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mates that " a burnt child dreads the fire," and the audience will in time doubtless become more wary. Miss Kelly is very fond of the Mermaid Song; if she would take the trouble of listening once to Mrs. Austin's delightful manner of giving it, it might have the beneficial effect of stopping any further operations on that piece of music.
We have spoken plainly of this lady for two reasons : first, because she is as popular as ever, and therefore need not shrink from having her merits canyassed; had she been declining in the public estimation, we should have been the last to say any thing about her, but she still claims to rank as a star, and one of the first magnitude too, and therefore of course lays herself the more open to remark; she enjoys all the privileges and immunities of that station, probably receiving a more liberal remuneration for half a dozen evenings than is awarded to actresses of what we consider decidedly superior abilities, such as Mrs. Hilson and Mrs. Wheatley, for months of unremitting exertion, and with these substantial advantages she ought at least to take the slight disadvantages of such a station. In the second place, Miss Kelly, from appearances, is a woman of spirit, and one not likely to be popped off by a paragraph like John Keats the poet, who, in coroner's language, "came by his death in consequence of a criticism."
This lady, though a favorite with the public, scarcely holds that place in their estimation which might be expected from her varied and manifold qualifications. The parts, to be sure, in which she generally appears, do not admit of any brilliant display of talent, and therefore Mrs. Sharpe's sensible and spirited manner of performing them only elicits a moderate share of approbation, though the aggregate pleasure derived from her performances is probably greater than from those of many who claim a loftier station in the profession. She is the Mrs. Woodhull of the Park theatre-that is, she holds the same rank in the feminine department, which that worthy gentleman does in the masculine, and is, like him, endowed in a high degree, with the yankee faculty of turning her hand to any thing. She is a very fair singer, an excellent
walking lady," and a capital comedian. Besides,
Kemble will become a great actress, and that the artificial education, of which she has yet much to receive, will not destroy the natural beauty and freshness of her mind. At present her personations are rather distinguished by feminine sweetness and delicacy, and quick and violent transitions of passion, than by sustained force and grandeur ; but there is something occasionally in the tone of her voice—in her dark expressive eye and fine forehead, that speaks of the future Queen Katherine and wife of Macbeth. Her Juliet, with some faults, is a delightful, affectionate, warm-hearted piece of acting; and she is decidedly the least mawkish and most truly loving and loveable Belvidera I have ever seen. The closing scene of madness, where others fail, is her greatest triumph. The tones of her voice, when playfully threatening Jaffier, might almost touch the heart of a money-scrivener. She is the only Belvidera I have beheld play this scene twice. They all contrive to make it either excessively repulsive or ridiculous, and somehow or other manage to bring to mind a very vivid picture of Tilburina in the Critic; while their invariably going home in the midst of their distresses, and after a partial touch of insanity, to put off their black velvets and put on their white muslins to go completely mad in, because, as that lady says, “it is a rule," by no and can jilt a footman or reject a knight with equal skill and dexterity.. By the way, she has an uncommonly picturesque manner of repulsing improper overtures ; when playing an innocent maid, wife, or widow, and any of the stage libertines go down on their knees and unfold their wicked intentions, she has a style of curling her lip, flashing her eye, folding her arms, and drawing up her person with an air of insulted virtue, which must produce a prodigious moral effect upon the kneeling sinner and the attentive audience. In parts, likewise, where an union of good acting and tolerable singing is required, such as Georgette Clairville or Donna Anna, in Don Giovanni, it would be difficult to find her equal.
ARCH, easy, impudent, pert, sprightly, and agreeable, with a handsome face, a delicious person, a rich, musical voice, and an inexhaustible fund of selfpossession, this vivacious lady has pleased, and continues to please on every stage, and in every department of the drama in which she appears. She suits all tastes. It is impossible for any one to dislike her ; and just as impossible, I should think, for any to become enthusiastically fond of her acting. There is no depth, nor power, nor sensibility about her. Neither is there the aping or affectation of these things. She is, emphatically, a clever actress, which stands in about the same relation to a great actress as an epigrammatist to a poet; or a shrewd, worldly man to a wise one; and her being a more universal favorite than others of a higher order of merit, is only another proof of what has been proved some thousand times since the world began-that success