ous description has been given;
a description, which, as biographers, we should not think of introducing
on the present occasion, if it had not already appeared in public,
accompanied with an assertion that it came from Mr. Cooper himself. "The
writer of this sketch (says the publisher of that account) has heard
Cooper himself describe with great pleasantry his first interview with
the Scotch manager; he was at that time a raw country youth of
seventeen. On his arrival in Edinburgh, little conscious of his
appearance and incompetency, he waited on Mr. Kemble, made up in the
extreme of rustic foppery, proud of his talents, and little doubting his
success. When he mentioned his name and errand, Mr. Kemble's countenance
changed from a polite smile to a stare of disappointment: Cooper had
been prepared for young Norval; but he was obliged to exchange all his
expected eclat for a few cold excuses from the manager, and the chagrin
of seeing some nights after, his part filled by an old man and a bad
player. During the remainder of the season he continued with Stephen
Kemble, without at all appearing on the stage. From Edinburgh he went
with the company to Newcastle-upon-Tyne, there he lived as dependent,
inactive, and undistinguished as before, till, owing to the want of a
person to fill the part of Malcolm in Macbeth, he was cast to that
humble character. In so inferior a sphere did he begin to move who is
now become one of the brightest luminaries of the theatrical hemisphere.
His debut was even less flattering than his reception from the manager
had been. Till the last scene he passed through tolerably well, but when
he came to the lines which conclude the play--

"So thanks to all at once, and to each one,
Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone."

After stretching out his hands and assuming the attitude and smile of
thankfulness, a slight embarrassment checked him, and he paused, still
keeping his posture and his look--the prompter made himself heard by
every one but the bewildered Malcolm, who still continued mute, every
instant of his silence naturally increasing ten-fold his
perplexity--Macduff whispered the words in his ear--Macbeth who lay
slaughtered at his feet, broke the bonds of death to assist his dumb
successor, the prompter spoke almost to vociferation. Each thane dead or
alive joined his voice--but this was only "confusion worse
confounded"--if he could have spoken the amazed prince might with great
j