curtain of oblivion. Controversy of any kind indurates the feelings, and inclines the gentlest natures to asperity. Literary, political, or religious warfare, has often rendered menotherwise uniformly and constitutionally amiable-callous and uncharitable on an insulated question. Sheil, after the death of his first wife, married, in 1830, the widow of Edmund Power, Esq., of Gurteen, in the county of Waterford, with whom he received a large accession of fortune and interest. He died at Florence, where he was minister plenipotentiary, on the 25th May, 1852. The immediate cause of his decease was a sudden attack of gout in the stomach. His remains were brought home, and consigned to the earth at Long Orchard, in Tippe

rary. His son, by his first marriage, had died of decline at Madeira, in November, 1845, and left him without descendants.

It is difficult to fix the exact rank which, as a dramatic writer, Sheil is entitled to hold. He cannot for a moment be placed on a level with Knowles, and is, perhaps, not superior to Maturin. As an orator he takes much higher ground. In private, no man was ever more loved by his intimate friends, or more esteemed as a social companion. He possessed a rich vein of natural humour, a fund of information, a delightful mode of conveying what he knew, and a kind heart, ever ready to acknowledge and assist the merit which required help while struggling into notoriety.

JOHN BANIM was born at Kilkenny, on 3rd April, 1798, and died in the neighbourhood of his native city, in August, 1842, when he can scarcely be said to have reached the prime of ordinary life; but privation, disease, and disappointment had done their work upon him, and had rendered him prematurely old. Some years before his death, general sympathy was attracted to the manly, persevering struggle he was making against the many combined attacks, which, while they paralysed his frame, rendered him totally incapable of literary exertion. Sir

Robert Peel stepped in to the rescue of the sinking author, restored him to his country, and smoothed his declining years by a pension of £150 from the civil list, to which an addition of £40 was afterwards made for the education of his daughter, an only-surviving child. Banim began life as a miniature or portrait - painter, but nature intended him for a votary of literature, and her promptings were too powerful to be resisted. Perhaps the early success of Damon and Pythias had an important influence on his future course. This drama-in which, however, Sheil is usually supposed to have had some participation, and was certainly the organ through which it forced its way to the London boardswas first acted at Covent Garden, on the 28th of May, 1821. Banim, at that time, had only just entered into his twenty-fourth year. He had

previously presented a tragedy called Turgesius, first to Elliston, and then to Harris, but by both it had been declined. Damon and Pythias came out late in the season, and was only repeated seven times; but it gave great satisfaction, is still on the acting-list in Dublin, as in many of the first provincial theatres, and will very probably be revived in London, if a rising actor should happen (which is not unlikely) to take a fancy to the leading character. The two friends, Damon and Pythias, were originally sustained by Macready and Charles Kemble. The ladies, Calanthe, the betrothed of Pythias, and Hermion, the wife of Damon, by Miss Dance and Miss Foote. Both had extreme beauty to recommend them, in compensation for the absence of exalted talent.

The recent Damon and Pythias was preceded by a very ancient drama, written as far back as 1571, by Richard Edwards, who was a student of Christ Church, Oxford, and may be considered as amongst the very earliest of our theatrical writers. His play is reprinted in the first volume of "Dodsley's Collection of Old Plays," published in 1744. The title is quaint, and runs as follows:

"The most excellent Comedie of two the moste faithfullest Freends, Damon and Pythias; Newly imprinted as the same was shewn before the Queene's Majestie by the

children of her Grace's Chapell; except the prologue, that is somewhat altered to the proper use of them that shall hereafter have occasion to plaie it, either in private or open audience. Made by Maister Edwards, then being maister of the children, 1571. Printed by Richard Jones, 4to, N. D.; also, 4to, 1582."

Banim might have been acquainted with this play, although he took the groundwork of his own more immediately from passages in Pliny's letters. Edwards's play is in rhyme, and not divided into acts. The story on which it is founded is related at length by Polyænus, in the twenty-second chapter of his fifth book.* Dionysius of Syracuse, being offended at Euephenus, contrived to get him into his power, and condemned him to death. Euephenus asked permission for an interval between sentence and exccution, to return to his own country, as he had an unmarried sister whom he wished to settle in life, and promised to return. All who were present derided the proposal, but Dionysius demanded who would be his security. Euephenus named Encritus, who at once, being sent for, accepted the responsibility. Euephenus, according to his engagement, returned and surrendered himself up at the end of six months, the stipulated period of his absence. Dionysius, struck by the virtue of the two friends, set them both at liberty, and requested to be accepted by them as a third companion in amity. The generosity of the tyrant gained him the friendship of many of the Italians. Valerius Maximus relates the same story in the seventh chapter of his fourth book, but more concisely. Cicero calls the two friends Damon and Phintias.t

most ridiculously introduced, for the sake of a scene of low buffoonery. Jack and Will make him half drunk. Grim asks if it be true that the king forces his daughters to shave him? They answer, yes, and offer to practise on him in the same fashion that the royal ladies handle Dionysius. While shaving him they pick his pocket. Grim is not absolutely called Grim the Cobbler of Croydon, but he seems to be meant for that personage, as he is said to have a Croydon complexion.

There was a Damon and Pythias, by Henry Chettle, acted in 1599, but it was in all probability only Edwards's under the name of another author. The additions and alterations to the old play by the modern dramatist are managed with much taste and effect, but one has been objected to by hypercritics as not being an improvement. According to the original story, the condemned friend was allowed an absence of six months, and consequently, there was a good reason why the other should be made answerable for his return. But in Banim's play there is no such cogent reason, as Dionysius might just as well have permitted Damon's wife to come to Syracuse, as have allowed Damon six hours to go and take farewell of his wife. We do not feel the force of this criticism, but think, on the contrary, that the shortness of the intervening time increases while it condenses the dramatic interest. But there was a mistake as the play origi nally stood, which we may call an impossibility. Hermion and her child were brought in at the end to complete the happy group. The author forgot that Damon had only just arrived in time, by riding for life and death on a fiery steed, and that no possible conveyance could bring the rest of his family to Syracuse with the same electric rapidity.

A short time before the success of Damon and Pythias, Banim had published a poem called "The Celt's Paradise," and afterwards gradually carried his reputation as a novelist to a very distinguished and enduring height, by his Tales of the O'Hara Family,"

† Cic. Offic. lib. iii, cap. 10.

"The Croppy," "The Denounced," "The Boyne Water," "Father Connell," and many other able and original delineations of national character. His strength lay in the exhibition of strong passion, feeling, and impulse, in the inferior orders and uneducated peasantry. His attempts at painting fashionable manners must be considered as comparative failures. There is perhaps a sameness in his works, which are confined to one peculiar class of subjects, and treated after the prevailing bent of his own fancy. But this objection applies to almost every prolific writer, and is a small blemish where there is so much intrinsic beauty. A play by Banim, called The Prodigal, was accepted at Drury-lane in 1823, and although in rehearsal, was withdrawn in consequence of some disagreement between Kean and Young, who were then acting together in that theatre. No copy appears to have been found amongst the author's papers after his death.

Banim found time to contribute largely to periodicals and magazines. His novels have, like Walter Scott's, furnished matter for many successful dramatisations, and occasionally he adapted them himself. Amongst the latter were The Death Fetch, The Last Guerilla, and The Sergeant's Wife, acted at the English Opera House with marked success, between 1825 and 1827. When the first of these pieces was played in Dublin, from a pirated copy, obtained without the author's permission, and taken by a short-hand writer, Banim published the following letter in the Dublin Morning Register :

"London, 24, Mount-street, Grosvenor-square, "March 12th, 1827.

"SIR, Some months ago Mr. Harris applied at the Theatre Royal English Opera House here, for authentic copies of two dramas of mine, The Last Guerilla and The Death Fetch, produced last summer, and was informed that I had reserved to myself the right of replying to his application. Subsequently I wrote to Mr. H., to the effect that I was prepared to attend to any offer that he might make. My note did not receive the honor of an answer, and the matter seemed ended; but now learning that The Death Fetch has come out with little effect in Dublin, I beg leave, through the medium of your journal, respectfully and anxiously so state, that, inasmuch as I have supplied no copy to the Dublin theatre, the drama has not there appeared in the

form (whatever that form may be) in which it succeeded in London, and in which alone I could have ventured to encounter the responsibility of its presentation to the public. Taking into account the flattering and kindly encouragement I had, upon a former occasion, gratefully received from the enlightened audience of Dublin, and also recollecting how unprotected by legal enactment are the interests of dramatic authors, your numerous readers will decide, sir, whether or no I have been very liberally or justly dealt with in this transaction, when my character as a writer, my legitimate claims to humble advantage from my writings, and perhaps, my private feelings appear to be sacrificed to what, under the circumstances, must have proved only a trifling consideration, and, I consider, not an undeserved one.

"I have the honor to be, sir, your most obedient servant,

"JOHN BANIM."

The want of legal protection, to which Banim alludes, was remedied a few years after by the "Dramatic Authors' Bill," in many respects a just and valuable enactment, although the retrospective clause was a novelty in legislation which pressed unfairly on managers who had previously entered on leases of theatres, under the idea that they possessed the right of acting certain old pieces, which was now taken from them. Until the passing of that act, any printed drama was open to be represented anywhere; and this had its corresponding advantages, as it increased the publicity and attraction of the author's name, and helped to sell his work. Although he might lose in one way, he gained in another. Mr. Arnold, at that time manager of the English Opera House, was very jealons of any of his pieces being acted elsewhere, and for that reason seldom printed them when he had the power of keeping them in manuscript. It was thought at the time that the objection in the present instance lay with Arnold, but Banim's letter shows that he was the obstacle. How far he had a right to complain is another question. But if The Death Fetch had been printed and acted in every theatre in the three kingdoms, it is reasonable to suppose that its publicity and popularity would induce many readers to look after the original series of "Tales by the O'Hara Family," who had not thought of purchasing that work before, and by doing so, add to the profits of the author by circulating a new edition. The case appears to re

semble a knife which cuts with a double-edge. In one particular Banim was misinformed. His drama did produce a very powerful effect when acted in Dublin.

In 1830, Banim produced an original drama in two acts, at the English Opera House, entitled The Sister of Charity, which was received with much approbation, and owed its success in great part to the inimitable acting of Miss Kelly. This was followed, in 1832, by The Conscript's Sister, which, though frequently repeated, brought no profit to the author.

In 1835, Banim happened to be in Dublin, in miserable health and embarrassed circumstances. His friends thought the opportunity a favourable one for bestowing on him a testimony of their esteem in the legitimate form of a benefit in the Theatre Royal, as a dramatic and national writer who had well deserved a compliment at their hands. The night took place on the 21st of July, under the immediate patronage of the popular viceroy, the Marquis of Normanby. All the leading proprietors and editors of the different papers came forward with anxious zeal to promote the object in view, and a host of well-wishers formed themselves into an active committee. The performances consisted of his own dramas of The Sergeant's Wife and The Sister of Charity, with an Occasional Address, and the farce of The Irish Widow. The selection was weak certainly, and there were no actors of first-rate celebrity included, with the exception of David Rees; but none were available at the time, which happened to fall after the close of the regular season. The house, nevertheless, was crowded, and a large and welcome sum, exceeding £200, was handed over to the beneficiare by his zealous friend, Mr. G. Mulvany, who had been foremost and indefatigable in his exertions.

A considerable period before this, Banim had written an historical drama on the subject of Sylla the Dictator, which had been offered to the London managers without success. On the 18th of May, 1837, this play was brought out in the Dublin theatre, with a view, as on the preceding occasion named above, to the author's advantage. The result

proved less favourable than before. It was only performed twice, and bas never been revived. There is much vigour in the writing, and the leading character is powerfully and truthfully drawn, but the winding-up is undramatic and ineffective. The abdication of Sylla is one of the most extraordinary events in history, and a strange anomaly in personal ambition. It reads, too, with an imposing air in poetry :

"The Roman, when his burning heart

Was slaked with blood of Rome,
Threw down the dagger-dared depart,
In savage grandeur home."*

Reduced to action on the stage, the scene becomes an anti-climax, and the curtain falls flatly as the crimson dictator, after a laboured harangue, descends from the rostrum, and walks quietly off to his private residence. A play requires a more imposing tableau at the end, either of marriage, murder, battle, victory, or enthronement.

A tragedy on the subject of Sylla, by Jouy, was acted in Paris during the reign of Charles X., but some of the political sentiments occasioned such a ferment that the authorities interfered, and suspended the representation. It was translated into English, and printed in London, in 1834. Banim appears to have made considerable use of this version, which is but a flimsy affair, and a perusal excites surprise at the slight foundation from whence serious political mischief is sometimes supposed to emanate. As far back as 1753, no less a litterateur than Frederic the Great converted the grim Roman autocrat into the hero of a musical romance, and gave him three songs to sing. A vocal Sylla is not much more preposterous than an operatic Othello. This dramatic entertainment, as it is called in the titlepage, was translated by Samuel Derrick, an Irishman, alternately actor, author, and adventurer, and successor of the famous Beau Nash as master of the ceremonies at Bath and Tunbridge Wells. If John Banim had not written his national tales, replete and glowing as they are with imagination, power, pathos, startling incident, alternations of gloom, terror, and ago nising excitement, joined to a graphic minuteness of detail, which stamps reas lity upon fiction, his poetry might

have been forgotten, and his dramas would scarcely have elevated him above the ranks of mediocrity. His best and most agreeable works are those which he composed the latest, when suffering

under the combined evils of poverty, sickness, and extinguished hopes. In the vivid portraiture of Irish character, habits, customs, and feelings, he has never been surpassed.

GERALD GRIFFIN, the author of the tragedy of Gisippus, is more generally known and recognised by his national stories, illustrative of Irish character and manners. "The Collegians," and the series of "Tales of the Munster Festivals," acquired a wide-spread popularity in their day, and the author was placed, by general consent, as an Irish novelist, by the side of Banim and Carleton. Griffin was born at Limerick, on the 12th of December, 1803. His first schoolmaster, who rejoiced in the euphonious cognomen of Mac- Eligot, appears to have been a genuine Milesian Pangloss, one of the species who have often sat as models to humorous caricaturists, but whose singularities could not easily be exaggerated. One of his advertisements began thus: "When ponderous polysyllables promulgate professional powers." He

boasted of being one of the only three persons in Ireland who could read correctly-the other two being the Bishop of Killaloe and the Earl of Clare. The future novelist and dramatist was not allowed to benefit himself long under the tuition of this "learned pundit," but was placed first under a private tutor, and finished his education at a school in his native city. His turn for literature developed itself in early boyhood. While a mere youth, he wrote in the Limerick Advertiser newspaper; and before he had completed his twentieth year, he had a dramatic stock-in-trade of four tragedies, the last of which was Gisippus. Urged by the praises of his friends, and burning with the hope of literary distinction, he betook himself to the great arena, where there is supposed to be room and opportunity for every description of persevering talent; but being a stranger in London, without influential introductions, he found it more difficult than he had anticipated to obtain from any of the managers a perusal of his tragedy. Disappointed in his leading expectation, he employed himself in reporting for the daily press, and in occasional contribu

tions to the magazines. In 1825, he procured the representation of an operatic melo-drama at the Lyceum, or English Opera-house, in the Strand, but the result does not appear to have been very encouraging, for he wrote no more for the theatre.

In

1827 appeared his "Holland-Tide, or Munster Popular Tales," a work of much promise, which raised high expectations as to his future efforts. This was followed by "Tales of the Munster Festivals," containing "CardDrawing," "The Half-Sir," and "Suil Duiv, the Coiner," in three volumes. The second publication greatly surpassed the popularity of the first; and, in 1829, his reputation received an important increase from "The Collegians," which is generally considered his masterpiece. A writer in the Edinburgh Review praises this work in liberal terms. He says

"The Collegians' is a very interesting and well-constructed tale, full of incident and natural passion. It is the history of the clandestine union of a young man of good birth and fortune with a girl of far inferior rank, and of the consequences which too naturally result. The gradual decay of an attachment which was scarcely based on anything better than sensual love-the irksomeness of concealment-the goadings of wounded pride-the suggestions of self-interest, which had been hastily neglected for an object which proves inadequate when gained all these combining to produce, first neglect, and lastly aversion, are interestingly and vividly described. An attachment to another, superior both in mind and station, springs up at the same time; and to effect a union with her, the unhappy wife is sacrificed. It is a terrible representation of the course of crime; and it is not only forcibly, but naturally displayed. The characters sometimes express their feelings with unnecessary energy, strong emotions are too long dwelt upon, and incidents rather slowly developed; but there is no common skill and power evinced in the conduct of the tale."

The story was afterwards moulded into a very effective drama, acted with