The Sun.
London, England, 1841-11-02 00:00:00

HAYMARKET THEATRE.

Miss Helen Faucit's benefit took place at this Theatre
last evening, and long before the rising of the curtain,
the house was filled in every part. The long promised
tragedy of Nina Sforza, written by Mr. Zouch Trough-
ton, was acted on this occasion for the first
time, and the anticipations of those who, from a perusal
of this beautiful dramatic poem (which has been pub-
lished for some time) augured its success as an acting
play, have been fully realized. The scene opens at
Venice, in the palazzo of Sforza (Mr. 11. Wallack), a
Venetian noble, whose daughter, Nina (Miss Helen
Faucit), is just bursting into womanhood. Raphael
Doria (Mr. Wallack), the son and heir of the
reigning Duke of Genoa, accompanied by Ugone
Spinola (Mr. Macready), a noble Genoeso, and other
attendants, arrive at the palazzo of Sforza. In
former times there had been a deadly feud between the
houses of Spinola and Doria, and the father of Spinola
had, in a sedition excited by him, been slain by the par-
tisans of Doris!. The houses had subsequently become
reconciled, and Ugone Spinola and Raphael Doria
had become bosom friends. Raphael Doria how-
ever, a youth of wayward tastes, who wants but
firmness to be virtuous, is unconsciously a mere tool in
the hands of Spinola, who obtains over him that mastery
which strong minds ever have over weak ones. His
dissipations are encouraged by Spinola—his boyish
freaks magnified into crimes in the eyes of his father,
and the result is that Raphael is sent on his travels for
three years. He takes with him Spinola as the compa-
nion of his exile. Spinola has, from political motives,
previously sought an alliance with the house of Sforza,
and without Nina's knowledge has asked her
hand frem her father. He tells old Sforza of
Raphael's vices, and warns him to keep his daughter
from the sight of Doria. Accident, however, subverts
his schemes. Nina, whose gondola has been run down
by a vessel in the canal of Venice, is saved by Raphael
Doria. They love, are wedded, and the old Duke dying
is succeeded by Raphael, who takes his young and lovely
bride with him to Genoa. " Love and genius," as the
author beautifully expresses it, " invest even the meanest
things with princely value," and their life in Genoa for
the first few months is a perfect heaven of love.
Spinola, like Satan of old, inspired by envy, jealousy,
and hate, hovers around this Eden, which he seeks in
vain, to turn into the hell which reigns in his own bad heart.
Messengers arrive from Florence, and the Duke is sum-
' moned from the arms of Nina to attend the council.
Spinola is also summoned to the senate. He asks, in
reply, " 'Wherefore he should go there ? To see the
nobles yawning on their benches, unmindful of the busi-
ness of the State, racking their brains for coming lux-
uries." This description of the Genoese senators,
which may apply with equal truth to the doings of cer-
tain senators nearer home, was eagerly caught at by the
audience, and loudly applauded. Spinola, however, on
being informed that Doria is eager to go to war with
Florence, immediately proceeds to the senate, and
vehemently supports the war policy of Doria, which is
ultimately adopted. Doria leaves Genoa in command of
the troops, is victorious, and returns to Florence, bring-
ing with him a certain Florentine lady and her father,
who have placed themselves under his escort for safety.
This lady is represented as a young, loving, and love-
able dame. The weak-minded Doria is flattered by her
attentions. Spinola sees that his time is at length ar-
rived; as he himself expresses it, "The devil never enters
the heart of man but when his proper weakness leads the
way." Doria's weakness does lead the way, and Spinola
encourages it. On their return to Genoa, Doria s con-
nection with this lady is still kept up, and at length he
writes to her, appointing an assignation, and con-
fides the letter to Spinola. With this letter in
his possession, Spinola seeks Nina, and in a scene
of great power, but which rather too closely resembles
the celebrated scene between Othello and lago, he shows
to Nina this damning evidence of her husband's guilt.
At first she spurns him, tells him 'tis a lie, a vile inven-
tion of his own, and declares that were she even to have
ocular proof of Doria's faithlessness, she would tear her
eyes out as perjured witnesses, rather than believe her
husband false. She sees the letter—recognises the writ-
ing as Doria's, and, to put an end to the agony of sus-
pense, consents to accompany Spinola at midnight to a
place from whence she can see her husband enter the
house of her hated rival. Sinking from mental excite-
ment, overwhelmed with agony, she goes at midnight
on this hated errand ; unseen by him, she watches her
guilty husband stealing through the streets, sees him
enter the residence of his paramour, and falls senseless
into the arms of Spinola. This, which is by far the
most powerfully written, and the most intensely-
exciting scene in the tragedy, was most admirably
played by Miss Helen Faucit, and drew down
thunders of applause. She returns to her palace ; Spi-
nola, whose motives she thoroughly appreciates, and
whose presence is hateful to her, forces himself into her
chamber, and urges her to administer a slow poison
to Doria, with which he (Spinola) supplies her.
Doria returns to the palace overwhelmed with remorse,
at having proved false to Nina, and reproaches Spinola
with having encouraged him in his career of vice. He
finds Nina sinking under the mental anguish occasioned
by his falsehood, but is unconscious of the cause. She
says she is ill, but that a draught she has will soon restore
her. She asks her husband to hand it her, he does so,
and she swallows the poison given her by Spinola, but
which, by her contrivance, is administered to her by the
hands of Doria. She immediately quits the Palace, leaving
a letter for Doria, which explains all. Doria, stung to mad-
ness, pursues her, and meets with Spinola, who, a la Zanga,
tells him his whole course of vengeance, and after dis-
arming him, and informing him that Nina has taken
poison from his own (Doria's) hands, leaves him
writhing on the ground in agony. Doria is aroused by
hearing cries in the wood, and finds Nina dying from the
effects of the poison. She forgives him and dies in
his arms. His attendants enter, and report that
having found Spinola in the wood with Doria's
sword, they concluded he had slain the Duke, and con-
sequently had killed him ; and Doria, snatching a
dagger from one of his attendants, stabs himself, and
falls dead upon the corpse of Nina. This tragedy,
it will be perceived from the above sketch, although
abounding with passages of great power, is not alto
gether free from defects. In the first place, it is too
long. The first three acts are almost totally devoid of
incident. Although replete with exquisite poetry—
which, however, was frequently marred by the
sing-song recitative-like declamation, which is the
prevailing characteristic of the Macready school—they
contribute but little towards forwarding the business of
the piece, and might be advantageously compressed into
one. The characters also are evidently copied, not from
nature but from other poets. Spinola, for instance, is a
compound of lago and Zanga. The scene between Dona and
Spinola in the fifth act is evidently a close imitation of
the fifth act of the _Revenge, and Dfacready, as Spinola,
admirable in the other scenes, seemed too much inclined
to lengthen out the last one. The play would go much
better off if this scene were curtailed. The fourth act,
however, shows that the author is capable of
better things, and therefore it is that we are
thus particular in pointing out what we consider the de-
fects in this his first attempt, which, for a first attempt,
is a wonderful production. Mr. Troughton possesses
genius of a high order ; let him depend hence-
forth upon himself, not upon those who have
preceded him. Let him study books less and the human
heart more, and he cionot fail to achieve for himself a
high place among the tiramatists of England. Of all
the young aspirants for dramatic fame, he is by
far the most promising. Miss Helen Faucit,
Macready, and Wallack, were all called for at
the fall of the curtain, and the piece was announced for
repetition four times a week without a dissentient.
The Quadroon Slave, a drama in two acts, adapted
from the French, and produced on Saturday, is good
in idea, but its execution is indifferent. A high prini
cipled gentleman in Jamaica, a member of Ilse
aC es leoinvirae
Legislature, while possessing every v
anti-abolitionist (F. Vining), and the cruelties of wh.
of
ic.h
his heart disapproves he sanctions from re
eigard
el teos dt
pline. lie is betrothed to a lady (Madl e. C es
unknown origin, who is likewise beloved by a young man
(J. Webster), the very opposite of his favourle ss ed ri
inval,
an advocate of the cause of philanthropy, yet flu-
.
ens7ed by principle, and generally acting from sudden
oild consent to
impulses. When the a
slave,ntl-
the ab
thelition ladyst wou
and the generous
the punishment of a
young man are pleaders for mercy. Circumstances
invert this position ;
the youth is indignant at the pre- ,
ferenee shown to hisrsiv.al, who is married in the course
of the Piece,
his feelings have been trifled with
co
by the lady, and conceives
soon s finds materials for a terrible re-
venge. The lady, though her complexion is fair, and
though she has had the advantages of a liberal educa-
tion, turns out to be aslave by birth, and the property
blinded by passion, demands
of the young man, who,
her of her husband, and replies to the agonized en-
treaties of the latter, by using his own arguments. It
t be observed that the disclosure of her real situa-
,e anti-abolitionist is left to the wife herself,
lion to b... • s ~ne point in the character—a point
Demoiselle Celeste. To ex-
and this gives tue
fleadroon Slave is
which was well made by al.—
tricate herself from the dilemma, the of the
about to drown henell; /PA tll9 bettet: feelinv
young man prevail ; he tears up the,...9e4n4era L alma
given him title to her, joins the hands of 'die irried
pair, and the lady's extraction remains a secret.
The pieee was triumphantly successful ; the freedom
given to the slave produced a pletiaing sensation, and the
curtain dropped upon the gratification of a philanthropic

feeling, which manifested itself in loud applause, and
hearty shouts for Mademoiselle Celeste. Mr. J. Web-
ster played the impetuous young man with a great deal
of judgment, and a vigour which is not often displayed.

ORANGE OUTRAGE.—ATTACK
ON TIER MAJESTY'S MAIL.
(From the Dublin Monitor of Saturday.)
We have received this morning the following ac-
count of a ferocious attack made on the Cork mail
coach, in Caher, on the night of the 28th instant, by a
party of Peel's " Orange vagabonds," headed by noble-
men and gentlemen. his as follows :
" CAHER, OCT. 29.—A most frightful outrage and
riot took place here last night, or rather this morning,
on the arrival of the Cork mail coach.

" A party of gentlemen, whe had been at the Caher
races that day, rushed out of the hotel on the arrival
of the coach and commenced an attack on the passen-
gers. The guard was assailed, and the way-bill taken
from him, when it was found that Mr. Murphy, of
Cork, was an inside passenger.
" The mob immediately mistook him for the Catholic
Bishop of Cork, and commenced an assault on the
coacb, commanding the " Papist Bishop" to come out.
Sticks and stones were employed, and many persons
injured. _ _

" Mr. Murphy, who is brother of the Catholic Bishop
of Cork, and above eighty years of age, was very much
alarmed, and endeavoured to keep the coach doors shut,
when a rush was made to burst them opon—the win-
dows were all smashed—doors burst open—the doctor
dragged from the coach into the street—his hat
knocked off—his wig torn off and slapped in his face,
and he was otherwise seriously maltreated.
" The mob all this while was increasing, and there
could not be less than eighty persons engaged in this
outrage—most of them being in a station of life en-
titling them to be called gentlemen.
" I learn that several of the parties can be identified,
and that in particular the person who dragged Mr.
Murphy from the coach—tore off his wig, and beat him
with it about the head and face—was a celebrated noble-
man of sporting notoriety, who can be sworn to.
" During the riot the police were not to be found, and
the rioters had it all their own way. The coach was
detained long past time. All the passengers were mal-
treated, and some suffered severely. Indeed, nothing
could exceed the determined violence of the mob—the
usual Orange cries of "To hell with the Pope," &c.,
were the watchwords on the occasion.

I write this that it may reach you in time to use it
as you think fit on Saturday. The people regard this
as but a sample of what is to be expected now that
Orange insolence and ferocity are in the ascendant."

We have made inquiries as to the attack in question,
and find that our correspondent is substantially correct
in the account be has given us of it. Mr. Murphy was
mistaken for his brother the bishop, and it was provi-
dential he did not fall a victim to the sanguinary ferocity
of the mob.

We have also learned that our correspondent is right
in stating that the rioters were chiefly gentlemen—
Orange Tories from the surrounding district—and that
the principal leader in the attack was the sporting
nob!eman alluded to by our correspondent.
It is also true that the police rendered no assistance
for the protection of life and property thus attacked at
midnight. Where were they ? Had but an unlettered,
intoxicated peasant spoken a gruff word to a " Protes-
tant" gentleman, meeting him on the road at night, we
would have had all the district out—Orange Tory
meetings would have been held—Protestant Magis-
trates would have been at their posts, for the protec-
tion of " Protestant" life and property—and little short
of martial law would have been proclaimed ! The
Tory journals would have represented the country as
in a state of insurrection, and rewards opon rewards
would have been offered for the apprehension of the
imaginary assassin!
Yet, here we have her Majesty's mail coaches—for
there were three of them, we understand—attacked in
the town of Caher—Lord Glengall's own town, too!
the passengers ferociously assailed—one individual, on
being mistaken for a Catholic Bishop, dragged from
the coach and brutally assaulted—an old man, upwards
of eighty years of age, thus savagely assailed, not by an
ignorant, excited mob of peasants, but by persons of
property in the country—men ranking as gentlemen—
some of them, we suppose, in the Commission of the
Peace ; and yet we hear no word of this violent out-
rage figuring in the police reports. Is this what we
are to expect from Lord de Grey's " justice and mode-
ration" government ?