though not very striking as a drama, is in its situations, its characters, and its music, thoroughly English. Its sentiment is not profound, nor its wit abundant, nor its story new; but there is about it an appearance of truth and nature, and the fresh air of our inland fields seems breathed over it. We differ from many of our brother critics respecting Miss Wilson's performance of Rosetta. If the original songs are not so well adapted to her powers as those of Mandane, her execution of them shewed that her range is by no means limited to the bravura, although in this she most captivates and surprises. Her manner of singing "Young I am and sore afraid," for example, was exceedingly bewitching her breakings off arch and natural—and her voice, in accordance with the words, jocundly playing about like a sportive stream in its crystalline meanders. She also sang "Go naughty man," and "Whence can you inherit?" in a very lively and graceful style, though with a little redundancy of action, which experience will easily remove. Her most brilliant success, no doubt, was achieved in the introduced pieces; among which the arduous bravura " While yet youth's careless pulses stray," produced the liveliest emotion. Although songs of this class are not those which usually enchant us most, yet there is something so joyous in the conscious power with which Miss Wilson commences them, and so sustained and masterly in her execution of their most difficult passages, that she inspires us with a new sensation of delight, where we have been accustomed only to tremble and wonder. Braham played Hawthorn for the first time; and the part really seemed to him like a second youth. He gave the fine old English songs fully and roundly, and with a manly simplicity, which did good to the heart. If he rewarded his virtue with a few introduced songs, which we did not like so well, we could not refuse him. Horn appeared to great advantage in Young Meadows, and Miss Povey surprised us in the songs allotted to Lucinda. She must, however, beware of attempting to follow Miss Wilson, as her powers are much

better adapted to the style of the exquisite songstress of the rival theatre. Mrs. Bland's voice seems destined to flourish in immortal youth, for we never heard it clearer or sweeter than in Madge. Munden's Woodcock is in the richest style of the old comedy; and all the other parts of the comic opera are excellently acted. The success of Miss Wilson really embarrasses the manager, by depriving him of room for the exercise of his inventive faculty in his official criticisms. This is very hard upon him!

An attempt to embody Goldsmith's well-known portrait of Beau Tibbs and his ludicrous embarrassments, has met with little success. It is, indeed, impossible to dramatize a mere sketch of character. The delicate strokes of the satirist are not sufficiently palpable to be enjoyed on the stage, without the aid of story. We are afraid, too, that this is not exactly the season, when the endeavours of a man of slender means to save appearances, can safely be offered to the amusement of the town. In spite, therefore, of very industrious bustling by Mr. Harley, the piece was received with doubtful favour. It is very inferior to that dainty little entertainment Where shall I dine? produced by Elliston at the Olympic.

COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE.

The decline of the theatrical spirit has, except on a few peculiar occasions, rendered the performance of pure tragedy or comedy very unprofitable to the managers. In order to stimulate the palled appetite of the town, they have been compelled to add the charms of music to those of wit, and even in some instances to intersperse these with situations of serious interest, in order to complete the attraction. From these blended ingredients, it must be confessed that very fascinating dramas have been constructed; and of these one of the most fascinating is the play of Don John, founded on Beaumont and Fletcher's comedy of The Chances. There is a romantic tinge about the play in its original form, which is favourable to the introduction of lyrical pieces, now scattered plenteously through

scenes.

its

The country too where its incidents arise, Italy, is that in which

this intermixture is almost natural-for there poetry flows almost from the lips of the peasant; there wit and fancy are harmoniously blended in the discourse of ordinary life; there the conversation is "far above singing," and even atrocious crime is perpetrated amidst a profusion of luxuries. The adaptation is, on the whole, skilfully managed, though the songs are better adapted for singing than for perusal. It is chiefly remarkable as having introduced a lady to the stage, who will take a high rank among English songstresses. Miss Hallande, who appeared as the " First Violetta" of the piece, possesses a voice of great compass, reaching almost as high as Miss Stephens's, and nearly as low as Miss Tree's, though without either the volume or the cultivation of either. She has evidently a large portion of that sensibility, which is the soul of all high excellence, both in music and acting. Her figure is eleganther face not very unlike Miss Kelly's, though softer and less expressiveand her deportment lady-like and graceful. She was almost overcome by her timidity on the first night of her appearance, which we regard as a favourable indication;-not merely as it manifests a feminine terror of encountering the public gaze, but as it evinces a consciousness of powers, the first exercise of which is a fearful moment for their possessor. The songs allotted to Miss Stephens, in her part of the Second Violetta, were not very happily adapted to her voice; but her acting was far superior to any by which she has yet delighted us. There was a sweet archness, a genteel picquancy in her manner, which would have been bewitching, even without her warblings. Nor was the kindness of her behaviour towards the new songstress, whom she encouraged by the most delicate attentions, lost on the spectators. When she roguishly exclaimed, "If there were any young man who would take me, I would make him the best wife in Christendom," she was greeted with the ardent plaudits of a thousand hands "with hearts in them." Charles Kemble played charmingly as Don John-tempering a fantastical humour with that air of high gentle

Mr.

manly feeling, which never forsakes him. Jones was airy, and Liston irresistible;-though the latter seemed to forget that the eccentricity of Naples was not exactly that of Wapping. The scenery of this piece was decidedly one of its chief attractions. A view of part of the bay of Naples from embowering woods-a painting of the city illuminated, from a garden-and a prospect of the bay, in which a vast extent of water was discovered, and over which the very freshness of the skies seemed to breathe, were alone worth going to see. They were, besides, rendered doubly interesting by the recollection, that they pictured the region which is newly consecrated to liberty-where the old Italian spirit is freshly awakened-and where a battle is to be contested, more glorious than any which were fought in the days of its ancient victories.

But

An experiment of happy audacity has at last been tried at this theatre, in the restoration of Shakspeare's Richard to the stage. We are not among those who think that all which our great poet has written, is necessarily fit to be acted, or that far inferior minds may not sometimes render his works more adapted for representation than he left them. Nor would we speak disrespectfully of that cordial egotist Colley Cibber, the pleasantest of coxcombs, and one of the liveliest of comedians. assuredly, with all his vivacity and grace, his mind was the very opposite of that whose production he ventured to alter; and while he has, in some respects, well concentrated the interest of the piece, he has greatly disfigured the chief character, and despoiled it of fair proportion. The author of the present alterationthough he did not, and could not, strictly speaking, restore the play, because it is far too long for representation has removed much of the dross cast on Richard, and almost brought him back to his original brightness. He has not presented to us the whole of the amazing character, from the beginning of its darings, in the Second Part of Henry VI. to their consummation, because it is not possible to do this in a single tragedy. But he has vindicated to the gay aspi

rant his own regality of soul, restored to him his vein of kingly wit, and given back to him "the sovereign sway and masterdom" of spirit, which no less belonged to him when contemplating the difficulties between himself and the throne, than in the moment of his actual triumph. We have learned with great pleasure, that the public is indebted for this spirited and judicious revival to the first tragedian of our time; to him who produced Virginius and Mirandola, and who has done more for dramatic literature by his taste and his energy, than could have been achieved by a hundred lordly patrons. In producing the regenerated Richard, Macready has, in some measure, his own reward; because it is the peculiar felicity of his genius always to rise with his author, and to share the inspiration of his 'happiest conceptions. In every instance of abrupt grandeur in Richard-in all the flashes and out-breaks of his fiery mind-in the jocund sportiveness with which he plays with poisoned weapons as with harmless toys-this great actor is signally triumphant. In the principal scene, which is now restored to the stage-that where Gloucester denounces Hastings to the councilhis commanding energy seemed to awe even the spectators into a sense of the justice of Richard's cause. The sudden accusation of Hastings, and the baring of the withered arm, produced an effect actually magical. All the other characters were filled in a manner highly creditable to the manager and the performers; and the whole was crowned with success, which we hope will long attend this most memorable revival.

The version of Thérése produced at this theatre was better than that at Drury Lane, insomuch as it was shorter, but it was not nearly so well acted. Mrs. Vining, indeed, who made her first appearance as the heroine, is an excellent melodramatic actress, evidently gifted with quick sensibility and great knowledge of the stage; but she will bear no comparison with Miss Kelly. Mr. Vandenhoff played the villainous advocate very coldly, probably from a fitting disdain of the part, and certainly was in

ferior both to Wallack, and to Cooper, who succeeded Wallack in the character at Drury Lane, and played it with singular power and skill. This piece soon gave way to a melodrame, founded on Kenilworth, of inferior merit to its own. It was, in truth, a poor skeleton of the novel, with no attraction but some gorgeous scenery. The infatuation of the managers of this house, in expending large sums on the production of pieces, which a child might see would never add a shilling to their receipts, is to us perfectly amazing.

SURREY THEATRE.

Our criticism can scarcely keep pace with the activity of Mr. Dibdin's management, but "toils after him in vain." The first novelty of the month was an after-piece called "What's o' Clock," founded on the farce of the Midnight Hour, which was as full of tricks as an old Pantomime, and more witty than a modern comedy. Miss Copeland's performance of the waiting-maid was one of the nicest pieces of quiet assurance we have ever seen and Mr. S. H. Chapman's Sebastian a very dextrous portrait of one of the cunning and impudent servants of Terentian fame. Besides this, the manager has made an adventurous excursion into the Grecian Mythology, in the story of the Daughters of Danaus ; and another into the inmost bowers of romance, in a drama of Fair Rosamond; but we have not space at present to say more than that they are well worthy of a visit even from the most distant parts of the town.

THE ORATORIOS.

The Oratorios have commenced at both houses, as the observances of the season require. Those at Covent Garden are adorned by the greatest number of attractive singers-having Braham, Angrisani, Knellner, Vaughan, Miss Stephens, Mrs. Salmon, Miss Povey, and a very promising novice, Miss Warwick, among the performers. But the chorusses and concerted pieces are much more complete at Drury Lane; and the selection, if not so captivating in an advertisement, forms the most harmonious and uncloying whole. Both establishments, however, deserve success.

Christ's Agony in the Garden. By Mr.HAYDON. Of this picture, and of Mr. HAYDON's talents as a painter, the sentiments are various. Respecting Works of Art a great diversity of opinion will always necessarily prevail. The graces and energies of Expression and Form are only definable by general rules, which admit of infinite variations and combinations. They are not reducible to mathematical exactness and demonstration. The varied degree of estimation, in which the same work is held by different observers, depends upon a thousand circumstances connected with education, habit, and mode of life, among which, too, may be included the various temperaments of mind and body. Thus, according to DIDEROT, great Taste supposes great sensibility, delicate organs, and a temperament inclined to melancholy." The expression of this difference of opinion is generally greatest during the life of an artist, arising chiefly from the rivalries of the candidates for fame and other desiderata. GALILEO, who was imprisoned and suffered in the Inquisition, for stating the truth respecting the earth's shape as being a sphere, scarcely excited more acrimony than is engendered by the conflicting opinions of professors of art, and their respective advocates. The instances of these jealousies and disputes are numerous in the biography of artists, from the anxieties and even death, said to have been suffered from them by the father of Italian greatness in art, LEONARDO DA VINCI, down to the injuries, sustained from the same causes, to the health of the late Presidents of the Royal Academy, Sir J. REYNOLDS and Mr. WEST. These contentions become more embittered when Reform in Art is an object of one or more of the militants; as, like the most moderate reform in any institution, it is sure to rouse the opposition of the corruptionists in the community of taste, whose interests would be seriously affected by a change. All these causes, and especially the last, have produced diversities of opinion, and given rise to con

tentions, respecting the merits of Mr. HAYDON. In our view, he stands at the head of Historical Artists; and no one, in this country at least, is qualified to meet him in the lists with the remotest chance of success. But this is not all.-Mr. HAYDON will be regarded by posterity, or we are much mistaken, as the chief regenerator of elevated art in our times. Mr. BARRY, Sir J. REYNOLDS, and Mr. WEST, have contributed to excite a relish for high art, and their names will be remembered with great respect; but their works have not possessed sufficient depth of science, or, what is best in art, sufficient congeniality with Nature in her high tones of feeling and grander aspects, to give that decided stimulus to the professional and to the public mind, which leads onward to true greatness, and to a like glory with the renowned eras of genius. Mr. HAYDON has awakened the best energies of artists and lovers of art. He has made a strong and advanced movement upon the previous character of his country in painting; while he and Mr. MARTIN have entirely set at rest the long-established doubt as to the supposed inadequacy of the natives of our island to refined and lofty attainments in the Arts. Without any deeply considered knowledge of the form and expression of the presiding being on earth, man, Mr. MARTIN paints to the imagination with originality, and a strong conception of landscape and architectural effect. He makes the imagination glow with the vivid and grand arrangement of colour and chiaroscuro in these, rather than by any superior developement of the noblest object in the creation. He makes his various knowledge tell to one grand impression of awe, by a judicious arrangement and harmonious conjunction of parts, rather than by any profound display in the higher attainments of painting. Mr. HAYDON, on the contrary, has an accomplished eye for colour, light, shade, and all the mechanism of his art, with an accurate and animated display of the human form for the greater purpose

of disclosing human feeling. The soul, the noblest part of existence, shines through his lucid corporeal forms. We appeal to the unprejudiced, and to those whose judgments have been ripened by long-practised comparisons of works of art, whether his pictures do not well bear us out in these opinions.

turn and ebbing of his agony, just after the moment when all these pathetic expressions seem to address us with the thought delivered by the Poet and Prophet in those touching words-“Behold and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow." In a word, the beauty, sanctity, and sorrow, here depicted, rush with a tender but earnest power of commiseration and love into our bosoms. Did we not previously know the subject, we should instantly recognize a being of high intelligence and purity, suffering on an occasion pregnant with momentous consequences-an occasion that absorbs the entire faculties of the soul, and in which the body sympathizes through every nerve and limb. His character, too, would be in some degree indicated by his companions, who, though asleep, are plainly designated by their respective physiognomical characteristics, especially the passionate susceptibility of St. Peter, who is standing guard against a tree with a sword while half asleep; and the beauty and gentleness of St. John, the most benign of his species, oppressed with watching and anxiety for his persecuted friend, till he has fallen into a disturbed sleep. Grief-smitten, and between the less refined St. James and the stern St. Peter, his aspect, like the storm-agitated weeping-willow near two rugged oaks, is meekly sorrowful and disturbed. As all things appear more striking from their contraries, the subject affords a rich contrast to these morally and personally excellent characters, in the face and figure of Judas; and the painter has taken the best advantage of it. Virtue in distress, and successful miscreancy, debasing to the body, are here in visible opposition. Judas Iscariot is at the very head of sordid traitors, inasmuch as that, for a pitiful pecuniary consideration, he betrayed not only his friend, but one whom he held to be superior to mere man. The cautious, creeping way in which he approaches to do the deed of darkness and treachery, the putting backwards his hand upon the advancing Centurion, to prevent the latter from apprising his sacred friend too soon,

The picture before us, of Christ's Agony, is, we think, a triumphant of the preceding ideas. None a master in anatomy, penciling, colour, and proportion, with a mind of peculiar adaptation to the purpose, could have given so suitable a direction to his knowledge in those sciences, as that which has brought out on this canvass its potent conceptions. Of this Mr. HAYDON's last-executed picture, the opinions are rendered more than usually diversified, by the superhuman character assigned in Scripture to its chief personage. Expectations of what the painter is to describe, are formed in the unreasonable mind of the spectator, and especially of the fervent believer in Revelation, that never can be realized. Few indeed will lower the tone of their expectant minds to the idea, that even the brightest genius under Heaven can paint but the chief among his own species an excellent mortal only; and when it is considered that the great character here painted is necessarily prostrate both in mind and body-is depressed to the earth by the deepest energy of grief, we confess that the painter has nobly acquitted himself in giving this expression, while the face of the revered sufferer still preserves, in its features, shape, and countenance, a superior refinement. Those who look for any elegance of attitude will be disappointed; but even the attitude has the highest excellence of a vigorous expression of the emotions under which the illustrious being is represented. His body is bent in the form which best denotes the unutterable anguish his soul has just suffered. This is seen in his colourforsaken face, livid lips, uplifted and imploring eye, sunk body, compressed hands, and bent toes. It is the commencement only of the subsiding of his soul's direst affliction, the first