Year: 1866

| RIgTORI.-No one can anticipate the de-
| light of seeing for the first time the great
J tragedienne; its realization is one of those
rapturous occasions that are impossible in
! foretaste, and we are not enthusiastic when
we say regret is equally on impossibility
when one leaves the theatre after one of
her personations. We confess to a cold
ness, an apathy, vague insensibility to
vivid impressions from the media Of dra-
matte representations; stolid gapers, we
| always found ourselves coldly and critically
looking for faults or doing out praise as
sparingly as if words of kindness were
virgin gold and we were mental misers
| boarding them with heartless avarice. We
have high standard of art, pure ideal,
perhaps dreamy contiguration of some
perfect conception, and so often has it been
offended, so brutally has it been outraged,
that it droops, "almost ashamed to know
itself,n when there comes into its temple
dcvotee to claim its recognition. We
shuddered when first-and ii is only few
months sincc-wc found ourselves gazing
upon Ristori. We remember the thrill of
pleasure that enveloped us in an atmos-
phere of thorough satisfaction when she
entered as "Mary Stuart :" how the frigid
icicle of our critical acumen dissolved and
as we followed the bursts of humiliation
one after another crushing the woman of
many sorrows, we felt how small and in
significant q critic is in the presence of
genius.


We should much delight in following the
great creation of Ristori in this particular
character, but this is not our present OBJ
iect. This were a labor that con d1nOre
we might follow through longer space
than we have at command, but it might
lead some to attempt, what we pronounce
an impossibility, any thing like an antici-
patton of the greatness of RiStori. We
contend that words are dull, stupid, and
drivelling. messengers when they assume
such a mission, and they can no more con-
vcy the stupendous idea of RiStori into the
mind than they could introduce meridian
sunshine into the blackest hour of mid
night, or life into the statue OF bronze or
the pallid marble of corpse. Hence, we
offer them in a more general tribute to the
great artist whose name, Adelaide Ristori,
stands high on the scroll Of fame alone,
perhaps, in one age, certainly in the living
present. =,


When you first hear her, you will feel
an electric current passing through you
thrilling with strange sensations. You
NAV not catch in an untaught ear the pure,
sweet, flowing Italian, all-charming melo-
dy but when the soul pours itself out,
when the great heart of Ristor bursts the
barriers of calm and subducd reserve, and
guShes into pathos, or roarS into passion,
then you, too, will find yourself borne
along by an irresistible stream, tossed upon
a rutiled sea, the plaything and very sport
of its madness. We have never seen such
a complete enthusiasm Of masses as follows
the strong, passionate outbursts Of Ristori,
at least since the day Of Rachel and when
we find ourselves breathing these names
together, we are lost in bcwildering COM
uarisons. We saw Ristori upon one occa-
sion when beside us there was a gentleman
of rare cndowmentS he drank in every
word; he fed upon each glance, and so in
tense was his interest that ne appeared lost
TO all surroundings he seemed completely
exhausted at a point Of climax, and had
actually risen from his seat some distance,
when he fell back uttering the one word
Immortal 1.-THE only comment we ever
repeated with hearty amen, i'll spite OF our
selves. And it is thus we know hundreds
in our city who will see and commend RiS-
tori. We know many who feel they can
not afford TO 90. DSpcl the idea, and If
YOU curtail your daily bread, see RlStori ;
for, our word for it, we never shall look
upon her like again. See RStori, or, when
YOU hear others recount the joys OF the
sight. feel as it were carved upon your
heart the bitter word Repentance