The Sun.
London, England, 1848-11-13 00:00:00

picture is complete—we are m ver startled from our
contemplation of the beautiful by untoward theatrical
sus prises or far-sought readings, or exaggerated ano-
malie3 of action. There are no tricks of voice, no vio-

lent outbreaks to force unreflecting applause', no clap-
traps, no hysterical utterance, nor epileptic gesture, to
gain the lungs of the galleries. It is fresh, natural, and
charming. To select particular passages for admiratim
would be supererogatory, but it would be unjust not to
point to the soliloquy immediately subsequent to the
scene in which Viola receives
.the ring sent her from
Olivia by Malvolio
I left no ring with her; what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charmed her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much,
That, sure, methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me sure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my Lord's ring; why, he sent her none.
I AM THE MAN I"

The rich music of secure triumph with which the last
line was proclaimed was irresistible—it was the true
spirit of comedy, and elicited several bursts of applause.
The exquisite passage commencing—
_ .

" Ablank, my Lord: she never told her love"—

was delivered with touching pathos, and the verse flowed
on as dulcetly as the tones of an lEolian lyre. Mrs. Charles
Kean is the one actress on the stage at this moment
equal to so peculiar and difficult a character as Viola.
She evolved in microscopic detail all the exquisite modu-
lations of thought and shades of sentiment delineated
with so delicate a touch by the great poet of human cha-
racter, and which too frequently escape the grosser ap-
prehension of the ordinary reader. Those many passages
which constituted the charm of our " school boy days,
but of which every succeeding year has demonstrated
more and more the startling truthfulness and the pro.
found philosophy, were given with immense effect. Still
were they not detached from the involvement of the argu-
ment—indeed, all that look and attitude could express
was present to realise the sequence and the charm of the
dramatic illusion. Keeley's Sir Andrew Aguecheek is
truly Shaksperian, clearly felt, and artistically elabo-
rated. The silliness and obtuseness seem absolutely in-
stinctive, and are Just within the fine line that separates
folly from idiotcy. Mr. Webster's Malvolio is carefully
studied, and the great scene of the " letter" was admirably
rendered. Mr. Wigan, as Feste, the clown, threw a life
into the character that imparted to it a prominence we
have not hitherto seen attempted. The clowns
of Shakspeare are at this day unmanageable creations,
and very great merit is due to the actor who can inbue
them with vitality without deterioration of the " wise
saws " and quaint morals with which they are so
richly studded. Mr. Tilbury had a ripe notion of Sir
Toby Belch, and contrived to reflect the broad humour
without grossness or caricature. Miss Reynolds, whom
the public thought had fulfilled all that was anticipated
by her agreeable performances of common-place parts,
interlarded with cheerful ballads archly delivered, proved
herself, in the part of Olivia, an actress endowed with
good judgment, feeling, grace of carriage, and dignity.
Mr. Howe was excellent as the Duke of Illyria. The
play was greatly enjoyed by a crowded and brilliant
audience, and at its termination Mrs. Charles Kean was
enthusiastically called before the curtain. The Ransom
followed, in which Mrs. Charles Kean appeared in her
original character of Pauline. The public is already
acquainted with her powerful acting in this drama, and
we have only space to add that its effect on the
present occasion was in no wise diminished. Such
a performance proves incontestably what may still
be achieved for the British stage. Each suburban
theatre has in turn been crowded to witness the embodi-
ment of the works of our great dramatists. The taste
and the patriotism of the middle and lower classes, not
under the do•ninion of fashion, have been abundantly
manifested. Must we then cease to hope that ;when a
duty is a refined pleasure it will even in these times be
neglected in higher spheres, and can we for a moment
doubt that noble persons will ultimately evince noble
. . .

tastes? As to those who think the drama need be
neither moral nor poetical—that decency is incompatible
with diversion—who prefer George Sand to Walter
Scott, and the characters which Alexander Dumas has
raked from the galleys and the prisons, to those Shake-
pere has evoked from history, or charmed down from
the " heaven of his invention"—to these fastidious mor-
tals we wish the speedy return of the conscientious en-
joyment of the revenue of their paternal acres amidst the
Socialists of Paris and the cannibals of Sicily.