The Sun. — 1830-02-26 (London, England)

COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE.  Miss KEMBLE last night added another wreath to the chaplet of histrionic fame, which SO justly adorns her brow. The Gamester was produced, in order to afford her an opportunity of appearing in Mrs. Beverley—a character truly domestic—but combining more deep pathos and tragic agony than almost any other on the stage. We have admired Miss KEMBLE as Juliet—we have been delighted with her Belvidere, and pleased with her Euphrasia, but her Mrs Beverley surpasses them all. This is highly gratifying, us it proves that this young lady is not carried away by the constant, though justly-merited applause of the public, but goes on her course, rejoicing—earning new laurels with each successive character, and still preparing for more conquests. Her most effective passages were those where energy of feeling towered over her natural sensihility in that trying scene with the villain Stokely, where the indignation of offended virtue flashed forth with an appalling grandeur that bespoke the sublime intensity of her passion. When Stukely whispers that her husband had given her jewels to a mistress, her exclamation of " No! on my life he did not," drew down according bursts of sympathetic applause. Her attitude and gestures were eminently beautiful. But when the fiend kneels to profess his love for her, the anguish of her soul was wound up to a pitch of terrific scorn which rivetted the gaze, and subdued the breathless attention of all while she exclaimed, " Would these eyes had Heaven's own lightning, that with a look thus, I might blast thee !"—holding up her beautiful arm in an attitude fit to wield the thunder-bolt of Jupiter, yet combining the grace of Minerva. Nor was the majesty of her contempt less felicitously pourtrayed when, after ringing the bell, she walks up to the half-trembling Stokely, and in a tone of withering rebuke calmly said..." Your absence, Sir, would please me." The audience testified their appreciation of this passage by three distinct rounds of applause. The scenes that followed deepened in intensity of anguish and inevitable ruin. When Lewson re-appears after his supposed murder, the burst of joy and thankfulness which escaped the confiding breast of Mrs. Beverley was indeed touchingly pathetic, and drew tears from all parts of the house. The whole of the last act was painfully interesting. Of Mr. C. KEstisca, who played Beverley for the first time, we have not left ourselves room to speak—but to our apprehension, it is one of his very best characters. So faithfully correct was his delineation of the ruined gamester, that we could not suppose the reality to be more afflicting. He divided the attention of the audience with his daughter, and as often their admiration. So appalling was his final scene, that we have no wish ever to see it again. This we think is the last, the highest praise which he would seek. When Mrs. Beverley rushes forward, and falls on the dead body of her lord, the scene was harrowing in the extreme—every heart trembled with half-suspended animation. Mr. WARD'S Stokely was admirably villainous. We could almost hate him in private life for his triumph in cold-blooded deceit and vengeance.— On the whole we never saw a play more efficiently cast, nor more excellently acted. When the curtain fell the applause was absolutely stormy, and of long continuance, while waving of hats and handkerchiefs added to the hearty tumult. After the tragedy the audience were most unreasonably clamorous for Miss