21 JULY 1849, Page 13

THEATRES AND MUSIC.

Madame Sontag's performance of Amina in the Sonnambula on Thurs- day, while as a piece of vocal art it completely satisfied the expectations raised by her previous appearances, was the most beautiful and striking display she has yet made of her powers as an actress. It confirmed us in the belief that, since the days of her youthful triumphs, her dramatic talent has been matured and strengthened by the general development of her in- tellect, enlarged knowledge of human life, and actual experience of the working of the passions. With a vivid remembrance of the greatest ac- tresses that have appeared in, this part—especially of Malibran, Viardot- Garcia, and Lind—we perceive that Sontag's Amine was her own both in conception and execution; differing in many features from every other re- presentation of the character, but certainly not inferior to any other in truth, consistency, and effect on the feelings of the audience. One charac- teristic of Sontag, in everything she does, is a ladylike quietness of de- meanour,—not the mere conventional polish of high breeding, but the de- portment founded on natural and instinctive delicacy which may exist in any rank of life but is cultivated by the intercourse of refined society; a deportment which is the reverse of demonstrative, is habitually calm and composed, and shuns every approach to fussiness and emphatic dis- play of feeling. But where strong feelings exist, and are called forth by circumstances sufficient to rouse them, it is in persons of this habitual calmness that their vehement effusion is most striking and impressive. And this, we believe, is a cause of the effect which Sontag sometimes produces by bursts of passion not in themselves more powerful than those of performers who do not, as she does, whether from natural disposition or artistic intention, husband their resources. It would be easy to show this by several comparisons, not at all invidious, between Sontag's Amina and that of Jenny Lind. One may suffice. When Amine is exposed to the attentions of the Count, Lind avoided the great fault of making the simple heroine a flirt and a coquette, by representing her as somewhat frightened by the Count's advances, as dangerous in themselves —shrinking from them with marks of alarm, and constantly running be- hind her lover as if to seek shelter from the gay deceiver. Sontag acted differently: Amine showed no terror for the Count's gallantries, but re- ceived them quietly, with an almost genteel indifference: but when she observed the moody looks of her betrothed—of whose jealous temper she of course was aware—her features saddened at the thoughts of his dis- pleasure; which she immediately, with her characteristic quietness, set about trying to dispel. The little duet between the pair, long omitted, but now permanently restored, was a beautiful display on her part of this gentle and placid spirit. In the scene where Amine, awaking in the Count's chamber, finds herself in a situation of seemingly detected guilt, gazed on with astonishment by her companions and spurned by her lover, Sontag painted the horrors of her condition with tragic power equal to that of Lind, and with an effect on the audience which even that great actress was never able to surpass; and the rapturous denouement was equally powerful and equally effective. The music of the part was sung with that exquisite beauty of sound, ar- tistic purity of style, and consummate finish of execution, which we have already attempted to describe as Sontag's vocal characteristics. Her organ is not so powerful as that of some of her sister-artists; or perhaps it may be more correct to say, that she is less in the habit of putting forth its pow- ers. She frequently sings in a subdued tone passages which we have been accustomed to hear a pleine voix; but she occasionally displays a strength and volume not easily excelled. Witness her concluding notes of the fi- nale, " Alt non giunge,"—three shakes on the fifth, sixth, and seventh of the ascending scale, closing in the key-note,—which rang through the theatre and enraptured every hearer.