"Dear Mother,—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 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.
"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.
"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.
"Your affectionate son,
"Edwin Forrest."
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 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.
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:
"Dear Mother,—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.
"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 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.
"I shall write more fully anon.