Verse ceases to be airy thought,
And sculpture to be dumb.'
"Gentlemen, I have thus far dwelt on points in this performer's history and character with which you are all acquainted. There are other topics on which I might touch—did I not fear to invade the sanctuary of the heart—not less entitled to your admiration. But there are some feelings in breasts of honor and delicacy which, though commendable, cannot brook exposure; as there are plants which flourish in the caves of ocean that wither when brought to the light of day. I shall therefore simply say that in his private relations, as in his public career, he has performed well his part, and made esteem a twin sentiment with admiration in every heart that knows him. I need not tell you, gentlemen, that I speak of Edwin Forrest.
"Mr. Forrest is on the eve of departure for foreign lands. To a man combining so many claims on our regard, it has been thought proper by his fellow-citizens to present a farewell token of friendship and respect,—a token which may at once serve to keep him mindful that Americans properly appreciate the genius and worth of their own land, and which may testify to foreigners the high place he holds in our esteem.
"Mr. Forrest, I now place this memorial in your hands. It is one in which many of your countrymen have been emulous to bear a part. It is a proud proof of unusual virtues and talents, and as such may be proudly worn. You will mingle in throngs where jewelled insignia glitter on titled breasts; but yours may justly be the reflection that few badges of distinction are the reward of qualities so deserving of honor as those attested by the humbler memorial which now rests upon your bosom.
"Gentlemen, I propose to you,—
"Edwin Forrest—Estimable for his virtues, admirable for his talents. Good wishes attend his departure, and warm hearts will greet his return.
"The speaker was interrupted at different points of his address with the most enthusiastic applause, and on its conclusion the apartment resounded with unanimous, hearty, and prolonged cheers, attesting at once the concurrence of his hearers in the justness of his sentiments and their sense of the happy and eloquent language in which they were conveyed. When this applause at length subsided, Mr. Forrest rose, and in a style of simple and unaffected modesty returned his acknowledgments in a speech, of which we believe the following is nearly an accurate report:
"Mr. President and Gentlemen,—A member of a profession which brings me nightly to speak before multitudes, it might seem affectation in me to express how much I am overcome by these distinguishing marks of your kindness and approbation. I stand not now before you to repeat the sentiments of the dramatist, but in my own poor phrase to give utterance to feelings which even the language of poetry could not too strongly embody; and I feel this evening how much easier it is to counterfeit emotions on the mimic scene of the stage than to repress the real and embarrassing yet grateful agitation which this rich token of your favor has occasioned. My thanks must therefore be rendered in the most simple and unstudied language, for I feel 'I am no actor here.'
"You have made allusion in terms of flattering kindness to a period of my life I can never contemplate without emotions of the most thrilling and pleasurable nature,—a period which beheld me, with a suddenness of transition more like a dream than reality, one day a poor, unknown, and unfriended boy, and the next surrounded by 'troops of friends,' counsellors ready to advise, and generous hearts prodigal of regard. In my immature and unschooled efforts lenient critics saw, or thought they saw, some latent evidences of talent, and, with a generosity rarely equalled, crowded around me with encouragement in payment of anticipated desert. The same spirit of kindness which matured the germ continued its fostering influence through each successive development; and now, at the end of eight years (eight little years,—how brief they have been made by you!), with unexhausted, nay, increasing munificence, that spirit exercises itself in bestowing a memento of esteem as much beyond the deserts of the man as its early plaudits exceeded the merits of the boy.