The Press.
London, England, 1858-06-26 00:00:00

hooted at the Teatro Argentina. Few opera are
now more highly appreciated.

Mtn. SZARVADY yesterday gave her third matinee,
the last. of the series, at Hanover,square Booms.
The selection included Mozart's sonata in G for
pianoforte and violin, Beethoven's trio in B flat for
pianoforte, violin, and violoncello (On. 97), and the
earns composer's sonata in C sharp minor (Op. 27),
for pianoforte solo. There was a group of three
short pieces by Sterndale Bennett, Couperin, and
Mendelssohn in the first part, and a similar group by
Chopin, Pergolesi, and Heller in the second. In the
concerted pieces she was assisted by Herr Molique
and Signor Piatti. The rooms were wall filled, but
the audience at first was more than ordinarily frigid,
and a large number of persons left in the interval
between the parts. Those who remained, however,
were thoroughly roused by Mine. Szarvady's admira-
ble performance of Beethoven's sonata. Chopin's
" Berceuse," played with exquisite delicacy, narrowly
escaped an encore, and Mme. Szarvady retired at the
end of the concert amidst such hearty expressions of
approval as are rarely indulges in a& these ails/moon
gatherings. el:Aavirr e. tvt:r'•

a ekniv

C
oartt la Qll ,'llh

,i)olicktou dew

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t 1-tas ST. JAMES'S THEATRE. boon
MAnA4(E RISTORI, whose return to this ccitintri foi
a very brief period we noticed in our last number,
.has already nearly completed half of her engagement
Nrith Mr. eye, last night being her fifth aittkithiliAlee.
'here is no denying that the merits of this Most
powerful tragedian, unlike those artists whose genius
or eireurostences lead them to seek their fotiostall'

the boards of the opera or playhouse, cannot bi to,
any degree measured by the audiences she dravrt b.
this country. Unrivalled since the clesith#l ,achol
in her difficult and lofty art, she fails tosinee• any-
thing like a good audience. What can be the cause
of this want of sympathy in a public perhaps 'less
volatile and frivolous than any other in Europe, and
whose disposition, habits, and oonversation would
lead to the very contrary anticipation ? Is it, as sug 4
gested by a contemporary, the heat of the weather!
Other first-close entertainments till to overflowing,'
notwithstanding the tropical condition of the tempe-
rature. Is it to be found in the superior attractions
of two great opera-houses? They are not open on
Mine. Ristori's nights. Shall we look for it in the
painful emotions produced by tragic) scenes ? These
emotions are notoriously sought after and cultivated
yid% inconceivable ardour. The more a battle is
sanguinary, the more a murder is coldblooded and
cruel, the more eagerly are its details devoured by a
British public, and—strange to say--especially by
the putter and more tender portion of it. Does it
lie in an unfavourable locality ? A popular first-
class entertainment at Limehouse would draw •
large Westend andienee ; but Mme.Bistori is to be'
found in the heart (though not the hearts) of the
beau•moncle. Is it, then, any defect in the place of
representation itself ? Jenny Lind would fill the
largest and most uncomfortable of harm, were it four
times as large as the St. James's Theatre. And yet
Mine. Ilistori is on as high a hranoh,to say the least,
of the tree of tragic, as Jenny Lind is on that of
musical, excellence. Does it possibly arise out of
the language in which these plays are performed?
We think that not merely possibly, but positively,
this is the solution of the problei.. Fill the Sing-
e.
street theatre from ceiling to flooe,with the elite of
London, and we assert, without fnpf 44 contradiction,
r, that not one in ten of the ilinAq c)puld be able
:to follow closely the words OW .on the stage.
But, it may be asked, how Aeei f happen that two
large Italian opera-houses are filled night after
night, and on the same nights? Because, we
answer, they who frequent the Opera dive their
pleasure (for, by far, the most part) from the
music, in which persons unacquainted even with the
merest elements of the language used, can and do
experience the greatest delight. A good knowledge
nftheAtilian tongue adds, unquestionably, in some
of

21111111 M
and Wiat
whinti it
\-chitect.
carried
• the

intended is the first thing to be Gown..__
if a building is not adapted to thn uses for
is wanted, nothing will serve to excuse the a'
But how is this easily admitted principle
out—bow can it be carried out, while we oopy
buildings of our forefathers? We cannot oopy them
truly while we copy them literally : they built what
they wanted and what suited them ; we build wilsat
we do not want and what does not suit us. Take
our churches as an .xampie:. for what purposes' do
we use them? Chiefly for two—public worship Iltid
public preaching; and these at certain times only
when the church is filled or nearly so. Now, for
preaching we evidently want a place in which the
preacher can be seen and heard from every part;
and surely the very object of public worship is to
bring people together in one body, rich and poor,
gentle and simple, to stand together and speak
together, and feel themselves to be one body. Can
we conceive anything more unfitted for snots pur-
poses than onr present ehurshes ? Why, these
transepts, aisles, and columns are meant for sepgra-
tion—are put there for the very purpose of cutting,off
sight and sound. It is impossible to go into a
Romish church without finding out the uses of these
things : there is a sermon going on in the nave, and
a crowd of people is gathered round the pulpit ;* In
{one cf the aisles a priest is saying mass at an altar,
in another is a confessional, and in the chapels round
the transept groups of people are telling their,jseads,
and all these things are done at the sagke time
without confusion and without disturbance,' 'the
churches were designed expressly for such usages.
Our usages are different: how can our churches
be the same? If any man who is racking his brains
to produce something original will plan a building
expressly adapted to the requirements of our English
church service, and adorn it, not with antiquated
representations of antiquated things, but with
' subjects of our own day and of our own thoughts,
carved and painted, not after some old model, but
atter nature, and as truly and naturally as may be,
he will find no difficulty in doing something very
new and very original. And if everything were built
in this way, architecture could not help moving with
the times, and this steady progress would preserve it
from violent and capricious change.
We find a few drawings in the Royal Academy
which show at least a tendency in this direction.
There is novelty about Mr. Penson's " Limekiliss in
Carmarthenshire"—partly, perhaps, because the-ar-
chitect could find nothing to copy, and partly be-
cause, being built for business, the use that was to
be mado of them could not be wholly left out of the
question. There is not much ornament about them
—nor ought there to be—hut the use of good forms in-
stead of bad ones gives them that solid unpretending
beauty which buildings for all portions may possess.
There are three designs for churches--410. 1052 by

o. 1053 by Mr. Webb, and NQ. 1077 by
n which the matter of utility. seems to
newhat studied. But the work is only
i attempt has been made to bring the
together and to get rid of °battle-
% doubt if in any one the andige-
best that could be devised,:aiier the
lows but little taste or taletiiE the
rammed by Mr. James and Mr. %Irby
e vaults than churches. We *sit a
Le same time beautiful and commodious;
is introduced for ita 'adornment thus:
L its usefulness, and evaiything Irhiih is
use must be made to contribute to its
s is the task which lies before archi-
....rely in reference to charchet,, bqt to
every kind. We *rto glad to It any
even an atteaaptio'sUoMpliskle,l""
ese there is at* *Aire oasa 1.401100
actural departillOsVet the prenslitexhi-
,of the designitcuie commonplace, and
wearisome eiellOut. A few have a certain