The Sun.
London, England, 1849-10-23 00:00:00

SURREY THEATRE.

It is cheering to find that the cause of the legiti-
mate drama is making way in all directions ; that
which Mr. Phelps has done at Sadler's Wells, and
which Mr. Watts has done at the Marylebone, Messrs.
Shepherd and Creswick have done at the Surrey;
and, we arc happy to say, that hitherto success has
crowned their exertions. Messrs. Shepherd and
Creswick have secured the services of an excellent
tragedy company, and since the commencement of
the season the tragedies of Shakspere, of Bulwer, and
of Sheridan Knowles have been performed in a manner
that would not have been unworthy of the patent
theatres in the palmy days of the drama. But
Messrs. Shepherd and Creswick are not content with
mere revivals of stock pieces ; they have made this
theatre a home not only for the actor, but for the
author also, and last night they produced a new play,
in three acts, entitled Trevanion; or the False Posi-
tion, which met with the most marked and deserved
success. It is the joint production of Westland
Marston and Bayle Bernard, who will, we hope, for
the future, continue to work together, and be the
Beaumont and Fletcher of the modern drama;
for certes this joint production is as an acting play
more perfect than any single production of either of
them. Mr. Marston has in this play carried out the
theory which he developed in the preface to The
Patrician's Daughter, viz., that the social state of the
nineteenth century furnishes as rich materials for
tragic effect as did the social state of any of the
preceding centuries. Trevanion may be considered
as the converse of The Patrician's Daughter. Whilst
in the latter play the tragic interest turns
upon the consequences of the loves of
a low born adventurer and a patrician's daugh-
ter, in Trevanion the interest turns upon the loves
of a high- born youth and the daughter of a plebeian.
Thus runs the plot :—Margaret Langford (Madame
Ponisi), the daughter of Michael Langford (Mr.
Emery), a ship carpenter, is a 'girl of excellent
education and great talents. Lady Evesham, to
whom she has addressed some verses, struck by her
talent and goodness, for she is one of the gentlest of
God's creatures, takes her abroad as a companion and
friend. Lady Evesham dies while staying with a
German Baroness, who also takes Margaret under
her protection, and while with her she meets with
a Mrs. Lorimer (Mrs. H. Vining), who, struck by
the likeness of Margaret to her own daughter, whom
she has recently lost, at once adopts her. With Mrs.
Lorimer she travels through Switzerland, and while
there meets with Trevanion (Mr. Creswick), a young
Englishman of birth and fortune. Thus thrown
together it is natural that they should fall in love ;
and when Mrs. Lorimer and Margaret remove to
Paris Trevanion follows them, and pro poses
for Margaret. Margaret had been considered
by the German baroness as a relation of the
Lady Evesham, and although it was con-,
sidered that her parents had experienced
reverses, yet it was always imagined that Margaret
had patrician blood in her veins, and therefore on the
score of birth there could be no objection to her being
admitted into society. Margaret had given her
countenance to this falsehood by not contradicting it,
and it is not until she finds herself on the brink of
marriage with the man she adores, and who also
believes this falsehood, that she becomes aware
of the agony which is in store for her.
She reasons with herself—she determines to let
Trevanion, to let Mrs. Lorimer know the truth,
but love overcomes conscience, and she becomes the
wife of Trevanion without undeceiving him. On the
arrival of the newly married couple in London, she
makes a confidant of Mrs. Lorimer, and is about to
explain all to her husband, when he is suddenly
called away, and her father enters the room. She
knows not how to greet the old ship-carpenter ;
she begs him to return, but the warm-hearted
old man, perceiving his daughter is ashamed of him,
gives vent to his grief and rage, and is about
to leave the room when Trevanion enters, an eclair-
cissement takes place, and 'Trevanion learns that a
letter written by old Langford, ire reply to one an-
nouncing the approaching marriage, had been inter-
cepted by Margaret. The old man withdraws, and
Trevanion remains bowed down with grief. Mar-
garet beseeches his forgiveness, and exposes the temp-
tation to which she was subjected, and declares how
often she had determined to tell him of her humble
birth. He replies—
" It is your falsehood stabs me, not your birth.
The priceless gem discovered in the dust
Gives glory to a crown ; the counterfeit
Though snatched from thence is w orthless."
Her falsehood has severed them for ever, but he adds :
" The world shall never know the pasr;
We shall walk hand in hand before the crowd ;
Your place will still be at my board and hearth.
Margaret, in the agony-of despair, flies from her hus-
band's roof to take refuge in her father's humble
abode. That father would spurn her from his thres-
hold, but her mother receives her, and at length
the father, too, relents. In the neighbourhood of
Langford's abode are some mines which Trevanion
bad purchased ; the speculation turns out a bad one.
y the breaking of a bank Trevanion is ruined, and
the mines are given up, large arrears of wages being
due to the miners. Trevanion goes down to the
locality, and is threateud with destruction by the
unruly mob. Suddenly they are dispersed, and
.Trevanion hears with astonishment that his debts are
paid and his honour saved, and by whom ? By
whom but by his wife, who accepts in the days of his
adversity that which she had always refused for her-
self, a handsome provision from Mrs. Lorimer, and
devotes it to saving her husband. We
need not add that all ends happily. The
character of Margaret was acted with the
most exquisite pathos by Madame Ponisi, and
Trevanion is by far the best thing that Mr. Creswick
has yet done. There is a low comedy part of Vex, a
village oracle, admirably acted by Mr. H. Width-
combo. The applause was enthusiastic ; at the
conclusion all the principal artistes were called on,
and the authors were called. The piece was announced
for repetition amidst the most enthusiastic applause
of a crowded house.

It would be an act of injustice to close this notice
without expressing our admiration of the acting of
F. Emery as Langford. It was equal to the best
acting of his father in his best days.

The commercial advicea by the America, from-New
York, continuo satisfactory. The fall trade was draw
ing to a close, and on the whole it had been most pros-
perous. The prospects for the spring were also favour-
able. Stocks were flat, but without alteration, and
exchange was 110 to 110 k. There had been no mitiga-
Ilea of the apprehensions regarding the cotton crop.
From California the news is a fortnight later. Many
lonAtti"4,,eFt's are detailed of remarkable success on the part
al
elviduals at the mines, and the general accounts are
_se encouraging. The immigration at the port of San
Francisco duringthe
ra
oAnu t
hg
.0 s t was 3806 males and 87 fe-
u' being an increase of nearly 300 on the large total
precedi
SIR , j"' ,,
i
from s - -'RANBLIN's EXPEDITION.—A letter
t. Marie River, dated September 24, announces
the arrival, cn
his way to England, of Sir John Richard-
son,. from an unsuccessful search after Sir John
Franklin', expedition. The letter mentions that after
reaching the Arctic Ocean, he travelled 500 miles along
the coast; and also that Sir John ;peaks confidently of
1,, however,
the existence of a northern pus,age, the practicability of
t
being exceedingly doubtful, the summers
lasting only from thirty to sixty days.
ALARMING FlRE.—Last night (Monday), a fire
attended with considerable loss of property, broke out
In the premises belonging to Mr. lluxtable, a tailor,
situate at No. 48, Samtbrd-street, Waterloo-road, Lam-
beth. Owing to the absence of all parties connected
with the property, it was impossible to learn anything
respecting the cause of the outbreak, nor whether the
sufferer was insured.
A clever servant is almost invariably quick-tern-
Pored. The reason is obvious; superior talent is gene-
rally accompanied by pride, which must meet with many
Petty annoyances in the menial state.—Eliza cook's
Journal.

Without the theme of love to employ his pen the
occupation of the novelist would be gene ; at least ,o
we may reasonably surmise from the prevalence of
this attractive topic in works of fiction. We cannot
glance over the slightest fatilleton sketch, or open the
pages of the most imposing many. tome d novel without
meeting with a continuation of the never-ending cata-
logue of the hopes and fears, the pains, pleasures,
and perplexities of the multifarious master passion.
Doubtless this subject finds so many writers, because
it naturally interests the multitude of readers, and,
even while we condemn the exaggerated and unreal
ideas of life which many of these fictitious love•stories
impress upon youthful minds, let us not be ungrateful
fur the good services rendered by this species of lite-
rature. This fascinating branch of fiction, appealing,
r.s it does, to some of the noblest and holiest

impulses of human nature, and setting before us, as
it does, in a most attractive guise, the sublime charities
of social life, sympathy, long, suffering, forbearance,
devotion the most pure, self-abnegation the most
entire, and innumerable other virtues, which together
constitute the one glorious unit—love—this branch
of fiction, with all its faults, exercises a healthful
influence over the public mind. As the institutions
of chivalry were to a barbaric age, as the lore of
fairy-land is to the dawning intelligence of childhood,
so is romantic literature to the daily denizens of a
selfish world. It reveals to us a glimpse of ideal ex-
cellence, and tends to elevate us from what we are to
what we should be. If this be the high mission of
the fiction writer, what theme can be better adapted
to his purpose than that love which has been, appa-
rently, expressly ordained to purify, to polish, and to
perfect , human nature. However differently some
novelists may represent it, such is, and ever has
been, the true nature and property of love;'
and so those writers who have rightly considered it
have concurred in describing it. Thus Emerson
writes in his admirable " Essay on Love"--" At last
they discover that all which at first drew them to•
gether—those once sacred features, that magical play
of charms—was deciduous, had a prospective end,
like the scaffolding by which the house was built ;
and the purification of the intellect and the heart,
from year to year, is the real marriage, foreseen and
prepared from the first, and wholly above their con-
sciousness." Of a similar spirit, but more beautifully
expressed, is Tennyson's definition of the beneficial
influence of love in the mutual improvement of man
and woman, each becoming imbued with the good
qualities of the other—

"More as the double-natured poet, each:
Till at the last she set herself to man,
Like perfect music unto noble words."
And in the same spirit, again, Longfellow has ex-
claimed—

" Speak not of wasted affection : affectionnever was wasted."
So indeed the majority of love stories teach us. Un-
requited, or otherwise unhappy and apparently most
profitless, affection is there shown to be frequently
the most efficacious in fulfilling its mission,
namely, the amelioration of the heart in
which it exists. Such, however, is not the cha-
racter of the love which holds a conspicuous
place in the novel now under our consideration.
Although " The Ogilvies" contains many other
necessary elements of a good novel, such as various
and well-sketched characters, an animated and
agreeable style, and an interesting arrangement of
incidents, &c., it is so essentially a love story, that in
that peculiar phase we are disposed more especially
to regard it. It portrays the reverse of the picture
to which we have been alluding. It does not exhibit
the happy influence of all true love, even when its
course runs the least smooth, but it enforces with
powerful efficacy the fatal influences of excessive,
ungoverned, and not unselfish passion. The chief
interest and effect of the narrative—and an enthralling
interest and a most powerful effect they are—are con-
centrated upon one point, namely, the successive
influences of passion, disappointment, and despair
upon a young, undisciplined, and most impetuous heart.
The narrative is invaluable for the warning lesson
which it holds furth to many, for, in the earlier stages
of her history, Katharine Ogilvie is the type of
thousands. At the commencement of the first vohinie
we find her, a young girl of sixteen, endowed with
great, but as yet undeveloped capacities of heart and
intellect. Although brought up in the bosom of her
family she is unacquainted with that sweet companion-
ship which is irrespective of ties of blood, and wholly
dependent on sympathy. In this isolated position
she unconsciously yearns to pour out the pent-up
treasure of her affection. Who Mr. Paul Lynedon
is ; how in a fond delusion she believes him to be a
realisation of her ideal; how she elevates him into
an object of almost idolatrous worship, and how,
moreover, from many misapprehended incidents, she
entertains the mistaken impression that she is the
object of his regard, we leave the reader to discover
in the pages of " The Ogilvies." So far the character
and conduct of Katharine is described with a most ex-
quisite simplicity and naturalness. W'e do not wish
to reveal all the mysteries of the plot, yet we
cannot indicate as we would desire, the
nature of the work and the terrible lesson
it teaches of the ill. effects of ungoverned passions,
without following the narrative a little further.
Katharine's bright delusion exists during three years,
which Paul Lynedon passes abroad, and during
hich she is gradually transformed from a child to a
woman. All this time her idolatrous passion, so
madly conceived, and so blindly indulged in, grows
with her growth. Her one thought has been to
make herself worthy, as far as outward perfections go,
of her absent lover. She is ardently looking forward
to his return, when one light breath destroys the
complicated fabric, ore touch bursts the bubble of her
illusion. She hears that Paul Lynedon is to be
united to another. The sudden transformation of the
gentle, loving girl, the affectionate daughter, and
amiable companion, into a stern, imperious, and
unloving woman is absolutely startling. After hear-
ing the terrible news Katharine retires to her
chamber, and her conflicting emotions are thus de.
scribed :

" 0 ye cold clear winter stars, look down pityingly on
that solitary chamber where was poured out the anguish
of first passionate love! Erring it might be—hopeless,
visionary, even unmaidenly—but it was pure, nursed in
solitude, and hidden from all human eyes. With strength
such as woman only knows, Katharine for hours had
sung, talked, and sat in silence; but when she was alone
the terrible cry of her despair burst forth.
" It was indeed despair; not pining, girlish, sorrow.
She neither fainted nor wept; but she crouched on the
floor, swaying to and fro, her small hands,tightly clenched,
her whole frame convulsed with a choking agony.
" 0 Godl-0 God I—let me die!'—rose up the al-
most impious cry of the stricken heart that in happiness
had rarely known either thanksgiving or prayer—
while moan after moan broke the night stillness. She
breathed no word—not even his name. AU that she
felt then was a longing for silence—darkness—death.
" But this stupor did not last. Her burning, tearless
eyes, wandering round the room, fell first on the flowers
she wore—his favourites—then on a book he had given
her—alasl her whole daily life was full of mementos of
him. At once the flood of anguish burst forth unre-
strained.

" Oh, Paul, Paul, must I think of you no more?—is
the old time gone for ever? A lire without you, a future
wherein the past must be forgotten—all is darkness—
darkness! 0 God, that I could die!'

" And then, like a lightning.flash, came the thought,
that even that old time over which she mourned had
been only a self-beguiling dream. He had never loved
her, not even then; but he had made her believe so.
That moment a new storm of passion arose in her
heart.

“ Ire deceived me; he deceived me even then! lin
my madness have given him all—life, hope, youth; and
he has given me—nothing! Paull Paul Lynedon!'
(acd rising up she stood erect—pride, indignation, scorn,
on eye, lip, and lofty stature), how dared you utter your
false words to me when another was in your heart! How
dared you call me "dear Katharine,” when you loved not
me, but her? And now you will go and jest with her
over the p, or foolish girl who trembled and blushed in
your sight, who had given you her whole heart's love,
and would have died for yours!'
" Katharine paced the ehamber, her step quick and
wrathful, her face burning with shame. Then she
stopped before the mirror, and surveyed herself from
head to foot, regarding intently the beauty in which she
had so gloried for his sake.

'• ' He shall never say that I pined for him in unre-
quited love—l, Katharine Ogilvie, whom the world calls
Lair, who might have been admired, loved—aye, wor-
shipped. But I gave all up for him.' And her memory
pictured the face of Hugh, as when ho last bade her
good-bye, pale, sad, with tears in the kind eyes that had
watched over her for so many years. His love, if rude,
was deep and sincere, and hardly merited a rejection so
cold and scornful as she had lately given. Then in her
heart dawned a purpose, sprung from the passion which
fur the time had almost changed to hate, and now warped
every feeling of her impulsive nature. It was a purpose
from a hich every woman who loves with a calm, pure
love, however hopeless, would turn shuddering aside,
feeling how great was the sin.
" You shall never triumph over me,--you, Paul, and
that wife of yours! Sou shall never laugh together at
the girl who broke her heart for love. Nu; I will live—
live to make the world know, and you know, what I am!
Yes, )ou shall hear of me—my beauty, and my talents!'
And a strange bitter laugh of selt•derision broke from
those white lips, over which, a few hours before, had
dimpled the sweet, happy girlish smile. But that never
came again—no, never more.
Terrible, indeed, is this sad picture of ungoverned
passion. Strong in her resolution, Katharine gives
her hand to her good-hearted cousin llugh, whose
life is thenceforth embittered by her imperious cold-
nets and tyrannical domination. Paul Lynedon
returns unmarried, and his fickle heart is at last cap-
tivated by the now magnificent Katharine. But to
him also the revengeful woman is now cold and im-
perious in her demeanour. We will not reveal the
story further. The catastrophe is a fitting conclusion
to the lesson it conveys. The character of Katharine
is powerfully drawn, perhaps a little over drawn in
some instances. Paul Lynedon also is a well described
example of great talents squandered for mean pur-
poses. The story of Philip Wychnor And Eleanor

Ogilvie we will leave with its interest undiminished.
Tile %vc:ll.reguiated, but not less intenFe, affc-ction of
Eleanor contrasts vividly Nvith the pt:ssion of Katha-
rine. The latter, indeed, scarcely deserved the name
of love, for true love so entirely annihilates self that
it would render a transformation like that of Katha-
rine impossible. Eleanor's trials are of a different
nature, and in allusion to them we find the following
thoughtful passage :
" How sore ,a strait for one so young! Her heart was
almost rent in twain. It was the old contest, old as the
world itself—the strife between duty and love.
"Most writers on this subject are, we think, some-
what in the wrong. They never consider that love is
duty—a most solemn cud holy duty ! Ho who, loving
and being beloved, takes upon himself this second life,
this glad burden of another's happiness, has no right to
sacrifice it for any other human tie. It is the fashion
to extol the self-devotion of the girl who, for parental
caprice, or to work out the happiness of some lovelorn
sister, gives up the chosen of her heart, whose heart's
chosen she knows herself to be. And the man who,
rather than make a loving woman a little poorer in
worldly wealth—but oh, how rich in affection!—proudly
conceals his love in his own breast, and will not utter it
—he is deemed a self-denying hero! Is this right?
" You writers of mural fiction, who exalt to the skies
sacrifices such as these, what would you say if for any
cause under heaven a wife gave up a husband, or a hus-
band a wife, each dooming the other to suffering worse
than death? And is the tie between two hearts knitted
together by mutual love less strong, has sacred, before
the altar-vow than after it? Is not the breaking of such
bond a sin, even though no consecrated ordinance has
rendered the actual perjury visible guilt?
" When will you, who with the world-wide truths of
the ideal show forth what is noblest in humanity, boldly
put forward this law of a morality, higher and more
wholesome than all your tales of sacrifices in filial and
paternal shrines—that no power on earth should stand
between two beings who worthily, holily, and faithfully
love one another."

We have dwelt so long upon " The Ogilvies" as a
love-story, that we can bestow but a brief mention
upon the literary struggles of Philip Wychnor and
the group of various literati by whom he is
surrounded. The sad life and tranquil death of the
overtasked Leigh, the devotion of his mother, and
many other interesting points, we likewise pass over
with less consideration than they merit. The interest
attached to the extraordinary heart-history of the
most unhappy Katharine throws the rest of the story
into comparative shade. We very conscientiously
commend " The Ogilvies" to general perusal. The
lesson it inculcates is worthy of deep attention. Tne
sunshine of love may diffuse happiness over human
life, but ungoverned passion is only productive of the
death and desolation of the desert. Such is the moral
of " The Ogilvies."

COURT CIRCULAR.
WINDSOR, MONDAY.
The Queen and Prince Albert walked this morn-
ing in the Slopes.
The Royal Family took their usual airings.
His Royal Highness Prince Albert went out shoot-
ing this forenoon. His Royal IlighneEs was attended
by Lord Waterpark, Lieut.-Colonel the Hon, A. N.
Hood, and Lieut.-Colonel F. H. Seymour.
Lord and Lady John Russell, and the Hon. Ralph
and Lady Mary Abercromby, are expected to arrive
at the Castle to-day, and will have the honour of
joining the Royal party at dinner this evening.

Lord and Lady John Russell left Pembroke Lodge
yesterday afternoon, on a visit to her Majesty, at
Windsor Castle.

Dispatches were received yesterday at the Colonial-
office from the Governors of the North American
Colonies.

HEALTH•of the QUEEN DOWAGER.
(From the Court Circular.)
Her Majesty the Queen Dowager passed a bad
night on Sunday. Her Majesty continues seriously
ill, but was decidedly not worse yesterday. Dr.
Bright left the Priory yesterday for town, Sir David
Davies remaining in attendance on her Majesty.

SPANISH AMERICAN BOND-
HOLDERS.
We have received the following communication
from the committee of Spanish-American bond-
holders :

" Mexico, Sept. 12, 1849.
" Sir,—We are in receipt of your esteemed favours of
the 30th June and Ist August, the contents of which
have been attentively noted.
" From the latter we observe that you had received
from Messrs. John Schneider and Co. a communication
(a copy of which you enclose), dated 21st ult., in refer-
ence to a notification those gentlemen had received from
the Mexican Government that it was about to remove
the agency from their hands. We do not enter into any
details respecting this matter, as Mr. Robertson, who
will leave this for England by the next steamer, will
explain the matter fully; and with regard to what you
remark in directing our attention to the strict fulfilment
of the conditions concerning shipments on account of the
dividends, we beg to assure the committee that no ex-
ertions shall be wanting on our part for the furtherance
of this object.
" The arrangement made by Mr. Robertson with the
Mexican Government has not yet been discussed by the
Congress. " We remain, &c.,
(Signed) " MANNING and MACKINTOSH.
" G. R. Robinson, Esq , &c."
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follow-
ing statement, by which you will see the bot dholiers'
proportion of import duties at this port this day stands
as follows:

Dols. c.
Amount pending 15th August ... ... 235,376 38
Duties fur August by approximation ... 41,400 0

Total ... 276,776 38
Less, collections up to date... ... ... 52,551 0