by fashion, by habit, by temperament, we differ in our judgements and feelings. That, which pleases one individual, or one class of individuals, displeases another individual, or another portion of the community. What is truth and nature to one, is, to another, either tameness and inadequateness, or distortion and caricature. To some, nothing pleases, which does not possess symmetry, proportion, adaptation, conformity to a nice observation of nature; and excess, as well as deficiency, occasions, in such, painful emotions, or disgust. In others, and these compose the great body of mankind, -this niceness of discrimination, this delicacy of tact, does not exist. To them, it is sufficient that strong emotions are produced; that the exciting cause be powerful; that the effect be heightened by sudden transition and unexpected contrast, however forced and unnatural. To their obtuse and blunted perceptions, nothing is defective but tameness: excess is a merit; to overstep the modesty of nature is a virtue; and the greater the excess, the greater the admiration it produces. To such, the coarse daubing and gilding of the scenepainter yields inexpressible delight; while the finest traces of the great masters of the pencil excite not a single emotion. To such, the monstrous productions of Maturin, Monk Lewis, and similar writers, afford uncloying pleasure; while Homer, Virgil, Milton, Pope, Addison, Goldsmith, remain unread,-their names, perhaps, unknown. To such, the strong excitement of a public execution is the height of bliss; and it is such, who throng the melancholy procession, and crowd around the fatal gallows. Their delight is, in all horrible, unutterable things; in monsters, and chimeras dire; and Nature, in order to please them, must assume a garb, in which they have been unaccustomed to receive her. The two classes, into which we have thus divided the public, are not to be distinguished by their dress, their wealth, or poverty, or by the places, which they occupy at the theatre, or the church. Á fortunate voyage, a lucky speculation, a successful attempt at overreaching the honest and unsuspecting, or a whole life spent in the sole pursuit of amassing, of saving, and of hoarding money, will, indeed, furnish the means to procure fine clothes, fine houses, rich equipage, and a certain kind of respect. Gold will purchase the best boxes at the play; while those, whose slender purses will not permit them to bid off tickets at five or six dollars each,-to expend fifty dollars a night, or two hundred a week, in theatrical amusements,-must be content with places in the pit or the green boxes. But gold, suddenly acquired, whether honestly, or dishonestly, will not transform the mind with the person; will not refine the taste, correct the judgement, inform and enlarge the understanding.. Fortuna non mutat genus.. As there is no royal way to the mathematics, so there is no golden key, which will unlock, at the owner's bidding, the rich store-houses of polished taste and cultivated intellect. The food, which was most grateful to the sensual or the mental palate yesterday, when we were poor, will be the most grateful to-day, when we are rich. The peasant, in the play, who found himself suddenly transformed into a lord, was asked by the servant, what his lordship would be pleased to order for dinner? The reply was,-beef-steak and. onions! The purpose of these remarks is to show, that the admiration, which Mr. Kean has recently excited here, is not a certain index of permanent fame, or of real merit. That Mr. Kean possesses some talents of a superior order as a tragedian, no candid, unprejudiced person can, in my opinion, deny. That these talents have been overrated, by the great body of his numerous admirers, is, I think, equally indisputable. His physical, are vastly inferior to his mental, powers. His concep tion is bold and vigorous; his ability to embody it, defective and inadequate. His voice is incapable of carrying the climax of a passion to the height in which it is conceived. He is obliged to make up the deficiency by violent inarticulate sound, and excess of action. With an excellent eye, and a face, which may be called good -though the features are not remarkably distinct, or the lines of passion strongly marked, his figure wants height, erectness and dignity. His manner is coarse U and his representation of high rank, vulgar. The purity of his taste, is not equal to the vigour of his conception. He goes beyond nature. His taste seems to have been formed upon that of the million. It is deficient in chasteness, severity, and critical conformity to truth. His aim appears to be, to obtain the greatest possible quantity of applause, indifferent as to the quality, or the source whence it proceeds. He has been applauded here, in my judgement, without discrimination, and in cases, which do no credit to the taste of a Boston audience. He has been rewarded with the loudest shouts when he most outraged nature; when he out-heroded Herod; when his ravings, and contortions, and distortions, and stridings, and studied attitudes, and his barkings, snarlings, and guttural throttlings, were any thing but a correct and consistent delineation of appropriate passion. His happiest efforts, his most finished passages, have passed without a reward, because they were less striking and obtrusive. With respect to the acting of Mr. Kean, it may be characterized in one word, as outre. Its peculiarity is redundancy, excess, sometimes even to caricature. It is replete with sudden, unexpected transitions, and affected attitudes; which last, however striking and picturesque in themselves, are frequently inappropriate and unnatural, and are often prolonged to a most unwarrantable extent. With respect to his person, it is deficient in dignity, and his manner lacks majesty and grace. His voice is remarkably wanting in strength and compass. When carried much beyond its natural height, it breaks into inarticulate raving, and hoarse, unintelligible noise. Were Mr. Kean a young actor, his present redundancy might be denominated richness. Time and experience, it might be hoped, would mature a more pure and correct taste,-less obnoxious to the censure of a severe criticism. But the taste, the manner, the opinions of Mr. Kean, are probably formed not to be altered; and the flattering applause, with which he has been recently greeted, will, no doubt, have the effect to confirm them, or to push him still further into the extreme, which now characterizes him. Mr. Kean has a perfect knowledge of all the arts used on the stage for exciting applause. He practises them with success, and is not sparing in their use. Those of most frequent recurrence are studied attitudes-affected pauses-sudden transitions of passion-abrupt depressions of voice, from its highest strength and pitch, to a familiar, colloquial tone, or almost to a whisper. But the actor is visible in all. He has not the art to conceal art; or he does not aim to do it. A complete knowledge of stage effect may justly be considered a merit in a performer; though the constant recourse, which Mr. Kean has to its aid, must be viewed as one of his most prominent faults. The action of Mr. Kean is remarkable for effort, bustle, and violence of motion. He tries to give effect to every sentence,-to almost every word of the author. No expression escapes the attention of the audience, through the tameness of the actor. His love of action is so immoderate, and he is so addicted to the constant use of it, that much of it is, necessarily, without meaning. Of this kind, are his frequent stridings from one stagebox to the other, the patting of his forehead, the eternal fingering of his sword-belt, and adjusting of his sword, the unmeaning thrusting of his handkerchief into his bosom and pulling it out again, and the everlasting fumbling with his hands about his throat and collar without object or design. These tricks are repeated to satiety. Indeed, he appears not to know what to do with his hands, when they are not employed in some violent motion. With all these drawbacks upon his merits, Mr. Kean awakens attention, and produces effect. Whether this is wholly to be ascribed to novelty, to fashion, to popular caprice, or to superior talent and perfection in his art, time will soon determine. To that arbiter we must leave it. It may, however, be said, with the present appearance of truth, that Mr. Kean possesses many prominent excellencies as an actor, but that they are accompanied with great faults, and great defects. It is much to be doubted, whether his second visit to this town will be attended with circumstances so flattering to his fame, as those, which he lately experienced. MR. EDITOR, SIR, KEAN AND COOKE. [American. New-York.] THE following lines are, with respectful humility, presented to Mr. Kean, as an appropriate epitaph to be inscribed upon the monument, which he is now about erecting over the remains of George Frederick Cooke -it being humbly conceived that they will fully express Mr. Kean's opinions of the merits of the deceased, and clearly demonstrate the spirit in which he honours the memory of his great predecessor. YEARS past Cooke's exit from life's scene, And read the name of EDMUND Kean; 66 Dead G. F. Cooke-live EDMUND KEAN! As fair as snow, as jewels sheen, BARNES'S RICHARD. [From the same.] THIS gentleman has been long known as a comic performer of great merit, but it was not suspected that he was equally well qualified to support some of the most arduous parts in tragedy. His performance of the crook-backed tyrant on Monday evening has, however, put an end to all doubt upon that point. The late misConduct of Mr. Kean had rendered us apprehensive that |