Edwin Forrest.

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I. Prologue i

II. Early Youth 8

Prologue

SIMPLE record of the career of Edwin Forrest will be an instructive study to the men and women of his profession, and perhaps may prove pleasing to the reader for whom the details of the actor's life have interest. This record should be written while there are those living who can remember him at his first appearance, as well as at the close of his remarkable life, that errors of date may be corrected, and a fair and approved estimate of him may be given to posterity.

While it will not be necessary to exalt him as perfection, it will be impossible to deny that he had great and good impulses, and an aptitude for his calling beyond that of any other actor of his time. He was, moreover, essentially an American actor, — the first great one, — and his career has new and particular interest on that account.

Choosing his profession in early boyhood, Forrest achieved a great fame at an age when others were in the alphabet of their life-work. He passed through its humble stages so rapidly, that the want of the training which only gradual and regular advancement can give 'was evident to the last in his performances. To read the words of loving friends and enthusiastic critics, published since his death, it would be supposed that his progress was made without rivalry or opposition. But this is not the fact. Edwin Forrest came upon the stage at a time when the drama in America was in the full tide of success, when every theatre in the larger cities could boast an excellent stock company. To have distanced such , men as John R. Scott, David Ingersoll, Augustus Addams, Charles Eaton, Charles Webb, and James E. Murdoch, was a victory due as much to his personal character as to his merits as an actor. The annals of the stage will show that many of these men enjoyed a reputation equal, and in some cases superior, to that of Forrest. That he came to the front at last and left them all behind, is one of the glories of which his memory should not be deprived.

The condition of the actor at the time of the debut of Edwin Forrest was singularly happy as well as singularly unfortunate. The lovers of the drama who filled the theatre when the old plays were presented could not show their regard for their favorites more effectually, so they imagined, than by inviting them to social meetings, where indulgence became the ruin of some of the brightest intellects of that day. Many had fallen about him, and with such examples Forrest had the strength and the wisdom to shape his course by a safer guide than that which his gifted fellows had so blindly chosen.

PROLOGUE .

His more thoughtful admirers have pronounced his style entirely original, — a word so often misapplied in theatrical criticism that it has deceived many readers. If to be original means that the player must adopt an absolutely new style of acting, create new and hitherto unattempted, undreamed-of situations in the standard old plays, and present them in a shape unlike that in which they had previously been given, then there can be no such thing as an original actor. The so-called “ business ” of nearly all the commonly acted plays has been handed down through generations of actors, amended and corrected in many cases by each performer, but never radically changed. New readings of certain passages have been substituted for old, but the traditional “ points ” have been preserved ; personal characteristics and physical peculiarities finding ample freedom of expression within the old rulings of each play. Styles of acting, too, have changed as little as the “business” of the drama.

There have been three methods of acting, and only three, upon the English stage since the restoration of Charles the Second, during whose reign the theatres were reopened in England after their long night of Puritanism. These have been illustrated in our own time by Forrest, Macready, and the elder Booth. Modifications of these styles have been seen ; but the groundwork remains, which admits of space for individual freedom, but denies complete independence of the old forms. At times one style has prevailed, at others its rival ; and the claim of originality which one generation of play-goers has set up for its favorite has

EDWIN FORREST.

arisen from the misfortune which yields to the actor only the recollection of his work during the hour of its performance, so that he cannot fairly be judged by those who have not seen and known him on the stage. The generation that witnessed the advent of Edmund Kean knew not that his school was that of Garrick, dead then less than half a century. The method of Edwin Forrest, on the other hand, dates even farther back : through the Kembles to Betterton and Barton Booth, and perhaps to the same source through Cooper, with whom he played, and whose acting was undoubtedly that upon which his own style was based, for it was charged against him, in his early years, that he was a servile copyist of this great artist, — a statement as false and groundless as that of his entire originality.

A glance at the condition of the theatre at the time of Edwin Forrest’s appearance will reveal how much he gained from those who preceded him, and how much he added to the splendor of the stage and its traditions. This will properly preface the story of his life.

The impulse given to the drama in America by the genius of the actors who crossed the Atlantic to our own shores at the close of the last century had not been exhausted when Forrest came upon the stage. Many of those artists, who had been educated in the best of the great English circuits, were veterans at this time ; and the eager eyes of the young Forrest might nightly see such men as Maywood, Jefferson, Warren, and Wood in the regular stock, while such meteors as Cooper and Cooke occasionally flashed across the theatrical firmament. The character of the plays deter-

PROLOGUE.

mined the style of the actor. All the traditions of the stage were in the possession of these gifted men and women, and Forrest could see his own beloved “ Lear ” acted in the original text, and with all the stage business, which had been handed down through generations of performers, perhaps direct from Richard Burbage, who had listened to the master himself in that dim old theatre which stood beside the Thames.

In Forrest’s early days it was the fashion to admire the grand works of the old dramatists; and modern sensational plays were yet unborn. Each piece was cast to the full strength of the company, and no actor was considered too good for his part, however humble it might be. Each year brought the same order of plays, varied only by a revival, perhaps, of one of the less familiar old tragedies or comedies, such as “ Every Man in his Humor” or “The Fatal Dowry.” Thus the play-goer became acquainted not only with the manner of the old actors, but with the very text of the plays themselves. The best qualities of the drama in the mother-country had been transplanted to a fresher and more vigorous soil, and the harvest was reaped in a group of players unsurpassed for talent in any age of the theatre.

Although the accessories of the stage were still poor and mean, the audiences were recompensed by the genius of the actors, who could fire the imagination and eke out the illusion even in face of the many disadvantages by which they were surrounded. Mr. Forrest never fully escaped from the influences of that era. To the last he adhered to many of the prejudices then

EDWIN FORREST.

formed, scorning all the appliances by which modern ingenuity has embellished the theatre. He was fond of referring to the days of Shakspere himself, when a bit of rudely painted canvas, stretched from side to side of the stage, upon which was scrawled, “ This is a house,” “This is a wood,” represented the sum of the theatre’s stock of scenery. He was wont to declare that in those blessed days it was absolutely necessary to be an actor, as no aid from without was known or dreamed of.

In one of his later travelling experiences he reached a small town where the stage appliances were beneath contempt, and where this theory of his might find a test. His manager feared to tell him how meagre were the scenes which must represent Elsinore ; but as night approached he was forced, of course, to speak. He had hung two American flags at the stage openings, and these represented drop curtains as well as palace, platform, chamber, and castle. Instead of anger and annoyance, Forrest only smiled as he saw these preparations, and he declared that nothing could be better. He would show the audience that “ Hamlet ” could be played in that foreign frame with none of its powers shorn or weakened, while his own patriotism would stimulate his energies, as his eyes rested on the banners of his native land.

In enumerating the influences under which Edwin Forrest entered the theatre, we should not omit to name that which lay in the familiar good-fellowship of the old actors. They did not always put off with the garb the cheerfulness or the sociability of the character

PROLOGUE.

they had lately been enacting. Falstaff often carried into private life the habits and characteristics of his stage existence, the line of identity and assumption not always being very clearly drawn.

Our young player, who had already tasted the delicious sweets of an amateur triumph, was able to learn from the gracious lips of older actors incidents of thenbright lives, which opened now and then to his gaze a tempting vista down which his own future glory might be discerned. As so much of stage knowledge is conventional and unwritten, especially in the earlier and mechanical outlines, such an experience was of great value to the youth who was soon to appear as Young Norual , and create an impression so profound that the after-glories of the actor’s life seemed poor beside that boyish success.

With a tender farewell to those heroes of the past whose example did so much to mould the early career of Edwin Forrest, we may now turn to the events of the life upon the threshold of which we have perhaps lingered too long.

EDWIN FORREST.

Chapter II. Early Youth

EDWIN FORREST was born in the city of Philadelphia, March 9, 1806. His father, a Scotchman, had emigrated to this country during the last year of the preceding century. His calling was that of an importer of Scotch fabrics. He married, in 1795, Rebecca Lauman, a lady of German descent on both sides, but of American birth. Of this marriage seven children were bom, the eldest of whom died in infancy. Of the six who lived to maturity, three were boys, three girls ; and their names are here given in the order of their birth, — Lauman, Henrietta, William, Caroline, Edwin, Eleanora. Thus the subject of this memoir was tlie last of the sons, the youngest but one of the family. The father, William Forrest, having been unsuccessful in business, became a servant of the United States Bank, where he remained until the closing of that institution. He was then employed by Stephen Girard, in the Girard Bank, in which service he died in 1819, of consumption, aged sixty-two years. He had accumulated nothing in the way of worldly wealth, and left only his own good name as a legacy for his children. The burden of life and labor thus abruptly laid

EARLY YOUTH.

down was at once taken up by the widow, who gave instant proof of her ability by the faithful support of her family under the trying conditions of poverty, and the affliction which his loss entailed. She was a woman of great strength of character, of unusual firmness, and, withal, of a loving, affectionate nature. Such mothers are always to be found at the starting-point of every great man’s career. Opening a small shop, she soon succeeded in gaining sufficient income for their joint support, while she was thoughtful enough to place her growing boys in situations where they might aid in the task of providing for the fold. There were to be no drones in that hive, and the industry of the mother animated the spirits of the children. Our business lies with the youth whose name heads these pages. We leave the others, to follow Edwin Forrest. Our path will lead us back to them again, as we pass along, and we may dismiss them now.

Before the death of the father, and while actual want was still unknown in the unpretending home, the children were sent to school, and their future laid out by the wisdom of both parents. Edwin, like many others of his profession, was designed for the ministry, and as the lad early developed certain qualities which are supposed to point directly to that honorable pursuit, the choice of the parents seemed approved by Providence. Before the age of eleven, the future Channing had attracted admiring listeners by the music of his voice and by the aptness of his mimicry. Those qualities were developed chiefly in the repeating of such wise words as fell from the lips of his teacher and friend,

ED IVIN FORREST.

Father Pilmore, an eminent divine for whom Edwin Forrest entertained a lifelong reverence.

The boy’s memory was remarkable. He could recite whole passages of his preceptor’s sermons. Perched upon a chair or stool, crowned with the proud approval of family and friends, the young mimic filled the hearts of his listeners with fervent hope of his coming success in the fold of their beloved church. These hopes were destined to be met with disappointment. The bias of the future leader of the American stage was only faintly outlined as yet : his hour of development was still to come.

The anecdotes of his early years are meagre and Uninteresting. We may be sure he did not escape the hard rubs with which boyhood prepares the ground for the struggles of manhood. We have reports of encounters wherein the victory was his, though not obtained without sanguinary marks of the conflict, showing how near defeat the conqueror had been. In the early wordy preliminaries of these bouts we hear of such expressions as would have shocked the Rev. Mr. Pilmore, and made the staid mother blush for her son’s future ; adjectives which, however they may emphasize passion, are still not pleasant to record. Edwin Forrest’s youth was that of nearly all city lads whose parents are too poor to provide watchful guards over the companions of their children.

He must have learned early the road to the theatre, — permitted to go by the family, or going, perhaps, without the knowledge or consent of his seniors in the overworked household ; for before he had passed his tenth year our young sermonizer and street champion

EARLY YOUTH.

1 1

was a member of a juvenile Thespian club, and before eleven he had made his appearance at one of the regular theatres, in the role of a female. In the habiliments of the weaker sex, adorned for the play by unskilful hands, in such garments as could be collected hastily and secretly from several sources, which covered a figure always the reverse of feminine, and were worn in a manner far removed from the dainty grace belonging to such robes, our hero came from behind the scenes for his debut ; no doubt with a palpitation of heart suitable to his disguise, but in no other way belonging to his rble. His reception was a shriek of laughter which drowned his efforts to speak. His grotesque appearance convulsed the audience, accustomed even to amateur atrocities of a kindred nature ; and, after a vain attempt to arrange a hostile meeting with a boy in the pit whom he had especially observed as one of his most conspicuous critics, he was hustled ignominiously from the scene, to weep with rage over his defeat, and no doubt to attribute his failure to the unappreciative public, always the criminal in such cases. His first experience had taught him, at least, that his genius lay not in the line of feminine characters. He returned to the private station from which he had thus emerged considerably chagrined, and with deep regret that he had not “ had it out ” with his loud-voiced enemy in front of the stage.

His devotion to the drama was not permitted to interfere with his home duties. He had been regularly apprenticed successively to a printer, a cooper, and a ship-chandler before the age of thirteen ; but we have no record of his services, or the date of their continuance, in any of these unpoetical callings. We may be sure his happiness lay in the evasion of his work whenever he could steal a visit to the shrine where his beloved Thespis reigned supreme. He soon outgrew the ignominy of his first failure, and again and again sought to overcome the disgrace by a fresh appearance. To his appeals the irate manager lent a deaf ear; he had not forgotten the disaster of that eventful night, and did not desire to see it repeated. The sacred portals that led to the enchanted ground of the stage were closed against young Forrest, the warden being instructed not to let the importunate boy pass the door. At last, in desperation, he resolved to storm the citadel, to beat down the faithful guard, and to carry the war into the enemy’s camp. One night he dashed past the astonished guardian of the stage entrance just as the curtain fell upon one of the acts of a play. He emerged before the footlights, eluding all pursuit, dressed as a harlequin ; and before the audience had recovered from its astonishment at this scene not set down in the bills, the baffled, but not subdued, aspirant had delivered the lines of an epilogue in rhyme with so much effect that, before he could be seized by the astounded stage manager and hurled from the theatre, he had attracted public notice, successfully won his surprised audience, and not only secured immunity from punishment for his temerity, but actually gained that respect in the manager’s estimation which he had so long and so vainly striven to acquire.

Forrest had made a reputation as a mimic among his fellows, before whom he was often called upon to show

EARLY YOUTH.

his skill. He was especially noted for his recital of Goldsmith’s epilogue, beginning, —

“Hold, Prompter, hold!”

These performances took place in a small bam or loft hastily improvised for the use of the lad and his companions. Edwin was regarded as the chief of this youthful histrionic band, not only on account of his superior ability, but because of his already powerful physique, and a certain awe which his manner inspired in the breasts of his associates. He knew more of the world than they, and was the envied possessor of an awful knowledge to which they could not pretend. He had seen the sacred domain of the theatre in all its mysterious glory, not only as an auditor, but as an actor as well. He had even stood erect in the presence of some of those great ones whose names adorned the play-bills, and were such marvels to the eyes of the young and the uninitiated. This is a period in the life of Forrest which nearly all boys reared in cities can recall ; for who has not passed through the first awful but delicious mysteries of the play-bill, the theatre, the performance ? Who has not, under the youthful roundabout, felt his heart stirred by the boyish associations of the drama?

The power to attract attention by his recitations meeting with encouragement in such humble surroundings, the young actor soon sought out opportunities on a larger platform and before more critical hearers. At a public exhibition of the effects of oxide gas he was asked by the exhibitor to become the medium of illustration. He consented eagerly. Under its effect he

EDWIN FORREST.

dashed wildly into one of the soliloquies of “ Richard the Third,” and had wellnigh ranted the whole of the tent scene, until where Richard , alarmed by the shouts of his murdered victims, cries out, “ Give me another horse ; bind up my wounds,” when, the effects of the gas passing suddenly away, the speaker awoke to find himself deafened by the plaudits of an audience which was surprised and delighted by the unexpected performance.

This incident made an impression upon the celebrated lawyer, John Swift, who at once took an interest in the lad, and was instrumental in shaping his career. By his aid Forrest was promised an appearance at the Walnut Street Theatre, then one of the leading theatres of the country. Many difficulties had to be overcome before the efforts of Mr. Swift were successful. Wood and Warren, the veteran managers, had been unhappy in their debutants , none of whom had gained a permanent footing ; but the kindly interest of his patron prevailed at last against the prejudices of the managers, and the opportunity to appear was offered. He selected Young Norval, in Home’s tragedy of “Douglas,” then the crucial test by which many a young beginner essayed the favor of an audience.

Supported by the kindness of two friends, — Mr. S. K. Levin, a liquor merchant, and Edwin A. Carpenter, a grocer, — he was enabled to receive some preliminary teaching in elocution from Lemuel G. White, a distinguished professor in that branch of the dramatic art. Mr. White had himself hoped to be an actor, but had failed on several occasions to secure an engagement. He was a devoted believer in the Garrick- Kean school,

EARLY YOUTH.

— the natural school, so called, — as opposed to the declamatory or artificial method, of which the Kembles were the exponents in our century. James E. Murdoch, the most gifted elocutionist and the most charming high comedian of his day, and David Ingersoll, “ the silver tongued,” were among the noted scholars of this master.

The long-hoped-for night had come at last. All the hours which had led to this supreme one were over, and their anxieties and hopes put by, to make room for an event the greatest, so far, in the life of the youth of whom we are writing. The aid of friends, their support and encouragement, the teaching of White, the experience gained in all the good performances he had seen, in all the poor ones he had himself given, had only been preparatory to this auspicious night, — the 27th of November, 1820.

The theatre was filled by an audience eager to welcome a genius, but critical and severe to reprove impudent assumption. The future Master of the American Stage, then fourteen years of age, — a boy in years, a man in character, — announced as “ A young Gentleman of this City,” surrounded by a group of veteran actors who had for many years shared the favor of the public, began a career which was as auspicious at its opening as it was splendid in its maturity. White had characterized the lad as hobbledehoy on first seeing him, and felt doubtful of his success ; but he gave no sign of awkwardness now, — the pupil was worthy of his master. At his entrance he won the vast audience at once by the grace of his figure, and the modest bearing which was natural to him. Something of that magnetism which he ex-

1 6

EDWIN FORREST.

ercised so effectively in later years, now attracted all who heard him, and made friends even before he spoke. In the scenes of tenderness with his mother, his melting voice went to every heart, and won for him the tribute of tears ; in the scenes of tumult and defiance his proud spirit soared to a surprising height, and the rapturous applause which followed testified to his power ; and when the last dying exclamation of the so-long-orphaned Norval fell upon the ears of his mother, all the pent-up feelings of the assemblage gave way to a torrent of approbation, which called the blushing youth before the curtain, covered him with the glory of resounding cheers, and filled his heart with those glad sounds for which the actor lives and endures the trials of his lot.

William B. Wood, in his “ Personal Recollections of the Stage,” published in 1854, gives the cast of “ Douglas ” on this occasion in full. It is worthy of preservation here : —

Douglas (Young Norval) .... Edwin Forrest.

Lord Randolph Frederick Wheatley.

Glenalvon William B. Wood.

Old Norval William Warren.

Lady Randolph Mrs. H. A. Williams.

Anna Mrs. Joseph Jefferson.

Mrs. Williams is better remembered as Mrs. Robert Maywood ; Frederick Wheatley was the father of William and Emma Wheatley (Mrs. Mason) ; William Warren was the father of William Warren, so well known in Boston to-day; and Mrs. Jefferson was the grandmother of the present Joseph Jefferson.

It seems incredible that Edwin Forrest was only four-

EARLY YOUTH.

1 7 teen years old at this time. So much experience had been his, so much had been accomplished, that it appears more than likely that William Wood was right when he said that the debutant was “ sixteen years of age.” Even adding these disputed years to his life, we have a marvel of achievement without a parallel. He was yet to pass through a severe experience before gaining a fixed place upon the stage ; but he had demonstrated his fitness, he had proved his claim to merit, and convinced his friends of the metal that was in him.

Still retaining his place in his shop, Forrest devoted his spare hours to study, under the advice and direction of wise friends. He was allowed to reappear, December 29th, as Frederick, in “Lovers’ Vows,” repeating his first success ; and on the 8th of January, 182 1, he benefited as Octavian , in “ The Mountaineers,” a play associated with the early glories of Edmund Kean. In this year, also, he made his first and only venture as a manager, boldly taking the Prune Street Theatre and giving a successful performance of Richard the Third , which not only pleased the audience, but brought him in a few dollars of profit. He made many attempts to secure a regular engagement in one of the Western circuits, where experience could be gained, and at last, after many denials, he was employed by Collins and Jones to play leading juvenile parts in their theatres in Pittsburg, Cincinnati, and Lexington. Thus, at the age of sixteen or eighteen, Edwin Forrest enrolled himself as a regular member of a theatrical company, and broke loose from trade forever.

Glancing back over this part of his life, we must stop to mark how persistent was the forward progress, how unfaltering the purpose, and how steady the stride towards fame and success of the young ship-chandler’s apprentice. He had a good common-school education, nothing more ; but a brave heart, an iron will, and impulses which struggled towards the highest in all his aims. He had already gained the friendship of such men as John Swift, and Alexander Wilson the celebrated ornithologist, who took a deep interest in the struggling lad, and gave him aid and encouragement. He had not permitted his bias for the theatre to interfere with the duty which bound him to do his share in providing for the family left destitute by his father’s death. He was a good son to a noble mother, and a good brother to his other kin, while his soul chafed against the bars which shut him out from his true career, and tied him to the desk wThere his galling routine lay. His achievements were already of no mean order, as we have seen. He had laid the foundations of his future career with much sagacity, and gave every assurance that the boy would become the father of the man.

Although he had disappointed the fond anticipations of his mother, who had in fancy seen her beloved son in priest’s orders, she must have found solace in the conviction that one who had so properly carried out the duties of a son must of necessity be guided towards the right, however wide of his parents’ plans his career might be.

THE STROLLER .

Chapter III. The Stroller

BIDDING farewell to home and family, to friends and companions, Edwin Forrest crossed the Alleghany Mountains to begin at Pittsburg, in October, 1822, the serious business of his life. His path, which hitherto had lain along pleasant places, was now to widen into that crowded thoroughfare where man jostles man in the struggle for the goal, and along which are strewn the bodies of the many who faint and fall by the way. His endowments were youth, good health, high spirits, and a superb physique, — qualities essential to success in any calling, but particularly so in the race for histrionic honors. He had seen the best models, he had sat at the feet of the greatest masters of his art then known in any land ; he had tasted the sweets of popularity early, and had found savor therein. He was now to set out upon a new venture. The amateur had filled his cup of happiness with the admiration which is spontaneously given ; he had gained thunders of applause for his unpaid labors, but was now to begin his work in earnest, and to toil for bread. He was destined to find his honors well earned ere they were gained, his bread dearly bought before it reached his lips.