The Castle of Andalusia Part 1

The Castle of Andalusia.

by John O'Keeffe.

REMARKS.

A reader must be acquainted with O'Keeffe on the stage to admire him in the closet. Yet he is ent.i.tled to more praise, in being the original author of a certain species of drama, made up of whim and frolic than numberless retailers of wit and sentiment with whom that cla.s.s of readers are charmed, who are not in the habit of detecting plagiarism.

From Operas, since the Beggar's Opera, little has been required by the town except music and broad humour. The first delights the elegant, the second the inelegant part of an audience; by which means all parties are gratified.

Had O'Keeffe written less, his reputation would have stood higher with the public; and so would that of many an author beside himself: but when a man makes writing his only profession--industry, and prudent forecast for the morrow, will often stimulate him to produce, with heavy heart, that composition which his own judgment condemns. Yet is he compelled to bear the critic's censure, as one whom vanity has incited to send forth crude thoughts with his entire good will, and perfect security as to the high value they will have with the world.

Let it be known to the world, that more than half the authors who come before them thus apparently bold and self-approved, are perhaps sinking under the shame of their puerile works, and discerning in them more faults, from closer attention and laudable timidity, than the most severe of their censurers can point out.

These observations might be some apology for this Opera, if it required any. But it has pleased so well in representation, that its deserts as an exhibition are acknowledged; and if in reading there should appear something of too much intricacy in the plot, or of improbability in the events, the author must be supposed to have seen those faults himself; though want of time, or, most likely, greater reliance upon the power of music than upon his own labour, impelled him gladly to spare the one, in reverence to the other.

The songs have great comic effect on the stage; particularly those by some of the male characters: and the mistakes which arise from the impositions of Spado are highly risible.

As the reader, to form a just judgment on "The Castle of Andalusia,"

should see it acted; so the auditor, to be equally just, must read it.

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.

_A Cavern with winding Stairs, and recesses cut in the Rock; a large Lamp hanging in the Centre; a Table, Wine, Fruits, &c. in disorder.--At the Head DON CaeSAR; on each Side SPADO, SANGUINO, RAPINO, and others of the Banditti._

AIR I. AND CHORUS.

Don Caesar. _Here we sons of freedom dwell,_ _In our friendly, rock-hewn cell;_ _Pleasure's dictates we obey,_ _Nature points us out the way,_ _Ever social, great and free,_ _Valour guards our liberty._

AIR.

Don Caesar. _Of severe and partial laws,_ _Venal judges, Alguazils;_ _Dreary dungeons' iron jaws,_ _Oar and gibbet--whips or wheels,_ _Let's never think_ _While thus me drink_ _Sweet Muscadine_!

_O life divine!_

Chorus.--_Here we sons of freedom dwell_, &c.

_Don Caesar._ Come, cavaliers, our carbines are loaded, our hearts are light: charge your gla.s.ses, Bacchus gives the word, and a volley makes us immortal as the rosy G.o.d.--Fire!

_Spado._ Ay, captain, this is n.o.ble firing--Oh, I love a volley of grape-shot.--Are we to have any sky-light in our cave?

[_Looking at SANGUINO's Gla.s.s._

_Don Caesar._ Oh, no! a brimmer round.--Come, a good booty to us to-night.

[_All drink._

_Spado._ Booty! Oh, I love to rob a fat priest.--Stand, says I, and then I knock him down.

_Sang._ My nose bleeds. [_Looks at his Handkerchief._] I wonder what colour is a coward's blood?

_Spado._ Don't you see it's red?

_Sang._ Ha! call me coward, [_Rises in fury._] sirrah? Captain!

cavaliers!--But this scar on my forehead contradicts the miscreant.

_Spado._ Scar on your forehead!--Ay, you will look behind you, when you run away.

_Sang._ I'll stab the villain--[_Draws Stilletto._]--I will, by Heaven.

_Don Caesar._ Pho, Sanguino! you know when a jest offers, Spado regards neither time, place, nor person.

_All._ [_Interposing._] Don't hurt little Spado.

_Spado._ [_Hiding behind._] No, don't hurt little Spado.

_Sang._ Run away! Armies have confessed my valour: the time has been--but no matter.

[_Sits._

_Don Caesar._ Come, away with reflection on the past, or care for the future; the present is the golden moment of possession.--Let us enjoy it.

_All._ Ay, ay, let us enjoy it.

_Don Caesar._ You know, cavaliers, when I entered into this n.o.ble fraternity, I boasted only of a little courage sharpened by necessity, the result of my youthful follies, a father's severity, and the malice of a good-natured dame.

_Spado._ Captain, here's a speedy walk-off to old women.

_All._ [_Drink_] Ha! ha! ha! ha!

_Don Caesar._ When you did me the honour to elect me your captain, two conditions I stipulated:----Though at war with the world abroad, unity and social mirth should preside over our little commonwealth at home.

_Spado._ Yes, but Sanguino's for no head--he'll have ours a commonwealth of fists and elbows.

_Don Caesar._ The other, unless to preserve your own lives, never commit a murder.

_Spado._ I murdered since that----a bishop's coach-horse.

_All._ Ha! ha! ha!

_Don Caesar._ Hand me that red wine.