No. 34. D. DICKINSON. Hylas and Nymphs.' One of the chief vices of our artists, is a propensity to that species of theft, which consists in purloining the materials of their pictures from prints, paintings, or any thing else, and palming them on the public, without stating whether they are or are not original, in order to wiu praise from incautious journalists. But as such deception, whether it result from mean dishonesty, or from ignorance of its impropriety, cannot but excite doubts respecting the originality of works of artists who would scorn to receive credit that was not their due, it is proper that all who are concerned in such matters should be admonished, and the imposture exposed. This picture is copied chiefly from one by Henry Howard, Royal Academician, which was engraved for Charles Heath's annual, the Keepsake; but there are several figures added, whether original or not, I cannot say, and some heads and limbs put in different and worse positions. Our artist's other picture, of 'Oberon and Titania,' is much in the manner of Mr. Howard, and I must suspect it to be taken from him, although the coloring and execution are so wretched, that one should be slow to think they could have come, even so indirectly, from that clever artist. According to the published rules of this academy, copies are not admissible; therefore, the public have a right to presume that whatever appears in it, is original, or believed to be so, by the committee. I wish to be distinctly understood, that I do not impugn the motives of Mr. Dickinsou or the committee. I am bound in courtesy to presume that such free use of intellectual property is considered by him, as it is by the public at large, perfectly excusable. The committee, however, were not sufficiently guarded. No. 73. E. MOONEY. This portrait has tolerably good imitation of form, substance, and color, excepting in the flesh, with an approach to unity and purity of shade; but the composition is faulty; the red curtain is too conspicuons, and in general, the material not subordinate to the mental. You see too distinctly, and feel but vaguely; and although portraiture gives but slight opportunity for the manifestation of the vital principles of art, still almost every respectable person has moments of activity of spirit, which the painter should watch for, and the expression of which be should catch, and adapt to it the whole composition of his picture, in order that there may be no incongruity, and that the vehicle, form, color, etc., may not draw to itself the attention that is due to the subject, mind. No. 202. Landscape. E. LIVINGSTON. The lower part very agreeably colored; the water transparent and well managed; the sky rather too flat and unbroken. No. 200 and 223. Portraits by J. B. FLAGG. The first is very bad; the other has considerable inerit, but is too pinky in color, and somewhat defective in substance, especially the nose, which is 'woodeny.' Mr. FLAGG is very young, considerably less than twenty; and his performances are highly creditable to him. No. 22. T. P. ROSSITER. This is a very clever sketch; the chiaro-'scuro and color very agreeable to the eye. If, as I am informed, Mr. ROSSITER is quite a young man, it may be hoped that he will become an excellent artist, if he will but study; for he certainly has a good eye for color and effect, and some perception of beauty in form; but I see by another picture of his, that he needs to be severely drilled in drawing. If he can muster two hundred dollars a year, for five years, he had better go to London, and study in the Royal Academy, which is the best school in the world, and the only safe one. No. 64. H. INMAN. If this resembles the substance and color of flesh, and the shape and construction of a lady's shoulders and neck, the resemblance is not sufficient to deserve such elaborate praise as this artist is accustomed to receive. The dress, however, is better painted; as well it may be, for it is easier executed. Mr. GRAY, a mere lad, without doing a very extraordinary feat, has painted a head, No. 71, quite as good as this, and a hand considerably better. Mr. INMAN'S picture of children, No. 185, is much more artist-like, at least in the composition and general effect, which are very elever, and far better than most things here. But the children are not very childlike in expression, nor very well proportioned. The arms and hands, particularly, are too small, and would become a toy-shop better than a ‘National Academy;' a name, let me add, so pompous, as to remind me of one I saw over a dingy hole in Paris, Café de l'Univers! But the coloring of the drapery, the carpet, the cushion, the basket, and ribbon, is very good; nay, quite delightful to the eye, after looking at the brainless, boneless, fleshless libels on human substance and mind, on either side, by INGHAM. But why did he paint the necks of these little folks so dirty? Why did he not first wash them, and wipe them moderately, which would have made the skin more transparent, aud given a freshness of color, which is sadly needed. No. 231. Portrait by F. ALEXANDER, of Boston. As this artist happens to paint in a deep tone, with some attention to mellowness and harmony of coloring, it has been considered necessary to incline his picture a little more than the one next it—a very little; which diminishes the light from the proper direction; and to place around it a plenty of bright frames, and staring colors, which makes the flesh appear too dark. Beside, owing to the inclination, the light from the floor makes a very slight but very mischievous glistening over the surface of the varnish, producing great disturbance and irregularity of effect. But this picture is very weil composed, and executed; yet the flesh seems to want that dewy freshness, which you see when the atmosphere is moderately humid, and the perspiration unchecked. If it were hung in any tolerable light, it would probably appear sufficiently bright in the flesh; but it is not painted in the New-York manner, and therefore has not found favor with the committee. No. 254. Portrait, by W. PAGE. This is the best colored of his pictures, and is as good as any in the room, so far as hue is concerned. The face, below the forehead, is well drawn, and has very much the substance and color of flesh; but the forehead is too indiscriminately rounded, as if it were turned in a lathe, and is not entirely free from objection on the score of hardness. The hands are carefully painted, with tolerable color; but a little overwrought and hard, and the right one not anatomically correct, nor drawn with much skill. His other pictures are inferior to this, particularly in substance aud color. No. 117 is decidedly hard and dry. No. 74. Landscape, by T. DOUGHTY. This is a very pleasing picture, and one of the best, if not the very best, that I have seen from this artist. The general effect of color and chiaro-'scuro is agreeable; the trees, and other objects, well grouped; the imitation good, and the coloring of individual objects has much truth. Nos. 31 and 32. Landscapes, by A. RICHARDSON. This artist has several very clever little pictures here. He composes with facility, and has a good feeling for chiaro-'scuro and color. Owing to their small size, they do not appear so well here as they would if hung on walls with reasonable spaces between them. No. 20. The Great Adirondack Pess. Painted on the spot, by C. INGHAM, N. A. If there be any persons of taste, who are not already convinced of the justice of my remarks upon this person's labors, they need but look at this daub. In the description which he quotes, it is said: "The shadows of night are veiling the awful precipice, which forms the back ground of the picture.' With the spirit of mere mechanical delineation, destitute of all poetic feeling, he has failed to profit by the hint of the writer, to give the obscurity of evening shade, and the glow of an evening sky, which might have imparted magnitude and effect to this precipice,' which he has made more abominable than awful.' Such lilliputian minutiæ, such tame monotony, such absence of all true substance, color, space, and atmosphere, I never saw, to my remembrance. No. 97. Portrait of ADMIRAL WALTON, R. N., by J. FROTHINGHAM. I suppose this hero looked as surly as he could, for the sake of his own dignity, when he sat for his picture; but that is his concern. At a moderate distance, this flesh appears very dry, like a mixture of chalk and brickdust; but ou coming near it, the dryness almost disappears, and you perceive a very curious patching, or pencilling, or whatever else it may be called, which is probably designed to contribute some desirable quality, but which seems quite unnecessary; as Mr. F. has done much better without it, than I have seen him do with it. I think this picture unskilfully composed, spotty in light and color, and somewhat fantastically false in the hues of the back-ground. Of the miniatures, I can only say, from a hasty glance, that Mr. HITE's seem the best, although Mr. FANSHAW has a very pretty one. This first-named gentleman deserves great credit, not less for his talents, than for bis perseverance to ultimate success, against the most adverse circumstances. His first miniature, I have heard, was painted from colors that he gathered and preserved on his thumb-nail, in 'trying the quality' of a box of paints, which, trifling as was its price, he was unable to purchase. There are several other works, some of which deserve commendation, and many that demand severe censure, which the limits of this article will not permit me to notice. The condition of painting, in this country, is low, and sculpture has as yet scarcely a being. The causes of this may be, the general diffusion of wealth; the moderate circumstances of the many; the very limited number of those who can afford to pay a stimulating price for the best productions; the consequent demand for quantity, and toleration of inferior quality, from which necessarily result a retrogression of taste, and farther toleration, farther superficial dispatch, farther action and reaction of taste on production, and production on taste, which will continue, until common sense is startled from its dream, by the hideousness of the objects imposed on it. What I desire to impress on the public mind is, that taste, our sole guide to the beautiful, is modified by every object we contemplate, corrupted by every error we imbibe, and should, therefore, be vigilantly guarded by reason, and subjected to whatever test reason may decide to be the true one. This test, probably, is nature, if the united and unanimous voice of all painters, sculptors, and poets, that have survived the criticism of ages, is to be relied on, as a rational ground of probability, in opposition to a temporary fashion, a popular opinion, even though that opinion should coincide with one's own. J. K. F. PARK THEATRE. The public's old favorite is again lifting up its energies from their late tempo. rary depression, and the consequence is, a return of old faces, and large receipts. Miss TREE is soon expected, to fulfil her last engagement in this country, when the many thousand acquaintances whom her delicate and effective personations of character have warmed into friends, will crowd the house, to be charmed once more with the eloquence of her art. We shall all regret the final departure of Miss ELLEN TREE. She is the last, and we had almost said, the best, of that trio of female talent, consisting of FANNY KEMBLE, the PHILLIPS, and herself, with which we have, within a few years, been favored. When she is gone, her place cannot be filled. - Miss CLIFTON has lately been fulfilling a short engagement at this house, but has confined herself to the personation of the character of Anna Boleyn,' as it is drawn for her, in the new play of that name. It is well for Miss CLIFTON, that she is really a beautiful woman; otherwise, we fear the critics would be less amiable in the display of their tender mercies toward her. Ladies' eyes have wondrous power, even upon the obdurate hearts of the most stubborn of theatrical reporters. Growing ourself gray, and — (we may say it with complacency.) venerable in our batchelorhood, we confess to a calm, general indifference to the witching charms of that sex which inspired our juvenility; yet are there glances from starry eyes, shot across the pit, which, even in our retired snuggery, we can feel to be laden with the full force of woman's strong artillery. Miss CLIFTON, as she treads the stage with the grace and look of an empress, scatters far and wide these resistless beams. Her admirers, in glorious bewilderment, feel the warmth, and see the brightness, of the sun, but take no cognizance of the spots upon its surface. The glare of the beauty dazzles them, and the defects of the actress are unnoticed, if not unknown. Not so with your sexagenarian. Juno might smile her sweetest, and glance her brightest, and Jupiter might stay his thunderbolts to applaud, but your cool, well-tempered, honest critic of sixty, would take snuff, and quietly wait for the flash that tells of the spirit within. Laying aside our gallantry, which is more natural to us than our wig, we must proceed to declare, that Miss CLIFTON has, in her fine person, but one of the attributes of a good actress. She has neither the genius nor talent, which are necessary, in the opinion of many, to the constitution of a great tragedian. She wants the faculty of identifying herself, in the smallest degree, with the personage she would represent. She seems never to enter into the feelings of the character, and being herself unpossessed of the passion to be displayed, it is not strange that her audiences are unmoved by it. It is not enough for an actor merely to give utterance to the high-sounding words of passion, in a voice tempered to the subject, but there should be an expression more powerful than words depicted in the countenance and action of the performer; as if language could not alone declare the mighty workings of the spirit. Miss CLIFTON's art does not reach so high. On the contrary, there is an affected prettiness in all her efforts at expression; as if to portray hate, anger, revenge, or any other unamiable feeling, would destroy the beautiful in her face, and distort those lineaments which enrapture the souls of her admirers. But if she really has talent, the public, more than herself, is to blame, that it has not displayed itself before. The indiscreet and fulsome flatteries which the press has lavished upon her, have been enough to turn the brain of any pretty woman, and induce her to rest satisfied with the attractions which nature has lavished upon her person, as if they would endure for ever, without seeking to bring forward those richer charms of the mind, which do not pass away with the roses of the cheek, but bloom the brighter the longer they are permitted to ripen, under the culture of study and experience. Mons, and M'd'lle PAUL TAGLIONI made their first appearance, during the month, in the ballet of 'La Sylphide.' Expectation was on tip-toe, and great anticipations were entertained of the superior skill of the brother of the Taglioni, and favorable hopes of the lady. A house crowded to the dome, bringing back remembrances of the prosperous days of the old time, restified, by the most cheering applause, their unqualified approbation of the new artists. Until we saw Mr. PAUL TAGLIONI, we had not supposed that one of the masculine gender could 'dance,' in the meaning applied to the graceful movements and bewitching gyrations of the ballet. But he has settled that question; and if his sister is worthy the title of the greatest danseuse that Europe ever saw, he may justly claim for himself the distinction of the first honors in the male line,' of that department of art in America, if not in the world. His performances are not only as graceful as nature and study can make them, but they are really wonderful, in their dexterous agility. Upon Madame TAGLIONI We have almost the same unqualified praise to bestow. She did more, far more, than the most sanguine expected of her. Her grace is equal to her husband's, and her style of dancing quite original to American audiences; and we venture nothing in affirming, superior to any that they have ever before beheld. The picturesque and lovely 'tableaux vivants' of the pair, can never be forgotten. They were studies for the sculptor; as effective and classic as the schools of any country can afford. But it is the ease and perfect freedom from apparent effort, with which the most difficult feats are accomplished, that makes their achievements so wonderful. The style of these dancers is in many respects different from that of any of the celebrated artists who have heretofore appeared in this country; and some idea of the spirituelle which has been said to constitute the great charm of Mlle TAGLIONI may be gathered from the performances of her brother and his wife. Miss and Master WELLS deserve a word of commendation, for they really did wonders. They were perfect in their share of the ballet, and seemed to make extra efforts to merit the hearty approbation which was awarded them. We have lately had Mrs. GIBBS and Mr. SINCLAIR in what is called, by courtesy, English opera,' but which, (if the composition entitled the Lord of the Isles' is meant to be included in the designation,) would be as easily recognised by almost any other name. When Mr. SINCLAIR utters his own native melodies, no bird sings sweeter. He is then at home, and he warbles con amore. But in the stiff jacket of an opera singer, he is uneasy and uncomfortable, and so are his audiences. Mrs. GIBBS always acquits herself to the satisfaction of her friends, when she attempts only what nature and art have intended her to produce. She is a pleasing singer, but she can never be a great one. A Mr. FREER, from the London theatres, played Richard, for this lady's benefit, and very creditably he did it. We have seen such awful massacres made of the noble Gloster, that we have come to regard his highness as doubly entitled to the appellation of the misshapen duke.' Mr. FREER showed that at least he had seen the character well played, and was content to tread, as nearly as possible, in the steps of his illustrious predecessors.' He was, however, somewhat prozy, in scenes where quick action and utterance are allowable. There was a propriety in his costume, throughout, which is too often forgotten by our modern Roscii. His dress of sables, in the second scene of the second act, was appropriate, and in good taste. From his exits and entrances, and other evidences of stage practice, we take it for granted that Mr. FREER is old to the sock and buskin. He would be an acquisition to the regular company, and might do a considerable favor to the public, by bearing a part of the heavy burden at present attempted to be supported by Mr. HIELD. By the way, either the ambition of this last-named gentleman overleaps itself, or he is hardly used in the multitudinous variety of characters thrust upon him. Tragedy, comedy, and farce, we have seen him enact on the same evening; and it would give us pleasure to add, that he merited praise in them all. But the truth must out; and after having studied Mr. HIELD in all the different varieties of his art, we have come to the conclusion, that he is not particularly well fitted for either. There is an overweening affectation in his playing, which is as contrary to nature as is cold to heat. He has no passion, but what is manufactured for the nonce; no soul, save such an artificial, far-fetched show of one, that he seems no better, at times, thau an improved specimen of automaton, which to its machinery of motion has superadded the engine of speech. His want of true feeling is so badly concealed by an affectation of the sentiment, that the text would be more powerful in its effect, if left to fall evenly from his tongue, without an effort at point or emphasis. His 'Duke of Buckingham' had no character in it. He delivered the dialogue, from beginning to end, as a school-boy would his weekly recitation; with an equal degree of emphasis in passages where emphasis was required, and in those where it was not. Thus, in relating to Gloster his reception by the citizens, he used the same vehemence in his narration that he did in the affected expression of honest indignation at the disappointment caused by Gloster's hypocritical refusal of the crown. An actor with the pretensions of Mr. HIELD, who can pay so little respect to the common proprieties of the scene, can hardly be expected to be very particular in rendering the true text of the author. At the close of this same act, when, in reply to Gloster's assent to be crowned to-morrow,' he should simply say: To-morrow, then, we will attend your grace;' Mr. HIELD, more poetical, rendered it thus: 'To-morrow, orders shall be taken, A fantastic pronunciation is added to the list of Mr. HIELD's peculiarities. Thus, for Alice, A-ha-lice;' canvass, 'can-vuss;' 'shon,' for shone; and for betrayer, 'be ter-ay-er;' and so on, multiplying syllables to the utter destruction of sound and sense. Did not Mr. HIELD claim for himself the first rank in tragedy, at the first theatre in the Union, we had let him rest under the honors of his self-woven laurels; but Patience herself would leave her monument,' to rap the knuckles of such a vain pretender to the first honors of the drama. C. THE NATIONAL.-We have but little of novelty to chronicle of this establishment. Opera, with the ever attractive performances of Miss SHIREFF, and Messrs. WILSON and SEGUIN, has been the reigning feature, varied by the laughter-moving personations of BROWNE, who has recently returned from the south, where his irresistible comicalities won all suffrages. THE AMERICAN THEATRE,' BOWERY.-The public are aware that a spacious and handsome edifice, an ornament to its vicinity, and to the town, has arisen from the ashes of the old Bowery Theatre. Mr. HAMBLIN has opened it, with a good company, and starry influences,' which have filled the house nightly. The old dramas of Mazeppa,'' Ernest Maltravers,' etc., have already been presented. We shall have an eye to this establishment hereafter. HOW TO BE LONG-LIVED. We find before us a pamphlet, from the press of Mr. ADAM WALDIE, Philadelphia, which we have great pleasure in warmly commending to our readers. It is a lecture, delivered before the Athenian Institute of Philadelphia, by J. PANCOAST, M. D., and is a brief but comprehensive consideration of the art of prolonging life. The comparisons drawn between the processes of animal and vegetable existence, and the descriptions of the human frame and its functions, are not, as is too often the case with medical or anatomical illustrations, 'heathen Greek' to the merely general reader, but are lucid and interesting; while the warnings against the undue exposure of the body to the elements, the proper cultivation and exercise of, and the evils of overtasking, the mental faculties; and the indulgence of the depressing passions, as fear, envy, jealousy, chagrin, etc., are fruitful of most valuable lessons. Moreover, the style is excellent, as the annexed extracts will show: 'No error has been productive of more injurious consequences, than the opinion, which is too generally prevalent, that the true value of life depends less upon its length than its intensity. Those who practice upon such a belief, if they outlive their youth, drag out a premature old age, without energy and without enjoyment. Like Icarus, they would overstep the bounds of nature. Byron, who adopted this opinion as the motto of his youth, and died prematurely old at his thirty-seventh year, thus speaks in the last as well as the most sincere of his poetical effusions :' My days are in the yellow leaf, The flowers, the fruits of love are gone, 'What a contrast does a virtuous, happy, and lengthened old age, present to that of one precipitated by a life of dissipation!' A striking contrast is afforded in the subjoined passage. The local allusion is, as we infer, to the late venerable BISHOP WHITE: 'Cornaro, a noble Venetian, reformed, with philosophical fortitude, at the age of forty, a life of passion and dissipation, which had nearly brought him to the tomb. From that time forward, this excellent man graduated the amount of his food, his wine, his exercise, his amusements and his studies, so exactly within the bounds of temperance and moderation, as to have been enabled to preserve, much beyond the usual term of life, the freshness of youth, with the vigor of middle age. Between the ages of ninety and one hundred, he wrote two excellent treatises, in which the amiable garrulity of old age is mingled with the wisdom of the sage, and the benevolence of a christian. He lived past his one hundred and fourth year, enjoying life richly to the last, and died in his elbow-chair, without pain or agony, like one who falls asleep, surrounded by a devoted family, by admiring friends, and in the midst of a region which his skill had fertilized, and his kindness peopled with an admiring peasantry. To whom would not such a life be attractive- -thus rationally prolonged, and deeply respected, enabling him to enjoy to its utmost limit, as the writings of Cornaro indicate to have been his case, All the boundless store Of charms, which nature to her votary yields; And all that echoes to the song of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bosoms shields, 'But we need not go to olden times, nor to a foreign region, for models of excellent and philosophic old age! Our own city may supply them. One now but lately lost, and |