The Sun.
London, England, 1850-06-27 00:00:00

THE SUN,

LITERATURE.
1141 N E DYSART. A Tale of Every day Life.

3 VO.lB
Lel:Luring the reign of Queen Victoria cur literature
!s been most appropriately adorned by the names or
" masterpieces of a galaxy of authoresses. Lissa-
lloth. has this circumstance been observable, that
of the most judicious critics of our generation
4ave not shrunk from suggesting that the honours cf
Lae - Poet Laureate hip should, m t only in commune-
keti an of that fact, but also in compliment to her
st Gracious Majesty, be bestowed on a lady pecu-
:at ly qualified to grace as well as to be graced by
14 wearing of the hay garland, that lady being no
°tin -I- than the wife of the bard of Paraceleus. Lock-
ing, At the various departments of art and letters, it is
t ruth remarkable to detect the distinction attained
16 ough the mere display of large and beautiful ca-
-I'lo ities by women of masculine genius though of
, 'eta Mine gentleness. While vs e have had occasion to
tegi •et the departure of such writers as Jane _Austin,
!eld Maria Edgeworth, and the Countess of Blessing-
`,4).;_ though we have had reason to lament
t,is disappearance of Anna Maria Porter, of Felicia
nans, and of Letitia Landon—we have had at the
Itta a time ample reason to felicitate ourselves upon
the survival of other female antho:s of distinguished
'tel Ben ee, and upon the rise of yet more into a rapid
nunpicious celebrity. Assiduous application has
Gila d; to exhaust the powers of the lively and °beer-
One\ Mrs. Gore, of the shrewd and sarcastic Mrs.
Trot lope, or of that accomplished Miss Mitferd, whose
effu: dons have ever combined the morality of Mrs.
inah Moore with the f.iscivating simplicity of Mrs.
bateld. Among the historical labours of an epoch
ndered illustrious by the contemp)rary research of
tp ch. annalists as the rhetorical Macaulay, the impato
eit 1 Lingard, the erudite Hallam, the indefatigable
pti acott, the sedate Turner, and the comprehensive
itti son; there has been awarded a lofty niche for the
"!B‘eorate and elegant compositions of Agnes
4t riekland. Among brilliant dramatists, such
lett Talfourd, and Lytton, and White, and
wawlei, and Lovell, and Marston, and Jerrold, and
ttourcicault, a high and conspicuous position has been
aura riled to the intellect of the dramatist of the pas-
sion s the eloquent and emotional genius of Joanna
One of the most exquisite of living lyrists—
eve) i with Tennyson still in his maturity, and Proc-
ter yet in the autumnal mellowness of his reputation
n-is. a lady graced with a name doubly poetic, Elizt-
bette Barrett Browning. One a the greatest fa-
veil rites of the population, so rendered by her homely
eted. heart-born ballads, is Eliza Cock. One of the
Otent felicitous of our occasional versifiers is unquee•
iticielably Frances Brown. One of the most earnest
'Sod imaginative of our poetic idealists is the Honour-
able Mrs. Norton. In the histrionic art our fair
i,eou etrywomen are nobly represented by Helen
It'lran air, and in the pictorial art by Miss Setchell,
'Whit e, as a delineator of the fruits and
flaw nes of the earth, Mrs. Margetts has drawn
joephnation not sparingly from the genius of the
rein Atable Lance. From the highest to the lowest
department of intellectual excellence, among the
cou ipetitors for popularity, not the least noticeable,
or ale least entitled to encomium, are those ladies
Mx se love for the true and the beautiful has sur-
past ea their terror of the supercilious designation of
blows-ntockieos. But if the eminence acquired by
the women of England, in the several walks of art
Or literature above enumerated, has been in any de-
gree • nemarkable—it has been singularly surpassed by
the success of those numerous aspirants for renown
who. have aeltimed the literary masquerade as novel-
ists. Among these must be mentioned some of the
;Mos.!: promising authors of our generation, who, if
'tot eeesessing to the full the strong objective fancy of
Mrs.! Radcliff, or the irresistible hilarity of Madame
deS eVigne, or the inexorable propriety of Mrs. Chapone,
or the virile judgment of Madame de Steel, have
/et displayed, to a suprising extent, resources of
hive ration, felicity of humour, directness of purpose,
and 'keenness of observation. Foremost among these
are the author of " Jane Eyre," and the author of
nidaWyndham," both works of singular vigour and
ebil sty, the intellectual productiveness of, the writers
of v ihich bas been further severally illustrated, the
one by " Shirley," the other by the " Wilmingtoes."
Lys on with such masters of fiction amongst us as
atlas Dickens and Bulwer Lytton, and with such
a r nultitude of gifted and agreeable romancists as
t dot aes, Lover, Disraeli, Teuckeray, Jerrold, Smith,
Oh imier, AlCl6WOrth, Lever, Collins, and Warburton,
the ,vigorous capacities of such romancists as Currcr
Bea, and the author of " Two old Men's Tales," are
of kind neither to be disparaged nor overlooked.
An other female writer, whose abilities must entitle
her, to be enrolled ultimately among those
(lis anguished prideceesors, has just appeared
in the person of the author of " Anne
%art." Another female writer, we say, because it
is anapcssible not to recognise in this " tale of every-
die fr life" a woman's tact, a woman's sagacity, a wo-
In: clearness of perception, and a woman's gen-
tle aess of sentiment. The story, although vigorously
Written, the incidents, although powerfully conceived,
the characters, although boldly and nervously
ski etched, are, nevertheless, all of them, manifestly
the, emanations of a feminine fancy. We must sw-
im owledge, moreover, to having been fairly charmed
th roughout the whole perusal by that freshness which
is alone attributable to the unhackneyed verve of ca-
ps cities neither worn nor j ided by previous employ-
ent. The narrative is of the simplest construction ;
th a tale is, as the second title imports, one of " every-
de ,y life ;" the personages introduced by it to our og-
ee rvation, are the men, women, and children
Na e see around us continually, creatures of flesh and
blood—of generic characters generally, though some-•
times of peculiar and individualized idiosyncrasy.
that is, perhaps, the most prominent excellence in
otar authoress is her shrewdness of observation—a
shrewdness which, aided by considerable piquancy of
style, satirical without being ill-natured—enables her
tea limn the imaginary persons cf her history with
astonishing vividness. From epitomising the plot by
a thy and needless analysis we shall abstain yet more
sedulously than ever in the instance of "Anne Dy-
sart," seeing that the work, as a first work, demands
twere than ever such abstinence from premature dis-
closures. Besides, it always appears to us that the
Selaeme of a fictitious narrative, though eminently
iehteresting. in ,a novel, is indescribably tedious
if abbreviated to a mere enumeration of
Particulars in a criticism. What we feel
ourselves alone justified in specifying directly as
W orthy of notice in a fiction 1 Ire the present are, the
principal character, the conspicuous incidents, and
the manner in which both characters and incidents
have been delineated. Here, therefore, we are com-
Pslled to avow at once that, while thus restricting
ourselves within a narrow compass we are embarrassed
by the multiplicity of things upon which we are soli-
citous to comment at least in a few cursory but
earnest observations. Anne Dysart herself, the
heroine of the story, is a charming portrait of the
daughter of a Scotch clergyman, thrown suddenly by
tha death of her last surviving parent into the society
of a little town in Northumberland. Her brother
Prank, a student in the Scottish metropolis, divides
with her the fascination of the reader's attention,
the interest of the fiction fluctuating between the
town of Lorlington and the city of Edinburgh. Mrs.
Nat Wilson, the aunt. of Frank and Anne, and
the spouse of poor Nathaniel Wilson, with all her
Unconscionable niggardliness and meanness, her par-
simonious dulness, and painstaking mediocrity, is
pencilled with wonderful force of colouring and out-
line. It is a picture of domestic meanness as bril-
liant as one of the gems of llobbims. Of the family
of the Greys we can think and speak only with the
`fullest satisfaction, forgetting their egotism in their
suavity, and their coxcombry in their benevolence.
Charlotte Grey, the patronizing and voluble blue-
stocking, is admirably described with all her merits
and all her weaknesses. Frederick, though a little too
much of the" pet parson," secures our kind regard, and
his sister Beatrice, notwithstanding herivanity, obtains
in some sort a share in our sympathies. Of all the
abominable beings in the whole book the most
abominable is that exceedingly explicit and tautolo-
gical Mr. Shield, who would be altogether an un-
mitigated prig but for his being at the same time a
moat intolerable bore. Ihe wealthy merchant's fa-
, mily of the Dysarts at Edinburgh contains just such
another nuisance as Mr. Shield in the person of the
heir to the property. Of Julia, the gay and the
frivolous, we could speak in yet stronger terms of
disgust but for a circumstance which the reader will
discover towards the close of the narrative, by which our
contempt is merged in commiseration. Barbara, her
deformed sister, would, on the contrary, elicit from
us our most genial eulogiurns but for a
certain repulsiveness about her which exists
as it were in spite of the evident partiality
cf the authoress—beyond which the whole creaticn
reminds us so strongly of poor _Humpy in M. Eugene
Sue's Juif Errant as to deprive it in our eyes of the
Merit of originality. Eleanor Gimme, on the other
hand, is a character as original in idea as it is
s
" masterly in execution. Her history
constitutes
striking and beautiful episode, for a while diverting
attention from the principal thread of the narrative.
Kindred in inanity are Mrs. Smith, her chaperon, and
Mr. Hall, her suitor. One other of the principal
, characters, not yet mentioned—perhaps altogether
. about the principal character in the narrative—is
Gerald Bolton. Conceived somewhat in the same
naorote or eccentric school as the Mr. Rochester of
"Jane Eyre," and the Mr. Denby of "Emilia
IV3 ndharn," this Mr. Balton of "Anne Dysart"
is nevertheless no transcript, but a creation
of distinct and even insulated individuality.
The powerful touches of nature with which his
rugged but sensitive character had been portrayed
redounds very highly to the credit of the head and
the heart of -the authoress. Several of the scenes it,
vtbich Mr. Bolton typears are penned, especially in
regard to the dialogue, with much genius : his love
Passages are depicted with exceeding grace, pathos,
and delicacy ; and the noble and magnanimous ten-

derness concealed by him under a grotesque and
almost repulsive bearing encircles him at last with
the halo of the reader's sympathy and admiration.
Here and there the minuteness of description is car-
ried by our authoress to an extent but little short of
being ludicrous, as where.she informs us very seriously
(Vol. 111., p. 325) of Anne's costume at her
marriage—she " wore a gown of violet co-
loured silk with a velvet mantle of the
same hue, trimmed with fur, and a rice straw bonnet,
with a white veil !!" Surely this is nothing less than
the pretty garrulity of a lady-writer? Sometimes
again our fair novelist is guilty of little anachronisms,
as where, towards the conclusion of the tale, she
says (Vol M., p. 192)—" She found Mrs. Dysart's
carriage, and a servant waiting for her at the coach-
office—for lam writing of ten years ago, when there
was no railway in Scotland, except that between
Edinburgh and Glasgow"—and yet (forgetting that
she is still writing of " ten years ago") she says
shortly afterwards (Vol. 111., p. 202)—" In the
evening, although the gay season had long been over
and the town was almost empty, the latter, in concert
with her mother, generally contrived to.assemble two
or three young persons to have a little music and a
polka." Ten years ego that bewitching dance was
not in existence. Apart, however, from a few inter-
mittent blemishes scattered through the volumes,
" Anne DysarL" appears to us to be a novel singu-
larly deserving of commendatior, auguring largely
for the future popularity of its intelligent and accom-
plished authoress.

TILE TARANTAS ; Travelling Impressions of
Young Russia. By Count Solizegub.
Vassily Ivanovitsch and Ivan Vastilievitsch, two
worthy Russian gentlemen, says the preliminary
advertisement to the " Tarantas," are anxious to avoid
all such inflammatory and dispute-provoking topics as
politics, either foreign or domestic ; but they believe
that the social system of that considerable member cf
the European family .of nations which is called
Russia, is as interesting as it is little known and un-
derstood in this country, end they further believe
that they are better able to act as interpreters or
showmen of their father-land, than are any of those
foreigners who have hitherto attempted to get behind
the scenes of that mighty and important theatre. The
" Tarantas," therefore, professes to be a Russian's tra-
velling impressions of Rassia, and bearing this in mind,
its readers will be continually astonished by the impar-
tial and even critical spirit by which- it is animated.
The Tarantas itself is a huge, unwieldy, but very
commodious vehicle, which transports its owner
Vassily Ivanovitsch (an old-fashioned country gentle-
man), and Ivan VessilieVitsch (a member of Young
Russia returned from a European Wu), from Moscow
to Kazin. Ivan carries in his hand a blank volume,
to record his travelling impressions, but his journey,
full of incidents as it ts, is, nevertheless, to him pro-
ductive of continual disappointment. The chief
fault we can find with the litt!e volume is its
very light and superficial character ; but this
was, perhaps, its writer's object when he en-
title% it "Travelling Impressions." Instead of
descriptions of men and manners we find only
brief units and passing allusions, its pictutes of meta!l
life are shadowy glimpses or bare sketches. This
peculiar style has, nevertheless, its advantages
Vague and incidental as is its mode of affording in-
formation information is, nevertheless, afforded.
Atnoug the most effective descriptions of Russian
life is the folloaing melancholy picture of
RUSSIAN LUX UM'.
" I was compelled by a stupid presumpt:on to inaitaa3
the luxuries of others, not at all regulating them by my
means. This is a universal fault in St. Ptersturgli.
Life there is like fireworks, much brilliancy, much
smoke. and after a while nothing is left. Every one
does his utmost to surpass his neighbour ; ( very
ore is a copyist : one class copies the otla r,
poor people copy the rich people. The one
who is not wealthy assumes the appearance of
wealth, and gets ruined; the one who is rich
offers so much to luxury that he inevitably gets
ruined too. It learns as if cur nobility was seeking po-
verty; and, indeed, see what different things have ren-
dered themselves as isdispeasahle for us, a 3 bread and
water; f,r instisce, the crowd of our house-serfs, the
legions of men in liveries, a major-demo, stewards, but-
lers, some this ty or forty men in all; then our mansions,
with drawing-rooms, dining-halls, studies, dancing
salons, our coaches-snd-four, opera-boxes, dresses,
cards. In one word, T roust say that, in Si.
Pwrrsburgh, luxury is the first necessary of lite. People
there think first of what is riot necessary, and there
of what is; therefore you every day see noblemen's es-
tates sold under the auctioneer's hammer. And then
what passons rise from a discordance between income
and expenditure; to what doleful scenes they lead in
lamiliesy what a tiumbsr f persons have for ever lost
both the quietude of their conscience and their self-
esteem and honour. Life in the capital, like a deluge,
carries away with it every one, everything, without
giving you even time to see your position."
And here, by way of contrast, is a sweet glimpse of
A HAPPY HOME.
"Everything in the house of Ivan Vassilievitsch's
friend was comfortable, though simple and unpretending,
but the smallest trifle was distinguished by en artistic
selection; everything reflected the indescribable light of
the presence of young and beautiful woman. She wel-
comed Ivan Vv.isilievitsch with a smiling friendliness
as if she had known him for many, many years,
and he stopped in devout admiration before her.
It seemed to him as if till then ho had
never seen a womsr. She was not heautitul with
that beauty that troubles the passionate dreams of
youth; her whole being was an ideal of the highest
peace, of the most poetical quietude. Her soul looked
through her ey es—her heart spoke through her lips.
Her child-like features expressed such a kind-heartedness,
such profound and holy love, that any man in looking
at her must involuntarily become a better man! Two
ros3-cheeked children, at the view of the stranger
pressed their curly little heads to her knees. Ivan viewed
this picture es if it were a relic, and he felt that he had
before him the brightest illustration of tko highest reward
for man's toils, labours, and sorrows. How long he
stopped before this scene he was uncoascious; he did
not hear a single word that was said to him, but his
heart felt wider and wider, all his feelings concentrated
themselves into one of quiet beatitude, all his thoughts
into a prayer."
In the chapter entitled " Merchants" is recorded a
curious scene at a tavern, where some merchants
are regaling themselves on the, apparently, favourite
Russian beverage, tea. An individual bearing the
euphonious name of Potapitsch enters the room, in-
quires it' one of the merchants is going to Ribue, and
on being answered in the affirmative, consigns to hie
charge more than five thousand roubles, to be paid to
some one residing at Ribua, without to the astonish-
ment of the civilized Ivan; even asking for a receipt.
On the stranger's departure, the inquiring Ivan can-
not resist demanding of the merchant if the owner of
the money is a relative or intimate acquaintance,
nod then naively asks—"but how is it that he did
not ask you for a receipt for the money ?" The other
'merchants laugh, and the one concerned gets into a
passion. " A receipt "he cried out furiously ; " a
receipt. I would havehreken his jaw with his own
money bad he dared to ask me for a receipt. I have
been a merchant now more than fifty years, and I
have never yet been insulted by being asked to give
a receipt." ' In triflieg matters like this the writer of
" The Tarantas" has exhibited with happy effect some
of the peculiar, and in some cases praiseworthy, cha-
racteristics of his countrymen. Brief as is the jour-
ney, and trivial as are the events which it reveals, a
rip by the Tarantas will be found by all who choose
;co essay it both a profitable and pleasant pastime.

from a wife who writes to tell her husband that an
execution has been put into their house in his ab.
sane", and that he must return home directly, and
not wait till the next day, or their goods will. be all
sold off at a lass, and she and her children turned
into the street." •• 111 v tidings," r4-marks C, " are of
some little importance' " So I should judge," observes.
E. " from your black si al." They are these,"
ssys C:—." Dear Tom,—Your poor uncle has died sud-
denly. He named you as his heir. Came up instantly,
or tt at old woman will make away with everything in
the house." " And, I," says E, "am to a surgeon of
Bartholomew's, now in the country, b4gging him to come
up instantly, as the dagger is imminent, and a patient's
only chance is an operation." Saint Martin-le-Grand,
says, that such news as that above instanced won't keep,
and ought not to be kept even on Sunday; and we would
take the word of St. Martin against that of St. -Ashky,
or St. Plumptre.

HER, MAJESTY'S THEATRE.
The eighth representation of La Tempesta took
place on Tuesday evening ; the house was apin
crow ded in every part, and the furore excited by its
performance was as intense as ever. Madame Sontag
was in exquisite voice, and sang the music deli-
ciously. in her rendering of her "aria d'intrata" on
Tuesday night she surpassed herself ; never has such
exquisite delicacy of execution been displayed
as she displayed on that occa,ion ; her
concluding cadenza was the most wonderful, and
at the same time most delicate and most perfect
piece of florid execution ever attempted, and excited
rapturous applause. and an unanimous encore. Car-
lotta Grisi, as Ariel, was the most fascinating of
sylphs. We have heard it objected to Scribe that he
has made the part of Ariel a dancing instead of a
singing part, as it is in Shakspere. With all due
deference to these bypercritics we contend that
Scribe is right, and is more Shaltsperian in his
treatment of that subject than are his would-be
critics ; Ariel is a light and airy spirit, and
Shakespere evidently intended to draw a marked
distinction between the sylph Ariel and the human
beings of the drama, such a distinction as should at
once mark that Ariel was of a distinct and different
nature from that of the beings by which he is sur-
rounded. This distinction Shakespere has marked
by making Ariel sing whilst all the other characters
speak; but in opera, where all the characters sing, it
became reeessary, in order to preserve this distinction
between Ariel and the human actors in the drama,
that Ariel should not sing, and therefore has M. Scribe
acted most judiciously, and in a true Sliksperian
spirit, in making the part of Arial a mute pantomimic
part. With such a poetess (fur that is the proper
title to apply to.her) as Carlotta Grisi the part of
Ariel is infinitely more effective than it could
have been rendered by the utterance cf
any articulate sound. Her expressive gestures and
her graceful abandon are far more effectively
eloquent than would be any uttered language. La
blache, magnificent Lablache, was as Caliban "great,
glorious and free ;" his dancing is of its sort as won-
derful as that of Carlotta, and Paxodi was as usual
encored in the Brindisi. The choruses were beau-
tifully rendered, and the performance of the or-
chestra was perfect. La Tempesta is to be repeated
to-night, and on Saturday Bellini's 1 Montecchi ed
Capzdetti is to be produced for the rentree of
Gardoni.