It is to be understood that the acts or traits herein described which reflect particular credit on Edwin Forrest have not been paraded or proclaimed by himself, but have either been drawn from him by questioning or been discovered through inquiries set on foot and documents brought to light by friends who loved and honored him, knew how grossly he had been belied, and were determined that his true record should be set before the public. The writer hopes his readers will not here take a prejudice, imagining that they spy that frequent weakness of biographers, a tendency to undue laudation. All that he asks is that a candid examination be given to the evidence he adduces, and then that a corresponding decision be rendered. While he tries to do justice to the good side of his subject, he will be equally frank in exposing the ill side and pointing its morals.
The sources of information and authority made use of are as follows: First, conversations and correspondence, for five years, with Forrest himself; second, conversations and correspondence with his chief friends and intimates; third, half a dozen biographical sketches of considerable length, several of them in print, the others in manuscript; fourth, magazine articles and newspaper notices and criticisms, extending through his entire career, and reaching to the number of some twenty thousand; fifth, the mass of letters and papers left by him at his death, and made available for my purpose by the kindness of his executors. I must also make grateful acknowledgment, in particular, of valuable suggestions and aid from Gabriel Harrison and T. H. Morrell, two enthusiastic admirers of the player, whose loving zeal for him did not end with his exit.
CHAPTER II. PARENTAGE AND FAMILY.
Edwin Forrest made his first appearance on the stage of this world the ninth day of March, 1806, in the city of Philadelphia. His father, William Forrest, was a Scotchman, who had migrated to America and established himself in business as an importer of Scottish fabrics. He was of good descent. His father, the grandparent of the subject of this biography, is described as a large, powerfully-built man, residing, in a highly respectable condition, at Cooniston, Mid-Lothian, Edinburgh County, Scotland. In the margin is a copy of the family coat of arms. It was discovered and presented to Mr. Forrest by his friend William D. Gallagher. The motto, "Their life and their green strength are coeval," or, as it may be turned, "They live no longer than they bear verdure," happily characterizes a race whose hardy constitutions show their force in vigorous deeds to the very end. He who, in America, plumes himself on mere titular nobility of descent, may be a snob; but the science of genealogy, the tracing of historic lineages and transmitted family characteristics, deals with one of the keenest interests of the human heart,
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one of the profoundest elements in the destiny of man. And the increasing attention given to the subject in our country is a good sign, and not the trifling vanity which some superficial critics deem it. It deals with those complicated facts of crossing or mingling streams of blood and lines of nerve out of which—and it is a point of immeasurable importance—the law of hereditary communication of qualities and quantities, influences and destinies, is to be formulated.
William Forrest, after a long struggle against pecuniary embarrassments, gave up his mercantile business, and obtained a situation in the old United States Bank. On the closing of that institution, in connection with which his merits had secured him the friendly acquaintance of the celebrated millionaire Stephen Girard, he received a similar appointment in the Girard Bank. This office he held until his death, oppressed with the debts bequeathed by his failure, supporting his family with difficulty, and leaving them quite destitute at last.
Mr. Forrest was much esteemed for his good sense, his dignified sobriety of demeanor, his strict probity, his modesty and industry. Reserved and taciturn in manners, tall, straight, and slender in person, he was a hard-working, care-worn, devout, and honest man, who strove to be just and true in every relation. He had a pale and sombre face, with regular features, which lighted up with strong expressiveness when he was pleased or earnestly interested. He was somewhat disposed to melancholy, though not at all morose, his depression and reserve being attributable rather to weariness under his enforced struggle with unfavorable conditions than to any native gloom of temper or social antipathy.
Edwin, in his own later years, dwelt with veneration on the memory of his father, and was fond of recalling his early recollections of him, deeply regretting that there was no portrait or daguerreotype of him in existence. He was wont to say that among the sweetest memories that remained to him from his childhood were the rich and musical though plaintive tones of his father's voice, the ringing and honest heartiness of his occasional laugh, and the singular charm of his smile. He said, "I used to think, when my father smiled, the light bursting over his dark and sad countenance,—its very rarity lending it a double
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lustre,—I used to think I never saw anything so beautiful." The light of love and joy broke over his sombre features like sunshine suddenly gilding a gray crag.
The unobtrusive, toilsome life of this worthy man, unmarked by any salient points possessing general interest for the public, glided on in even course to the close, darkened by the shadows of material adversity, but brightened by the serene lights of domestic happiness and self-respect. In his poverty he knew many mortifications, many hardships of self-denial and anxious forethought. But in his upright character and blameless conduct, in his retiring and religious disposition, in the kind and respectful regard of all who knew him, he experienced the supports and consolations deserved by such a type of man,—a type common in the middle walks of American society, and as full of merit as it is free from all that is noisy or meretricious. He was not an educated man, not disciplined and adorned by the arts of literary and social culture. But his virtues made him eminently respectable in himself and in his sphere. He came of a good stock, with noble traditions in its veins, endowed with sound judgment, refined nervous fibre, a grave moral tone, and persevering self-reliance. He died of consumption, in 1819, in the sixty-second year of his age. In the death of his youngest son his blood was extinguished, and the fire went out on his family hearth. No member of his lineage remains on earth. The recollections of him, now dim threads in the minds of a few survivors, will soon fall into the unremembering maw of the past. Herein his life and fate have this interest for all, that they so closely resemble those of the great majority of our race. Few can escape this common lot of obscurity and oblivion. Nor should one care much to escape it. It is not possible for all to be conspicuous, famous, envied. Neither is it desirable. The genuine end for all is to be true and good, obedient to their duty, and useful and pleasant to their kind. If they can also be happy, why then, that is another blessing for which to thank God. Beyond a question the most illustrious favorites of fortune, amidst all the glitter and hurrah of their lot, are often less contented in themselves and less loved by their associates than those members of the average condition who attract so little attention while they stay and are forgotten so soon when they have gone. And, mortal limits once passed, what
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matters all this to the immortal soul? The rank of a man in the sight of God and his fate in eternity—which are the essential things alike for the loftiest and the lowliest—depend on considerations very different from the tinsel of his station or the noise of his career. One may be poor, weak, obscure, unfortunate, yet be a truly good and happy man. That is the essential victory. Another may be rich, powerful, renowned, enveloped in the luxuries of the earth. If his soul is adjusted to its conditions and wisely uses them, this is a boon still more to be desired; for he too has the essential victory. The real end and aim of life always lie within the soul, not in any exterior prize: still, the best outward conditions may well be the most coveted, although there is no lot which does not yield full compensations, if the occupant of that lot is what he ought to be.
The foregoing sketch, brief and meagre as it is, presents all for which the constructive materials exist.
In turning from the father to the mother of Edwin Forrest, the data are as simple and modest as before, and a still more genial office awaits the biographer. For she was an excellent example of a good woman, gentle, firm, judicious, diligent, cheerful, religious, ever faithful to her duties, the model of what a wife and a mother ought to be. Her son growingly revered and loved her to the very end of his life, as much as a man could do this side of idolatry; and he was anxious that her portrait should be presented and her worth signalized in this book. Ample opportunities will be afforded for doing this.
Rebecca Forrest was, in every sense of the words, a true mate and helpmeet to her husband. He reposed on her with unwavering affection, respect, and confidence, and found unbroken comfort and satisfaction there, whatever might happen elsewhere. Through twenty-five years of happy wedlock she shared all his labors and trials, joys and sorrows, and survived him for a yet longer period, fondly venerating his memory, scrupulously guarding and training his children. Her maiden name was Lauman. Born in Philadelphia, she was of German descent on both sides, her parents having migrated thither in early life, and set up a new hearth-stone, to continue here, in a modified form, the old Teutonic homestead left with tears beyond the sea.
William Forrest and Rebecca Lauman were married in 1795,
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he being at that time thirty-seven years old, she thirty-two. Seven children were born to them in succession at quite regular intervals of two years. The nameless boy who preceded Edwin in 1804 died at birth. The remaining six were all baptized in the Episcopal Church of Saint Paul, on Third Street, in Philadelphia, by the Rev. Doctor Pilmore, on the same day, November 13, 1813. The names of these six children, in the order of their birth, were Lorman, Henrietta, William, Caroline, Edwin, and Eleanora.
The first of these to die was Lorman, the eldest of the family. He was a tanner and currier by trade. He was over six feet in height, straight as an arrow, lithe and strong, and of a brave and adventurous disposition. He left home on a filibustering enterprise directed to some part of South America, in his twenty-sixth year, and nothing was heard of him afterwards. The following letter, written by Edwin to his brother William, who was then at Shepherdstown, in Virginia, announces the unfortunate design of poor Lorman:
"Philadelphia, August 1st, 1822.
"Dear Brother,—I received your favor of 29th July, and noted its contents. I am sorry to hear you have such ill luck. Your business in this city is very good.
"Lorman has returned from New York, and intends on Monday next to embark on board a patriot privateer, now lying in this port, for Saint Thomas, and from thence to South America, where, in the patriot service, he has been commissioned 1st lieutenant, at a salary of eighty dollars per month. He screens himself from mother by telling her he is going to Saint Thomas to follow his trade, being loath to inform her of the true cause. A numerous acquaintance accompany him on the said expedition. He wishes me to beg of you not to say anything when you return more than he has allowed himself to say. It is a glorious expedition, and had I not fair prospects in the theatric line I should be induced to go.
"Come on as early as possible. You may stand a chance of getting a berth in the Walnut Street Theatre, or, which is most certain and best, work at your trade.
"Mrs. Riddle has removed her dwelling to a romantic scene in Hamilton Villa. John Moore, advancing above mediocrity, per
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formed Alexander the Great for her benefit. Please write as early as possible. Till then adieu. In haste, your affectionate brother,
"Edwin."
The expedition proved an ill-starred one, and Lorman perished in it in some unrecorded encounter, passing out of history like an unknown breath. It seems fated that the paths to all great goals shall be strewn with the wrecks of untimely and irregular enterprises, unfortunate but prophetic precursors of the final triumphs. It has been so in the case of the many premature and wrongful attempts to grasp for the flag of the United States those backward and waiting territories destined, perhaps, as the harmonies of Providence weave themselves out, spontaneously to shoot into the web of the completed unity of the Western Continent.
Many a gallant and romantic fellow, many a reckless brawler, many a coarse and vulgar aspirant, many a crudely dreaming and scheming patriot, half inspired, half mad, has fallen a victim to those numerous semi-piratical attempts at conquest which have in the eyes of some flung on our flag the lustre of their promise, in the eyes of others, planted there the stains of their folly and crime. But if there be a systematic plan or divine drift and purport in history, every one of these efforts has had its place, has contributed its quota of influence, has left its seed, yet to spring up and break into flower and fruit. Then every life, buried and forgotten while the slow preparations accumulate, will have a resurrection in the ripe fulfilment of the end for which it was spent. Meanwhile, the brief and humble memory of Lorman Forrest sleeps with the nameless multitude of pioneers the forerunning line of whose graves invites the progress of free America all around the hemisphere.
William, the second son, expired under a sudden attack of bilious colic, at the age of thirty-four. He was a printer, and worked at this trade for several years, buffeted by fortune from place to place. The mechanical drudgery, however, irked him. The lack of opportunity and ability to rise and to better his condition also disheartened and repelled him; and before he was twenty-one he abandoned the business of type-setting for an employment more suited to his tastes. He adopted the theatrical profession and entered on the stage, of which he had been an
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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.
