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1817.

The Orchestra principally filled from that of the Theatre Royal, Dublin. Leader, Mr. Barton.

PROLOGUE,

Written by Sir R. Langrishe, and spoken by Mr. Rothe,

At the opening of the Theatre, the 13th of October, 1817.

Welcome! thrice welcome, soul inspiring sight!
We hail with rapture this long wish'd-for night,
For long the dreary interval hath been,
Since last our friends enjoyed this grateful scene.
Scenes that our faithful memory still endears-
Scenes of fond hopes fulfill'd, and half fictitious fears.
Since last we met, years have their courses run,
Whilst war's dark blood hath stained each setting sun,
High thrones o'erturned-the earth o'erwhelm'd with gore,
Carnage and crimes, unfelt, unknown before;
'Till one great man bade human misery cease,
And this distracted orb subdued to peace.

The world regain'd, the warrior sheath'd his sword,
And nations bless him for their rights restor❜d.
But we, aloof from war's heroic throes,
Aspiring not beyond our mimic woes,

Have mourned, like Laplanders, our silent gloom,
Liv'd for your light to cheer us, and 'tis come.
Then let us hail this intellectual ray,
That wakes our torpid twilight into day.
Summon'd by you, your ready vot'ries throng,
With all their powers of pathos, jest and song:
Our Manager in foreign climes remote,
With transport heard the kind recalling note;-
Nor time, nor distance, could his zeal repel,
From friends so dear, and sports he loved so well.
Fir'd by the sound, his ardent spirits deem
The Alps a plain-the Ocean but a stream;

He comes to feel, from your more brilliant eyes,
A brighter beam than from Italian skies;
He comes our guide, our genius, and our shield,
To grace that sceptre he alone could wield.

With easier efforts we obey your call,
Speak but the word, and you command us all-
From foreign frolic, from domestic cheer,
From morbid indolence, or toil severe,
Cares or carousals, you shall find us here;
And we will treat you kindly, cull with care,
In just requital-rich yet wholesome fare;
Not the flat mummery of modern plays,

Cant words, old jokes, free thoughts, and vulgar phrase;
But our immortal Shakespeare shall impart,

All that can charm the mind, and warm the heart.
Our Dome, we own, hath felt time's mouldering sway,
Though we've done much his inroads to delay.
Not so our Corps-with ardent hopes imprest,
We feel new force from renovating rest;
And long may both fulfil their purpos'd ends-
To feast with classic fare our lib'ral friends.

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1817.

Written by Sir Robert Langrishe, and Spoken by Mr. Power.

Our Prologue did, in truth, my feelings tell,
"Nor time, nor distance could my zeal repel
From friends so dear, and sports I lov'd so well:"
And rich is my reward. Your wish'd-for praise
Lightens my labours, and my toil repays.
Where'er I've wander'd, this seducing scene
Still the fond object of my hopes hath been.
I've felt the influence of Italian rays,

And own each charm her cloudless sky displays;
But here are beams no sunshine can impart,
The social sympathy, the feeling heart-
The grateful welcome-friendship's fires that burn
To greet the way-worn wanderer's return.

Our Epilogues of old portray'd the times,
And cried down follies, ere they grew to crimes;
But since our last, the World, entranc'd by fame,
Disdains the "sweet absurd," our wonted game,
And yields scant food for ridicule, or shame.
Yet shall the rich caprice of human kind,
The precious inconsistencies of mind,

Yet shall they furnish, 'midst our pride and praise,
Some laughing stocks-ev'n in these glorious days.
Say! have not thousands, homespun heads and hearts,
But fir'd by frenzy to see foreign parts,

Wander'd abroad, unconscious where they've been,
And gaz'd at sights---unconscious what they've seen-
Then, wanting sense to judge, or taste to feel,
And witless e'en their follies to conceal-
Each wonder pass'd by, and each usage blam'd,
Have back return'd, robb'd, laugh'd at, and asham'd.

The full-fed Alderman, the world now free,
Pants to partake of foreign luxury;
But 'stead of solid joints, with horror sees
Thrice heated fricandos and fricasees,

"Their soup too meagre-and their wine too weak," He longs for home, old port, and rich beek-steak. Another set there are, we can't o'erlook,

Trite trading travellers to make a book,
With step minute, they pace each field of glory,
And lay its soil and produce all before ye.
They tell you, from a limestone gravel-hole,
That Buonaparte to leave his army stole;
That from a hazel, not a hawthorn shade,
Our Wellington his noblest effort made.

They tell you where their children drank their tea;
And tell you things, they grieve they did not see.

I fire-when thus the triumphs of our nation
Sink unemblazon'd, in such mean narration—
Themes of our grandest pride, or deepest woes,
Debas'd in ditties, or more flimsy prose.

So much for wandering-but why, you'll say,
Should I 'gainst travellers such spleen display?
Why, 'tis because I've travell'd, and have scann'd
The worth and value of our native land,
The land of liberty, of power, of wealth,
The land of beauty, happiness, and health.

Too long I've trespass'd, and the hour is come,
I fear you'll deem, that kindly calls you home.
How we've succeeded, you alone can tell,
Self-love, and your applause, persuade us-well;
Then, if with wreaths of Bays our brows are grac'd,
We'll bless those hands by which the chaplet's plac'd.

On Wednesday, the 8th instant, a magnificent Dinner was given to RICHARD POWER, Esq. at the Hibernian Hotel, by the principal Gentlemen of the County of Kilkenny, to celebrate his return, in perfect health, amongst them; and to testify their joy at his resuming, once more, the direction of those classical pleasures, which have been so honorable to him and his associates, and a source of so much advantage, both public and private, to the City of Kilkenny. The HIGH SHERIFF took the Chair, about seven o'clock, supported, on his right, by Mr. R. POWER, and by Sir WM. MORRIS on his left. Mr. ROTHE, Major BRYAN, Mr. CORRY, and Mr. J. POWER, presided in other parts of the room; and the evening was spent with all that happiness and cordiality, which might have been expected from a meeting of Gentlemen, so much attached to each other; and all of them so devoted to that respected character, in honor of whom they had assembled. Among other pleasant circumstances which attended this Dinner, we see it has been the means of collecting, at an earlier day than usual, the whole of the Corps Dramatique, which will secure to them the advantages of a due preparation for their approaching labours.

1817.

[The Leinster Journal, and the Moderator, Kilkenny.— FIRST NIGHT.-Monday, October 13th, 1817.] After a lapse of five years, we witnessed this evening the exhilarating sight of the opening of our Private Theatre. The internal part of it has just undergone an entire repair. Mr. BOYLAN of Dublin furnished most of the ornaments, and liberally made them a present to the Charity. Never, on any first Night heretofore, was there so numerous an assemblage. The neatness of the house, and the brilliancy of the Audience, struck the beholder with the most cheerful sensations; and the number, the rank, the beauty, and the talent, from all parts of Ireland, here collected, give a comment upon the merits of former exertions, to which the praises of the critic cannot add. It was, altogether, a scene of joyous elegance and classic festivity, as creditable as it was gratifying.

An appropriate Address, from the pen, we believe, of Sir ROBERT LANGRISHE, adapted to the feelings of the Audience, and the circumstances of the place, was admirably delivered by Mr. ROTHE, who, as well as all the known performers, was received with a warmth of applause that testified the public approbation of them, not only in their public, but their private characters.

The Play was JULIUS CAESAR. The part of Cassius was performed by Mr. BECHER. His port, his countenance, his powerful voice, gave full effect to his thorough conception of the author. He also exhibited a great knowledge of Stage effect, particularly in the scene with Brutus, by the dexterity and variety of his by-play.

Mr. ROTHE was Brutus. He manifestly laboured under the effects of a cold; but, his genius and knowledge rose triumphant, particularly in the celebrated Tent Scene, where he had an opportunity of exhibiting that pathos and feeling, in which, we venture to say, he is not exceeded by any Actor.

Mr. POWER acted Antony. We rejoiced to find that the powers of our beloved Manager were not the least impaired by his illness abroad. He was long and loudly cheered on his entrance, and never was applause more cordial, or sincere. The very difficult speech from the tribune was delivered with a just and excellent taste, and the natural manner in which he occasionally checked himself with "Brutus is an honorable man," shewed his knowledge of the author, and proved how well he understands "the cunning of the Scene." His delivery of the speech over the body of the fallen Caesar was another exhibition of great talent.

Mr. CORRY astonished us by his personation of Casca; his excellence in Comedy has been long known to us, but such is the variety of his talents, that we think he would be an acquisition to any Stage, in any department of the Drama.

We wish that whoever regulated the dress of Mr. SHEE had added a little more drapery to his Toga. Mr. SKINNER played Octavius, and a Mr. EYRE the Cobler of the mob; they promise to be desirable acquisitions to the Corps Dramatique. Mr. THOMAS BUSHE, as Servius, delivered the Message from Antony in a manner which gives a fair promise of future excellence.

Mr. FRAZER, of the 16th Regiment, is a Recruit, we believe, from North Britain. Those who investigate minutely the affairs of the Theatre, should prevent the Gentlemen of that Country from coming on the Stage in purely Highland costume.

There was a good humour and a desire to be happy before the Scenes, which, like an electric spark, communicated itself to those behind them, and gave a spirit and gaiety which "marked security to please." The Curtain rose upon us, with those impressions on our minds, to exhibit our favourite Farce of HIGH LIFE BELOW STAIRS.

With all the partialities that we acknowledge to feel for our own little Theatre, we really believe we might challenge any Stage in England or Ireland, to produce this Farce in such an excellent style as our own. The Lord Duke of Mr. CORRY, the Sir Harry of Mr. CRAMPTON, and the Mrs. Kitty of Miss WALSTEIN, are not to be equalled by any thing we ever saw in the profession.— These Gentlemen dress and look their respective parts inimitably. The vulgar finery of their manners, each the very opposite of the other, the one with his slow, conceited, jaunty air, and the light and lively swagger of the other, gave us all the various follies of the Servants' Hall, in the establishments of high-life. Was ever Supper-table so gay as theirs? their happiness communicated itself to the House, and every laugh was chorused by the Audience. Mrs. Kitty did the honors of the merry crew with a low-bred affability, that was truly comical. In the Song and the Dance that followed, their lively spirit made the Stage so merry, that we wished to be among them. The Yorkshire Boy of Lord MoNck was truly given, and made him quite unfit for such genteel company. The quarrel of those two important Personages, My Lord Duke and Sir Harry, excited a most unfeeling share of merriment in the Audience, particularly where Mrs. Kitty exclaims, "there will be some noble blood spilt here," and swoons, amidst the cries of the company for "Sally Volatile;" but when the Master's knock is heard at the door, and our poor Lord Duke is desired to hide in the coal-hole, we beheld in the laughable humiliations that followed, a picture of the usual fate of vanity, in the higher concerns of the world. We protest, upon the whole, that we never saw a Farce so well got up, nor one which drew forth such tumultuous applause.

Colonel TOLLY, C. B. and the other Officers of the 16th Regiment, with a view to contribute to the pleasure of the many noble and fashionable Families now on a visit here, have, with true military gallantry, ordered the fine Band of that Corps, to play for several hours every day on the Parade during the Plays, which gives an air of gaiety to the Promenade, and, of course, increases the crowd there.

Having left a space for the Address, spoken by Mr. ROTHE, on the opening of the Theatre, but having failed in our efforts to obtain it, we now sit down to fill up that space with one of our own.

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