The Sun.
London, England, 1854-03-14 00:00:00

HAYMARKET THEATRE.

A. crowded and fashionable audience attended the
Haymarket Theatre last evening to witness what is now
a rather unusual circumstance, the first representation of
a new tragedy in five acts. It is entitled The Duchess
Eleanour, and is from the pen of Mr. Chorley, a gentle-
man of considerable literary talents, and the author of
Old Love and New Fortune, White Magic, and several
other pieces of no small merit. In his preface to the
book, Mr. Chorley says the tragedy in no respect aspires
to the dignity or correctness of a historical play. The
archives of Ferrara might be searched long and late
without yielding the traces of any Duchess Eleanour like
his. It has never been the wont of Italian princes to
marry actresses,;still less to endow them with abso-
lute power. He has trusted, however, that in a
work which is purely imaginative, he might be
allowed, like his predecessors, to avail himself of
romantic names, picturesque scenery and costume,
without being called to too strict a reckoning.
The deficiency of the piece is an absence of constructive
skill, and a rather obscure development of the plot ; but
it contains powerful dramatic elements, and is written
in language highly poetical and impressive. The heroine
is the wife of a Duke of Ferrara, when Ferrara was a
sovereign state. She had been a great actress, and the
Duke had taken her from the stage and made
her his Duchess. He is painted as a good sort of sove-
reign ; but being something of a libertine, he has got
tired of his wife and treats her with neglect, while she
continues to love him passionately. In this situation
we find the pair at the opening of the piece, at which
time she is involved in a secret distress arising out of
her early history. The Duke knew that she had been
an actress, but not that her birth was infamous, her
father having been an atrocious ruffian, who, having
fled to escape the pursuit of justice, was supposed
to have perished. A stranger arrives at the Duke's
court, who turns out to be the infamous parent whom
his daughter believed to be dead. He makes his ex-
istence known to her, and forces her, by the fear of dis-
covery, to give him a secret meeting by night. When
the interview takes place, he tells her that he is returned
to live in luxury and splendour at the court of his

princely son-in-law, who was his old acquaintance. This
mysterious intercourse with the stranger involves the
Duchess in suspicion • and a villanous courtier, who
has insulted her with his profligate addresses, endeavours
by means of possesing her secret to get her into his
power. Out of these circumstances a number of inci-
dents arise, which terminate in a tragic catastrophe.
The Duke is murdered by the ruffian, who is killed in
attempting to escape; and the unfortunate Duchess re-
solves to retire for ever from the world. There is an
underplot, in which the loves of a youthful pair are
brought to a happy issue. This secondary heroine is a
sister of the Duchess, and a daughter of the same in-
famous father ; but this discovery does not prevent her
union with her lover, who succeeds to the dukedom.

The great feature of the performance was Miss Cush-
man's delineation of the Duchess, and it would be diffi-
cult to praise too highly either her masterly conception
of the part or the natural earnestness and pathos of its
execution. There is no actress on the stage whose act-
ing is marked by greater intelligence or feeling than this
eminent lady,- And as last night her whole rare powers
were brought to bear upon the difficult character she
undertook, our readers will not be surprised to hear that
she frequently received the plaudits of the house. The
subjoined, which is one of the passages in which Miss
Cushman produced a great sensation among the audience,
will give an idea of the author's style. Taunting his
wife with her suspicions, the Duke says—
" But have a care,
Nor sport these frenzies more. You mark me well,
Dame Eleanour ?
DUCHESS— I do, I note each word—
I feel you goad my patience to its verge,
As cold as ice, the while, as adamant hard—

Loving no more yourself, you would learn from me
How slowly firmest heart-strings break.—Beware !
I who stand here—your wronged, degraded wife,
Pure of all base designs—a trusting woman
A child might satisfy—weak in my sex,
Friendless—of lowly origin—thrust out
From your heart's love—scorned, outraged, unavenged—
Have still such retribution in my grasp,
That one more taunt— another curl of the lip—
Another word, that dares cast shadow of shade
On one who glories in her stainless name—
May doom you, sir,—the thing you would caress,
Myself too, to the worm that never dies—
The fire unquenched ! Take care ! I stand upon
The cauldron's brink, and I can drag you in."
The character of the ruffian father was drawn with
considerable power, and was well acted by Mr. C. Van-
denhoff. The remaining parts were performed by Mr.
W. Farren, Mr. Howe, Mr. Corri, and Mrs. Bucking-
ham, and all of them were well sustained. The piece
has been put on the stage with Mr. Buckstone's usual
liberality and skill. The scenes were excellent, and the
dresses rich in the extreme. Its reception was decidedly
favourable, though tip applause at the falling of the
curtain was mingled with disapprobation ; and it was
announced for performance three times a week.