The railroad will destroy Venice; the
two things cannot coexist; and those who do not look upon that
wondrous dream in this age, will, probably, find only vestiges of its
existence.
The picture of Adelaide Kemble is very pretty, though there is an
attempt of a sort too common with Mrs. Jameson to make more of the
subject than it deserves. Adelaide Kemble was not the true artist, or
she could not so soon or so lightly have stept into another sphere.
It is enough to paint her as a lovely woman, and a woman-genius. The
true artist cannot forswear his vocation; Heaven does not permit it;
the attempt makes him too unhappy, nor will he form ties with those
who can consent to such sacrilege. Adelaide Kemble loved art, but was
not truly an artist.
The "Xanthian Marbles," and "Washington Allston," are very pleasing
papers. The most interesting part, however, are the sentences copied
from Mr. Allston. These have his chaste, superior tone. We copy some
of them.
"What _light_ is in the natural world, such is _fame_ in the
intellectual,--both requiring an _atmosphere_ in order to become
perceptible. Hence the fame of Michel Angelo is to some minds a
nonentity; even as the Sun itself would be invisible _in vacuo_"
(A very pregnant statement, containing the true reason why "no man is
a hero to his valet de chambre.
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