grossness it is now hardly possible to credit. Some, doubtless, simulated vices they neither adopted nor approved, in order to be in the fashion; and many, with regret, countenanced what they could not alter, yet wished to see cured. Thus the theatre continued to exist an exotic foreign to the soil of England, cheered by the feeble sunshine of the court, and sustained by the fickle breath of fashion. But towards the middle of the reign of Queen Anne, Betterton appeared at the theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and personated the characters of Othello, Brutus, and Hotspur. : It is an elegant passage of Guizot's, where he says :—“ Imagine a man who has lived for a long time in rooms lighted only with wax-candles, chandeliers, or coloured glasses-who has only breathed in the faint suffocating atmosphere of drawingrooms- -who has seen only the cascades of the opera, calico mountains, and garlands of artificial flowersimagine such a man suddenly transported, one magnificent July morning, to a region where he could breathe the purest air, under the tranquil and graceful chestnut-trees which fringe the waters of Interlacken, and within view of the majestic glaciers of the Oberland, and you will have a pretty accurate idea of the moral position of one accus tomed to the dramatic representations which formerly occupied our stage, when he unexpectedly finds himself witnessing these, so simple, grand, and natural beauties." But the change from the artificial drama of Charles II. to the natural of Shakespeare, or to Shakespeare in its natural state, was not so sudden or complete. CHAPTER XIII. TATE, KEMBLE, &c., THEIR KNOWLEDGE OF SHAKESPEARE. In the days of the Restoration, there lived a poet upon the face of the earth, his name was Nahum Tate.* If the number of editions his verses have gone through, is a criterion of his excellence, we have no hesitation in saying, Nahum Tate is the greatest poet England ever produced. * Nahum Tate was the son of Dr. Faithful Tate, and was born in Dublin in 1652. At the age of sixteen, he was admitted to the college there. He succeeded Shadwell as Poet Laureate, and continued in that office until his death, which happened on the 12th of August, 1715, in the Mint, and was buried in St. George's Church. He was remarkable for a downcast look, and had seldom much to say for himself, but a free, good-natured, drinking companion. His dramatic works are- — Brutus of Alba, T., 4to, 1678. The Loyal General, T., 4to, 1680. King Lear, T., altered from Shakespeare, 4to, 1681. Richard II.; or, the Sicilian Userper, Hist. Play, 4to, 1681; printed under the latter title, 4to, 1691. The Ingratitude of a Commonwealth; or, the Fall of Coriolanus, 4to, 1682. Cuckold's Haven; or, an Alderman no Conjurer, F., 4to, 1685. Duke and no Duke, F., 4to, 1685; taken from Sir Aston Cockayne's Trappolin. The Island Princess, Tragic Com., 4to, 1687. Injured Love; or, the Cruel Husband, T., 4to, 1707. Dido and Eneas, Op.-Oxberry's Edition of Lear, by N. T. We have all sung "to the praise and glory of ́God" and Nahum Tate. Now, Nahum Tate knew not Shakespeare, and doubtless would have gone to his grave in that happy ignorance; but Nahum Tate had a friend, who, as Bacon says, "redoubleth joys." John Boteler, Esq., said unto Nahum Tate"Once upon a time there was a man called Shakespeare, who wrote a thing called Lear: a great genius such as you are, might make it into a play." Now, Nahum Tate prided himself on playwriting as much as Psalmody, so he determined to do this very thing. When he had done it, he wrote a private letter to John Boteler, Esq. In those days of heavy postage, a single letter was a chargeable affair, and one that contained anything so heavy as Nahum Tate's thoughts would have been very expensive indeed. It was our habit, therefore, in those days to enclose letters in books and parcels. We believe it was felony to do so; few things in those days were not felony. A man could hardly stir without rendering himself liable to the penalty of hanging. However, few of the age of forty can own themselves free from this fault. Nahum Tate put his private letter into his published book, and we have purloined it. We have done, as they ordinarily do at the Post-officetaken it because we thought there was something in it worth having; and whatever penalty it may have subjected us to, it will at least save the reader the penalty of purchasing the book. "To my esteemed Friend, Thos. Boteler, Esq., 1681. "SIR,-You have a natural right to this piece, since by your advice I attempted the revival of it with alterations. Nothing but the power of your persuasion, and my zeal for all the remains of Shakespeare could have wrought one to so bold an undertaking. I found that the new modelling of this story would force me sometimes on the difficult task of making the chiefest persons speak something like their characters, on matter whereof I had no ground in my author. Lear's real, and Edgar's pretended madness, have so much of extravagant nature (I know not how else to express it), as could never have started but from our Shakespeare's creating fancy. The images and language are so odd and surprising (and yet so agreeable and proper), that whilst we grant that none but Shakespeare could have formed such conceptions, yet we are satisfied that they are the |