ter days, keeps steadily in sight those loftier elements which constitute, in the creed and terminology of artists, the beau ideal; a phrase of which the affectation is not redeemed by any special felicity of definition or appropriation, though it is now scarcely worth while to disturb what has obtained a universal currency. Although Flaxman has shewn great mastery in the mechanism of expression, still, it is not his strong point: in this particular, the fiends in his Dante, and the fine adaptation of the antique mask in his personification of the Eschylean Eumenides, may be taken as illustrating at once his skill and the limits of his power. Of the ability with which he could manage and carry out to an indefinite extent, materials of extreme simplicity, we have evidence in the ever varying attitudes and positions of the constantly recurring forms of Virgil and Dante, never violent, never exaggerated, but always maintaining their characteristic severity. In the grouping and distribution of his figures, we know of no modern master who has surpassed him; it was, in fact, here that his peculiar talent was displayed; and we should, if delivering a detailed judgement on his distinctive qualities as an artist, fix on this as his marking excellence. In single and detached forms, he might have successful competitors; but, in relievo, he was unrivalled by any of his own time. On this point, however, we are of course to be considered as only expressing an individual opinion; and we now quit the subject with a reiteration of our protest against all such comparisons as that with which we have just been dealing. The first, so far as our knowledge extends, and by far the most original of Retzsch's productions, was the series of twentysix designs from Goethe's Faust. Independently of the great talent manifested in these outlines, the choice of the subject was every way a lucky hit. With all its splendid poetry and, let it be permitted us to add, with all its grossness snd impiety, the strange and wayward fancies of that powerful but overpraised drama, were frequently of so subtile and unconsecutive a character, as to elude the skill of the most practised riddle-guessers, and most thoroughly to bewilder the simplicity of common readers. Just when inquisitiveness was at the highest, and expectation at the lowest, Retzsch stept forward with his practical and luminous comment; presenting with consummate ability, in an intelligible concatenation, the principal scenes and characters of his original, without those enigmatical combinations or those yet more unaccountable incoherencies which seemed to have been flung forth in reckless and mocking mood, to vex the general curiosity. In Goethe, there is succession with imperfect connexion; in Retzsch, there are, or seem to be, both; and thus, although the designs cannot give form and visibility to the finer indications of the drama, they furnish a sort of clew on which the mass of readers may be content to hang the hors d'œuvre of the original. It is no part of our present business to take up the office of commentators on Goethe, or we think that we could clear away many of the difficulties which seem to beset his puzzling Tragedy,' by a simple reference to some half dozen passages in Falk's memoir, as edited with consummate ability by Mrs. Austin, the very queen of translators; and to his primary design, plainly intimated in his own Vorspiel:-the very persons of that prelude, the manager, the poet, and the comic actor, form a sort of explanatory heading to the brilliant medley that follows. We must not, however, forget that it is no part of our proper business to turn out the contents of Goethe's Walpurgis-sack', and we resume our reference to the Faust as interpreted and expressed by Retzsch. Nothing can exceed the spirit and skill with which he has seized the marking points of the story; nor could even Hogarth go beyond him in the dexterity with which he tells his tale through the medium of the crayon. His conception of the dæmon was a ben trovato that Retzsch himself has never since equalled. The hard, sarcastic features, the compact and sinewy frame, and the grotesque touches about the dress, are in admirable harmony; and the changes of expression which pass over the countenance of Mephistopheles, are most skilfully expressed. But we have no wish to be more minute respecting this work, since, with all its talent, it is to be mentioned more in regret than in admiration, as the artist has not avoided either the impiety or the indecency of the original. We pass on to other of Retzsch's productions of more general interest and of unexceptionable execution. 6 6 The Fridolin', from Schiller's Gang nach den Eisenhammer, is a beautiful series of eight plates, which we may venture to describe without undue encroachment on assigned limits. The first represents the interior of a castle with the lady and the 'pious page,' the latter reverently, saluting his lady's hand, extended in sign of favour, while the villain Jager' eyes them askance with jealous leer malign,' and the baron, from the terreplein of an opposite rampart, looks carelessly on. In the next, a bustling and well managed scene, in the outer ward of the castle, of horses, dogs, crossbowmen, and falconers, the huntsman insinuates his 'leprous distilment' into the ear of the baron, a fine knightly figure, whose fierce attitude and stern glance menace fearful visitation to the guiltless page, who is seen, attending his mistress, on the esplanade of a distant tower. The third plate shows the Graf', splendidly mounted, at the door of the forge, and two demoniacal-looking wretches greedily listening to his bloody orders. 6 6 The first whom I shall send from home To greet you and to ask If ye've obeyed your master well, On this dark errand Fridolin is despatched; and the fourth plate represents him taking the orders of his mistress before setting out. The cradle groupe in this design is pleasingly disposed; the nurse adjusting the drapery is graceful and natural. The countess recommends him to enter a church which stands on his route, and to offer up a prayer for her sick child. The next subject is the interior of the sacred edifice, with the priest at mass, and the young page doing the duty of acolyte. Retzsch excels in church interiors, and this is very good, though not equal to that in Faust, with its characteristic decorations and its Albert Durer groupes. The sixth plate is Retzsch's master-piece. The page's pious delay has saved him. Eager to ascertain the success of his machinations, the villain of the tale in the mean time visits the forge, and being the first to ask the fatal question, is instantly seized by the workmen and forced into the furnace. Nothing can be finer than this groupe. The overpowering strength with which the brawny ruffians master every limb and every effort of the struggling wretch, is admirably expressed, while the various attitudes and countenances of the standers-by are in perfect keeping with the subject. In the next scene Fridolin arrives, and the savage glee with which the actors in the preceding point to the fearful evidences of their triumph, is forcibly delineated. The last design exhibits the baron introducing to his wife the unharmed page. Great, however, as are the excellences of this series, and expressively as the story may be told, there are some obvious defects which may also be traced, more or less distinctly, through the other works of the same artist. His female countenances are too prevalently insipid, and the same defect frequently extends itself to his young men and his heroes. Schiller's Fight with the Dragon', as our readers are probably aware, a poetic version of the legend which assigns this knight of the order of St. John of Jerusalem, the victory over an enormous monster, of which the original description answers more to the griffin than to the dragon. The same general criticism will apply to this as to the former series. The story is most distinctly told; the warrior is, in two or three instances, a noble figure; in others, he is of a more commonplace character: his drapery and attitude when leaning over a rocky mound, to make himself familiar with the structure of the dragon sleeping in his den, are both natural and spirited in a very high degree. The armour-smith's forge and workshop where the false dragon is in process of construction; the castle-yard where the knight trains his horse and dogs to the strange conflict; and the village-scene where he first hears of the monster's ravages, are all excellently compassed. His dragon we cannot say that we much admire: it has neither grace nor dignity, though it is sufficiently ugly, and quite as good as the average of such inventions. He has, however, only two paws, and is a mere reptile, whereas the original legend gives him four effective claws, and two auxiliary wings, wherewith he made a wondrous flapping as he rushed along. The two council-scenes, where the grand-master first expels the good knight from the order, and then restores him, are full of incident: the repetition of the same figures in the same places, but with the altered attitude and expression suited to the change of circumstances, has a powerful effect of verisimilitude. The outlines to Schiller's lively effusion-Pegasus im Joche— are full of spirit. The bearing of the noble animal under the successive stages of his degradation, is boldly and expressively marked. In the collar, the shafts, the plough, wing-tied or free, even in the lowest depths', amid the filth and foul tenantry of a cow-house, the fire of his eye is not quenched, nor do his indignant struggles for freedom cease. 6 The beautiful and beautifully illustrated Song of the Bell', demands from us a sacrifice of space which we are unable to af ford. Our article has already grown upon our hands beyond anticipation, and we have matter before us that will not be overlooked. The original is one of those compositions in which Schiller excelled, blending powerful description with emphatic application; he passes through the vicissitudes of domestic and social life, in singular but most skilfully managed accompaniment to the successive processes of bell-casting. Into the deep moral pathos which pervades this noble poem, Retzsch has, in a kindred spirit, as deeply entered; and if any painter should need a lesson in the art of identifying himself with his author, we cannot give him better advice, than in the recommendation to study together these designs and their original. Successful, however, as Retzsch has been, while illustrating the great poets of his own country, and popular as may be his recent efforts to give express and visible form to the magical combinations of one incomparably greater, we shall not attempt to conceal or modify our opinion, that, in the attempt to grapple with the strength of Shakspeare, he has fairly broken down. Before the majesty of that unrivalled intellect, his genius is rebuked. He displays infinite skill in his scenic management, in the disposition of his groupes, and occasionally in the conception and discrimination of character, but he seems hardly ever to get below the mere surface: he is like a river navigator, feeling for the bottom with a boat-hook, rather than a venturous seaman heaving the deep-sea-line in the broad ocean. He can master the fantastic diablerie of Goëthe, or adapt himself to the vigorous VOL. XIV.-N.S. H simplicity and material sublime' of Schiller, but he is foiled by the intensity and universality of Shakspeare. Retzsch has hitherto illustrated only two of the great master's works; Hamlet and Macbeth. The first is, in our opinion, decidedly the best; it presents, on the whole, an interesting series of sketches, with much of vigour and of beauty, drawing freely on the rich resources of art, and, though without ever rising into its higher regions, exhibiting fairly what it is capable of effecting in the hands of a skilful artist. The characters best understood are those of the Queen and Polonius. Perhaps the former has too little of the glory of regality' about her: she is somewhat too much of the mere matron, and not enough of the high-born dame, but her characteristic expression is admirably seized and preserved. Retzsch felt that he had not a Lady Macbeth under his pencil, but a weak, misguided woman, amiable amid her frailties, and capable of better feelings, and he has kept throughout to this pervading element. In the closet-scene, her horror at the catastrophe of poor Polonius, so mortally given to eavesdropping, and so ignominiously spitted as a rat behind the arras, is well discriminated from the awe-struck anxiety with which she watches Hamlet's countenance at the entrance of his father's ghost. Polonius is expressively rendered as a mean-looking, prying, bustling personage, but rather too palpably deficient in gentlemanly aspect and bearing for so courtly an office as that of lord-chamberlain. The ghost is but an insipid sort of apparition, with nothing spirit-like about him, excepting attenuation of outline, and an indication of misty transparency by the faint marking of objects which a body perfectly opake would entirely intercept. No majesty of port, no loftiness of aspect, none of the fiery sweep or commanding energy of movement and attitude which give such striking effect to Fuseli's wild and original, but very unshakspearian ghost, distinguish that unearthly vision as called up by Retzsch. Hamlet himself will hardly pass for a successful personification. 'He's fat and scant of breath-more fat than beseems a ghostseer and a prince. His physiognomy lacks significance; it is neither sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, nor marked with the loftier lines of intellect and feeling. In his general and more quiet movements, he is graceful enough, but his action in the more stirring scenes is languid and ineffective: the fencing match is strangely wanting in energy. Ophelia is a fair representation of the love-sick damsel: if she does not come conspicuously forward, she at least groupes well with more expressive figures. Laertes shews well in his traveller's dress, but he retains it too long; we find him, amid all the various circumstances of his appearance, still in his journeying habiliments, and he fights the sword-play with Hamlet, in boots and spurs. This may seem small criticism, but |