The impression he made, however, his great and unquestionable success, are best shown by certain salient facts with which the dramatic critics, prejudiced or unprejudiced, had nothing to do: the brilliant public banquet given in his honor by the Garrick Club, with Thomas Noon Talfourd in the chair; the exhibition, at the Somerset House, of his full-length portrait as Macbeth in the dagger-scene; and the numerous valuable presents made to him by various eminent men, including a superb original oil-portrait of Garrick;—these tell their own story. At the close of his first engagement a testimonial was given him by his fellow-actors, every one of them spontaneously joining in the contribution. It was, as the "Morning Herald" described it, "a splendid snuff-box of tortoise-shell, lined and mounted with gold, with a mosaic lid, and the inscription,—
"To Edwin Forrest, Esq., the American tragedian, from the performers of the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, in testimony of their admiration of his talent as an actor, and their respect for him as a man. 'His worth is warrant for his welcome hither.'—Shakspeare."
The prolonged stay of Forrest in England was ostensibly to continue for another season the brilliant professional life there opened to him. But, in reality, a tenderer attraction constituted his principal motive. He had met in the fashionable circles of the art life of London a young lady of extreme beauty and of accom
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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,—
"Oh, time is sweet when roses meet,
With June's soft breath around them;
And sweet the cost when hearts are lost,
If those we love have found them;"
and it was in 1837, on one of the fairest days of an English June,—a day which, no doubt, they fondly supposed would stand thenceforth as the most golden in all the calendar of their lives,—that the happy pair were married, in the grand old cathedral of Saint Paul, in London. The officiating clergyman was the Rev. Henry Hart Milman, a man equally renowned as preacher, scholar, historian, and poet. The service was performed in an imposing
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manner, before a brilliant assemblage, with every propitious omen and the loving wishes of the multitude of friends whose sympathies were there from both sides of the sea. Then followed the long, delicious honeymoon, in which newly-wed lovers withdraw from the world to be all the world to each other. Every benediction hovered over them,—love, youth, health, beauty, fortune, the blessing of parents, the pride of friends, the gilded vision of popularity. Nor was the entrancement of their dream broken when they found themselves, in the autumn, at home in the Republic of the West, welcomed with outstretched hands by the friendly throng, who, as they came in sight, stood shouting on the shore.
chapter xii
MERIDIAN OF SUCCESS AND REPUTATION.—NEW RÔLES OF FEBRO,
MELNOTTE, AND JACK CADE.
The interest of his friends and of the public at large in the returning actor was increased by the laurels he had won in the mother-country, and the prize hanging on his arm, whose beauty lent a choicer domestic lustre to his professional glory. Wherever he played, the theatre was crowded to overflowing, and the receipts and the applause were unprecedented. The only alloy in his cup—and this was not then so copious or so bitter as it afterwards became—was the acrimonious and envenomed criticism springing alike from the envious and malignant, who cannot see any one successful without assailing him, and from those whose tastes were displeased or whose prejudices were offended by his peculiarities.
While fulfilling an engagement in Boston, he received a very characteristic letter from Leggett, which may serve as a specimen of their correspondence. It will be seen that the tragedian had urged on the editor the writing of a play for him on the theme of Jack Cade and his rebellion. He afterwards induced Conrad to reconstruct his play of Aylmere, which in its original form was not suited to his ideas.
"New York, Wednesday evening, Oct. 25th.
"My dear Forrest,—I was in hopes of having a line from you before this time, telling the Boston news, or so much of it at least as concerns you and yours, which is what I care to hear. But you are determined, I suppose, to maintain the character you have so well earned, of being a most dilatory correspondent. I have had the pleasure of hearing this evening, however, through another channel, that you are drawing full houses; and I trust that all is going on well in other respects. Placide and I took a walk
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out to Bloomingdale last Sunday afternoon, and as we were returning we conjectured that you and Catherine were just sitting down at the board of Mr. and Mrs. Manager Barry.
"I have been down town this evening for the first time these several days. I extended my walk to the Park Theatre, where Miss Tree was performing Rosalind. The house was about $500; that at the National, Vandenhoff, could not have exceeded $300. Miss Tree's engagement will conclude with her benefit on Friday evening, when she will probably have between $900 and $1000, making her average for the eleven nights about $650. This is considered a very handsome business. Mad. Caridora Allen opens on Monday evening, and her box sheet already shows a fine display of fashionable names. She will have a full and fine house. She has been giving a touch of her quality at some of the soirées of the exclusives, and is pronounced just the thing. The Woodworth benefit limps tediously along. The returning of your money makes a good deal of talk, and the conduct of the committee is much censured. The motive, to injure you, and foist up Vandenhoff at your expense, will meet with a sad discomfiture. My good public is too clear-sighted to be humbugged in so plain a matter.
"I hope you continue to make yourself acquainted with that insolent patrician Coriolanus. He was not quite so much of a democrat as you and I are; but that is no reason why we should not use him if he can do us a service. I wish Shakspeare, with all his divine attributes, had only had a little of that ennobling love of equal human liberty which is now animating the hearts of true patriots all over the world, and is destined, ere long, to effect a great and glorious change in the condition of mankind. What a vast and godlike influence he might have exerted in moulding the public mind and guiding the upward progress of nations, if his great genius had not been dazzled by the false glitter of aristocratic institutions, and blinded to the equal rights of the great family of man! Had I a little of his transcendent intellect, I would assert the principles of democratic freedom in a voice that should 'fill the world with echoes.'
"My own affairs remain in statu quo. I am still undetermined what to do. I have been solicited to write for the democratic 'Monthly Review,' just established in Washington, and there is
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some talk among the politicians here of getting up a morning paper, and offering me the place of principal editor. I have been turning over the Jack Cade subject; but I confess I am almost afraid to undertake it. The theme is a grand one, and I warm when I think of it; but I must not mistake the ardor of my feelings in the sacred cause of human liberty for ability to manage the mighty subject. Besides, the prejudices and prepossessions of the world are against me, with Shakspeare on their side. Who must not feel his feebleness and insignificance when called to enter the list against such an antagonist? I must do something, however, and shortly; for I can now say, with Jaffier, though unlike him I am not devout enough to thank Heaven for it, that I am not worth a ducat.
"I took a walk out to New Rochelle on Monday afternoon, and returned yesterday morning. I need not say that you were the theme of much of the conversation while I was there. Many questions were asked me concerning your 'handsome English wife.'
"I shall long very earnestly for the 18th of December to arrive, when I count upon enjoying another month of happiness. 'How happily the days of Thalaba went by' during the five weeks of your late sojourn in this city! I shall not speedily forget those pleasant evenings.
"It is past midnight now, and Elmira has been long in bed; otherwise I should be enjoined to add her love to mine.
"Good-night, and God bless you both.
"Yours ever,
"Wm. Leggett."
Not long after his return from England, some of the most distinguished of his fellow-citizens joined in giving him the compliment of a public dinner. The festival was of a sumptuous and magnificent character, and drawing together, as it did, nearly all the marked talent and celebrity of Philadelphia, the honor was felt to be one of no ordinary value. Nicholas Biddle was president, supported by six vice-presidents and eleven managers. The banquet was held on the 15th of December, 1837. Over two hundred gentlemen sat down at the table. Mr. Biddle being kept away by a severe illness, the chair was occupied by Hon. J. R.
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Ingersoll; Mr. Forrest was on his right, and in the immediate vicinity were Chief-Justice Gibson, Judge Rogers, Recorder Conrad, Colonel Swift, Mayor of the city, Dr. Jackson, of the University of Pennsylvania, Prof. Mitchell, Dr. Calhoun, Dean of Jefferson College, Morton McMichael, Robert Morris, R. Penn Smith, and Messrs. Dunlap, Banks, Bell, and Doran, members of the Convention then sitting to revise the Constitution of the State. Leggett was present from New York, by special invitation.
The room was elegantly ornamented. The name of the chief guest was woven in wreaths around the pyramids of confectionery, branded on the bottles of wine, and embossed about various articles of the dessert. No pains were spared to add to the entertainment every charm of grace and taste adapted to gratify its recipient. One of the city papers said, the next morning,—
"On no former occasion in Philadelphia has there been so numerous and brilliant an assemblage for any similar purpose. The selectness of the company, the zeal and enthusiasm they exhibited, and the cordial greetings they bestowed, must have been especially gratifying to the feelings of Mr. Forrest, springing as these testimonials did from a proud recognition of his worth as a townsman."
The following letter explained the absence of the chosen president of the day:
"Philadelphia, Dec. 15th, 1837.
"Hon. R. T. Conrad,
"My dear Sir,—I regret much that indisposition will prevent me from joining your festival to-day. Feeling, as I do, an intense nationality, which makes the fame of every citizen the common property of the country, I rejoice at all the developments of intellectual power among our countrymen in every walk of life, and I am always anxious to do honor to high faculties combined with personal worth. Such a union the common voice ascribes to Mr. Forrest, and I would have gladly added my own applause to the general homage. But this is impracticable now, and I can therefore only convey through you a sentiment which, if it wants the vigorous expression of health, has at least a sick man's sincerity. It is,—
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"The genius of our country, whenever and wherever displayed,—honor to its triumphs in every field of fame.
"With great regard, yours,
"N. Biddle."
The cloth having been removed, Mr. Ingersoll rose, and said,—
"The friends of the drama are desirous of paying a merited tribute of respect and esteem to one of the most distinguished and successful of its sons. Well-approved usage upon occasions not dissimilar has pointed to this our cheerful greeting as a fitting method for carrying their desires into effect. It combines the compliment of public and unequivocal demonstration with the kindness and cordiality of social intercourse. It serves to express at once opinions the result of deliberate judgment, and sentiments warm and faithful from the heart.
"To our guest we owe much for having devoted to the profession which he has selected an uncommon energy of character and peculiar personal aptitudes. They are both adapted to the happiest illustrations of an art which, in the absence of either, would want a finished representative, but, by a rare combination of faculties in him, is enabled effectually 'to hold the mirror up to nature.' It is an art, in the rational pleasures and substantial advantages derived from which all are free to participate, and a large proportion of the educated and liberal-minded avail themselves of the privilege. It is an art which, for thousands of years, has been practised with success, admired, and esteemed; and the men who have adorned it by their talents have received the well-earned plaudits of their age, and the honors of a cherished name.
"To our guest we owe the acknowledgment (long delayed, indeed) of the sternest critics of an experienced and enlightened public, not our own, that of one department at least of elegant literature our country has produced the brightest living representative.
"To our guest we owe especial thanks that he has been the prompt, uniform, and liberal patron of his art; that dramatic genius and merit have never appealed to him for aid in vain; that he has devoted the best-directed generosity, and some of his most brilliant professional efforts, to their cause.
