The reception of Forrest in Scotland, notably at Glasgow and Edinburgh, was all that he could have asked. The first literary organ of Edinburgh pronounced its judgment thus: "The three leading characteristics of Mr. Forrest's acting appear to us to be, a bold intellectual grasp of the written soul of his author; a remarkably vigorous and striking execution, accompanied by an apparent contempt for mere conventional rules or customs; and a rare faculty of expressing by the face what neither pen can write nor tongue tell."
It was at Edinburgh that the actor performed what may perhaps be called the most unfortunate and ill-omened deed in his life. Attending the theatre to see Macready play Hamlet, he had applauded several good points made by his rival. But in the scene where the court are about assembling to witness the play within the play, and Hamlet says to Horatio,—
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"They are coming to the play; I must be idle.
Get you to a place,"
Macready gallopaded two or three times across the stage, swinging his handkerchief in rapid flourishes above his head. As he was affecting to be mad, it does not seem that the action was in any extreme out of character. But it struck Forrest as inexcusably unworthy, and a desecration of the author. Accordingly, with his usual unpausing forthrightness and reckless disregard of appearances, he gave vent to his disgust in a loud hiss. Macready glowered at him and waved his handkerchief towards him with an air of contemptuous defiance, and repeated his movement. The right of a spectator to express his condemnation of an actor by hissing is unquestioned. Had not Forrest been himself a brother actor, and in unfriendly relations with the performer, his hiss would not have been much noticed or long remembered. But the special circumstances of the case gave it an indelicacy and a bad taste which aggravated its import and led to lasting consequences of hatred and violence. The following letter addressed by Forrest to the editor of the London Times explains the occasion which called it forth, and furnishes the reasons which in the mind of its writer justified his primary deed, though they will hardly be sufficient to justify it in the minds of impartial readers:
"Sir,—Having seen in your journal of the 12th inst. an article headed 'Professional Jealousy,' a part of which originally appeared in the 'Scotsman,' published in Edinburgh, I beg leave, through the medium of your columns, to state that at the time of its publication I addressed a letter to the editor of the 'Scotsman' upon the subject, which, as I then was in Dumfries, I sent to a friend in Edinburgh, requesting him to obtain its insertion; but, as I was informed, the 'Scotsman' refused to receive any communication upon the subject. I need say nothing of the injustice of this refusal. Here, then, I was disposed to let the matter rest, as upon more mature reflection I did not deem it worth further attention: but now, as the matter has assumed a 'questionable shape,' by the appearance of the article in your journal, I feel called upon, though reluctantly, to answer it.
"There are two legitimate modes of evincing approbation and
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disapprobation in the theatre,—one expressive of approval by the clapping of hands, and the other by hisses to mark dissent; and, as well-timed and hearty applause is the just meed of the actor who deserves well, so also is hissing a salutary and wholesome corrective of the abuses of the stage; and it was against one of these abuses that my dissent was expressed, and not, as was stated, 'with a view of expressing his (my) disapproval of the manner in which Mr. Macready gave effect to a particular passage.' The truth is, Mr. Macready thought fit to introduce a fancy dance into his performance of Hamlet, which I thought, and still think, a desecration of the scene, and at which I evinced that disapprobation for which the pseudo-critic is pleased to term me an 'offender'; and this was the only time during the performance that I did so, although the writer evidently seeks, in the article alluded to, to convey a different impression. It must be observed, also, that I was by no means 'solitary' in this expression of opinion.
"That a man may manifest his pleasure or displeasure after the recognized mode, according to the best of his judgment, actuated by proper motives, and for justifiable ends, is a right which, until now, I have never once heard questioned; and I contend that that right extends equally to an actor, in his capacity as a spectator, as to any other man. Besides, from the nature of his studies, he is much more competent to judge of a theatrical performance than any soi-disant critic who has never himself been an actor.
"The writer of the article in the 'Scotsman,' who has most unwarrantably singled me out for public animadversion, has carefully omitted to notice the fact that I warmly applauded several points of Mr. Macready's performance, and more than once I regretted that the audience did not second me in so doing.
"As to the pitiful charge of 'professional jealousy' preferred against me, I dismiss it with the contempt it merits, confidently relying upon all those of the profession with whom I have been associated for a refutation of the slander.
"Yours respectfully,
"Edwin Forrest."
March, 1846.
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On the appearance in an Edinburgh paper of the severe letter alluded to in the foregoing, the indignation of Forrest was so intense that he resolved to inflict summary punishment on its cause. In the early evening he made an elaborate toilet, donning his best dress-suit, putting on an elegant pair of kid gloves, carefully sprinkling himself with cologne, and sought the dramatic critic, whom he supposed to be the offender, in his customary seat in the upper tier of boxes. Confronting the writer, he fixed his eyes on him, and through his set teeth, in the deadliest monotone of suppressed passion, this question glided like a serpent of speech: "Are you the author of the letter in the 'Scotsman' relative to my hissing Macready?" The man shrunk a little, and replied, "I am not." "It is fortunate for you that you are not; for had you been, by the living God I would have flung you over the balcony into the pit!" said Forrest, and left the box.
Besides this frightful instance of his angered state of mind, an amusing one occurred while he was at Edinburgh. He was rehearsing, when the proprietor and manager of the theatre, a diminutive and foppish man, with a mincing squeak of a voice, came into the front and disturbed the actors. Forrest did not recognize him, and cried out, "Stop that noise!" The intruder retorted, with injured dignity, "This is my theatre, sir; and I shall make as much noise in it as I please, and when I please!" The explosive tragedian towered down upon him and blazed out, in thunder-tones, "Damn you and your theatre! If you ever dare to interrupt me again in this way when I am rehearsing, I will knock your damned head off from your damned shoulders!" The terrified proprietor shrunk away, and did not show himself in the house again till the day after the tragedian's engagement had ended. Then Forrest was in the dressing-room, packing his things, when he saw the manager enter the adjoining room, where the treasurer was sitting. The dapper little man advanced with nimble step, rubbing his hands briskly, and asked, in his dapper little voice, "Has the great American pugilist left town?" Forrest broke into hearty laughter at the ludicrous contrast, and came forward with both hands extended, and they parted as very good friends.
On the Fourth of July, Forrest presided at the celebration of the anniversary of their national independence held by the
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Americans in London, at the Lyceum Tavern. The building was decorated with American flags, and the intellectual exercises after the dinner, introduced by the chairman with an effective speech in defence and eulogy of republican institutions, were sustained till a late hour with much enthusiasm.
While in London—it may possibly be that the adventure occurred during his previous visit—Forrest called, by invitation, on Jerome Bonaparte, who was then residing there, and who had seen several of his impersonations, and had expressed a high opinion of their merits. In the course of their conversation, Forrest asked Jerome if he had been personally acquainted with Talma. Smiles broke over the face of the ex-king like sunny couriers from a hive of sweet memories, as he replied, in an exquisitely-modulated voice, "I had the honor of knowing that distinguished man well, and I esteemed him for his character as much as I admired him for his art. He was an honest patriot, who regarded not the fashions of the day. When Napoleon was a poor corporal, Talma was his friend, and gave him free passes to the theatre. He was equally the friend of the emperor, but asked no preferment or gift from him. He was a republican at the first, and he remained a republican to the last. His soul, sir, was as sublime off the stage as his acting was on it." As he spoke these words, Forrest says, a beam of reminiscent joy seemed at once to light up his countenance and brighten his voice.
It was the end of August that the player, sore and weary of his exile, ardently longing for home, sailed for his beloved America, where he well knew a welcome of no ordinary character would greet him. And so it proved. The current tone of the press breathed a hearty friendliness. It assured him that his countrymen had followed his career from his boyhood to his present proud position with a growing interest, and that his recent experience abroad had deepened their attachment to him. Whatever bars had from time to time presented themselves, he had readily overpassed or brushed away, and he was congratulated on having always made good his position with the decisive energy characteristic of his country. He was told that he had secured the affections of the masses of the people to such a degree that his name was a proverb among them, and they would now spring to welcome him home as very few are welcomed.
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He waited but four days before appearing as Lear at the Park Theatre. The New York Mirror says, "The house was crowded to excess. The pit rose in mass, and long and loud was the applause, clapping of hands, thumping of canes, waving of hats and handkerchiefs, ending with nine cheers for Edwin Forrest, given with heart and soul. The recipient evidently felt it all. Long may this relation between actor and people be unbroken! It is for the good of both that it should exist. As a man, Mr. Forrest is worthy of this confidence; as the representative of Lear and the greatest nobleness of Shakspeare, and the loftiest minds of the drama, he is trebly worthy of it, for he stands the representative of an heroic truth and dignity. It is impossible that the people should witness such a performance as that of King Lear without elevation and purification of character. On Mr. Forrest's part such a reception must recall to him, more forcibly than the language of any critic, the responsibility that rests upon him as one of the chief representatives of the American stage, an institution which, being yet in its infancy, has capacity for good or evil, the development of which rests upon the present generation. Those who look upon the stage now with any interest regard it with respect to the future, and demand in any actor or dramatic author a reverence for the theatre, and some services in its cause. If we thought the theatre would always remain in its present condition in this country, we should abandon it in despair. But it cannot so remain, any more than our literature can remain merely imitative, or our political life low and pestilent as it is. The stage must rise. No one can render more aid to the cause than Mr. Forrest."
At the close of the play he was honored with the same enthusiastic greeting as at his entrance, and he said, "Ladies and Gentlemen,—I have not words fitly to acknowledge a reception so kind, so cordial, so unexpected. It has so overpowered me that I cannot convey to you the grateful emotions of my heart. Yet, while a pulse beats here or memory continues, I shall ever remember the emotions of my soul at this reception. Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you."
The marked advance in the taste and finish of his performance was owned by all. The Albion said, "He is infinitely more subdued and quiet in his acting; his readings are more elaborated
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and studied. His action and attitudes are more classic in their character; and a dignified repose, rendered majestic at times by his imposing figure, gives a tone to his performances wholly unlike the unrepressed energy and overwhelming physical power that formerly were the prominent characteristics of his style. As an instance of the beauty of his present subdued style we would instance the passage in Lear commencing at
'You see me here, you gods, a poor old man'—
"The whole of this passage was given in a strain of subdued, heart-broken pathos, exquisitely natural and effective. Similar touches of genuine feeling are now thrown into his Othello,—which are perfect triumphs of the art,—as are likewise those well-known bursts of intense passion, given with a force of physical power unapproachable perhaps by any living actor.
"Mr. Forrest occupies so prominent a position in his own country, as the greatest living American actor, as the founder of a school,—for he has literally founded a school, as may be seen from his numerous imitators,—and from the influence of his high name,—that we mark these changes in his style as especially worthy the attention of his younger and less experienced cotemporaries."
On his benefit night, in response to the call of the auditory, he made a brief speech, whose tenor showed that he fully felt the responsibility of his position and meant to be faithful to it. Returning his thanks, he added, "And, in the hope that you may continue to approve my efforts, they shall henceforth be employed, most strenuously, to bring the American stage within the influence of a progressive movement, to call forth and encourage American dramatic letters, to advance the just claims of our own meritorious and deserving actors. Yet, while I shall endeavor to exert an influence favorable to American actors, you will do me the justice to believe that I am animated by no ungenerous motives towards the really deserving of any other country; for I should blush to imitate that narrow, exclusive, prejudiced, and, I may add, anti-American feeling which prescribes geographical limits to the growth of genius and talent. True worth is the birthright of no country, but is the common property of all. And, ladies and gentlemen, if it pleases you to applaud and
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