Page images
PDF
EPUB

1. Poems, dedicated by permission to the Right Hon. the Countess of Moira. By Sidney Owenson. Dublin: 1801. 2. St. Clair, or Heiress of Desmond, a Novel.

3. The Novice of St. Dominick. 1804.

4. The Wild Irish Girl.

1806.

1803.

5. The Lay of an Irish Harp, or Metrical Fragments. 1807. 6. Patriotic Sketches of Ireland, 1807.

7. Woman, or Ida of Athens, 4 vols.

1809.

8. The Missionary, an Italian Tale. 1813. 9. O'Donnell, a National Tale.

10. Absenteeism, a Novel. 1815.

1814.

11. Florence M'Carthy, a National Irish Tale. 1816.

12. France. By Lady Morgan, 2 vols., 8vo.

13. Italy. By Lady Morgan. 1821.

14. Life of Salvator Rosa. 1824.

1817.

15. The O'Briens and the O'Flahertys, 3 vols. 1827. 16. Book of the Boudoir, 2 vols.

17. Scenes from Real Life. 18. Woman and her Master, 2 vols.

During the reign of Queen Elizabeth, a family of staunch Protestant principles and high respectability, settled in Connaught, of whom Robert MacOwen, Sub-agent and LandSteward to Sir John Browne of Castle Margaret, County Mayo, was a collateral descendant. But M'Owen's tastes inclined much more strongly to literature than to land; he was fonder of Shakespeare than of sheep-shearing; he preferr ed theatres to trees, full benches to fat bullocks, and thought more highly of the Hay-market than of hay-making. He liked Home better than hoggets-but not, we may add, his Connaught home, which had latterly become distasteful to him and whilst some neighbouring agriculturists hung delighted on the bleatings and lowing of cattle, M'Owen could alone listen with pleasure to the strum of an orchestra, or the wild strains of his native country. His scantily furnished book-shelf displayed Massinger instead of Mawe; "Bowman on Farming," gave place to Beaumont and Fletcher; he was fonder of reading Rowe, than reaping rye, and loved human fairs better than cattle fairs. Every day confirmed M'Owen more

"As a singer, a player, a manager, he made himself a reputation in Ireland-was more successful, it is said, among the ladies than behind the lamps."-Athenæum, April 16th, 1859.

strongly and decidedly in his gay and theatrical tendencies. In intrepid defiance of the "pooh, poohs!" and scowls of his " agrarian friends" he openly preferred canvas scenery to the grand Mayo mountains Crogh Patrick and Nephin; he pronounced a green curtain vastly superior in point of attraction, to the green sward; and foot-lights much pleasanter than foot-paths. Robert M'Owen was completely stage-struck-a passion which it may well be supposed an imprudent connection which he formed, with a buxom actress of celebrity, by no means diminished. On the strength of an acquaintance and Connaught relationship with Oliver Goldsmith, M'Owen applied to that great man to use his influence in promoting the objects which he had in view. Goldsmith entered con amore into the matter; he not only cordially promised to assist M'Owen in his project, but personally introduced him to David Garrick.

From that day all bucolic pursuits were abandoned for evermore in favour of the histrionic and the musical.

Robert M'Owen was born in Connaught at the close of the year 1744, and as Goldsmith's light was finally quenched in 1774, it may naturally be inferred that the events to which we have alluded had all taken place before the theatrically struck land-steward had reached the age of thirty. Garrick at once gave M'Owen something to do on the boards; but as a preliminary to his success the veteran actor impressed upon M'Owen the expediency of anglicising his cognomen into the softer orthography of Owenson.* "Would Macklin," said he, "have been as popular in England, had he not laid aside the broguish MacLoughlin of his fathers?" The hint was taken, and provincial playbills soon announced "first appearance of Mr. Owenson on any stage." The debutant had too much passion for a theatrical life to experience the slightest emotion of timidity or awkwardness. He flung himself, heart and soul, into every part which the stage manager allotted to him; and the result was that Owenson's engagement became a decided success. After a time he strengthened his popularity by calling a new accomplishment to his aid. He took lessons in singing from Doctor Arne as well as from Worgan, the composer of the beautiful Easter Hymn" Hallejujah." Worgan found Owenson an

Innumerable entreaties were urged with a view to make Miss O'Neill change her name, but all to no effect; at last Sir William Becher, on December 18, 1819, succeeded in effecting the desideratum, inasmuch, as from that date, Miss O'Neill became Lady Becher.

apt pupil, and urged him to cultivate the vocal taste, which he did with such effect, that our player not only mastered the science of singing, but became in a short time able to compose original airs, and to put new words and symphonies to old ones. Owenson is said to have been the author of many charming Irish airs amongst others, "My Love's the Fairest Creature;" but we are assured by Samuel Lover that in the original Irish of Shelv nha chonos haint, it has so long existed that all trace of the original composer is lost. An anonymous writer has pronounced Owenson to have been "the author of the music, with original words, of the song now popular as Rory O'More, and appropriated by Mr. Lover as his own," but Mr. Lover denies that he ever claimed as his own exclusive composition, that highly popular tune.

a

In 1776, Owenson received through Garrick's influence an engagement at Covent Garden Theatre. We have said that Owenson, when sick of his agricultural life at Castle Margaret, was fonder of reading Rowe, than of reaping rye; and this old predilection for Rowe was now sustained by Owenson attempting at Covent Garden, the somewhat ambitious part of Tamerlane in Rowe's celebrated tragedy of that name. From some of the leading London newspapers Owenson received high encomiums both on the score of his commanding figure, and his marked histrionic talent; but the Theatrical Review ran counter to this generous tone of criticism, called him " gawkey," and pronounced his assumption of the part of Tamerlane as a gross insult to common sense and good taste. Driven from London by this poisoned arrow, "Mr. Owenson from the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden," proceeded to go the round of the provincial houses, starring it at some, and accepting very subordinate parts at others—until having made some noise at the Shrewsbury Theatre he took advantage of his temporary celebrity to make a proposal of marriage to Miss Hill, an English lady, and the lioness of the Shrewsbury company. The offer was accepted, a romantic flight ensuedwhy, we have not been able to ascertain-and the nuptials of the happy pair were speedily celebrated. The first fruit of this alliance was the subject of these pages. Her birth occurred, on shipboard, at sea, in 1778; so that no country can claim the honour of Lady Morgan's nativity; but as it took place when crossing the Irish Sea, she may fairly be called an Irish woman, even though her subsequent career had never been distinguished by those ennobling characteristics of nationality which

have rendered the name of Lady Morgan so valued in Ireland. Owenson was proud of his baby and resolved to celebrate its christening with becoming festivity. Ned Lysaght, the once famous extempore Irish poet, was invited to attend in the onerous capacity of sponsor, or God-papa; and Ned, with characteristic good nature, at once accepted the responsibility. He and Owenson, as two very eminent boon companions, wits, poets, and singers of convivial songs, it may well be supposed that some rivalry existed between them; but it is pleasant to find that the old adage, "two of a trade never agree," was not verified in this instance. Lysaght, for many years after continued to regard the tiny child with a fatherly feeling of affection and pride; and when, in 1809, death snatched him away, she felt with bitter sorrow, her doubly orphaned position.

Sidney Owenson had begun making verses before she had left the nursery. In a poetic address to her only sister Olivia, afterwards Lady Clarke, our authoress plainly states this fact:

Have I from childhood then, been writing,
And erst I well could write, inditing,

In scribbling ever still delighting;

Since first the muse

Did kindly string my infant lyre,

And o'er my mind poetic fire

As kind infuse;

[blocks in formation]

At Sidney's premature development of bardic genius, Lysaght's interest in his little god-daughter strengthened to intensity and in the fulness of his delight the convivial Commissioner seized his pen and threw off the following characteristic fragment.

The muses met me once not very sober,

But full of frolic at your merry christening!
And now, this twenty-third day of October,

As they foretold, to your sweet lays I'm listening.

They called you "Infant Muse," and said your lyre
Should one day wake your nation's latent fire:
They ordered Genius garlands to entwine
For Sidney:-Me, i'faith, they plied with wine.

Lysaght survived until March 2, 1809, when he sank amid a wail, into his cold grave. He is now utterly forgotten; but one has merely to open the newspaper files of the day to ascertain that his death produced almost as singular, as strong, and as widely spread a sensation as that of "Rare Ben Jonson" himself. From the Dublin Correspondent of March, 1809, we rescue the following:

“Adieu, thou soul of jest, for e'er adieu!

Wing'd by thy wit, the fleeting moments flew ;
None still could say (to truth however blind)
That Lysaght's pungent jokes were e'er unkind:
Rais'd by his pun, convulsing laughs have roar'd
Round the wide circle of the festive board;
Death's frigid hand has chill'd that honest tongue,
Whence Clare's or Grattan's mimic accents rung;
Nor jest, nor jocund song, one day could save
Their gay possessor from the gloomy grave;
Wit, Patriot, Virtue, sunk alive with him,

And prov'd at length this life itself a whim."—JUVENIS.

Upon turning over a dozen or two more pages, filled with details of Sir John Moore's disastrous retreat,and the other political news, and excitement of the day, we find a second tribute to the memory of Lysaght, and written, we are inclined to think, by Owenson.

"He was a fellow of infinite jest, and most excellent humour and fancy."-SHAKSPEARE.

"Ye Friends of Genius, and of Wit draw near,
Shed o'er this Tomb a tributary tear ;

Here LYSAGHT lies-Alas! of what avail

Is it to rise or fall in Fortune's scale?

The Rich, the Poor, the Humble and the High,

Wise men and Fools when Death decrees must die ;
No Pomp of wealth, or Treasures of the mind
Can keep its victim one short span behind:
Death conquers all, and to the silent grave
Consigns alike the Monarch and the Slave.-
Yes For if sterling Genius, Wit refin'd,
A sportive Fancy, an enlightened Mind,
A Muse's tongue to breathe the Seraph lay
Could have opposed a premature decay;
LYSAGHT had lived-nor could the hand of Fate
To such endowment fix so short a date;
Still would his Wit delight, his Humour flow,
And all his Talents in full lustre glow :

Nor would HIBERNIA bending o'er his Urn,

This Son of Genius and of Fancy mourn."-AMICUS.

« PreviousContinue »