of the comic and
the dignity of the tragic muse. Mrs Siddons, supreme in greatness, has
trod those boards; Kemble, the "last of all the Romans," has, in
comparatively recent times, bade them farewell. Miss O'Neil, with
inferior soul, but equal physical powers; Kean, with the energy, but
unhappily the weaknesses of genius, kept up the elevation of the stage.
Talent, and that too of a very high class, genius of the most exalted
kind, are not awanting to support the long line of British theatric
greatness; the names of Charles Kean, Fanny Kemble, and Helen Faucit are
sufficient to prove, that if the stage is in a state of decrepitude, the
fault lies much more with the authors or the public, than with the
performers.[L] But all is unavailing. Despite the most persevering and
laudable efforts to restore the dignity of the theatre, and revive the
sway of the legitimate drama, in which Mr Macready has so long borne so
conspicuous a part, Tragedy in the metropolis is almost banished from
the stage. It has been supplanted by the melodrama, dancing, and
singing. It has been driven off the field by _Timour the Tartar_.
Drury-Lane, sanctified by so many noble recollections, has become an
English opera-house. Covent-Garden is devoted to concerts, and hears the
tragic muse no more. Even in the minor theatres, where tragedy is
sometimes attempted, it can only be relied on for transient popularity.
Its restoration was attempted at the Princess's Theatre in Oxford
Street, but apparently with no remarkable success; and the tragedies of
_Othello_ and _Hamlet_, supported by the talent of Macready, required to
be eked out by Mrs Candle's _Curtain Lectures_. We are no strangers to
the talent displayed at many of the minor theatres both by the authors
and performers; and we are well aware that the varied population of
every great metropolis requires several such places of amusement. What
we complain of is, that they engross every thing; that tragedy and the
legitimate drama are nearly banished from the stage in all but the
provincial cities, where, of course, it never can rise to the highest
eminence.

All the world are conscious of the reality of this change, and many
different explanations have been attempted of it. It is said that modern
manners are inconsistent with frequenting the theatre: that the late
hours of dinners preclude the higher classes from going to it; that the
ladies' dresses are soiled by the seats in the boxes, before go