The Sun. — 1854-03-14 (London, England)

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 absolute 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 sovereign ; but being something of a libertine, be 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 existence known to her, and forces her, by the fear of discovery, 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 incidents 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 resolves 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 infamous 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 Cushman's delineation of the Duchess, and it would be difficult 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 acting 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 ?