The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1850-01-24

I
Those eyes were never cast down in namees,
} dread, and strange, sudden shame or upturned il
7 duplicating inquiry. That calm, clear brow
was never weighed down by loves most roya
crown, or Swallowed by its fears, OF conyulsed by
it's sharp anguish. That face, in all it's gen
tleness and still besttude, is one we would no
have "the winds Of heaven visit too roughly
one to which We would offer up the perpetua
homage Of loving looks but IL is not in keepin,
with that grand trysting-place beneath the star
and the night-clouds, amid the winds and besid,
the food. And she is no mate for the bold anC
venturons Leander, whose fiery heart kept off tn,
chill Of the waves as he Glove his way 10 her side
aud who went BACK with her last kiss warm OF
his parted lips, and the touch Of her hand yet lin
gering on his brow, upturned TO the stars.
There are also two other works by Stenhauser
in the city, which were new to me-" The Fisher
Boy" and Psyche" These are beautiful be
yond all praise. The expression Of concentrated
interest Of eager expectation, in the face Of tn,
boy, is wonderfully true to life; and the great
but patient sorrow Of The immortal in bondage to
mortality, expressed in the countenance of the
Psyche, sinks to the heart of the gazer.
Bracket, the American sculptor, has taken up
his residence In Philadelphia went severa
times to see his group of the "Shipwrecked
Mother and Chidn This, though still in plss-
ter, is work Of rare merit. The principal figure
is woman in the prime and glory Of her beauty
She lies on the rocks Of the shore in position OF
exceeding grace, her head thrown backward, her
right arm outstretched, and her left yet tenderly
EMBEDDING her dead babe. She has been denuded
by the surf, though her night-dress is yet slightly
attached to one arm, and lies beneath her. | sup
pose there was an artistic reason for this but to
me it seemed beautiful thought of pity, this
laying the soft folds of linen between her delicate
shoulders and the hard cold rock The face is
wonderfully beautiful in the awful repose Of
death-a repose impossible to mistake for sleep.
There is death in every limb in every muscle, in
every line Of that grand figure. There is some
thing ndescribably mournful and expressive in the
fall Of the head, and the drift Of the long, wavy
hair. Here alone were told the whole tragic story.
To me- the pahos of this work was in the principal
figure alone mean in the woman, apart from
any motherly or wifely relations The dead in
s-rt wss a -.''el sight indeed bpt Tho sr,>ek WAS
the going down into the deep of that fair woman
life, so richly freighted with mature aud perfect
loneliness
But, though mournful beyond what words may
tell, there is a beautiful fitness in such death
for one of Gods most glorious creatures There
Is grandeur in the thought, that such beauty, I'M
wasted by disease and undarkened by sorrow,
should yield itself to "that mighty minister of
Death" the sea
INV sWesb pihVt iOf u iOTu vi huCu udJtSty
TO lie in state On the lone shore, with the stars
for holy lights, and with the solemn requiem of
winds and waves astounding around her rocky bier
once spent a twilight hour in gazing on this
group Then my Imagination coniured up the
doomed vessel, driving on, and on before the tenn
pest-the dash against the rocks-the parting of
the timbers-then a. "hite form on the wreck,
clasping babe to her bosom-her plunge into
the midnight deep--the brief struggle with the
hood-the last fgony Of the mothers heart-till
those forms before me grew awfully human-were
indeed dead woman and her poor babe, cast up
by the relenting waves, and lying there, so fear
fully white and cold, with their still, damp faces
upturned to stormy sky. The gathering dark
ness seemed shadows flung from overhaugng
rocks, and nothing was wanting to complete the
sad illusion but the roar Of the far deep the dash
Of the near surf and the rush and howl Of winds
I felt when looking on this noble group, pa
triotic pride in the fact that its creator an
Americana young man, selftaught, and one
who has never even wintered in Italy. earnest
| ly hope that he may, ere long be able TO do him
self justice and his country honor by putting this
his noblest work in marble. Mr.. Bracket is as
successful in the real as in the ideal. His busts
are admirable. ! was particularly struck by one
| Of Longfellow, perfect likeness and one, just
finished, Of the young poet, Baker--a fine intel
lectual head, and face Of Grecisn heauty.
! was much pleased with one of Winners latest
pictures-C hria blessing iutie children There is
every variety Of infaniine lovelness In those
rosy, chubby curly headed little ones, who crowd
about the Saviour with the almost Divine instincts
Of childhood; and of the group of young moth
ers--sl are beautiful, with the richness and ripe
ness Of Eastern beauty. But perhaps there is a
| little too much gorgeousness Of attire, display
| of oriental magni6cence scarcely fitted to the
| scene
II is hardly to be supposed that such patrcian
danes would follow " the meek and lowly Jesus
| to crave his blessing on their babes We have
hardly thought Of the little ones themselves as
young sprigs Of Jewish arlstocracy, pretty as
angels, and delicate fairies, but NJ the children
of the poor--players by the wayside-sleepers in
the sunshine-swsrthy and ragged little urchns,
perhaps--born 10 hard fare and rough usage
small travellers on q rugged road, and 80 much
the more needing that gracious benediction which
rested softly on their yet innocent brows, and
tered into their unconscious spirits with divine
power and vitality TO fail or die out but TO
bear them through temptation and want, TO make
them strong TO struggle against the world, and
patient in waiting and long endurance
Here the figure Of Christ is divinely beauti-
full, il not absolutely divine. ! was deeply i'm
pressed with the countenance. True, II did not
express pure power-power In the abstract; 1t
that Of love alone, but love in itself illimtsble
and omuipotent. That mild hazel eye seemed
softcned and frightened by memories Of His pure
childhood and about those lips seemed lowering
the loving spirit Of his human mother. II was
an eye to attract little children, and the tender
ness Of those lips seemed to invite the young,
timid mother TO draw near and ask their benig-
nant benedictons on the babe at her bosom.
What contrast was this picture In It's spirit
and tone to the {" Death on the Pale Horse" Of
West, which hung near. suppose ] shall be
accounted Gan outside barbarian" but | cannot
deny myself the luxury Of speaking my mind,
and saying that, Of all hideous pictures which
ever darkened canvass, this is 10 me the most dis
gushing. II is coarse and sensual rendering Of
the awful mysteries Of the Apocalypse, from
which the Christian soul must recoil In horror.
To me there seems no grandeur, nor dignity, nor
high tragic effect, in this composition. The dead
are Oh silly and leprous, the Christ Is neither
manly nor divine, and the men are simply brutal.
The horses have some humanity, and partly re-
deem the picture. Two, at least, are fine ami
mails pity they are found in such bad company
Adeu. GRACE GKEENwooD.
FROM OUR NORTHWESTERN CORRESPONDENT.