Exhibition of the Royal Academy. Mr. Hilton's large picture of " Venus, in search of Cupid, intruding on the bath of Diana," is entitled to particular observation. The rich and harmonious colouring of this picture affords a coup d'ail highly pleasing, but on examination the favourable impression is soon effaced. The subject suggests the only source from which the picture might have derived excellence, which is female beauty; and the painter has by no means succeeded in its representation. His Venus is a slight sketch from the antique, in proportions, which, however beautiful in marble deities, lose all their attractions when imbued with colour. Diana's attitude has nothing of grace or dignity; the surrounding nymphs are negligently drawn. The landscape is in a very rich, grand style. If Mr. Hilton has failed through his adherence to the forms of the antique, Mr. Hayter has been equally unlucky in the indiscriminate imitation of nature. The figure, supported by Iris, complaining to Mars, and shewing him the wound received from Diomed, is certainly not Venus. We do not mean to call it an ugly figure. Many tight-laced, made-up, shewy dames, would suffer greatly in comparison with this figure; but as there certainly are many individual forms far superior, we cannot agree to let it pass for a Venus.

Mythological subjects require, above all things, beauty of form; they are only valuable as illustrations of classical poetry, from which we have already derived impressions of perfect beauty. We naturally expect to find, in a picture of this class, the perfect images of the poet rendered visible: and we feel every fault as a disappointment.

British Institution. The Directors of this national establishment are now exhibiting a collection of portraits of characters distinguished in the history and literature of the United Kingdom. The intention of this exhibition is thus explained in the preface to their Catalogue.

"Our object in forming the Collection has been to interest, rather than to instruct. We attempt to guide the Artist no farther than to offer for his observation, from time to time, specimens, from which we think he may derive improvement-the rest depends upon himself. As little do we enter into

the examination of questions connected with the cultivation of the Arts, which have been often discussed, and perhaps never satisfactorily decided:--whether a School of Painting is more likely to create imitators, than to assist extraordinary talents; whether the facilities which it affords, are of material advantage to the Artist; whether real genius will not more probably lead to excellence by following its own course; and whether it will not surmount all difficulties, and shew itself still more transcendant, because it has had to contend with them--are questions we do not attempt to solve. Our purpose is to extend to a wider circle the love and admiration, and patronage of the Arts if we succeed in this attempt, we advance the cause we have undertaken."

This exhibition affords fine specimens of the works of Holbein, Sir Antonio More, Rubens, Vandyke, Lely, Kneller, Reynolds, Copley, Gainsborough, &c. It is an assemblage of persons who at various periods, and in every walk of life, have distinguished themselves, and influenced the fate of England. In these almost breathing images, we behold the great, the noble, and the wise, from Henry IV. to George III. We seem to be introduced into their presence, and, in spite of the anachronism, to behold at once the Plantagenets, the Tudors, the Stuarts, and the Guelphs. When we contemplate these vivid lineaments, glancing around us on every side, looks animated by sentiment, by passion, and by pride-when we discern their very characters, their virtues, and their failings, legibly written in their faces when we resign ourselves to the illusion of the art, and unconsciously regard them as living and moving-how awfully does the stern voice of truth remind usTHEY ARE ALL DEAD. We confess that although we went to criticize, we could not resist a propensity to moralize: but as we wish our readers to do that for themselves, we shall conclude by particularly recommending them not to omit this opportunity of seeing, among other admirable portraits, the equestrian portrait of Charles I. by Vandyke; portraits of the same monarch with Queen Henrietta Maria, and two of the royal children, by the same artist, Copley's grand historical works of King Charles I. demanding the five members; and the Death of Lord Chatham; Van

dyke's Earl of Strafford, Countess of Bedford, portrait of himself, and two sons of the Duke of Buckingham; Rubens' portraits of himself, Helena Forman, and the family of Sir Balthazar Gerbier; Sir Thomas Gresham, by Sir Antonio More; Reynolds' portraits of himself and Dr. Johnson, and the extraordinary fine picture by the same artist, of the Marquis of Lansdowne, Lord Ashburton, and Colonel Barré. Every stage of the art of portrait painting, from the hard, dry, meagre manner of the predecessors of Holbein in this country, and of many of his own works, to the magic effects of Rubens, Vandyke, and Reynolds, which art will never surpass, is displayed in this rich and interesting collection.

The Exhibition of the Society of Painters in Oil and Water Colours, at the Great Room, Spring Gardens, evinced this year some improvement in Art, though perhaps not more attractive pictures than have appeared in former exhibitions. From many of the artists whose works are annually exhibited at this room, we cannot now look for the rapid progressive advancement which marked their early career: while their masterly performances will nevertheless prevent our taking that interest in the efforts of the present race of rising artists, which we felt in their earlier endeavours. Landscape is, from several concurrent causes, the predominant branch of art in this society; and several pictures of this class in the present collection are truly excellent. A great variety of pieces from the fertile pencil of Robson are distinguished by their fidelity to nature, and the profound knowledge of natural appearances, and the means of imitation, which generally characterize this artist's works. His distant view of "Penrhyn Castle" is a bright clear picture, in which an extensive landscape is seen through the medium of a dry and subtle atmosphere, stretching beneath an almost unclouded sky to an immense distance in the truest aerial perspective. In his beautiful moonlight of "Stratford Church," the "pale beams of the wat'ry moon" glancing through the ancient windows on the spot where "sweetest Shakspeare, fancy's child" rests silent in the tomb, is an elegant tribute to the memory of the poet, and honourable to the feeling by which it was suggested.

In one of Robson's larger pictures we are presented with the most effective

image of the awful majesty of mighty Snowdon, which has ever been created by the pencil. The light which brightens the vale in the foreground, is intercepted by clouds, whose shadows wrap the mountains in gloomy grandeur. "Morning Twilight," by this artist, is a very fine composition. Barret's large picture of "Evening," is a grand and solitary scene, illumined by the rays of the declining sun. A sublime, serene, and elevated feeling is produced by the contempla tion of these majestic woods and waters. Perhaps the warm brown colour is too general in this picture. The "Harvest Moon," by the same artist, is a very fine picture. It represents an extensive harvest scene, over which the moon is rising in full splendour, while the foreground is still faintly illumined by the yet bright western sky supposed to be behind the spectator. Richter's

Tight Shoe" is admirably conceived and executed. The glow of the rich colouring, the high finish which realizes every object, entitle it to the highest praise as a picture for the eye. But the humour which pervades it, is as rich as the colour. A country fellow having with great effort forced his foot into a shoe which bids fair to cripple him, the pert shoemaker insists that it is " an excellent fit," though he can scarcely suppress a laugh, and maintains his point with such pertinacious impudence, that he seems likely, if not to convince his customer, at least to sell his shoes. A veteran, whose stumps are accommodated with two wooden legs, stands behind the countryman heartily enjoying a practical joke, from which he is effectually exempted. A corn-cutter has run over from his shop to participate in the jest, but is recalled by his angry spouse; whose interference, as well as a matrimonial squabble seen in the background, seems to imply that no one knows where the shoe pinches so well as the wearer. John Varley, in his "Evening," has very successfully embodied Milton's idea. We were much pleased with the glowing sunsets in the fine sea views of Copley Fielding; as well as with his "Turf Cutters." D. Cox's "Hayfield and Ploughing scene," and Prout's "Dismasted Indiaman," and several views in France, are very masterly performances. Mr. Cristall's fine classisical taste is displayed in a noble composition, representing Jupiter nursed in the island of Crete by the Nymphs and

Corybantes. We regret that our limits preclude us from describing this subject, and from expressing more partícularly the high satisfaction we have derived from many excellent pictures

in this exhibition.

We learn that this Society will in future exhibit only Paintings in Water Colours, and that their exhibitions will take place at the Egyptian Hall in Piccadilly.

DRURY LANE THEATRE.

THE close of the season at Drury-lane Theatre was brightened by the re-appearance of Mr. Kean for a few evenings, during which he played Shylock and Othello, the first of which has fewer faults, and the last deeper beauties, than any of his performances. His Shylock, though his expression of mere fiendish malignity is less striking and prominent than that which we remember in Cooke, is almost perfect. The total absence of all tragic pomp, which would so ill befit the old usurer, is admirably supplied by the human intensity and Jewish fervour of his spirit, crushed, mangled, and stung into agony by Christian injuries. His scene with Tubal, where the Jew hears of his daughter's extravagance and of his foe's losses, is the finest in the play-the quickness of his transitions here astonishes like lightning and his joy in the prospect of revenge, which seems thrilling through every nerve, and trembling in every tone, and dilating his weary and wasted heart, agitates the spectator with a strange and fearful sympathy. His acting in the trial scene is admirable-blending, with wonderful art, or rather intuition, the spirit of the aged and avaricious merchant, with that of the Hebrew burning to avenge his national and individual wrongs and arouses all our indignation against the base injustice of Shylock's enemies. We may excuse a quibble to frustrate his bloody inventions-but when he is stripped of his property and compelled to abandon the faith of his fathers, our Christian hearts rise up within us to take his part, and to resent the insult which such a representation of persecuting injustice offers to the mildest and purest of religious systems.

Mr. Kean's Othello was, to the full, as grand as ever. "The force of acting can no further go." The marble still ness of his surprise the terrific flow of his rage-the sighs which faintly relieve the labouring soul-the beautiful returns of his love which suffuse his eyes with childlike tears-and the quiet fixedness

of his final despair-with a thousand delicate touches of pathos which excite thoughts too deep even for tears-are beyond description or praise. But we must not "let go by the divine Desdemona," who on this occasion was represented by a Lady, new to the London theatres, who also performed Portia in the Merchant of Venice. Her figure and person are well suited to the first line of parts, in comedy or in tragedyher genius, we think, inclines most to the former.

A certain mixture of gaiety and feeling, like that required in the scene where Bassanio examines the caskets, seems to be her best property, and might be displayed to great advantage in the sentimental drama, as well as in some of the finest of the old comedies. The best part of her Desdemona, was her intercession for Cassio, where her manner was as irresistible as her reasonings. For tragic declamation, or passion, her voice seems as yet to have scarcely sufficient power; but this is a defect which practice, and a careful enunciation, will probably remove.

The season has, we fear, scarcely fulfilled its early promises to the spirited and enthusiastic manager. There appears to have been no judicious inspector of the pieces offered for representation for, with the exception of The Lady and the Devil, none of the new pieces have met with any thing like genuine success. The fate of some of them as the comedy and tragedymight have been foreseen, we should think, by any one gifted with an acquaintance with stage-effect, though destitute of any higher power of criticism. The revivals have been more fortunate.

If we were to point out the chief remediable causes of the comparative want of success, exclusive of the defect in the taste which has selected the new pieces, we should refer it to the protracted repetition of Lear

the want of an actress in elegant comedy-and the too frequent reliance placed on the attraction of the first piece, instead of bringing forward the comic strength of the house in farces,

of these, excepting the works of the first of all dramatists. We shall rejoice to perceive the spirit of our old writers imbuing all our literature with its rich tinges; but we freely confess that we do not desire to see our poets attempt ing to produce works exactly similar to theirs, nor do we think that such works would succeed in the theatre. The exquisite grouping of all the persons-the pure, yet intelligible, beauty of the domestic scenes and the manly and sweet cast of the sentiments in Virginius, appear to us far more calculated to delight, to move, and to refine a vast concourse of spectators, than the marvellous but ill-connected scenes, the wild luxuriance of language, and the strange, bewildering passion of our old dramatists. As a poem, Virginius has many /genuine passages such as the speeches of the father in the forum-the misgivings of the innocent girl-and the whole courtship of the lovers, which is a rare instance of the union of scenic effect with delicate loveliness of fancy. We feel assured that this piece, which does so much honour to Covent Garden theatre, will, whenever the theatrical spirit shall revive, be as fruitful a source of profit, as it now is of fame.

The past season will also be well-re-membered by the lovers of the drama, as having shewn to the world the resources of Mr. Macready's genius, which before were hidden, or only guessed by a few attentive observers. No performer, within our memory, has succeeded in spite of such formidable obstacles. His appearance had not the freshness of novelty he had been seen in a variety of inferior and often disagreeable characters-and except in a very few instances, had acted parts of mean malignity, not only beneath, but wholly unsuited to his powers. His performance of Rob Roy first shewed the cordiality and nobleness of his spirit, and that of Mordaunt in the Steward, the intensity of his passion. But these were prose parts at the best; and success in them was no proof of capability to succeed in Shakspeare's principal characters. His attempt to play Richard was adventurous almost without parallel-from the great excel lence of Mr. Kean in the part, and from the violent feeling of exclusive attachment which so many cherished towards that admirable performer. Yet he triumphed over prejudice and party; gave to this often-repeated character the air of novelty; and necessarily without aid NEW MONTHLY MAG-No. 79.

from any other actor, rendered the play attractive for nine or ten nights, at a period when theatrical enthusiasm was comparatively feeble. In Coriolanus, the fresh recollection of past greatness presented almost as severe an obstacle, as the admiration of present excellence in Richard; for an attempt so soon after Mr. Kemble's retirement, to embody the part which the imagination. identified with him, was regarded as little less than sacrilege: Mr. Macready, however, so skilfully brought out the more human traits of the characterthe young patrician enthusiasm-the filial love-the swelling and noble contempt of base disguise-and the terrible struggle of affection with pride-that he gave a new and striking idea of the part, without disturbing that which his great predecessor had bodied forth with equal vividness and majesty. His Macbeth also was an attempt of great peril; because he had not only the long shadows cast by Mr. Kemble's fame, to cross his path, but was unaided by any support in Lady Macbeth which could heighten the attraction; and the play, with all its unearthly grandeur, is a fearful weight for one individual to sustain. Yet here his bewildered air-his looks of a haunted wildness-and his gallant bearingpresented a picture of the character before but dimly seen even by the mental eye. His success in Virginius is less extraordinary, because he had less to overcome than in either of his other principal efforts; and assuredly never has there been exhibited on the stage a performance of more variety, yet more entirely harmonious. We think, therefore, that this season will be fondly remembered hereafter in theatrical annals, as that which developed the genius of an artist, who has made the oldest deurs of romance familiar to us, and given to young affections an antique grace-who has set characters which scemed exhausted, in a fresh and harmonizing light-and has shed a new breath of sweetness over our acted tragedy.

ENGLISH OPERA HOUSE.

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We hail the opening of our two summer theatres-for they are happily alike in the facility which they afford of seeing and of hearing-while in other respects they as happily differ. The Haymarket is the place for winter comfort, the snug retreat to which the joys of cold weather obstinately retire, and hold out against sunshine and where they nestle in gay defiance of the elements. VOL. XIV. 2 D