whose fable is introduced so small a portion of fact, which is not consistent with the chastity of history, it might have been expected that the interest of the play would be weakened, if not overlooked, and of course the field of impressive and brilliant acting, improperly narrowed by a cynical expression of romance, or a superstitious sacrifice to scenery. Such might have been the expectation; but it is not warranted by experience. For though it would be unjust in the highest degree to the talents and industry of Mr. Bromley, not to acknowledge. the excellence of his exhibition, which we think was as fine a coup d'ail as the Boston theatre ever presented, yet a comment, bearing no common import of praise, is certainly due on this occasion to a considerable number of the dramatick corps, who, perhaps catching fire from the sentiment of the scene, with which they were connected, excelled their ordinary exertions, and gave unusual effect to the representation. The contrivance of the plot is so exquisitely managed that, when well presented, the ingenuity of the fiction insinuates an interest as powerful, as that of real life, because for the moment it is believed, and more subtle, because it captivates by illusion. Of the peculiar merits of individual performers it would be improper to speak largely, without at the same time remarking on the defects of the representation. Criticism loaths indiscriminate praise as much, as she despises malignant censure. But thence it does not follow that the writer of every theatrical paragraph ought to notice every individual in a theatre, "from the lowest point to the top of the compass," from

the Roscius who enacts "Hamlet," down to his brother orator Some criticks are

the carpenter, who plays the "Cock." indeed a great deal like the clerk of a militia company on a parade day; their whole duty consists in calling over the muster roll of its members, without either examining their arms, or improving their discipline.

On Mrs. Whitlock's "Elvira." we shall not remark; for the talent, whose aspect is too brilliant to be gazed at with scrutiny, or whose elevation is too high for its blemishes to be discerned, while it humbles envy by its distance, diminishes praise by its brightness.

Mr. Rutley has many of the indispensable requisites of a good actor; and some, without which no advantages of education, voice or person, can ever make a great one. The intonation of his voice, and the temper of his gesticulation are well adapted to that province of personation, which he sustains in the theatre. But his distinguishing feature, and that, which will always make its impression on the publick, is the spirit of his conception, which combines a sensibility to the touches of life as well, as a judgment in the comprehension of character, without which the most boasted refinement, with all its affectation of scholastick superiority, will find its inanimate exertions lavished on an impassive publick. Mr. Rutley possesses this grand quality; and if he is sometimes misled by its enthusi asm from the natural tones of passion into those of turned declamation, the errour is more venal, than the studied want of animation, the scientifick coldness, which freezes the heart by its torpidity, while it delights the mind with its correctness.

We now come to Mr. Jones; and, if we had leisure, we would set down to him. In the course of the season, fair occasion has been given to applaud this gentleman for the understanding and accomplishment, he possesses; and, from a justifiable delicacy, some plausible opportunities have been presented to reprehend peculiarities, which he has the good sense, and the disposition to correct. Of "Alonzo," we shall only say, we have never seen him perform any part with so much spirit; although we have never known him to fail in discrimination. The key of his voice is not so well adapted to the monotony of phlegmatick narration, as to the variable expression of the passions. Mr. Jones always conceives well, but he sometimes executes indifferently. Let him reflect on the success of his scene with " Pizarro," and remember that talent so exerted will be always so rewarded.

Careless to learn, who praise us, or condemn,
Unswayed by partial wit, or critick phlegm,
We aim, ambitious, to retrieve the stage
From errours, which obscured its weaker age;
But while we censure, or approve the scene,

Praise is not friendship, nor is satire spleen.

THE task of combining the scattered slips of theatrical excellence is to us, we confess, a work of more pleasure, than that of plucking the faded leaf, and pruning the excrescent branch. The one is the exercise of taste, the other the injunction of duty,

During the last week, Mr. Bernard has continued to display the flexible powers of a great and discriminating actor, in the presentment of "many-coloured life." One of the most luminous traits of his merit is, that he marks, in his delineation of characters, almost homogeneous, the minutest shades, in which they differ. Many comedians are too much in the habit of dashing the pound brush, and all, they aim to throw upon the canvass, is a dazzling confusion of the primary colours, without intermixture, gradation or lineament. The whole is illegitimate; a picture without a likeness. It claims affinity to nothing, but one of Caliban's dreams; and thus, having no human relations, it is not entitled to christian baptism. Not so with the designs of Mr. Bernard. His, if not the pencil of Titian, is at least that of Hogarth. While the bolder features are expanded with prominent effect, the softest lines of colouring and variation of conception, lines almost as delicate, as the horizon, that vanishes between the sea and the sky, are, in nice precision, gently touched in the correct shadowings of his execution. His clowns have as many dif ferent patents of rank, as a herald's office has of the peerage; and, in fact, they all seem to know their own place as well, and show each other as much ceremony and respect. Being all exempted from the game laws, each sports upon his own manor, and holds it unworthy to poach upon that of his neighbour. "Gregory Gubbins" can laugh "till his face be like a wet cloak, ill laid up." "Caleb Wilkins" belongs to another family. His head is lean and sterile, yet has he been taught

Falstaff's "first human principle; to forswear thin potations and addict himself to Sack." The character is not a sot, but his humour has a mellower tilth from having been husbanded and manured by "the excellent endeavour of drinking." In "Two Strings to your Bow," the features of comedy are again recomposed and re-moddled. "Lazarillo" is one of the most piquant knaves in the drama. None but his cousin german "Trappanti" can out-joke, out-wit, or out-eat him! Again, Mr. Bernard changes the scene, deserts his motley companions, and assumes the courtly and arduous character of "Sir Peter Teazle." Undertaken, as we hear, at a study of two days only, it was represented with a maturity of design, and a richness of drapery, worthy the industry and ingenuity of years. We have never seen the inimitable wit of this character shine through so pellucid a medium. It suffered no blemish from interior imperfection, no divergency from an unpolished surface. It was chaste comedy; as delicate, yet as beautiful as the tapestry of the Gobelins.

On Wednesday evening, "George Barnwell," by young Whitlock. Of his application and ambition, what a woeful example is here! "Pity 'tis, 'tis true!" What his conception of the character might have been, we know not; for the youthful Roscius was so imperfect in the words of the author, that "Barnwell" seemed to us, like a fine child, stolen away by Gypsies, and stained with walnut juice to prevent detection! At least, the trick passed very well upon us, for the indentity of the person was kept a profound secret from our