LITERARY NOTICES.

Letters from ITALY. BY J. T. HEADLEY. Number Three of the 'Library of American Books.' In one volume. pp. 225. New-York: WILEY AND PUTNAM.

'OUR purpose,' says the author of this volume, in his preface, 'has been to let others, if possible, look through our eyes; and whether we have succeeded or not, or whether they would have obtained a very interesting view if they did, we leave the reader to judge.' He adds: Descriptions of galleries of art, paintings, etc., have been avoided, as possessing interest to those only who have travelled over the same ground, and become familiar with the details to make those descriptions clear.' Now to write and publish a work on Italy in the middle of the nineteenth century is in itself a hazardous experiment, seldom justified by the qualifications of the author; but to write one professing to eschew the arts, will strike the public with as much surprise and novelty as the memorable performance of HAMLET with the unavoidable omission of the principal character. Unhappily our author has not kept to the words of his preface. The chef d'œuvres of art in painting and sculpture which have been the admiration of the world for centuries, are criticized and condemned in a tone of presumption well calculated to excite the ire even of those who unfortunately have not 'travelled over the same ground' with the writer, and will dispose his reader to call in question the high warrant for his heterodox opinions of art. We select as an example the thirtieth letter, dated Rome, April 28, 1843.' He despatches the capital and the Vatican, inside and out, in about two pages:

'I WILI. not attempt to take you through the Vatican. The first time, I roamed through it without guide-book or question. The Apollo Belvidere and Laocoon I could not mistake; neither did I wish any one to tell me when I came to The Transfiguration. (What instinctive sagacity!) The glori ous figure of CHRIST, in this latter picture, suspended in mid-heaven, and the wonderful face, so unlike all other faces ever painted before, held me spell-bound in its presence. Why could not the artist have left out some dozen or more saints than he has placed below, gaping with astonishment on the wondrous spectacle? The three shining figures beside the still more radiant SAVIOUR are enough to complete the group. The addition of others destroys the simplicity, and hence injures the grandeur of the whole. It was foolish to attempt to improve on the original group. Yet I went away vexed and irritated. My utter inability to see half as it ought to be seen, prevented my enjoying any thing. Again and again I strolled through its immense halls, and can only say it is a forest of statuary, and ought to be divided among the world,' etc.

Passing by this novel application of the agrarian principle to this 'forest of statuary,' let us venture for a moment to look at The Transfiguration' through our own eyes instead of our author's. We refer him to the seventeenth chapter of the Gospel of St. MATTHEW, where he may find new light thrown upon the three shining figures beside the still more radiant SAVIOUR.' Next, we ask him to read what follows, and he will understand why the artist could not have left out some dozen or

more saints that he has placed below, 'gaping with astonishment at the wondrous spectacle. It is extracted from Dr. FRANZ KUGLER'S Hand-Book of the History of Painting,' etc. After speaking of RAPHAEL'S Madonna di Foligno,' he says:

'THE later of these two pictures is the Transfiguration on Mount Tabor, now in the Vatican, formerly in Saint Pietro at Montario. This was the last work of the master, (not finished till after his death,) the one which was suspended over his corpse as a trophy of his fame, for public homage. If the picture last described is distinguished, like the compositions for the tapestries, by the dramatic development of an historical event, by the important prominence given to the principal incident, and by grandeur of style, the work now under consideration unites with these qualities a profounder symbolical treatment, which, in the representation of a particular event, expresses a general idea. In this instance it is the depth and power of thought which move the spectator, and which address themselves to him at once, so that he needs no key to explain the meaning of the subject. This picture is divided into two parts, the undermost of which, on account of its mass, is the more important and predominant. On one side are nine of the disciples; on the other a crowd of people pressing toward them, bearing along a boy possessed with a devil. His limbs are fearfully convulsed by demoniac power; he is supported by his father, who appears strenuously to implore assistance by words and looks; two women beside him point to the sufferer, the one with earnest entreaties, the other in the front, on her knees, with an expression of passionate energy. All are crying aloud, beseeching and stretching out their arms for aid. Among the disciples, who are disposed in different groups, astonishment, horror and sympathy alternate in various degrees. One, whose youthful countenance expresses the deepest sympathy, turns to the unhappy father, plainly intimating his inabil ity to assist him; another points upward; a third repeats this gesture. The upper part of the picture is formed by an elevation to represent Mount Tabor. There lie prostrate the three disciples who went up with CHRIST, dazzled by the divine light; above them, surrounded by a miraculous glory, the SAVIOUR floats in air in serene beatitude, accompanied by MOSES and ELIAS. The twofold action contained in this picture, to which shallow critics have taken exception, is explained historically and satisfactorily merely by the fact that the incident of the possessed boy occurred in the absence of CHRIST; but it explains itself in a still higher sense, when we consider the deeper, universal meaning of the picture. For this purpose it is not even necessary to consult the books of the New Testament for the explanation of the particular incidents. The lower portion represents the calamities and miseries of human life; the rule of demoniac power, the weakness even of the faithful when unassisted, and points to a POWER above. Above, in the brightness of divine bliss, undisturbed by the suffering of the lower world, we behold the source of consolation and redemption from evil. Even the judicious liberties dictated by the nature of the art, which displease the confined views of many critics, such as the want of clevation in the mountain, the perspective alteration of the horizon, and points of sight for the upper group, (in which the figures do not appear foreshortened as seen from beneath, but perfectly developed as if in a vision,) give occasion for new and peculiar beauties. In one respect, however, the picture appears to fail; it wants the freer, purer beauty, the simplicity and flow of line, in the drapery especially, which address themselves so directly to the feeling of the spectator; the work pleases the eye, the understanding, but does not entirely satisfy the soul: in this respect the picture already marks the transition to the later periods of art. But this passing censure should be considered as only hinted at. Where such grandeur and depth of thought, such unexampled excellence have been accomplished, (and we have given but a very general outline,) it becomes us to offer any approach to criticism with all humility.'

Let us now turn to the opinions of Mr. HEADLEY on sculpture. In the first part of the letter from which we have quoted, he describes The Dying Gladiator:'

THIS is one of the few statues I was not disappointed in.' 'I thought of BYRON, as I stood beside it, and of the intense feeling with which he gazed upon it.' 'With one long stride-step into the Vatican (from the capitol) as the papal palace, museum, etc., that join St. Peter's, are called here is Laocoon, that men have poetized, as well as the Dying Gladiator; and yet it pleased me not. I have a feeling of horror, it is true, in looking upon it, and that is all. I have no deep sympathy for Laocoon himself. Master critics have long ago settled the perfection of the work. There is life and force in it. The little child with one foot raised to press down the folds of the serpent that are tightening around the other leg, is terribly true and life-like. But the whole expression of Laocoon is that of a weak man, utterly overcome with terror; mastered more completely by fear than a strongminded man ever can be. There seems no resistance left in him; and you feel that such a character never could die decently. While I admired the work, I could not love the character. On the Gladi. ator's face such utter terror never could be written. The sights that could paint such fear on his features do not exist.'

Such are the ideas and reflections of an American critic, conceived in the presence of this miracle of art, which we are called upon to adopt by looking through his eyes. We shall not stop to examine the opinions entertained by PLINY, WinkelMANN, Mengs, LESSING, GOETHE, VISCONTI, PIROLI, etc., whether this is the identical group described by VIRGIL; whether it is a copy of it; or whether, according to PLINY, it is the work of three Rhodian artists, of whom nothing is known except from an inscription upon the plinth of a statue found by WINKELMANN in one of the impe21

VOL. XXVII.