The Sun.
London, England, 1847-10-21 00:00:00

"' Tilt! @TINY.

HAYMARKkIT THEATRE.

A new five act play, from the pen of Mr. Westland
Marston, entitled .7he Heart and the World, was
ixoduced here last evening, with Miss Helen Faucit
;is the heroine. We say emphatically with Miss
Helen Faucit as the heroine, because it is entirely to
her exquisitely beautiful delineation of the c'naracter
of Florence Delmar that the success of the play is to
be attributed. Mr. Westland Marston is a true poet,
and possesses in a remarkable degree the power of
conceiving and of developing character, but he is not
as yet a dramatic artist--he knows not how to
build a play. Could he develop a plot as well as
be can develop a character, he would be a great
dramatist—and this is knowledge which may be
acquired. Let Mr. Marston condescend from
the study of the Elizabethan dramatists for a while,
and go to the playwrights of modern France to learn
the mechanism cf playmakin g. This is a species of
knowledge which Mr. Marston may despise, but
without it no one in the present day can succeed
in-
debted
writing an actable play. The Lady of Lyons is
for its success infinitely more to the skilful-
ness with which the plot is developed than to all other
causes put together. Mais revenons a nos moutons,
thus runs the story of " The Heart cud the World."
Sir George Hallerton (Mr. Brindal), (who has mort-
gaged his estates far beyond their value), in order
to extricate himself from his difficulties, con-
cocts a scheme for bringing about a match be-
tween his sister Laura (Miss Julia Bennett),
a heartless coquette, and Vivian Temple (Mr. Cres-
wick), a young man of heart, who has recently come
into possession of a great fortune, and in whose per-
son the combat between the heart and the world is
exhibited. He is full of noble sentiments—his heart
Is in the right place, but he wants decision, and dreads
ridicule. " I can meet its frown," says Vivian
Temple, speaking of the world. "It will not in-
dulge thee with a frown," is the reply; " thou must
brave what is worse—its sneer." Here we have the
key to the whole character. Temple, amongst a host
of other gallants, is paying court to Laura, and in
the course of conversation she mentions the name of
Florence Delmar. In the days of her prosperity
Temple had plighted his troth to Florence Delmar :
he hears she is in poverty, his love revives, and
he quits the gay company. We are next introduced
to FlorenceiDelmar (Miss Helen Faucit), her mother
(Mrs. W. Clifford), and her cousin Walter Ashbrook
(Mr H. Vandenhoff), a student. They are in a
humble lodging, where Florence maintains them by
her labour. She bas been invited by Laura Haller-
ton to spend a few days with her in the country, and
this invitation gives rise to a querulous complaint, on
the part of the mother, of the neglect of Vivian
Temple. Warmly is he defended by the confiding
Florence. At length a letter from him arrives, which
explains all. She is still beloved, and he is coming
on the morrow to visit her. The acting of Miss
Faucit in this, the last scene of the first act, was
beautiful exceedingly, and more especially at the
close where, handing her mother Temple's letter,
which she had half read through, she almost whispers
in accents tremulous from emotion, "Read it, mother,"
and sinks upon her mother's shoulder. This scene
secured the success of the first act. The second act
passes at Sir George Hallerton's country seat, where
Laura, Florence, and Temple are assembled, where we
also find Osborne (Mr. Wigan), a heartless man of
fashion, and Thornton (Mr. Howe) a man of intrigue.
Sir George sees with anxiety the passion of Temple
for Florence, and Temple, stung by the ridicule of
his companions, is more than half ashamed
of it himself. The coquettry of Laura at
length completely enthrals him, and the sensitive
Florence perceives that he is ashamed of her. Still,
as a man of honour, he is determined to keep his
word.

" 'Twas his oath's extent ;
What could he more than yield the rights she claimed ?"
The scene thus continues :
" Florence—The rights of love.
They are so easily phrased—so soon restored ;
Heart-strings a touch untunes, a touch repairs.
Oh, sir, thou canst not love! Love bath no rights,
It doth not know the word. Earth's substance ta'en,
Earth's laws may give thee back. Thy lair repute
Maligned, earth's laws may vindicate. But love
That in it bath no property of earth—
Hath no appeal there. Rights it casts away,
Is proud to be defenceless ; all its bond
The nature it confides in. Break that bond,
It feels its beggary—but pleads no rights.
Temple—Madam ! That stately pallor stirs my soul
Mere than a Hebe's blush. It is the form
Haunted my youth ; but crowned, as a throne's heir
Had passed into a monarch. [Aside.] I concede
You triumph here ! But show the vanquished pity.
Florence—Ay ; pity ! There's the loss, that we mus
learn
To pity what we worshipp'd—Vivian Temple !
W“at is the master-pang—there is but one—
That wrecks a woman's future ? Pours the world
Scorn on her chos,,n ? Well ; she takes his hand,
And drops the world's. Is want that crushing pang ?
I tell thee, when of nights her slender hand
Smooths his brow's anxious lines, and soul-filled eyes
Glorify pale, worn faces—she thanks heaven
That taught her, through her very penury,
How love can grow by suffering. Is it death?
Temple (breaking in, with much emotion)—.No, no
Florence—l say no too. Then what?
Temple—Oh; nothing, nothing!
Florence—Yes; his fall from worth !
Faith rides o'er mountain billows by one light
We deem a star. Prove that a meteor—then,
We strand, we strand!"

The superb acting of Miss Helen Faucit in this
scene saved the play. It had dragged heavily
through the second and the greater part of the third
act, but this scene electrified the audience, re-
awakened their attention, and kept it up to the end.
Thornton has taken advantage of certain circum-
stances to induce a belief that he has succeeded in
undermining the virtue of Florence. Temple, who
still loves Florence sincerely, but who is betrothed
to Laura, plunges into dissipation ; and Laura, who
loves Walter tishbrooke, is determined to ascertain
whether Florence loves Temple, and if so, to
bring about a reconciliation. Florence mean-
while, with health and prospects blighted,
and with fame tainted by the calumnies
of Thornton, is living with her mother and Walter, to
whose exertions they are indebted for subsistence.
Walter ardently desires to marry Florence, and her
mother urges Walter's suit, and asks how it chances
. that she could bear him such regard and yet not love
him ? Florence replies—
" Oh ! speech is poor to paint a difference
I feel so vast ! Trust, honour, tenderness—
The all that friendship asks—compose not love !
Friendship still keeps distinction. Friends are twain,
But lovers one 1
Friends are two kings in dear confederance join'd,
That still rule separate empires ; but in love
Both realms united, take one name, one tongue,
One law, one faith, one consequence, one crown I
Friends are two banks a kindly stream divides ;
Lovers—twin clouds into each other blent
And bath'd in the same beam. Friends are like trees
That stand with arms enlaced but parted roots ;
But that we love is grafted on one stem,
Fed with our sap, and nurtur'd by our dews, •
And wither'd in our blight 1"
Laura Hallerton, in an interview with Florence, has
discovered the secrets of. two hearts, of Florence's
and of her own—Florence loves Temple, she loves
Walter Ashbrook. Temple, stung to the quick by
the inuendoes of Thornton against the character of
Florence, forces from him a confession of his falsehood.
Laura weds Walter, and Florence weds Temple,
who frees Sir George from his embarrassments, and
thus ends the story of the Heart and the World. As we
have before said, its success was entirely owing to the
exquisitely beautiful acting of Miss Helen Faucit.
Cresswick was full of power and energy, but his un-
fortunate habit of emphasising monosyllables marred
his efforts sadly. Wigan made the most of a weak cha-
racter, and Miss Julia Bennett did her best for one
completely out of her line, and succeeded in making
it very effective. At the conclusion Miss Helen
Faucit was called before the curtain, and the author
bowed his thanks from the stage box. The piece
was announced for repetition every night of Miss
Helen Faucit's engagement. The house was crowded,

• Mx. JOHN REEVE, JUN.— The Liverpool Chro-
nicle, in speaking of the deblit of this gentleman, says,
" The principal event of the week was the Liverpool
debiit of Mr. John Reeve, the son of `John of glorious
memory.' We went to hear him with forebodings that
he would not prove an exception to the usual run of
sons of great men ; we were, however, agreeably sur-
prised to find ourselves mistaken. Mr. John Reeve,
certainly, is not the racy comedian which his father was
at the close of his career, but we much question if his
father was as good an actor at the commencement of his
histrionic life. As Bill Downey, in the Unfinished
Gentleman, he leaves but little to be desired, and that
little will soon be supplied by practice. His voice is
rather weak, or perhaps he wants the power of managing
it, which can only be acquired by practice and perse-
verance. Mr. Reeve is certainly the best young actor
we have seen ; there is no exaggeration in his persona-
tions ; all he wants is power. lie possesses a good ap-
preciation of character, and great capabilities for repre-
senting it. In the society of Mr. Buckstone he will
learn much of his father's peculiarities, and we believe
no man will better perpetuate them than the son, who
in some particular scenes reminds us forcibly of him
whose merry jests have heretofore enlivened half the
kingdom."
Lord John Russell received the Earl of Auckland
and a select circle at dinner on Tuesday last, at his
residence at Richmond Park.

The Earl and Countess Grey gave an elegant din-
ner on Tuesday to a distinguished party, at their man-
sion, in Belgrave-square. The guests included his
Excellency the Duke de Broglie, the Marquis of Lans-
downe, the Marquis and Marchioness of Clanricarde
end Lady Emily de Burgh, Viscount and Viscountess
Palmerston. Viscount Anson, the Right Hon. T. B.
Macaulay, &c.
A FRAGAISNT.—" And will you always—always,
(leare,t Alum le, love me thus?" said Constance. "Ever,
whit, this heart beats with life !" passionately exclaimed
A lberic. Then could you lend me 5/.?" murmured the
lady, " for really things are so bad in the City, that I,"
&c. &c. &c.—Punch.

44 MN 13 0 N,

LITERATURE.

STORIES AND STUDIES FROM THE
CiiRONICL, .S' AND HISTORY OF EIV G-
LAND. By Mrs. S. C. hall and Mrs. .1. Foster.
2 Vols.
Of all the branches of study which occupy the
attention of youth, it might be supposed that history
would be universally the favourite. Treading as it
does so closely upon the borders of romance, com-
bining so effectively the marvellous, the terrible, and
the mournful, exciting by turns every varied emo-
tion, anger, sympathy, admiration, pity, and amaze-
ment. Yet, not withstanding these attractions, to render
the study of history agreeable to the young reader much
depends upon the manner of the historian. All
children, whatever their age or disposition, have in-
variably a great predilection for anything in the shape
of " a story," and almost as invariably as great an
antipathy for all manner of dry details, dates, &c. A
history combines, to a certain extent, the characteris-
tics of both, and in proportion as it approaches nearer
the one or the other, as it resembles more a dry
epitome of barren facts or an amusing se•,
ries of marvellous adventures, so do its at•
tractive powers diminish or increase. The great secret
of writing history for the young would seen] to be
the knowledge of how to combine the greatest
amount of amusement with the greatest amount of
information. This juste milieu has been very nearly
Charles'sS t ' A
Ib a
enrnT: others,tsg.
attained by the authoresses of these little volumes.
They do not profess to give a regular history of
England, their avowed object is only, by giving
the young reader a sample of the interesting
treasures of historic lore, to induce him to
seek further into them for himself. Accord-
ingly they give but a brief sketch of every
reign, followed by a story illustrative of each epoch.
These " stories" are of a most interesting and novel
character, not consisting, as might have been ex-
pected, of a repetition of a few well-known incidents
familiar to the reader of every historical abstract, but
of a happy selection of striking and suggestive narra-
tives, taken not only from modern histories but. also
from the old chronicles. Many of these are given in
the quaint language of their ancient writers, and
are curious and instructive as specimens of style.
The first story commemorates the " British Veturia,"
a heroine of times long past, and the last page, of
course, closes with the British Victoria, and tells of
a very different epoch. Between these many most
interesting narratives intervene ; one of the most at-
tractive, " The First British Martyr," gives a beauti-
ful and touching account of th death of the
first Christian whe suffered martyrdom in
England, on the spot which now bears his name—
-1 aae
rn
ded‘
.'f render
cßTheToom eeb firstninbfteeehi
u::
s,
elittle,flau last
t Britishh
instructionew
reigns Po Porteousrrki nte r
deserving, ' '
w have:
Mob,"
hlii
ei
bnno,
beeng;
ta en-
tertainment, r dt
a manyin
generalm
treated in almost too summary a manner, neverthe-
less we find one remark about William IV. which we
do not remember to have seen before, namely, that he
was the first, second, third, and fourth sovereign of his
name—the first William of Hanover, the second of
Ireland, the third of Scotland, and the fourth of Eng-
land.

THE ENGLISHwomAa's FAMILY
LIBRARY.
A series of works intended especially for the
perusal of the mothers and daughters of England,
could hardly commence more auTiciously than with
a volume of the tales of Hannah More. Some of
these, " The Two Wealthy Farmers " in particular,
in which the vices of worldly vanity, and a lore of
display are so truthfully and inimitably portrayed,
cannot be studied too attentively by the domestic
fireside. The conductors of this new library have
shown their discrimination in commencing with this
work. The second volume of the series contains
Montgomery's " Sacred Meditations."

JOYCE'S SCIENTIFIC DIALOGUES. By
Pinnock.
"Joyce's Scientific Dialogues," in which the per-
plexing rudiments of science are rendered facile of
comprehension, and, consequently, full of interest,
are happily too much known and too much appreciated
to require either comment or criticism. This new
edition is more especially deserving of attention from
its having been revised and arranged by Mr. Pinnock,
of catechism celebrity.

WORKS OF G. P. R. JAMES. Vol. X.
The last volume of Mr. James's works contains his
romance of " The Brigand"—the last volume that we
have seen, that is to say, certainly not the last of the
series, for the appearance of his new novels almost
keeps pace with the re-appearance of his old ones.
However, in process of time both new and old will be
collected in this edition, which will, without doubt,
be most welcome to his numerous admirers.

CHRISTOPHER TADPOLE. By Albert Smith.
___

Part XIV.
In this number Christopher meets with and is re-
cognised by Dr. Aston, and the two proceed to
Chester, and the tw o proceed to the inn where Chris-
topher was born. They find the old waiter still there,
and dispatch him in search of Sam Piper, the post-
boy who had driven the unfortunate mother of Chris-
topher to the inn. In the mean time Sir Fredei ick
Arden pursues his disgraceful career of low black-
guardism, and involves himself and his mother inex-
tricably in the clutches of Gudge, until, at length,
they are unable to raise even the smallest sum of
money. At this juncture he meets with Fanny
Hamper, at the school ball at Mrs. Sadler's, and
recollecting that she has a few hundreds in her own
right, he proposes an immediate elopement, to which
she consents, and they set off that very night, in Sir
Frederick's dog-cart.

VANITY FAIR. By W. M. Thacheray. Part X.
The fate of poor worldly-minded Miss Crawley is
settled in this number. Mr. Pitt Crawley goes to
Brighton, and introduces his aunt to the pious Lady
Southdown, the mother of his affianced bride, Lady
Jane. Mrs. Bute Crawley, as a last resource, dis-
patches her son James to the rescue. He is at first
received graciously, and installed as a guest in Miss
Crawley's house ; but he gets drunk, and smokes
a pipe in his bed-room :
" That pipe of tobacco finished the business : and the
Bute Crawleys never knew how many thousand pounds
it cost them. Firkin rushed down stairs to Bowls who
was reading out the ' Fire and the Frying Pan' to his
aide-de-camp in a loud and ghostly voice. The dreadful
secret was told to him by Firkin with so frightened a look,
that for the first moment Mr. Bowls and his young man
thought that robbers were in the house ; the legs of
whom had probably been discovered by the woman under
Miss Crawley's bed. When mad© aware of the fact,
however—to rush up stairs at three steps at a time—to
enter the unconscious James's apartment, calling out,
Mr. James,' in a voice stifled with alarm, and to cry,
For Gawd's sake, Sir, stop that 'are pipe,' was the
work of a minute with Mr. Bowls. 0, Mr. James,
what 'ave you done,' he said in a voice of the deepest
F vv hatpathos.
'ave you
ashetht e,
rioenwthseir;Missesimplementcan't abide em.
otit ufthewipdow.
" • Missis needn't smoke,' said James with a frantic
misplaced laugh, and thought the whole matter an ex-
cellent joke. But his feelings were very different in the
morning, when Mr. Bowls's young man, who operated
upon Mr. James's boots, and brought him his hot water
to shave that beard which he was so anxiously expecting,
handed a note into Mr. James in bed, in the handwriting
of Miss Briggs.
" Dear Sir,' it said, Miss Crawley has passed an
exceedingly disturbed night, owing to the shocking
manner in which, the house has been polluted by tobacco;
Miss Crawley bids me say she regrets that she is too
unwell to see you before 3ou go—and above all, that she
ever induced you to remove from the ale-house, where
she is sure you will be much more comfortable during
the rest of your stay at Brighton.'
" And herewith honest James's career as a candidate
for his aunt's favour ended."
The Rawdon Crawleys are in Paris, where Rebecca
is the admired of all observers ; but even these suc-
cesses fail to mollify the heart of Miss Crawley, whose
rage knew no bounds when she read in the papers the
announcement of the birth of Rawdon Crawley's son
and heir :

" The intelligence, expected as it might have been,
caused a crisis in the affairs of the Crawley family.
The spinster's rage rose to its height, and sending in-
stantly for Pit', her nephew, :and for the Lady South-
down, from Brunswick-square, she requested an imme-
diate celebration of the marriage which had been so long
pending between the two families. And she announced
that it was her intention to allow the young couple a
thousand a year during her lifetime, at the expiration of
which the bulk of her property would be settled upon
her nephew and her dear niece, Lady Jane Crawley.
Waxy came down to ratify the deeds—Lord Southdown
gave away his sister—she was married by a bishop, and
not by the Rev. Mr. Bartholomew Iroas—to the disap-
pointment of the irregular prelate.
" When they were married—Pitt would have liked to
take a hymeneal tour with his bride, as became people
of their condition. But the affection of the old lady
towards Lady Jane had grown so strong, that she fairly
owned she could not part with her favourite. Pitt and
his wife came, therefore, and lived with Miss Crawley
and (greatly to the annoyance of poor Pitt, who con-
ceived himself a most injured character—being subject
to the humours of his aunt on one side, and of his
mother-in-law on the other) Lady Southdown, from her
neighbouring house, reigned over the whole family—
Pitt, Lady Jane, Miss Crawley, Briggs, Bowls, Firkin,
and all. She piteously dosed them with her tracts and
her medicine : she dismissed Creamer, sbe installed
Rodgers, and soon stripped Miss Crawley of even the
semblance of authority. The poor soul grew so timid
that she actually left off bullying Briggs any more, and
clung to her niece, more fond and more terrified every
day. Peace to thee, kind and selfish, vain and generous
old heathen!—We shall see thee no more. Let us hope
that Lady Jane supported her kindly, and led her with
gem le hand out of the busy struggle of Vanity Fair."
The agonizing struggles of pride and affection in
old Osborne's heart, on hearing of his son's death,
are most thrillingly described. He goes to Brussels
and visits the spot where George fell, but refuses to
recognise or assist his widow, who has been in a state
of deranginent since her husband's death. Poor LI
Amelia, thanks to the kind-hearted William Dobbin,