By those who did not in the beginning under"I beg here to thank you, though at so late a stand Burke, he was not in the end understood; day that the remembrance of the favour conferred and with them he might in the final years of life may perhaps have escaped your mind, for your have passed, even as he did in the prime of kindnesses and attentions at a time when many manhood, for a cannibal indeed. But the angels, reasons conspired to make them peculiarly grate--and some of these dwelt on earth, and were ful to my dear brother and to me. I attribute the success that has attended Hugo, in a great degree, to the exalting, ennobling, and inspiriting influence of your example.

COOPER, THE TRAGEDIAN.

BY WILLIAM B. WOOD.

No remark is more common, than that the It has not been ascertained whether inclinarecorded lives of players are among the most tion or necessity first led his thoughts to the dull and unentertaining, in the large list of bio-stage; yet, from his early sufferings and privagraphies. The endless variety displayed in his personations leads the unthinking to expect an equal diversity in the actor's private life; and it seems often to be forgotten, that the power to present the living portraits of men, manners, and passion, can only be acquired by intense study, as well as more or less of genius. The idle notion that theatrical genius, with the aid of a good person, will, alone, constitute a player, is a folly every day disproved, and has never been more completely falsified than in the case of Cooper. How frequently has the writer been mortified and irritated at the remark that " Cooper was an actor wholly indebted to fine natural and personal gifts, as, a good voice, noble figure, &c., &c., for his vast and continued popularity during a period of thirty years." By "popularity" is here meant attraction, which Garrick pronounced to be the true theatrical meaning of popularity. He used to say, "What folly, to talk of the popularity of an actor who is unpraised by critics, and neglected by the public!-and when was it ever known that the public continued to follow one who did not possess superior ability?" This is strong authority, and strengthened by the experience of another great artist,-John Kemble, -who insisted that his long experience had brought him to this conclusion,-that "an impostor,—one who did not possess the true qualities of an actor,—although favoured by person, patronage, or fashion, for a time, might dazzle or deceive an audience for one or two seasons, but will infallibly be detected or deserted before the conclusion of a third." These remarks seem to have a strong application to the subject of this little memoir.

THOMAS APTHORP COOPER was born in London, in the year 1776, and received the advantages of an excellent English education at a principal seminary, where, it is well known, the real foundations of learning are laid. In his early years, he lost his father, an officer in the naval service, and became the ward of Messrs. Holcroft and Godwin,-names too well known in British literature and politics to need any farther notice here.

A schoolboy exploit at this time gave indication of a dauntless nature, which afterwards ripened into exertion and sufferance known to few. Standing on the river-bank with a companion (since known as a British government agent here), one of the party quoted the passage, "Darest thou, Cassius," &c., from "Julius Caesar," which the other considering as a challenge, boldly dashed into the stream, and was followed in safety by the other to the opposite side, a considerable distance from the starting-place. For this bold imitation of Cæsar and Cassius, and the consequent soaked state of their clothes, a severe drubbing from their master was their reward.

tions, it might safely be inferred that choice alone did not impel him to a pursuit, in which he was destined to form so splendid a feature. Certain it is, that his early performances were of the most inferior parts, in obscure provincial theatres, where, as he stated to the writer, he encountered some of the severest privations that ever fell to the lot of a future hero. He often spoke with pride of the approbation bestowed on his performance of some very inferior characters, and the courage which a night's success gave him to labour on, and hope. After strolling about for two years or more, his guardians, whose discernment discovered in him the dawnings of ability, determined on affording him the most liberal theatrical education; and it will readily be supposed that a duller pupil would have improved under such tutors. Singing, dancing, and other accomplishments necessary to give personal grace, were freely afforded; and at nineteen years of age it was determined to bring him before the awful ordeal of a London audience, familiar with the excellences of Kemble, Henderson, and Palmer. Holman and Pope, too, at Covent Garden, were young actors of great merit, but never equalling in after days the promises of their juvenile efforts. His reception in Hamlet was flattering in the extreme; and Macbeth, following, gave evidence of extraordinary talent in a lad of nineteen. A circumstance connected with this part may be mentioned, as leading finally to his emigration to America. Mrs. Merry (the late Mrs. Warren) had recently married Merry, the poet, and retired, as she believed, for ever from the stage, to which, however, circumstances soon after restored her, much to the delight and advantage of the American public. During Cooper's first performance, she was passing some time on a visit to her father, then resident at Bath, where she received a letter from Mr. Merry, telling her that "a most extraordinary lad of nineteen, named Cooper, said to be a ward of Godwin or Holcroft, has created much sensation by his admirable performance of Hamlet, but more of Macbeth;" and desiring her to come to town forthwith, assuring her she would be repaid for the journey by the performance. She came to London, and the impression Cooper made at that time was a pleasurable recollection in after years, when chance brought them together so often, and greatly to the delight of many now living. The success of the young tragedian was far more satisfactory to his friends and the public, than to his theatrical rivals, or the political foes of his two guardians, who, it will be recollected, were at this time objects of distrust to the government, with whose persecution one or both was afterwards favoured. Attacks of the most bitter kind were showered upon the luckless young actor, who was charged with being the protégé of "a

most ferocious duumvirate of disorganizing Jaco- | he was in Wales, and unemployed. Upon the bins," as they were pleased to designate Holcroft and Godwin. So feverish was public feeling at this time, that the million forgot the merits of the boy in the unpopularity of his guardians, and, whether from want of judgment or from ill intention in the managers, he was thrust into the part of Lothario, in The Fair Penitent,-a character requiring the utmost ease, polish of manner, and familiarity with the stage. He often declared to the writer, that from the first moment he appeared, before he had uttered one word, he was assailed by a degree of disapprobation (so cruel a contrast to his former greetings) as for a time wholly to paralyse exertion, and which he resented by an indignant manner, which completed this unexpected failure. He fled from the scene of this shameful persecution, with a feeling of resentment towards his countrymen which no time had the power to soften. On a very small annuity he possessed, he retired to a remote town in Wales, where, like Penruddock, he could indulge his misanthropy and resentful feelings in solitude. This, however, was not the only instance in which Mr. Holcroft suffered at the theatre for his political opinions. Indeed, to so brutal a point of hostility did his adversaries carry their efforts, that he was compelled to suffer his noble play of "The Man of Ten Thousand," to be brought out under the name of another author. Its success was perfect for several nights; and conceiving all danger past, he unguardedly acknowledged its paternity in the green-room. On the next performance it was driven from the stage. Similar instances abound in the history of the European stage, to which this paltry feeling has not been confined; for Mr. Dunlap, in his truthful history of the American drama, gives an amusing example of the same artifice having been successfully practised by the late manager of the Philadelphia Theatre, in the case of "Marmion," which was most successful for many nights as an imported piece; but, the moment it was imprudently acknowledged as the production of Mr. Barker,-an active politician,—it fell into utter neglect. How strange and mortifying, that so delicate a gift as dramatic talent should be weighed in the coarse scales of selfishness and passion! Cooper, in his seclusion, did not, however, forget his studies, but laboured incessantly upon Shakspeare, Otway, &c., feeling that he possessed powers far beyond those of many successful rivals, and placing his defeat very sensibly to the account of political prejudice.

This tendency to defile the drama with personal or political resentments, has been somewhat enlarged upon here, and will be shown hereafter to have pursued Cooper to another land. While Cooper was thus dividing his time between sulks and studies, Mr. Wignell was in England busily engaging talent for the Chestnut Street Theatre: the unsettled character of Fennell, and the declining health of Moreton, his two leading actors, made it necessary to provide some one of power to support the pieces in which Mrs. Merry was to appear. Disappointed, at a late period of his stay, in some engagements he had counted upon, he chanced to express his embarrassment to Merry, who at once mentioned Cooper's performance of Macbeth, above stated. He had neither seen nor heard of him since his failure, but after some laboured inquiries, it was ascertained that

judgment of Mr. and Mrs. Merry, Wignell at once wrote to Cooper, offering him a first class engagement of salary and position, but on the conditions that he should instantly hasten to London, from whence the ship was to sail in a very few days. The answer to this proposal, was the appearance of the young hero, who arrived, half dead with fatigue from the journey, only a few hours before the sailing of the ship. The party soon reached Philadelphia, and proceeded to Baltimore for a short season, where Cooper and Mrs. Merry were received with an enthusiasm, which abated little during the many years they repeated their visits. In private, too, they experienced, the elegant hospitalities which the Maryland people know so well to dispense. A few weeks brought the company to Philadelphia, where Cooper's recep tion in Macbeth, Penruddock, Horatio, in the Fair Penitent, and other parts, was, as far as the andience was concerned, beyond his best hopes. At this time, several persons of education condescended to notice the actors and plays. With most of these, Fennell and Moreton had won a high estimation, and Cooper's debut seemed likely to darken the fame of the old favourites. The approbation of the public, however, was so genuine, that disparaging criticism would have been unavailing. So it was determined that Cooper's former crime of being too liberal in politics, the ward of Holcroft and Godwin, and the associate of Merry, also a liberal, should be used to depress him, if not drive him from the stage. The most artful and ungenerous inuendos were given, as that " he played Pierre very finely, probably from a sympathy with the politics and principles of this splendid rebel." Such was the style of criticism with which a young stranger was greeted by men, called judges. The same ungenerous conduct from the press pursued Mrs. Merry until a late period of her theatrical life. It must be supposed that both performers felt the outrage; but the favour of the audience enabled them to affect indifference or contempt of the attacks. Their fame and attraction continued to increase to the latest period of their acting. That this second persecution tended to strengthen in Cooper a morose feeling, is too probable, and gave him a manner at times repulsive and unpleasing. A mistaken notion prevailed, that Cooper was a man of harsh, unkind nature; but nothing could be further from the truth. The undeserved persecutions of his youthful days, no doubt, greatly soured his temper, and gave an austere reserve to his manner, which sometimes amounted to roughness. Cooper is not the only instance we remember, where early neglect and unfair opposition tended to render a disposition naturally kind, cold and repulsive. He avoided general society, and firmly withstood all attempts to exhibit him at parties, as an artist, or an object of social curiosity. The few persons who shared his friendship, can bear noble testimony to his frank generosity, truthfulness, and unostentatious benevolence, sometimes bestowed with a reserve which was greatly misunderstood. His rig observance of punctuality in all matters of busness, forms an interesting feature in his character. No sacrifice of comfort was ever regarded, to fulfil all contracts. During a long series of years. two instances only of disappointment to the public occurred, and both were occasioned by the

same unavoidable cause; the first by an ice flood | shall, Harwood, Blissett, Francis, Mrs. Merry, in the Susquehanna, which set at defiance all efforts to cross for several hours; the other from a similar flood in the North River, where the accumulation of ice forbade all attempts to reach Jersey City. Cooper, however, determined on an effort, and engaged a New York pilot boat, for one hundred dollars, to take him below the city, and, if possible, forward him by way of Staten Island. The attempt, however, failed, and he returned to New York, after several hours of danger and cold. During his first season, Cooper's services were not frequently required; and when the benefits were arranged, Cooper announced Alexander the Great as his selection. By the terms of contract, Mr. Wignell insured to him a certain profit on his night. But the day previous, his box sheet presented so meagre a promise, that he felt assured his liberal manager must be a considerable loser. This he felt unwilling should be the case; and observing that an elephant was on exhibition, it occurred that this Asiatic auxiliary might save the manager money, and relieve him from the mortification of a beggarly house. He therefore issued an extra bill, adding the extra animal attraction; and was gratified in consequence by a large and fashionable audience. It must be owned that at this time Cooper frequently endangered his reputation by a very apparent incorrectness of the text, especially in some inferior parts, which he properly conceived unworthy of him. On the occasion of performers' benefits, his good nature too frequently led him to undertake several new characters in one week, each of which demanded much more time and attention. His name was of consequence in a bill, and he was reluctant to refuse his aid, although sometimes at the expense of his fame. He was fortunate in not possessing what is called a quick study, but required time to acquire the words of a part; and like most eminent players, whose studies are directed to the meaning and expression, found committing to memory the mere words, a very laborious and uncomfortable duty. In the lower rank of the dramatic cast, we frequently find persons, of both sexes, unhappily gifted with a most astonishing power of learning by heart a vast amount of words in a few hours. We say unhappily, for this power is apt to lead its possessor to the belief, that with this committal to memory, their labour is over, and little or no attention is paid to the manner in which the author's ineaning is to be embodied. Hence we see so many, who appear to be only repeating a lesson of words. The worse consequence, however, of this gift, is to render the possessor more valuable for the quantity of labour he can get through, than for the manner of its performance. And many clever young persons of both sexes have remained stationary in public estimation, from their usefulness to the manager, who paid them well for being hurried before the audience nightly, without the least chance of preparation. Garrick, Kemble, Cooke, Kean, Fennell, Cooper, and many others, possessed no power to commit words hastily to memory.

Marshall, Oldmixon, Francis, and Mr. and Mrs. Byrne, dancers; and on opening, was still strengthened by the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Bernard, Mr. and Mrs. Hardinge, and others. The Pantheon, in Greenwich Street, was fitted up for the occasion, and large audiences attended. The expenses, however, of so large a corps, far exceeded the receipts, and fame and applause were all the advantages of the experiment. At this period Cooper, by his performance of Hamlet, Iago, Lothario, Chamont, Sir E. Mortimer, and other characters, established a reputation on which his future fame and fortunes were built. He returned to Philadelphia, delighted with his New York reception, when, an accidental lameness preventing his appearing, he obtained leave of absence for a few days, and while in New York, was imprudently induced to perform one night in his halting state. This act violating his contract with Mr. Wignell, a suit was commenced for the penalty, two thousand dollars. The sum was instantly furnished by a few of Cooper's friends, and tendered to Mr. Wignell. As it was Cooper's services Mr. Wignell wished, and not the penalty, which must have proved a heavy clog to Cooper, the manager made a very generous proposition, that Cooper should remain in Philadelphia, and as a set-off to the forfeiture, he should consent to act the part of Alexander the Great, in the tragedy at that time in preparation with great splendour and expense, as it was then being acted at Drury Lane by John Kemble. Cooper had up to this time a decided dislike to this character, and stipu lated in his contract that he should never be called upon to enact Alexander or George Barnwell; but the noble liberality of Mr. Wignell was too strong for Cooper's idle objection, and he gratefully accepted the offer, and applied himself so successfully to the study of Alexander, that the success of the play not only retrieved him from his penalty, but recruited the exhausted treasury with a much larger sum than the forfeiture afforded. Thus ended the lawsuit, and all unfriendly feelings between the manager and actor. The New York manager had felt Cooper's value, and at the close of his contract, induced him to establish himself at that theatre, with the privilege of occasionally playing a night or two at Philadelphia.

Cooper has been shown to be patient under criticism, not always of the fairest kind. Yet he was sensitive enough of outrage or insult. Upon one occasion, Bernard Darley, Sr., and himself, were invited to give an entertainment of recitations and songs, comic and serious, at Richmond, where a very brilliant assemblage welcomed them. Among the company was a gentleman, who, by a flying visit to Europe, conceived himself qualified to dissent from the liberal applause bestowed on the performance of Cooper, especially. At the close of his beautiful delivery of Mark Antony's oration over the body of Cæsar, while the audience were complimenting him by the most rapturous applause, the gentleman made himself conspicuous by hissing very loudly,—an In the year 1797, Mr. Wignell was encouraged expression little known on the occasion of this to make a summer season at New York, and sort of entertainment. The audience renewed availed himself of this opportunity to exhibit to the applause, the critic his hisses, until he felt our neighbours the first full and efficient company himself fairly beaten. At the close of the perever collected in America. It consisted of Fen-formance, Cooper addressed a note to the gennell, Cooper, Moreton, Warren, Wignell, Mar- tleman, enclosing the price of his ticket, and