Want of space prevents our entering into the discussion of the comparative merits of native and foreign works. We feel no hesitation, however, in saying that our artists, as a body, have every reason to congratulate themselves upon the probable results of the present exhibition.
The Madonna del Velo.—Among the many works of art, which the unsettled state of the Continent has brought into the London market, are a collection formerly the property of the Bracca family of Milan. The gem of the gallery is a remarkably fine and beautifully finished Madonna del Velo by Raffaelle. This attractive picture derives its title from the Virgin being represented as lifting a transparent veil from the face of the sleeping Jesus. She is gazing on the infant with all the devoted love of a mother, and with all a Madonna’s reverence beaming from her eyes and depicted in her countenance and her posture; while the young St. John is standing by, an attentive and interested spectator of the proceeding. The colors are very beautiful, and are blended with the highest taste and judgment. The details of the painting bear the closest examination, and every new inspection brings to view some unobserved charm, some previously undetected beauty. The figures are worthy in all respects of the highest praise, and the landscape forms a delightful and effective back-ground. To mention one little example of the singular skill and finish displayed in this beautiful work, the veil which the Virgin is represented as lifting from the sleeping infant’s face, is marvelously painted. It is perfectly transparent, and seems so singularly fine, filmy and light, that it has all the appearance of what a silken cobweb might be imagined to be. It is a remarkable specimen of the skill of the great artist even in the most difficult and delicate matters. Indeed, the whole painting is a “gem of purest ray.”
“La Tempesta”—a new opera, the joint composition of Halevy and Scribe, has been produced in London, with Sontag as Miranda, Lablache as Caliban, Coletti as Prospero, and Carlotta Grisi as Ariel. Whether its original source, the renown of the author of the libretto, the reputation of the composer, or the combination of artistic talent engaged, be considered, the opera is a work of unprecedented magnitude, and naturally excited unusual interest on the part of all lovers of art. Monsieur Scribe has made legitimate use of Shakspeare’s “Tempest” in its transmutation into a libretto—supernatural agency and music are employed, even Caliban sings, and Ariel, besides being an essentially musical part, heads a band of sprites and elves “who trip on their toes, with mops and mows.” But it was necessary, for lyrical purposes, that a greater intensity of human interest should be added. M. Scribe has found means of drawing these new points from Shakspeare’s own text. He says in a letter to the lessee of Her Majesty’s Theatre, “I have done the utmost to respect the inspirations of your immortal author. All the musical situations I have created are but suggestions taken from Shakspeare’s ideas; and as all the honor must accrue to him, I may be allowed to state that there are but few subjects so well adapted for musical interpretation.” We hope before long to have this last work from Halevy transferred to the boards of the American Opera.
A Drama Thirty Centuries Old Revived.—A recent great theatrical wonder of the hour in Paris, has been the revival of a piece from the Hindoo theatre, “which was performed for the first time” some three thousand years ago, in a city which no longer has an existence on the earth, and written by the sovereign of a country whose very name has become a matter of dispute. The piece was translated from the original Sanscrit by Gerald de Nerval, and met unbounded success. All Paris has been aroused by this curious contemplation of the ideas and motives of these remote ages, and a whimsical kind of delight is experienced at finding the human nature of Hindostan of so many centuries ago, and the human nature of modern Paris, so exactly alike in their puerility and violence, their audacity and absurdity, that the play may verily be called a pièce de circonstance. King Sondraka, the author, seems to have anticipated the existence of such men as Louis Blanc and Proudhon, of Louis Bonaparte and Carlier; so true it is, that there is nothing new under the sun, and that not an idea floats on the tide of human intelligence but what has been borne thither by the waters of oblivion, where it had been already flung.
Statue of Calhoun.—The marble statue of the late John C. Calhoun, executed by Hiram Powers, at Leghorn, for the State of South Carolina, was lost on the coast of Long Island, in July, by the wreck of the brig Elizabeth.