The Queen died in March, 1603. There were the usual ‘blacks,’ but the court and stage were brilliant again by Christmas. Early in January of the following year people were talking of the gay doings, the brilliant dresses, the noble dramas, the grand bear-baitings, the levity, dancing, and the golden play, which had solemnised the Christmas just ended. Thirteen years later Shakespeare died, and in little more than half a century small spirits whispered that he was not such a great spirit himself after all. In Mr. Planché’s professional autobiography, which makes us as discursive as the biographer himself, there is a seeming inclination to overpraise some actors of the present time at the expense of those whom we must consider their superiors in bygone days. As far as this may tend to show that there is no actor so good but that his equal may in time be discovered, we have no difference with the author of these ‘Recollections.’ It is wonderful how speedily audiences recover the loss of their greatest favourites. Betterton, who restored the stage soon after Monk had restored the monarchy, was called ‘the glory and the grief’ of that stage. The glory while he acted and lived in the memories of those who had seen him act. To the latter his loss was an abiding grief. For years after Betterton’s decease it was rank heresy to suppose that he might be equalled. Pope, in expressive, yet not the happiest of his verses, has alluded to this prejudice. The prejudice, nevertheless, was unfounded. Betterton remains indeed with the prestige of being an actor who has not been equalled in many parts, who has been excelled in none. Old playgoers, who could compare him in his decline with young Garrick in his vigour, were of different opinions as to the respective merits of these two great masters of their art. We may fairly conclude that Garrick’s Hamlet was as ‘great’ as Betterton’s; that the latter’s Sir John Brute was hardly equal to Garrick’s Abel Drugger; and that the Beverley of the later actor was as perfect an original creation as the Jaffier of Betterton. When Wilks made the ‘Constant Couple, or a Trip to the Jubilee,’ a success by the spirit and ease with which he played the part of Sir Harry Wildair, Farquhar, the author of the comedy, said ‘That he made the part will appear from hence: whenever the stage has the misfortune to lose him Sir Harry Wildair may go to the Jubilee.’ Nevertheless, Margaret Woffington achieved a new success for that play by the fire and joyousness of her acting. When Wilks died, poets sang in rapturous grief of his politeness, grace, gentility, and ease; and they protested that a supernatural voice had been heard moaning through the air-- Farewell, all manly Joy! And ah! true British Comedy, adieu! Wilks is no more. Notwithstanding this, British comedy did not die; Garrick’s Ranger was good compensation for Wilks’s Sir Harry.