pouring tears.</div> -<div class="i1">Villain! is this a sight to show a father?</div> -<div class="i1">And have I not a weapon to requite thee?"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In his distraught fury, feeling over his body for some weapon he -<i>discovers</i> 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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"What a load my heart has heaved off! Where is he?</div> -<div class="i1">I thought I had done it."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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!"</p> - - -<p class="c little">METAMORA.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="illus30"> -<img src="images/fig5.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption r7"><span class="half">Jas Bannister</span></p> -<p class="caption center sans little gesperrt">EDWIN FORREST AS</p> -<p class="caption center sans gesperrt">METAMORA.</p> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> - -<p>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 <i>lost human poetry</i> of the nature wherein he was cradled.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> -one of the romantic episodes of his history embodied in a chieftain -of tragic greatness.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 begin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>ning -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>As the play moves on, the audience are gradually borne back -to the early days of their fathers, and their dread struggle to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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. "<i>Your</i> -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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> -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."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>In these passages his declamation seemed to make the whole -tragedy of the story of the American Indians breathe and swell -and tremble.</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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!"</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> -hatchet. The pale-faces shall wither under their power. White -men. Metamora is your foe!"</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"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!"</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>"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!"</p> - -<p>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!"</p> - - -<p class="c little">SPARTACUS.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="illus31"> -<img src="images/fig6.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption r7"><span class="half">F. Halpin</span></p> -<p class="caption center sans little gesperrt">EDWIN FORREST AS</p> -<p class="caption center sans gesperrt">THE GLADIATOR.</p> -</div> - -<p>"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 <i>without</i> 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> -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 <i>not</i> -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?</p> - -<p>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, <i>with</i> -which every other sin may be forgiven, <i>without</i> 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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"I thank the gods, I am barbarian;</div> -<div class="i4">For I can better teach the grace-begot</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span><div class="i4">And heaven-supported masters of the earth,</div> -<div class="i4">How a mere dweller of a desert rock</div> -<div class="i4">Can bow their crowned heads to his chariot-wheels.</div> -<div class="i4">Man is heaven's work, and beggars' brats may herit</div> -<div class="i4">A soul to mount them up the steeps of fortune,</div> -<div class="i4">With regal necks to be their stepping-blocks."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> -"Ay, and thou shouldst thank the gods that they have suffered -thee to see it. What think'st thou of it?"</p> - -<p>"<i>Spartacus.</i> 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."</p> - -<p>Lentulus breaks in, "Now, marry, villain, thou wert bought not -to prate, but to fight."</p> - -<p>"<i>Spartacus.</i> 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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i2">"<i>Spartacus.</i> Come, look me in the face,</div> -<div class="i0">And let me see how bad desires have changed thee.</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Phasarius.</i> I claim the captive.</div> -<div class="i2"><i>Spar.</i> Set thine eye on her:</div> -<div class="i0">Lo, you! she weeps, and she is fatherless.</div> -<div class="i0">Thou couldst not harm an orphan? What, I say,</div> -<div class="i0">Art thou, whom I have carried in my arms</div> -<div class="i0">To mountain-tops to worship the great God,</div> -<div class="i0">Art thou a man to plot a wrong and sorrow</div> -<div class="i0">'Gainst such as have no father left but Him?"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i12">"I crept</div> -<div class="i0">Thro' the trenched army to that road, and saw</div> -<div class="i0">The executed multitude uplifted</div> -<div class="i0">Upon the horrid engines. Many lived:</div> -<div class="i0">Some moaned and writhed in stupid agony;</div> -<div class="i0">Some howled and prayed for death, and cursed the gods;</div> -<div class="i0">Some turned to lunatics, and laughed at horror;</div> -<div class="i0">And some with fierce and hellish strength had torn</div> -<div class="i0">Their arms free from the beams, and so had died</div> -<div class="i0">Grasping headlong the air."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>terior -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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>In the practice of his profession it was a noble characteristic of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>-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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The defect corresponding to this excess was lack of <i>souplesse</i>, -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 Eng<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>lish -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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"The painter dead, yet still he charms the eye;</div> -<div class="i1">While taste survives, his fame can never die.</div> -<div class="i1">But he who <i>struts his hour upon the stage</i></div> -<div class="i1">Can scarce extend his fame for half an age.</div> -<div class="i1">Nor pen nor pencil can the <i>actor</i> save,—</div> -<div class="i1">The art and artist share one common grave."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 id="c10" class="gesperrt">CHAPTER X.</h2></div> - -<p class="c little">TWO YEARS OF RECREATION AND STUDY IN THE OLD WORLD.</p> - - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="illus28"> -<img src="images/fig7.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption center gesperrt sans">EDWIN FORREST.<br /><span class="little">ĘT 21</span></p> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>The following letter was written shortly after his arrival in -Paris:</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> -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."</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>"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 <i>Americanizing</i> Americans, -and revived within them that love of country which the pageantry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"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 de<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>manded -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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> -lip of another curled with contempt as a lighter figure or a fairer -face swept by.</p> - -<p>"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, '<i>Messieurs, -la Reine!</i>' 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 <i>sovereign</i> 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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> - -<p>"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 <i>salle du billard</i> is an apartment which would -well serve for a corporation dinner.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'The piled leaves of the West,—</div> -<div class="i4">My own green forest land.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>The following letter, addressed to another friend, was written -about three weeks after the foregoing one:</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> -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 <i>dulce</i> has been the chief -object of my search, the <i>utile</i> 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,</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i7">'In smoky cribs,</div> -<div class="i0">Upon uneasy pallets stretching them.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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, '<i>La -France ne devrait pas payer les vingt-cinq millions!</i>' A fellow-feeling,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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?</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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!</p> - -<p>"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—<i>presto, change</i>—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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> -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.'</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> - -<p>"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,—<i>and all this above the clouds</i>!</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"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!</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"The museum of Turin is of great extent, and contains vast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> -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 <i>live</i> 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.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>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,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> -he said, "was a fragment of my country floated away here, and -in touching it I felt reunited to the whole again."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> -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!"</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Paris</span>, July 3d, 1835. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Mother</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>"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.'</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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,</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'Where'er he roams, whatever clime to see,</div> -<div class="i4">His <i>heart</i> untravelled fondly turns to thee.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest.</span>" -</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> -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 <i>her</i> 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!"</p> - -<p>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,</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Ye crags and peaks. I'm with you once again;</div> -<div class="i1">I call to you with all my voice; I hold</div> -<div class="i1">To you the hands you first beheld, to show</div> -<div class="i1">They still are free!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star</div> -<div class="i4">In his steep course? So long he seems to pause</div> -<div class="i4">On thy bald awful head, O sovran Blanc!</div> -<div class="i4">The Arve and Arveiron at thy base</div> -<div class="i4">Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful form,</div> -<div class="i4">Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines</div> -<div class="i4">How silently!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Speaking of the incident long years afterward, he said he did not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>"I have been here about three weeks, and it gives me great -pleasure to say that, from the abundant proofs I have had of -<i>English hospitality</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>"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 <i>Henry Placide</i> is the best actor on the stage -in his own diversified range.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> -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."</p> - -<p>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 <i>in relievo</i> 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 <i>dame passée</i> 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."</p> - -<p>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!"</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> -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."</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> -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!"</p> - -<p>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 <i>sacred</i> -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</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i9">'tall Gothic pile</div> -<div class="i0">Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads,</div> -<div class="i0">Bearing aloft the arched and ponderous roof.</div> -<div class="i0">Which by its own weight stands immovable.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>"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</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'Like winged flowers or flying gems.'"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Taking a horse and a guide, Forrest started out from Aloupka -to explore one of the neighboring Tartar villages.</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> -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."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> -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!</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>"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!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> -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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i2">'Ancient of days! august Athena, where,</div> -<div class="i2">Where are thy men of might? thy grand in soul?</div> -<div class="i2">Gone,—glimmering through the dream of things that were.</div> -<div class="i2">First in the race that led to Glory's goal,—</div> -<div class="i2">They're sought in vain, and o'er each mouldering tower,</div> -<div class="i0">Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.'"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"And she, the mother of thy boys.</div> -<div class="i4">Will, by her pilgrim-circled hearth,</div> -<div class="i2">Talk of thy doom without a sigh;</div> -<div class="i4">For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's;</div> -<div class="i4">One of the few, the immortal names</div> -<div class="i2">That were not born to die,"—</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p> -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - - -<p>"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 <i>means</i> to render their progress sure. And then,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> -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!"</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i4a">'All his innocent thoughts</div> -<div class="i0">Like rose-leaves scattered.'"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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!"</p> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i7">"There's not an hour</div> -<div class="i0">Of day or dreamy night but I am with thee;</div> -<div class="i0">There's not a wind but whispers o'er thy name,</div> -<div class="i0">And not a flower that sleeps beneath the moon</div> -<div class="i0">But in its hues of fragrance tells a tale</div> -<div class="i0">Of thee."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> -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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbear</div> -<div class="i1">To dig the dust encloséd here.</div> -<div class="i1">Blessed be he who spares these stones,</div> -<div class="i1">And cursed be he who moves my bones."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> -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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i5">"What singular emotions fill</div> -<div class="i2">Their bosoms who have been induced to roam,</div> -<div class="i0">With fluttering doubts if all be well or ill,</div> -<div class="i2">With love for many and with tears for some;</div> -<div class="i0">All feelings which o'erleap the years long lost,</div> -<div class="i0">And bring our hearts back to the starting-post."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 id="c11" class="gesperrt">CHAPTER XI.</h2></div> - -<p class="c little">PROFESSIONAL TOUR IN GREAT BRITAIN.</p> - - -<p>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:</p> - - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> -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."</p> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'Our separation so abides and flies</div> -<div class="i0">That yon, remaining here, yet go with me,</div> -<div class="i0">And I, hence fleeting, still remain with you.'"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> -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."</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Office of the Evening Post</span>,<br /> -"<span class="smcap">New York</span>, Sept. 19th, 1836. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Madam</span>,—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 <i>heart</i>, however, and shall look most -eagerly for the tidings of his safe arrival and triumphant reception.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> -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</p> - -<p class="c"> -"With great respect,</p> -<p class="r7"> -"I am your obed't serv't,</p> -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Wm. Leggett</span>.</p> -<p> -"<span class="smcap">Mrs. Rebecca Forrest.</span>" -</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> -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!"</p> - -<p>The Courier of the next morning said,—</p> - - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>The "Sun" of the same date said,—</p> - - -<p>"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 <i>Gladiator</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> -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 <i>Othello</i> 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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i7">'And one day hence,</div> -<div class="i0">My darling boy, too, may be fatherless,'—</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>was marked by the truest and tenderest sensibility. Equally successful -was he in that pleasing pastoral idea,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'And Peace was tinkling in the shepherd's bells,</div> -<div class="i2p">And singing with the reapers;'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>which, had it been written in Claude's days, that great painter -would undoubtedly have made the subject of one of his best -landscapes.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'Famine shrieked in the empty corn-fields,'—</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'There are no Gods in heaven,'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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 in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>domitable -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."</p> - -<p>The Morning Advertiser said,—</p> - - -<p>"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 <i>entrée</i> 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 -<i>patois</i> 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."</p> - -<p>The Court Journal gave its judgment thus:</p> - - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> -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."</p> - -<p>The Times described the figure, face, and voice of the actor, -gave a long abstract of the play, and said,—</p> - - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>The following extract is from the Atlas:</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> -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 <i>mental</i> 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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The Globe, of October 25th:</p> - - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"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, <i>Othello</i> was announced -for repetition on Wednesday and Friday."</p> - -<p>The commendation of the London Sun was still stronger:</p> - - -<p>"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. For<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>rest'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."</p> - -<p>The Carlton Chronicle said,—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p> - - -<p>"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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'I had rather be a toad,</div> -<div class="i0">And live upon the vapor of a dungeon,</div> -<div class="i0">Than keep a corner in the thing I love,</div> -<div class="i0">For others' uses;'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>nothing more glorious than the burst in which he volleyed forth -the following passage, suppressed by the barbarians of our theatres,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'Like to the Pontic Sea,</div> -<div class="i2p">Whose icy current and compulsive course</div> -<div class="i2p">Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on</div> -<div class="i2p">To the Propontic and the Hellespont;</div> -<div class="i2p">Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace,</div> -<div class="i2p">Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love,</div> -<div class="i2p">Till that a capable and wide revenge</div> -<div class="i2p">Swallow them up.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>The following extract is from the notice in the John Bull:</p> - - -<p>"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 -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>had a respite, and hope a prospect. Then came his fearful -and startling challenge to Iago, ending,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'If thou dost slander her, and torture me,</div> -<div class="i0">Never pray more: abandon all remorse;</div> -<div class="i0">On horror's head horrors accumulate:</div> -<div class="i0">Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed;</div> -<div class="i0">For nothing canst thou to damnation add</div> -<div class="i0">Greater than that.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>The critique in the Albion was a notable one:</p> - - -<p>"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 de<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span>pend -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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'Silence that dreadful bell! it frights the isle</div> -<div class="i2p">From her propriety.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i6">'If I do prove her haggard,</div> -<div class="i0">Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings,</div> -<div class="i0">I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind,</div> -<div class="i0">To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black,</div> -<div class="i0">And have not those soft parts of conversation</div> -<div class="i0">That chamberers have: Or, for I am declined</div> -<div class="i0">Into the vale of years; yet that's not much:</div> -<div class="i0">She's gone: I am abused: and my relief</div> -<div class="i0">Must be to loathe her. O the curse of marriage,</div> -<div class="i0">That we can call these delicate creatures ours,</div> -<div class="i0">And not their appetites! I'd rather be a toad,</div> -<div class="i0">And live upon the vapor of a dungeon,</div> -<div class="i0">Than keep a corner in the thing I love,</div> -<div class="i0">For other's uses.</div> -<div class="i0">Desdemona comes!'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> -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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'If she be false, O then Heaven mocks itself,—</div> -<div class="i2p">I'll not believe it.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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 manœuvres, 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."</p> - -<p>The London Journal gave a long account of Forrest's Lear, -of which this extract contains the substance:</p> - - -<p>"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</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i3">'Those tenders for true pay</div> -<div class="i0">Which are not sterling.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> -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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'No, you unnatural hags,</div> -<div class="i2p">I will have such revenges on you both,</div> -<div class="i0">That all the world shall—I will do such things,—</div> -<div class="i0">What they are yet, I know not; but they shall be</div> -<div class="i0">The terrors of the earth.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'My wits begin to turn.—</div> -<div class="i2p">Come on, my boy: how dost, my boy? Art cold?</div> -<div class="i2p">I am cold myself....</div> -<div class="i2p">Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart</div> -<div class="i2p">That's sorry yet for thee.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>This beautiful passage is extremely touching, and Mr. Forrest -fully felt and adequately illustrated its pathos and its beauty."</p> - -<p>Another of the authorities in British journalism, whose title -the writer cannot recover, wrote thus:</p> - - -<p>"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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,</div> -<div class="i2p">And thou no breath at all?'—</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>followed by the bitter and melancholy reflection,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i3">'O! thou wilt come no more,</div> -<div class="i0">Never! never! never! never! never!'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i6">'That she may feel</div> -<div class="i0">How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is</div> -<div class="i0">To have a thankless child!'—</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>was poured forth with an unrestrained but natural energy that -acted like an electric shock on the audience; a momentary silence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> -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."</p> - -<p>It may be well, also, to quote what was said by the "London -Times" of November 5th:</p> - - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> -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."</p> - -<p>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:</p> - - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> -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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'If thou speak'st false,</div> -<div class="i2p">Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,</div> -<div class="i2p">Till famine cling thee:—if thy speech be sooth,</div> -<div class="i2p">I care not if thou dost for me as much,'—</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'Had I but died an hour before this chance,</div> -<div class="i4">I had lived a blessed time,'—</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious,</div> -<div class="i4">Loyal and neutral, in a moment?—No man!'—</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>The Morning Chronicle said,—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p> - - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - -<p>"The part of <i>Damon</i> 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.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span></p> - -<p>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,—</p> - - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>But a fuller statement of his impressions in London, with interesting -glimpses of his social life there, is contained in a letter -to Leggett:</p> - - -<p>"... 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 <i>clique</i> at home that I would fail in those characters -before a London audience.</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"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 <i>mantle</i> 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 <i>grande nation</i>.</p> - -<p>"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 in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span>tervals -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.</p> - -<p>"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.'"</p> - -<p>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 competi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span>tors -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> -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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Of Shakspeare in <i>barns</i> we have heard;</div> -<div class="i2">Yet who has the patience, forsooth,</div> -<div class="i0">To witness King Richard the Third,</div> -<div class="i2">Enacted to-night in a—<span class="smcap">Booth</span>?</div> -<div class="i0">The order to you I have brought,</div> -<div class="i2">Not liking the Manager's trick;</div> -<div class="i0">For instead of the <span class="smcap">Forrest</span> I sought,</div> -<div class="i2">He now only offers a <i>stick</i>."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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,—</p> - - -<p>"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.'—<span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span>"</p> - -<p>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 accom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span>plished -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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Oh, time is sweet when roses meet,</div> -<div class="i2">With June's soft breath around them;</div> -<div class="i0">And sweet the cost when hearts are lost,</div> -<div class="i2">If those we love have found them;"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 id="c12" class="gesperrt">CHAPTER XII.</h2></div> - -<p class="c little">MERIDIAN OF SUCCESS AND REPUTATION.—NEW RŌLES OF FEBRO,<br /> -MELNOTTE, AND JACK CADE.</p> - - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">New York</span>, Wednesday evening, Oct. 25th. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Forrest</span>,—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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"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 <i>Rosalind</i>. 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 <i>fine</i> 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.</p> - -<p>"I hope you continue to make yourself acquainted with that -insolent patrician <i>Coriolanus</i>. 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.'</p> - -<p>"My own affairs remain in <i>statu quo</i>. 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> -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 <i>Jaffier</i>, though -unlike him I am not devout enough to thank Heaven for it, that -I am not worth a ducat.</p> - -<p>"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.'</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"It is past midnight now, and Elmira has been long in bed; -otherwise I should be enjoined to add her love to mine.</p> - -<p>"Good-night, and God bless you both.</p> - -<p class="r9"> -"Yours ever, -</p> -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Wm. Leggett</span>." -</p> - -<p>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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>The following letter explained the absence of the chosen president -of the day:</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Philadelphia</span>, Dec. 15th, 1837. -</p> -<p> -<span class="smcap">"Hon. R. T. Conrad</span>, -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Sir</span>,—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,—</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p> -<p>"The genius of our country, whenever and wherever displayed,—honor -to its triumphs in every field of fame.</p> - -<p class="r7"> -"With great regard, yours, -</p> -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">N. Biddle</span>." -</p> - -<p>The cloth having been removed, Mr. Ingersoll rose, and said,—</p> - -<p>"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 <i>opinions</i> the result of deliberate judgment, and <i>sentiments</i> -warm and faithful from the heart.</p> - -<p>"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 <i>either</i>, -would want a finished representative, but, by a rare combination -of faculties in <i>him</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"To our guest we owe unmeasured thanks that he has done<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> -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—<i>ours</i>.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"These sentiments are embraced in a brief but comprehensive -toast, which I will ask leave to offer,—</p> - -<p>"The <i>Stage</i> and its <span class="smcap">Master</span>."</p> - -<p>Amid loud and long applause, Forrest rose, bowed his acknowledgments, -and replied,—</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Mr. President and Gentlemen</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"I have but recently returned from England, after performing -many nights on those boards where the master-spirits of the stage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"<i>They</i> looked with indulgence on the completed statue; <i>you</i> -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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> -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.'</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"You nurtured me in the bud and early blossom of my life,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> -and 'labored to make me full of growing.' If you have succeeded, -'the harvest is your own.'</p> - -<p>"Mr. President and gentlemen, allow me to offer you, in conclusion, -as my sentiment,—</p> - -<p>"<i>The Citizens of Philadelphia</i>—Alike ready at the starting-post -to cheer genius to exertion, and at the goal to reward it with a -chaplet."</p> - -<p>The newspaper reporter who described the occasion said,—</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>Several sentiments were read, and excellent speeches made in -response. Morton McMichael ended his eloquent remarks thus:</p> - -<p>"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</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i6">'Nature might stand up</div> -<div class="i0">And say to all the world, this is a man.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> -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</p> - -<p>"<i>Robert T. Conrad</i>—Distinguished alike by his success as a -dramatist, his skill as a poet, and his rich, ready, and glowing -eloquence."</p> - -<p>The Hon. R. T. Conrad then addressed the company, as follows:</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> -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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i4a">'Feelings long subdued,</div> -<div class="i0">Subdued, but cherished long.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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?</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'His is the spell o'er hearts</div> -<div class="i1p">Which only acting lends,</div> -<div class="i0">The youngest of the sister arts,</div> -<div class="i1p">Where all their beauty blends:</div> -<div class="i0">For poetry can ill express</div> -<div class="i1p">Full many a tone of thought sublime,</div> -<div class="i0">And painting, mute and motionless,</div> -<div class="i1p">Steals but a glance of time.</div> -<div class="i0">But by the mighty actor brought,</div> -<div class="i1p">Illusion's perfect triumphs come,</div> -<div class="i0">Verse ceases to be airy thought,</div> -<div class="i1p">And sculpture to be dumb.'"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Mr. Conrad, with an allusion to the Hon. Joseph R. Chandler, -gave this sentiment:</p> - -<p>"<i>The Press</i>—The source and safeguard of social order, freedom, -and refinement."</p> - -<p>Mr. Chandler said,—</p> - -<p>"In the concluding portion of the remarks of the gentleman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> -green as is the chaplet which he has acquired as an actor, its -beauty and redolence are derived from his virtues as a <i>man</i>. 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.</p> - -<p>"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 <i>our own</i>. The occasion then was not like <i>this</i>; 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 <i>man</i> is loved.</p> - -<p>"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 <i>spontaneous</i> offering of admiring citizens -to one of their number, who, in doing so much for himself, has -reflected honor on them.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>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 <i>Caius Marius</i>, but -regretted that even the transcendent talents of his friend could not -save his hero from perishing among the ruins of Carthage."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span></p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">New York</span>, December 11th, 1837. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Gentlemen</span>,—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:</p> - -<p>"The American Actor, who, both in public and private life, -upholds the honor of his country,—Edwin Forrest.</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">William Dunlap.</span>" -</p> - -<p>"Mr. President," said Mr. Smith, "I will offer you a toast, -which I have no doubt will be cordially responded to,—</p> - -<p>"<i>William Dunlap</i>—The Nestor of the American Drama. May -he live to see the edifice become what his foundation promised!"</p> - -<p>The President called upon Mr. Charles Ingersoll, chairman -of the Committee of Invitation, for a sentiment, to which Mr. -Ingersoll responded:</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Mr. Chairman</span>,—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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> -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, <i>nationality</i>, 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</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"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 esti<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span>mate -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?</p> - -<p>"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!"</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>In conclusion, he asked the company to fill their glasses to the -following sentiment:</p> - -<p>"<i>Philadelphia</i>—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."</p> - -<p>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 -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span>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!"</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span>ments, -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.</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Fellow-Citizens</span>,—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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> -the grateful hearts of fifteen millions of men in acknowledgment -of the glorious charter of liberty our fathers this day proclaimed -to the world.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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 aug<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span>mented -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.</p> - -<p>"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</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i4a">'When the sweeping storm of time</div> -<div class="i0">Has sung its death-dirge o'er the ruined fanes</div> -<div class="i0">And broken altars of the mighty fiend</div> -<div class="i0">Whose name usurps her honors, and the blood,</div> -<div class="i0">Through centuries clotted there, has floated down</div> -<div class="i0">The tainted flood of ages,'—</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> -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,</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i2m">'in the distance far away,</div> -<div class="i0">Wake the slumbering ages.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"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?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"The day is past forever when religion could have feared the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'Order is heaven's first law, and, this confest,</div> -<div class="i2p">Some are and must be greater than the rest,—</div> -<div class="i2p">More rich, more wise.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'Truth crushed to earth shall rise again;</div> -<div class="i1p">The eternal years of God are hers;</div> -<div class="i0">But error wounded writhes in pain,</div> -<div class="i1p">And dies among his worshippers.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>"What bounds can the vision of the human mind descry to the -spread of American greatness, if we but firmly adhere to those first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> -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</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i5">'The continuous woods</div> -<div class="i0">Where rolls the Oregon and hears no sound</div> -<div class="i0">Save his own dashing;'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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!"</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> -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:</p> - -<p>"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, '<i>York, you are wanted!</i>'"</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Philadelphia</span>, Oct. 17th, 1838. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">To George Seaman, John A. Morrill and Edmund J.</span><br /> -"<span class="smcap">Porter.</span></p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Gentlemen</span>,—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.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span></p> -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"It was intimated to me, when I was honored with an invita<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span>tion -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.</p> - -<p class="c"> -"With much consideration,</p> -<p class="r7"> -"I have the honor to be, etc.,</p> -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span>." -</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>"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 <i>heart</i> -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 <i>his</i> 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 <i>in the -conflict</i> 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 <i>not</i> 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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> -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 <i>the poem of Forrest's heart</i>. 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 <i>real</i> revelation."</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span> -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!</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Nay, dearest, nay, if thou wouldst have me paint</div> -<div class="i4">The home to which, could Love fulfil its prayers,</div> -<div class="i4">This hand would lead thee, listen!—A deep vale,</div> -<div class="i4">Shut out by Alpine hills from the rude world;</div> -<div class="i4">Near a clear lake, margined by fruits of gold</div> -<div class="i4">And whispering myrtles; glassing softest skies,</div> -<div class="i4">As cloudless, save with rare and roseate shadows,</div> -<div class="i4">As I would have thy fate!</div> -<div class="i4">A palace lifting to eternal summer</div> -<div class="i4">Its marble walls, from out a glossy bower</div> -<div class="i4">Of coolest foliage musical with birds,</div> -<div class="i4">Whose songs should syllable thy name! At noon</div> -<div class="i4">We'd sit beneath the arching vines, and wonder</div> -<div class="i4">Why Earth could be unhappy, while the heavens</div> -<div class="i4">Still left us youth and love! We'd have no friends</div> -<div class="i4">That were not lovers; no ambition, save</div> -<div class="i4">To excel them all in love; we'd have no books</div> -<div class="i4">That were not tales of love,—that we might smile</div> -<div class="i4">To think how poorly eloquence of words</div> -<div class="i4">Translates the poetry of hearts like ours!</div> -<div class="i4">And when night came, amidst the breathless heavens</div> -<div class="i4">We'd guess what star should be our home when love</div> -<div class="i4">Becomes immortal; while the perfumed light</div> -<div class="i4">Stole through the mists of alabaster lamps,</div> -<div class="i4">And every air was heavy with the sighs</div> -<div class="i4">Of orange-groves, and music from sweet lutes,</div> -<div class="i4">And murmurs of low fountains that gush forth</div> -<div class="i4">I' the midst of roses!—Dost thou like the picture?"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span> -rivalry, and open that celestial world of the ideal wherein the -pauper may be a millionaire, the drudge an emperor!</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Pauline, by pride angels have fallen ere thy time: by pride—</div> -<div class="i4">That sole alloy of thy most lovely mould—</div> -<div class="i4">The evil spirit of a bitter love,</div> -<div class="i4">And a revengeful heart, had power upon thee.</div> -<div class="i4">From my first years, my soul was filled with thee:</div> -<div class="i4">I saw thee midst the flowers the lowly boy</div> -<div class="i4">Tended, unmarked by thee,—a spirit of bloom,</div> -<div class="i4">And joy, and freshness, as if Spring itself</div> -<div class="i4">Were made a living thing, and wore thy shape!</div> -<div class="i4">I saw thee, and the passionate heart of man</div> -<div class="i4">Entered the breast of the wild-dreaming boy;</div> -<div class="i4">And from that hour I grew—what to the last</div> -<div class="i4">I shall be—thine adorer! Well,—this love.</div> -<div class="i4">Vain, frantic, guilty, if thou wilt, became</div> -<div class="i4">A fountain of ambition, and a bright hope;</div> -<div class="i4">I thought of tales that by the winter hearth</div> -<div class="i4">Old gossips tell,—how maidens sprung from kings</div> -<div class="i4">Have stooped from their high sphere; how Love, like Death,</div> -<div class="i4">Levels all ranks, and lays the shepherd's crook</div> -<div class="i4">Beside the sceptre. Thus I made my home</div> -<div class="i4">In the soft palace of a fairy Future!</div> -<div class="i4">My father died; and I, the peasant-born,</div> -<div class="i4">Was my own lord. Then did I seek to rise</div> -<div class="i4">Out of the prison of my mean estate,</div> -<div class="i4">And, with such jewels as the exploring Mind</div> -<div class="i4">Brings from the cares of Knowledge, buy my ransom</div> -<div class="i4">From those twin gaolers of the daring heart,—</div> -<div class="i4">Low Birth and iron Fortune. Thy bright image,</div> -<div class="i4">Glassed in my soul, took all the hues of glory,</div> -<div class="i4">And lured me on to those inspiring toils</div> -<div class="i4">By which man masters men! For thee I grew</div> -<div class="i4">A midnight student o'er the dreams of sages!</div> -<div class="i4">For thee I sought to borrow from each Grace,</div> -<div class="i4">And every Muse, such attributes as lend</div> -<div class="i4">Ideal charms to Love. I thought of thee,</div> -<div class="i4">And Passion taught me poesy,—of thee.</div> -<div class="i4">And on the painter's canvas grew the life</div> -<div class="i4">Of beauty!—Art became the shadow</div> -<div class="i4">Of the dear starlight of thy haunting eyes!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The tragedy of "Jack Cade, the Bondman of Kent," was writ<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span>ten -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"<i>The hovels of the bond discovered.</i> <span class="smcap">Jack Straw</span>, <span class="smcap">Dick Pembroke</span>, <span class="smcap">Roger Sutton</span> -(<i>bondmen</i>), <i>dressed coarsely, with implements of labor, as if going to their -work</i>.</p></blockquote> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i1p"><i>Straw.</i> Of corn three stinted measures! And that doled</div> -<div class="i0">With scourge and curse! Rough fare, even for a bondman.</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Pembroke.</i> Yet must he feed, from this, his wife and children;</div> -<div class="i0">What if they starve? Courtnay cares not for that.</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Sutton.</i> His music is the lash! He makes him merry</div> -<div class="i0">With our miseries. Our lords are hot and harsh,</div> -<div class="i0">Yet are they milder than their mongrel minions.</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Straw.</i> I'd cheerly toil, were Courtnay yoked this day</div> -<div class="i0">Unto my plough.</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Pembroke.</i> He seizes on the havings,</div> -<div class="i0">The little way-found comforts of the bond,</div> -<div class="i0">Nor vouchsafes e'en a 'Wi' your leave, good man.'</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Sutton.</i> Man, matron, maid,—alas that it is so!</div> -<div class="i0">All are their victims.</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Pembroke.</i> Would we were not men,</div> -<div class="i0">But brutes,—they are used kindlier!</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span><div class="i1p"><i>Straw.</i> Men are we not.</div> -<div class="i0">Brutes only would bear this. Bond have there been</div> -<div class="i0">Who brooked it not.</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Pembroke.</i> Who were they?</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Straw.</i> Old Cade, one;</div> -<div class="i0">Who struck down the Lord Say,—not this base coystrel,</div> -<div class="i0">Courtnay, but e'en Lord Say,—because he spurned him.</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Pembroke.</i> He died for it.</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Straw.</i> But what of that? 'Tis better</div> -<div class="i0">To die than thus to live. His stripling son,—</div> -<div class="i0">Young Cade,—remember you Jack Cade?</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Pembroke.</i> Not I.</div> -<div class="i0">Our Sutton must.</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Sutton.</i> He who, some ten years gone,</div> -<div class="i0">Fled from the barony?</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Straw.</i> The same. Well, he,</div> -<div class="i0">A bondman and a boy, stood by, when Say</div> -<div class="i0">Wronged the pale widow Cade, by a base jest</div> -<div class="i0">Upon the husband he had scourged to death.</div> -<div class="i0">What think you did the boy?</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Pembroke.</i> Rebuked his lordship?</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Straw.</i> He struck him down, and 'scaped the barony.</div> -<div class="i0">He hath ne'er since been heard of. So he won</div> -<div class="i0">Both liberty and vengeance.</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Sutton.</i> A brave boy!</div> -<div class="i0">'Twas Friar Lacy taught him this: and he</div> -<div class="i0">Says that all men are in God's image made,</div> -<div class="i0">And all are equal."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The good democratic priest, Lacy, whose loving care and instructions -had largely moulded the mind of young Cade, says to the -poor yeoman,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i11">"I've told you oft</div> -<div class="i0">That man to man is but a brother. All,</div> -<div class="i0">Master and slave, spring from the self-same fount;</div> -<div class="i0">And why should one drop in the ocean flood</div> -<div class="i0">Be better than its brother? No, my masters!</div> -<div class="i0">It is a blasphemy to say Heaven formed</div> -<div class="i0">The race, a few as men, the rest as reptiles."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The wretched hut of the lonely widow Cade is shown. She -soliloquizes,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"A heavy lot and hopeless!</div> -<div class="i4">Stricken with years and sorrow, and bowed down</div> -<div class="i4">Beneath the fierce frown of offended power!</div> -<div class="i4">The poor have no friends but the poor; the rich—</div> -<div class="i4">Heaven's stewards upon earth—rob us of that</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span><div class="i4">They hold in trust for us, and leave us starveling.</div> -<div class="i4">They shine above us, like a winter moon,</div> -<div class="i4">Lustrous, but freezing."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"The proud lord would have spurned him; but young Cade"—</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Here Aylmere, with sudden impulse, springs up, throws off his -cloak, and cries, with an exulting laugh,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"I struck him to my feet! I've not forgot it!</div> -<div class="i4">How kissed his scarlet doublet the mean earth.</div> -<div class="i4">Beneath a bondman's blow, and he a lord!</div> -<div class="i4">That memory hath made my exile green!</div> -<div class="i4">Look up, my mother, Cade hath kept his covenant.</div> -<div class="i4">Could you read all my exile's history.</div> -<div class="i4">You would not blush for it. And now I've come</div> -<div class="i4">To shield and comfort thee."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span> -that the images seemed visibly presented while the tones palpitated -among the pulses of their hearers:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i10">"One night,</div> -<div class="i0">Racked by these memories, methought a voice</div> -<div class="i0">Summoned me from my couch. I rose,—went forth.</div> -<div class="i0">The sky seemed a dark gulf, where fiery spirits</div> -<div class="i0">Sported; for o'er the concave the quick lightning</div> -<div class="i0">Quivered, but spoke not. In the breathless gloom,</div> -<div class="i0">I sought the Coliseum, for I felt</div> -<div class="i0">The spirits of a manlier age were forth;</div> -<div class="i0">And there against the mossy wall I leaned,</div> -<div class="i0">And thought upon my country. Why was I</div> -<div class="i0">Idle, and she in chains? The storm now answered.</div> -<div class="i0">It broke as heaven's high masonry were crumbling.</div> -<div class="i0">The beetled walls nodded and frowned i' the glare;</div> -<div class="i0">And the wide vault, in one unpausing peal,</div> -<div class="i0">Throbbed with the angry pulse of Deity!</div> -<div class="i0">I felt I could amid the hurly laugh,</div> -<div class="i0">And, laughing, do such deeds as fireside fools</div> -<div class="i0">Turn pale to think on.</div> -<div class="i0">The heavens did speak like brothers to my soul,</div> -<div class="i0">And not a peal that leapt along the vault</div> -<div class="i0">But had an echo in my heart. Nor spoke</div> -<div class="i0">The clouds alone; for o'er the tempest's din</div> -<div class="i0">I heard the genius of my country shriek</div> -<div class="i0">Amid the ruins, calling on her son,—</div> -<div class="i0">On me! I answered her in shouts, and knelt,—</div> -<div class="i0">Ev'n there in darkness, mid the falling ruins,</div> -<div class="i0">Beneath the echoing thunder-trump,—and swore</div> -<div class="i0">To make the bondmen free."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Life's better joys spring up thus by the wayside;</div> -<div class="i4">And the world calls them trifles, 'Tis not so.</div> -<div class="i4">Heaven is not prodigal, nor pours its joys</div> -<div class="i4">In unregarded torrents upon man;</div> -<div class="i4">They fall, as fall the riches of the clouds</div> -<div class="i4">Upon the parched earth, gently, drop by drop.</div> -<div class="i4">Nothing is trifling that love consecrates."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span></p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i12">"I cannot be</div> -<div class="i0">The meek and gentle thing that thou wouldst have me.</div> -<div class="i0">The wren is happy on its humble spray;</div> -<div class="i0">But the fierce eagle revels in the storm.</div> -<div class="i0">Terror and tempest darken in his path;</div> -<div class="i0">He gambols mid the thunder; mocks the bolt</div> -<div class="i0">That flashes by his red, unshrinking eye,</div> -<div class="i0">And, sternly-joyful, screams amid the din:</div> -<div class="i0">Then shakes the torrent from his vigorous wing,</div> -<div class="i0">And soars above the storm, and looks and laughs</div> -<div class="i0">Down on its struggling terrors. Safety still</div> -<div class="i0">Reward ignoble ease:—be mine the storm.</div> -<div class="i0">Oh for the time when I can doff</div> -<div class="i0">This skulking masquerade, and rush into</div> -<div class="i0">The hottest eddy of the fight, and sport</div> -<div class="i0">With peril!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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,</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"'Tis better, being slaves, that we should suffer.</div> -<div class="i1">Men must be thus, by chains and scourges, roused.</div> -<div class="i1">The stealthy wolf will sleep the long days out</div> -<div class="i1">In his green fastness, motionless and dull;</div> -<div class="i1">But let the hunter's toils entrap and bind him,</div> -<div class="i1">He'll gnaw his chained limbs from his reeking frame,</div> -<div class="i1">And die in freedom. Left unto their nature,</div> -<div class="i1">Men make slaves of themselves; and it is only</div> -<div class="i1">When the red hand of force is at their throats</div> -<div class="i1">They know what freedom is."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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,</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Heaven, not heraldry, makes noble men."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>With a fierce laugh he hisses out the words in a staccato of -stinging sarcasm,—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"This is a noble death! The bold Lord Clifford</div> -<div class="i4">Stabbed by a peasant, for no braver feat</div> -<div class="i4">Than toying with his wife! Is 't not, my lord,</div> -<div class="i4">A merry jest?</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Clifford.</i> Thou wilt not slay me, fellow?</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Aylmere.</i> Ay, marry will I! And why should I not?</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Clifford.</i> Thou durst not, carle.</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Aylmere.</i> Durst not!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Good Heaven! that such a worm, so abject, vile,</div> -<div class="i4">Should eat into the root of royalty,</div> -<div class="i4">And topple down whole centuries of empire!</div> -<div class="i4">I will not crush you, reptile, now: but mark me!</div> -<div class="i4">Steel knows no heraldry, and, stoutly urged,</div> -<div class="i4">Visits the heart of a peer with no more grace</div> -<div class="i4">Than it would pierce a peasant's. Have a care!</div> -<div class="i4">The eagle that would seize the poor man's lamb</div> -<div class="i4">Must dread the poor man's vengeance; darts there are</div> -<div class="i4">Can reach you in your eyrie,—ay, and hands</div> -<div class="i4">That will not grieve to hurl them. Get thee gone!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Left alone with himself, he soliloquizes,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"And yet I slew him not! But—but—'twill come!</div> -<div class="i4">It heaps my shame to heighten my revenge;</div> -<div class="i4">And I will feast it fully. Would 'twere here,</div> -<div class="i4">Here now! Oh, my arm aches, and every pulse</div> -<div class="i4">Frets like a war-horse on the curb, to strike</div> -<div class="i4">These bold man-haters down. 'Twill come, 'twill come!</div> -<div class="i4">And I will quench this fire in a revenge</div> -<div class="i4">Deep as our sufferings, sweeping as their wrongs!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i4a">"God's first gift,—the blessed spirit</div> -<div class="i0">Which he breathed o'er the earth.—</div> -<div class="i0">'Tis that which nerves the weak and stirs the strong;</div> -<div class="i0">Which makes the peasant's heart beat quick and high,</div> -<div class="i0">When on his hill he meets the uprising sun</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span><div class="i0">Throwing his glad beams o'er the freeman's cot,</div> -<div class="i0">And shouts his proud soul forth,—'tis Liberty!</div> -<div class="i0">We will demand</div> -<div class="i0">All that just nature gave and they have taken:</div> -<div class="i0">Freedom for the bond! and justice in the sharing</div> -<div class="i0">Of the soil given by Heaven to all; the right</div> -<div class="i0">To worship without bribing a base priest</div> -<div class="i0">For entrance into heaven; and all that makes</div> -<div class="i0">The poor man rich in Liberty and Hope!</div> -<div class="i0">Rend we a single link, we are rewarded.</div> -<div class="i0">Freedom's a good the smallest share of which</div> -<div class="i0">Is worth a life to win. Its feeblest smile</div> -<div class="i0">Will break our outer gloom, and cheer us on</div> -<div class="i0">To all our birthright. Liberty! its beam</div> -<div class="i0">Aslant and far, will lift the slave's wan brow,</div> -<div class="i0">And light it up, as the sun lights the dawn."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i1p">"<i>Say.</i> Sirrah! I am a peer!</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Aylmere.</i> And so</div> -<div class="i0">Am I—thy peer, and any man's—ten times</div> -<div class="i0">Thy peer, an thou'rt not honest.</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Say.</i> Insolent!</div> -<div class="i0">My fathers were made noble by a king!</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Aylmere.</i> And mine by a God! The people are God's own</div> -<div class="i0">Nobility; and wear their stars not on</div> -<div class="i0">Their breasts, but in them!—But go to! I trifle.</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Say.</i> Slave! I am the treasurer of the realm,—Lord Say!</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Aylmere</i> (<i>with a laugh of passionate triumph</i>).</div> -<div class="i0">Fortune, for this I do forgive thee all!</div> -<div class="i0">Heaven hath sent him here for sacrifice.</div> -<div class="i0">The years have yielded up that hour so long</div> -<div class="i0">And bitterly awaited. Thou must die!</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Say.</i> Thou wouldst not slay me, fellow!</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Aylmere.</i> Slay thee! Ay, by this light, as thou wouldst slay</div> -<div class="i0">A wolf! Bethink thee; hast not used thy place</div> -<div class="i0">To tread the weak and poor to dust; to plant</div> -<div class="i0">Shame on each cheek, and sorrow in each heart?</div> -<div class="i0">Hast thou not plundered, tortured, hunted down</div> -<div class="i0">Thy fellow-men like brutes? Is not the blood</div> -<div class="i0">Of white-haired Cade black on thy hand? And doth not</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span><div class="i0">Each wind stir up against thee, fiend! the ashes</div> -<div class="i0">Of her whom yesternight you gave the flames?</div> -<div class="i0">Slay thee, thou fool! Why, now, what devil is it</div> -<div class="i0">That palters with thee, to believe that thou</div> -<div class="i0">Canst do such deeds and live!</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Say.</i> I am unarmed;</div> -<div class="i0">'Twere craven thus to strike me at advantage.</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Aylmere</i> (<i>with a scornful laugh and throwing away the dagger</i>).</div> -<div class="i0">Why, so it were! Hence, toy!</div> -<div class="i0">But those the tiger hath against thee!—Now</div> -<div class="i0">For vengeance, justice for the bondmen!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"So be it! Death! the bondman's last, best friend!</div> -<div class="i1">It stays th' uplifted thong, hushes the shriek,</div> -<div class="i1">And gives the slave a long, long sleep, unwhipped</div> -<div class="i1">By dreams of torture. In the grave there is</div> -<div class="i1">No echo for the tyrant's lash;</div> -<div class="i1">And the poor bond knows not to shrink, or blush,</div> -<div class="i1">Nor wonder Heaven created such a wretch.</div> -<div class="i1">He who has learned to die, forgets to serve</div> -<div class="i1">Or suffer! Thank kind Heaven, that I can die!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>But by a fortunate turn of affairs he escapes from his prison in -season to head the decisive battle.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i1p">"<i>Lacy.</i> Thank Heaven! thou'rt free!</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Aylmere</i> (<i>laughs</i>). Ay! once more free! within my grasp a sword.</div> -<div class="i0">And round me freemen! Free! as is the storm</div> -<div class="i0">About your hills; the surge upon your shore!</div> -<div class="i0">Free as the sunbeams on the chainless air;</div> -<div class="i0">Or as the stream that leaps the precipice,</div> -<div class="i0">And, in eternal thunder, shouts to Heaven,</div> -<div class="i0">That it is free, and will be free forever!</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Straw.</i> Now for revenge! Full long we've fed on wrong:</div> -<div class="i0">Give us revenge!</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Aylmere.</i> For you and for myself!</div> -<div class="i0">England from all her hills cries out for vengeance!</div> -<div class="i0">The serf, who tills her soil, but tastes not of</div> -<div class="i0">Her fruit, the slave that in her dungeon groans,</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span><div class="i0">The yeoman plundered, and the maiden wronged,</div> -<div class="i0">Echo the call, in shrieks! The angry waves</div> -<div class="i0">Repeat the sound in thunder; and the heavens,</div> -<div class="i0">From their blue vaults, roll back a people's cry</div> -<div class="i0">For liberty and vengeance!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i1p">"<i>Lord.</i> You will not dare to hold us?</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Aylmere.</i> Heaven forefend!</div> -<div class="i0">Hold a lord captive! Awful sacrilege!</div> -<div class="i0">Oh, no! We'll wait on you with trembling reverence!</div> -<div class="i0">Ay, veil our brows before you,—kneel to serve you!</div> -<div class="i0">What! hold a lord!</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Archbishop.</i> He mocks us.</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Aylmere.</i> Save your lordships!</div> -<div class="i0">Pembroke, take hence and strip these popinjays,</div> -<div class="i0">These moths that live for lust and slaughter! strip them,</div> -<div class="i0">Garb their trim forms and perfumed limbs in russet.</div> -<div class="i0">And drive them to the field! We'll teach you, lords,</div> -<div class="i0">To till the glebe you've nurtured with our blood;</div> -<div class="i0">Your brows to damp with honorable dew,</div> -<div class="i0">And your fair hands with wholesome toil to harden.</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Lord.</i> Thou wilt not use us thus?</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Aylmere.</i> And wherefore not?</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Lord.</i> Heaven gave us rank, and freed that rank from labor.</div> -<div class="i1p"><i>Aylmere.</i> Go to! thou speak'st not truth! Would Heaven, thou fool,</div> -<div class="i0">Wrest nature from her throne, and tread in dust</div> -<div class="i0">Millions of noble hearts, that worms like thee</div> -<div class="i0">Might riot in their filthy joys untroubled?</div> -<div class="i0">Heaven were not Heaven were such as ye its chosen."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>It is a terrible play, full of the ravage of fearful passions, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i7">"I seek not power:</div> -<div class="i0">I would not, like the seeled dove, soar on high</div> -<div class="i0">To sink clod-like again to earth. I know</div> -<div class="i0">No glory, save the godlike joy of making</div> -<div class="i0">The bondmen free. When we are free, Jack Cade</div> -<div class="i0">Will back unto his hills, and proudly smile</div> -<div class="i0">Down on the spangled meanness of the court,</div> -<div class="i0">Claiming a title higher than their highest,—</div> -<div class="i0">An honest freeman!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Liberty gives nor light nor heat itself;</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span><div class="i4">It but permits us to be good and happy.</div> -<div class="i4">It is to man what space is to the orbs,</div> -<div class="i4">The medium where he may revolve and shine,</div> -<div class="i4">Or, darkened by his vices, fall forever!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i5">"We cannot fail!</div> -<div class="i0">The right is with us, God is with the right,</div> -<div class="i0">And victory with God."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span> -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!"</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span></p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"The earth may ring from shore to shore</div> -<div class="i1p">With echoes of a glorious name,</div> -<div class="i0">But he whose loss our hearts deplore</div> -<div class="i1p">Has left behind him more than fame.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"For when the death-frost came to lie</div> -<div class="i1p">Upon that warm and mighty heart,</div> -<div class="i0">And quench that bold and friendly eye,</div> -<div class="i1p">His spirit did not all depart.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"The words of fire that from his pen</div> -<div class="i1p">Were flung upon the lucid page</div> -<div class="i0">Still move, still shake the hearts of men,</div> -<div class="i1p">Amid a cold and coward age.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"His love of truth, too warm, too strong,</div> -<div class="i1p">For hope or fear to chain or chill,</div> -<div class="i0">His hate of tyranny and wrong,</div> -<div class="i1p">Burn in the breasts he kindled still."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>Forrest sorrowed deeply and long over the death of this brave -man and devoted friend. He never forgot him, nor ceased, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>"William Leggett.—His Widow.—Disgraceful Conduct of -Ned Forrest.—Ingratitude of the Democracy.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span> -were the greatest stranger on earth,—refusing the common civility -due even to a stranger."</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Ladies and Gentlemen</span>,—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:</p> - -<p class="r"> -"'<span class="smcap">New York</span>, October 30th, 1843. -</p> - -<p>"'<span class="smcap">My dear Friend</span>,—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,</p> - -<p class="r"> -"'<span class="smcap">Elmira Leggett</span>.' -</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>At the conclusion of this pithy speech the audience rose and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span> -applauded with enthusiasm, amidst which Forrest retired for a few -seconds, and then re-appeared as the Cardinal Richelieu.</p> - -<p>The "Herald" of the next morning said:</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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 <i>that</i> witness."</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span></p> - - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>,—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.'</p> - -<p>"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 <i>any one</i> 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 -<i>them</i> nothing), or their boasted philanthropy through the medium -of the public press.</p> - -<p>"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 <i>professional</i> 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?</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p class="c"> -"Very respectfully,</p> -<p class="r7"> -"Your ob't servant,</p> -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span>."</p> -<p class="l"> -"<span class="smcap">Robert Morris</span>, Esq. -</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span></p> - -<p>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!"</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span></p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"'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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"'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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span> -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.'</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"'You shall not be separated, my little hero,' replied the -stranger, 'but shall remain together.' Then, turning to the -group, he said,—</p> - -<p>"'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.'</p> - -<p>"'I cheerfully assent to that,' replied Mr. Jones. 'What is the -other?'</p> - -<p>"'That if you should die, or circumstances should prevent -your continuing their protector, they shall be sent to me.'</p> - -<p>"'I also agree to that.'</p> - -<p>"'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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"'Who is that gentleman?' said I to one of the passengers, -whom I had drawn apart.</p> - -<p>"'Why, don't you know him? That is <span class="smcap">Forrest</span>, the tragedian!'"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span></p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Buffalo</span>, August 29th, 1843. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Eleanora</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span> -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 stop<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span>ping -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,</p> - -<p class="r9"> -"Yours, affectionately,</p> -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Catharine Forrest</span>." -</p> - -<p>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 inflec<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span>tions -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 id="c13" class="gesperrt">CHAPTER XIII.</h2></div> - -<p class="c little">SECOND PROFESSIONAL TOUR IN GREAT BRITAIN, AND ITS <br />CONSEQUENCES.—THE -MACREADY CONTROVERSY AND RIOT.</p> - - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i6">"And 'twas known</div> -<div class="i0">He sickened at all triumphs not his own."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span> -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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span> -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:</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span> -loss to know what this gesture meant, till an enlightened critic in -the gallery shouted out, 'That's right! sharpen it!'"</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>"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</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'The most arch deed of piteous massacre</div> -<div class="i2p">That ever yet this land was guilty of.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span> -friendly and impartial quarters in contrast to those of an opposite -character already cited.</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>The Sun called his Lear a decisive triumph, and used the -following words:</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>The praise given by the Times was still more emphatic:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span></p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Forrest was called for at the conclusion, and received -enthusiastic marks of approbation."</p> - -<p>The following extract is from a notice of his Othello by the -John Bull:</p> - -<p>"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 <i>was</i> -than their perception of what he <i>is</i>. On the whole, his representation -of Othello well merited the immense applause it -received."</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span> -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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"'List to that voice! Did ever discord hear</div> -<div class="i4">Sounds so well fitted to her untuned ear?'"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span> -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 name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</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.</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></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 <i>speech</i>: '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.'"</p></div> - -<p>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 cham<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span>pions -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,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'He would not flatter Neptune for his trident.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span> -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!</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—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."</p> - -<p>The following was the inscription on the testimonial, which -was a very elegant silver snuff-box: "Presented to Edwin For<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span>rest, -Esq., by the members of the Sheffield Theatrical Company, -as a mark of their esteem for him as an <span class="smcap">Actor</span> and a <span class="smcap">Man</span>. -January 30, 1846."</p> - -<p>Forrest replied in the following words:</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Once more, I thank you: and permit me to add that, should -any here, by life's changing scene, be '<i>discovered</i>' in my country, -I shall take sincerest pleasure in promoting his views to the best -of my ability."</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Praise to the Bard! His words are driven,</div> -<div class="i1p">Like flower-seeds by the far winds sown,</div> -<div class="i0">Where'er beneath the arch of heaven</div> -<div class="i1p">The birds of fame have flown.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Such graves as his are pilgrim-shrines,</div> -<div class="i1p">Shrines to no code or creed confined,—</div> -<div class="i0">The Delphian vales, the Palestines,</div> -<div class="i1p">The Meccas of the mind."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span> -which alone the character could be represented without a gross -violation of truth:</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span> -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:</p> - -<p>"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 <i>Irish</i> 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 <span class="smcap">MAN</span>, stirring him to the depths of his nature, as -with a trumpet's blast.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Forrest's Aylmere had nothing in it of the actor's trick,—it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span> -was not <i>acting</i>. 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!"</p> - -<p>At Cork he received the compliments of a poet in the happy -lines that follow:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"O'er the rough mass the Grecian sculptor bent,</div> -<div class="i1p">And, as his chisel shaped the yielding stone,</div> -<div class="i1p">Rising, the world-enchanting Venus shone,</div> -<div class="i0">And stood in youth and grace and beauty blent.</div> -<div class="i0">Thus o'er each noble speaking lineament</div> -<div class="i1p">Of thy fine face, thy genius, <span class="smcap">Forrest</span>, shines,</div> -<div class="i1p">And paints the picture in perfection's lines.</div> -<div class="i0">With plastic skill Prometheus formed the clay;</div> -<div class="i1p">Yet soul was wanting in the image cold</div> -<div class="i0">Till through its frame was shed life's glorious ray</div> -<div class="i1p">And fire immortal lit the mindless mould.</div> -<div class="i1p">Thus, while thy lips the poet's words unfold,</div> -<div class="i0">With the rough ore of thought thy fancies play,</div> -<div class="i1p">And, with a Midas power, turn all they touch to gold!"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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 -<i>en masse</i>, and paying the most marked tribute of their estimation. -On silence being restored, he said,—</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Ladies and Gentlemen</span>,—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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span> -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."</p> - -<p>He was quite as triumphant in Dublin as in Cork. The notice -of his opening in Othello shows this:</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span> -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."</p> - -<p>An event illustrative of the spirit of Forrest occurred on his -last evening in Dublin. The play was "Damon and Pythias."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"They are coming to the play; I must be idle.</div> -<div class="i1">Get you to a place,"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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:</p> - - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>"There are two legitimate modes of evincing approbation and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>"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 <i>soi-disant</i> critic who has never himself -been an actor.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p class="r7"> -"Yours respectfully,</p> -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span>."</p> -<p class="l"> -March, 1846. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>On the Fourth of July, Forrest presided at the celebration -of the anniversary of their national independence held by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span></p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span> -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</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'You see me here, you gods, a poor old man'—</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span> -to second, in this endeavor, my humble efforts, I will say to you, -in the language of the old Cardinal in the play,—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"'There's no such word as <i>fail</i>!'"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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!"</p> - -<p>He then received another flattering compliment from many of -the most prominent of his fellow-citizens:</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">New York</span>, Oct. 10th, 1846.</p> -<p> -"<span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest, Esq.</span> -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>,—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.</p> - -<p class="l5"> -"We are, with great respect,</p> -<p class="c"> -"Your obedient servants,</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td class="tdl">"<span class="smcap">Wm. Cullen Bryant</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Andrew H. Mickle</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">James Lawson</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">E. K. Collins</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Saml. Ward</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">George Davis</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Cornelius Mathews</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Moses Taylor</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Wm. F. Havemeyer</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Evert Duyckinck</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Parke Godwin</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">H. Weecks</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Fitz-Greene Halleck</span>, </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">E. R. Hart</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">B. F. Voorhis</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Isaac Townsend</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Prosper M. Wetmore</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A. Ingraham</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">James F. Otis</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Jonathan Sturgis</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">C. A. Clinton</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A. G. Stebbins</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Jas. T. Brady</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Theodore Sedgwick</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">David Graham, Jr.</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">George F. Thomson</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">L. B. Wyman</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Charles Minturn</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Francis Griffin</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">George Montgomery</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Dr. John F. Gray</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">John P. Cisco</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">John Britton</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span><span class="smcap">J. M. Miller</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Henry Wikoff</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Minthorne Tompkins</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">D. P. Ingraham</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Charles P. Daly</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Jas. Phalen</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Robt. H. Morris</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">W. M. Beckwith</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Edwd. Vincent</span>,</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Mortimer Livingston</span>,</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Charles M. Leupp</span>."</td></tr> -</table></div> - - -<p>To this letter he thus replied:</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">New York</span>, Oct. 12th, 1846. -</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Gentlemen</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"I remain, gentlemen, yours, with sentiments of the highest -respect and regard,</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Edwin Forrest</span>. -</p> - -<p class="l">"To Messrs. <span class="smcap">Wm. C. Bryant</span>, <span class="smcap">C. A. Clinton</span>, etc."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The first toast was "Our Country."</p> - -<p>The next—"The American Stage. Its brilliant morning gives -promise of a glorious day."</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span> -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 pro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span>fusely -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 <i>deserve</i> -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.'"</p> - -<p>The toast was drunk amidst a tempest of demonstrations.</p> - -<p>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 acknowledg<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span>ments -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.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">'All, all but truth falls still-born from the press.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Relying implicitly upon the verity of this proposition, I quietly -awaited the expression of the 'sober second thought of the peo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span>ple;' -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 <i>cliques</i> 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span> -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.)</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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 <i>only</i>) hope of perpetuity for the American Confederacy."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig8.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="c"> -Dear Lawson,<br /> -My Mother is dead.<br /> -That little sentence speaks<br /> -all I can say, and more<br /> -—much more.<br /> -Yours truly<br /> -Edwin Forrest.<br /> -<br /> -James Lawson.<br /> -June 25. 1847.<br /> -Philadelphia -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig9.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption center gesperrt sans">MOTHER OF EDWIN FORREST.</p> -</div> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span></p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Mother</span>,—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 <i>you</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"My dear mother, that your years may be long and increase -in comforts is the sincere prayer of your truly affectionate son,</p> - -<p class="r"> -"<span class="smcap">Edwin</span>." -</p> - -<p>From Vienna, under date of December 10th, 1835, he wrote -thus to her:</p> - - -<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Mother</span>,—You express a wish that it may not be -long before I am restored to you. You cannot wish this more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span> -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!"</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>In the diary he kept during his first visit to Europe, this quo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span>tation -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.'</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"'What shall I bring thee, mother mine?</div> -<div class="i2">What shall I bring to thee?</div> -<div class="i0">Shall I bring thee jewels that shine</div> -<div class="i2">In the depths of the shadowy sea?'</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"'Bring me that innocent brow, my boy!</div> -<div class="i2">Bring me that shadowless eye!</div> -<div class="i0">Bring me the tone of tender joy</div> -<div class="i2">That breathes in thy last good-bye!'"</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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 <i>is</i> 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:</p> - -<p class="c">"MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="i0">"Here is my mother's grave. Dear hallowed spot,</div> -<div class="i4">The flight of these long years has changed thee not,</div> -<div class="i4">Though all things else have changed; e'en this sad heart,</div> -<div class="i4">In all, save thoughts of thee, which will not start,</div> -<div class="i4">But, woven in my being, burn again</div> -<div class="i4">With fires the torch of memory kindles still.</div> -<div class="i4">Though I have wandered far in distant spheres,</div> -<div class="i4">And mixed in many scenes of joy and tears,</div> -<div class="i4">And found in all, perchance, some friends, and loved</div> -<div class="i4">One who was even more, I ne'er have roved</div> -<div class="i4">From thee, my mother, and thy sacred grave.</div> -<div class="i2">I could forget, albeit a task severe,</div> -<div class="i4">All forms, all faces, all that love e'er gave,</div> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span><div class="i2">Save thine, my mother,—that no time can wear.</div> -<div class="i4">I have but one sad wish when life is o'er,—</div> -<div class="i4">Whatever fate is mine, on sea or shore,</div> -<div class="i4">Whoe'er may claim my ashes for a trust,</div> -<div class="i4">They still may come to mingle with thy dust.</div> -<div class="i4">'Tis fit this troubled heart, when spent with care,</div> -<div class="i2">Again should turn to that unfailing breast,</div> -<div class="i4">And find at last the home my childhood shared,—</div> -<div class="i2">The quiet chamber of my mother's rest."</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The wish has been fulfilled, and the forms of mother and son -sleep side by side where no pain, no harsh word, ever comes.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 429]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 430]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 431]</a></span> -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. -</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="transnote"> - -<p class="c">Transcriber's Note:</p> - -<p>Variations in spelling and hyphenation are retained.</p> - -<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> - -<p>Punctuation has been retained as published.</p> - -<p>The tables of contents and steel plates reflect future volumes.</p> - -<p>EDWIN FORREST. ĘT. 21 has been corrected from at 28 in the list of steel plates</p> - -<p>Illustrations have been moved out of mid-paragraph.</p></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -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-h.htm or 61348-h.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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