only a translation; and that I deserved my defeat, by turning "rogue" myself, and stealing from the French, though the English audience would not be the receivers. A pantomime, which I first called "Harlequin Gulliver," and then "Friar Bacon," came out at Covent Garden. This same "Gulliver" entertainment had the big people of Brobdignag, and the little Gildrig; the little people of Liliput, and the big Quinbus Flestrin. I had a good deal of song and dialogue in it, with a kind of Liliputian parliament, for which a number of children were trained, and their speeches taught them. I was offered by Mr. Harris fifty pounds for the pantomime; but having heard that my friend, Mr. M. P. Andrews, had received one hundred pounds for a pantomime of his, called "The Enchanted Castle," I fancied I had as good a right to a hundred as any member of parliament; and expressed as much, although I gave every credit to M. P. Andrews for his entertaining opera of "Summer Amusements," which was brought out, with the greatest success, at the Haymarket, in 1781; but my old acquaintance, Barlow, the then treasurer, told me I was wrong; and the treasurer is a man to be believed besides, I knew Barlow was my staunch friend, and I had a great respect for the character of Mr. Andrews; so I pocketed my fifty pounds, and said no more about it. : At Mr. Harris's desire, I composed a grand piece of action; the subject, the Siege of Troy, which opened at the giving up the daughters of Chalcas, and ended with the wooden horse adventure, Troy in flames, the death of Priam, &c. In this piece also I had dialogues, a pleasing show of Paris's dressing-room, the taking leave of Hector and his wife, &c. I also worked up another dramatic romance-" Valentine and Orson;" but on account of the great expense the theatre must incur in an attempt to produce them, they were both given up; and I set joyfully to work on something more to my wishes-a threeact opera. I finished the whole of the dialogue, and sent it to Mr. Harris before I began upon the songs. He wrote me word it had good stuff in it, to write the songs without delay; and as fast as I wrote them, to send them to Shield to set to music. I did so; and, when complete, called my opera “The Highland Reel." 66 Lewis read the piece, as usual, to the performers, in the green-room. I kept away, but within hearing of the laugh. Meeting Mr. Harris on the stage, when the reading was over, he and I alone, I said with becoming diffidence," I think the reading has gone off tolerably." Tolerably call you it?" he said; "I never heard such intolerable peals of laughter from any performers, at the first reading of a piece, in my life." He shook me by the hand, and we parted in happy spirits. The opera came out shortly after; and the public were of the same opinion with the performers as to its comic merits. It was acted thirty nights the first season. Mr. Harris gave me for it three hundred and fifty guineas. Miss Fontenelle did the bold, high-spirited Maggy, well: it was her first appearance on any stage; and a niece of Mrs. Kennedy's, a Miss Reynolds, (her first appearance also,) appeared in the quiet, modest Jenny. The music was made up of melodies of Allan Ramsay, Grétry, Corri, and Shield. Edwin came out, with all his whim, in Shelty the piper, as did Quick, in Mac Gilpin. Blanchard did Charley arch and well. Frank Aikin, in the Laird of Cob, the head of his clan, was proudly characteristic; and Charles Bannister, in Serjeant Jack, had Handel's grand drum march to vociferate. I was at "The Highland Reel" with some friends the first night, in a dark slip, even with the Shilling-gallery. In the midst of the high glee of the audience, two men, who sat before me, unconscious that the author was within hearing, were laying wagers with each other, that it would never be acted after that night. I was so vexed at their absurdity and ill-nature, that when the curtain dropped, with loud peals of applause, I was tempted to stretch out my hands, knock their two heads together, and run away. Soon after I received a letter from a younger brother of my friend William Egan, at Edinburgh : "From Mr. GEORGE EGAN. Edinburgh, 1788. "Dear Sir,-With sincere and heartfelt satisfaction I beg leave to congratulate you on the great success of your Highland Reel;' which, from every account, both public and private, has added new fame to that you had before acquired. The accounts here are extravagantly favourable; and sincerely do I hope the profit may be equal to the merit of the piece. Wishing it may long continue a fashionable dance, and that Fortune may ever attend you as your partner in many such happy productions, "TO JOHN O'KEEFFE, Esq." I am, &c. My five-act comedy of "The Toy, or Hampton Court Frolics," (which I afterwards cut down into three acts, called, "The Lie of the Day") came out next. Mr. Harris gave me for nights and copyright three hundred and fifty guineas. The Christmas following I produced, at Covent Garden, a very successful pantomime, called Aladdin, or the Wonderful Lamp," founded on the Arabian Nights. Also a piece from the same Oriental source, called "The Little Hunchback,or Frolics in Bagdad." 66 Thus, in one season, I brought out a five-act comedy, a three-act opera, a two-act afterpiece, and a pantomime; all successful. Dryden could not furnish the theatre with one play a year; therefore, though no Dryden, I may be allowed, at least, to exult on the score of industry to get a little ready money. About this time Mr. Harris thought of establishing an English theatre at Paris; and I wrote two addresses for Lewis, one to be spoken on the opening of the theatre there, the other to the London audience on his return from France; but the scheme dropped, and my addresses went no nearer the stage than Lewis's dressing-room. In 1789, on his Majesty's going to St. Paul's Cathedral, I brought out a little piece, full of whim and joy, called "The Loyal Bandeau" for Mrs. Mattocks's benefit, and my purpose was fully answered, in showing my own loyalty, and in serving so excellent an actress. I laid the scene at the top of Ludgate Hill;-it had many pretty songs and comic characters. I next produced a three-act opera, called "The Czar :" it came out at Covent Garden for Mrs. Billington's benefit night. I had my third and sixth night, and thought it was taking its run, when one morning passing through Newport Market, to my dismay and surprise I saw skewered on a pendant sheep's back a large play-bill, an nouncing another play for that evening, which showed me that mine was stopped. The music was fine, some of it original Russian airs, and others composed by Shield. Mrs. Billington introduced into it Handel's "The Prince unable to conceal his pain," and sung "No harm to know it, you know," written by me for Otto Kesa, and set by Shield. John Johnstone, who had not at that time stepped into an Irish brogue, looked "Colonel Le Fort" admirably, and sung in true falsetto style; and Mrs. Martyr for the first time sung "Bold Chanticleer proclaims the dawn;"—the thought was Shield's, who wished me to write a hunting bravura, which he would adapt in his composition to her Staccato style and voice. Incledon has since laid hold of it, and with great effect warbled it all over the world, only altering the dog's name from "Fleet Ringwood," to "Old Towler." And with all deference to my excellent friend Shield's taste, I must say the song, both in words and music, is better adapted for a man than a woman." During the writing of "The Czar" I went to Deptford-dockyard, not to see the ships on the stocks, but to lay in my stock of information for my imperial shipwright, Peter the Great; and to see the small house where he resided, one door of it opening into the Dockyard, and another into a little lane. Some years after I was going to town in the Richmond stage, a Russian gentleman, in the suite of the ambassador (for whom he had been to take lodgings on Richmond Hill) was my fellow-passenger, and amongst other information told me that the Czar Peter used to cross the Thames, and pass an hour or so on a little bench at the door of a small ale-house at Blackwall. When Peter left England, the landlord had a sign of him painted, and hung up at his door. In lapse of time this sign was neglected, and thrown among rubbish. This gentleman heard something of the circumstance, went to Blackwall, enquired, found, purchased, and had this identical old painted board sent over to Petersburgh to the late Emperor Alexander. In "The Czar" I had written the part of Couvanski (without songs) for Lewis; but notwithstanding the great addition his popularity received from his acting Lackland in "Fontainebleau," nothing could prevail on him to appear again in an opera, and Couvanski was cast (I believe, against his will) to Blanchard, for whom to display his distinguished accomplishments of dancing and fencing, I wrote a song, which was capitally set by Shield. In the summer of 1789 I brought out at the Haymarket Theatre a musical entertainment, in two acts, "The Basket Maker," founded-on the old story of the Basket Maker and the Gentleman. Though strongly cast by Mr. Colman, it went off without attraction:-I had 50l. for it. I received the following letter from Mr. Colman the younger, on my first sending the piece to him: "Dear O'Keeffe,-Your letter reached me this morning;-I feel at this time as bold at reading as you are at writing; therefore send me the piece while my courage is up, anď I will fall on immediately. "Your's truly, G. COLMAN, jun." *It is a singular fact, that at the very moment of dictating these lines for the press, the St. James's Chronicle was, as usual, brought to me from the Post-office, and with deep regret I heard read to me an account of the death of Incledon, at Worcester.-Wednesday, 3 o'clock, Feb. 15th, 1826. THE INVOCATION. ANSWER me, burning Stars of night! That, past the reach of human sight, O many-toned and chainless Wind! Tell me if thou its place canst find, Answer! have ye a home for those -The bright Clouds answer'd-" We depart, Ask what is deathless in thy heart, For that which cannot die!" Speak then, thou Voice of God within, Thou of the deep low tone! Answer me through life's restless din, Where is the Spirit flown? -And the Voice answer'd-"Be thou still! Enough to know is given; Clouds, Winds, and Stars, their task fulfil, F. H. CHINESE JESTS. 32. Thank you for your money, sir; it has done me great service.One that had the prospect of a judicial correction hanging over him, hired a neighbouring fellow to appear before the magistrate in his stead, and gave him two shillings. The fellow, touching the silver, undertakes the business willingly, and goes to the justice-hall. Upon being brought forward, the magistrate sharply orders him thirty blows of the bamboo. After receiving a few well-laid-on, he finds the pain excessive, and, drawing out the paper of silver, conveys it secretly into the beadle's hands, as a bribe to engage him to strike gently. As soon as released, he rejoins his employer; and with many demonstrations of gratitude, returns him thanks, saying, "Your money has saved my life, sir; if it had not been for that, the blows would have gone near to kill me." 33. Did your Grandfather live?-A woman miscarried at seven months, and produced a son. The husband was uneasy, fearing they should never be able to rear him, that he would not live to grow up, and was always asking questions what people thought about it. Sit ting with a friend one day, and the conversation coming round to this point, says the friend, "There's nothing in that--seven months is safe enough: my grandfather was a seven months' child."-" Was he?" says the other, eagerly; "and did he live to be a man?" 34. The legs of a bench must have the crotch downwards.—Many of our villagers are in the habit of using forked branches of trees to make legs for their benches; for so they get them ready fashioned to their hands. A farmer, finding one of these legs broken, sends his servant into the wood to look him out another, and bring it home. After spending the whole day, the servant returns empty-handed. The master is angry, and begins to scold. "As to forked branches, sir, there were forked branches enough," says the servant; "but I could not find one that would be of any use to us; for they all of them grew with the fork upwards." 35. All right in the sack.-A woman, surprised by her husband, had just time to hide her gallant in a sack, and set him up against the wall. The man, coming in, asks, "What is there in this sack?" The woman, taken suddenly, is confused; and hesitates a moment for an answer. The gallant, afraid she would blunder, calls out from the inside of the sack, "Nothing but rice." 66 36. Something else at the end of it.-A man was undergoing the punishment of the Cangue* (or Thief's Collar;) an acquaintance, passing by, asks him what he had done to get himself into such an awkward scrape. Says the man, I was walking along on the road, and saw an old hay-band rope lying on the ground: I thought it was of no use to any body; so foolishly picked it up and took it home with me-and that has brought me to this sad pass." "What! for only picking up a hay-band?—where's the great offence of that?-what could make them so severe with you?" "Nothing," replies the man, "that I know of; only that there was a little thing tied at the end of it." "What thing?" "One ox; and that a very small one." 66 37. How he sneezes! Oh my jade of a wife!--A tutor, being returned home for the vacation, was sitting with his wife, when the conversation happened to turn upon sneezing, and that, when a person's nose itches, 'tis a sign somebody is talking of him behind his back." In our school-room, at my patron's, I used to be very much given to sneezing," says the husband. Ay, that's because I was always thinking of you here at home," replies she. The holidays being over, he prepares to return to his employment; and at dawn of day takes leave of his wife, and gets into the boat. The young boatman, roused by the morning beams of the sun striking against his face, sneezes several times successively. "Oh wife, wife !" exclaimed the nettled schoolmaster, with asperity, and stamping with his foot against the floor of his cabin,† "I don't like this at all.-What! no sooner am I out of the house, *The Cangue is a disagreeable, awkward, heavy, projecting collar, put round the neck of a delinquent, and left there permanently for hours, or days, or even months, sometimes, I believe. In the arts of boat-building and water-travelling, the Chinese are centuries and centuries before us. Their boats, light, manageable, shallow-draughted, varnished, watertight, have, all of them, even the smallest, a cabin built on them, of reasonable height, and furnished with door, windows, bench, table, mat, lockers, &c. &c. so as to be thoroughly comfortable to a native, and very comfortable to any unprepossessed foreigner. |