to despair. At length, by the advice of his friends, he resolved to try both change of scene and employment, and in 1820 he removed to Dublin, and relinquished his profession of art for that of literature. At this time his contributions to periodical literature became very numerous, and were continued throughout his whole career. Were it now possible to identify these, many of them would probably add little to his fame as an author, as they were for the most part written hurriedly as a means of gaining a living. But, among the sketches a few on theatrical topics, written over the signature of "A Traveller," and appearing in a Limerick journal, were remarked as particularly clever. In 1821 he published The Celt's Paradise, a poem now almost forgotten; but at the time it gained recognition of the talents of the young author, and the friendship of Sheil and other literary men. Banim now attempted dramatic composition, and the tragedy Turgesius was written and offered in succession to the managers of Covent Garden and Drury Lane theatres, but was rejected by both. Not deterred by this failure, the author once more composed a tragedy entitled Damon and Pythias, which through the recommendation of his friend Sheil was produced at Covent Garden, London, in 1821, and met with a reception which amply consoled him for his former disappointment. In the summer of 1822 Banim revisited his home in Kilkenny, and during his stay he and his brother Michael planned and commenced writing the first series of the O'Hara Tules. He also married Miss Ellen Ruth, and subsequently removed to London, where he continued to reside for several years. Here he resumed his necessary labour as a periodical writer, and became a valued contributor to The Literary Register. He also produced another tragedy entitled The Prodigal, which, however, was never produced on the stage. In the autumn of 1823 Gerald Griffin came to London, and sought out Banim, who was delighted to see him, and able to assist him by his experience and friendship. A series of clever essays entitled Revelations of the Dead Alive, appeared in 1824, and from their severe ridicule of the follies and affectations of the period attracted much attention. In the April of the following year the first series of the celebrated O'Hara Tales was published, and commanded immediate success. John Doe or The Peep o' Day and The Fetches were John Banim's sole work in this first series. His next work, The Boyne Water, a political novel, the scenes of which are laid in the time of William of Orange and James II., depicts the siege of Limerick and other stirring events of that troubled period. This work was severely handled by the critics, and we have good authority for stating that the author regretted having written it, and his brother prevented its being reprinted in the new edition of the O'Hara Tales, published by Messrs. Duffy and Son in 1865. The second series of the Tales appeared in 1826, and in 1828 The Anglo-Irish was published. The latter was of a different character from the Tules, and not so well received. In 1829 the concluding series of the Tales appeared, commencing with The Disowned the work of John Banim, and ending with Father Connell the work of Michael. This was the last joint-work of the brothers. John's health now began to decline rapidly, and the death of a child and illness of his wife pressed heavily upon his mind. In 1829, by the advice and aid of his numerous friends he went on a visit to France for change of scene, but still continued his contributions to the journals, and wrote besides several small pieces for the English opera-house. In 1835 he returned home, but his health did not seem to have improved. While passing through Dublin, he met with an enthusiastic reception, and a performance was given at the Theatre Royal for his benefit. In Kilkenny the affection of his fellow-townsmen was shown by an address and a handsome presentation. He took up his residence in the little cottage of Windgap just outside the town, but soon became too feeble to walk about, and could only be moved through his garden in a bath-chair. About a year after settling here a pension was granted him of £150 from the civil list, and £40 for the education of his only child Mary, then twelve years of age. In his solitude and decline he was cheered by the attention of an affectionate brother, and occasional visits from Gerald Griffin and other friends. His health never rallied, and on the 13th of August, 1842, he breathed his last, aged forty-four years. A provision was made for his widow; his daughter died of decline a few years after her father. The O'Hara Tales were a joint production in so far that they were published together, and one brother passed his work to the other for suggestions and criticism. Those written by John Banim were John Doe or The Peep o' Day, The Fetches, The Smuggler, Peter of the Castle, The Nowlans, The Last Baron of Crana, and The Disowned. We quote from Chambers's Cyclopædia of English Literature the AN ADVENTURE IN SLIEVENAMON. (FROM "THE PEEP O' DAY.") following estimate of Banim's powers as a novelist:-"He seemed to unite the truth and circumstantiality of Crabbe with the dark and gloomy power of Godwin; and in knowledge he was superior even to Miss Edgeworth or Lady Morgan. . . The force [Lieutenant Howard, pursuing some persons of the passions and the effects of crime, tur- over the mountain, lost his way, and in springbulence, and misery have rarely been painted ing across a chasm alighted on soft turf, which with such overmastering energy, or wrought gave way and precipitated him through the into narratives of more sustained and harrow-roof of an illicit manufactory of spirits, preing interest. The probability of his incidents sided over by Jack Mullins.] was not much attended to by the author, and he indulged largely in scenes of horror and violence in murders, abductions, pursuits, and escapes; but the whole was related with such spirit, raciness, and truth of costume and colouring, that the reader had neither time nor inclination to note defects." Notwithstanding the power displayed in his tragedy of Damon and Pythias, and the strong liking of the author for this field of literature, we find him, in a letter to Mr. Elliston the manager of Drury Lane Theatre, reluctantly compelled to abandon dramatic authorship, under the belief that some unfair influence was exerted to keep his works from appearing on the stage.1] 1 For the following unpublished letter we are indebted to the kindness of T. F. Dillon Croker, Esq. :-"13 Bromp ton Grove, July 13, 1825. Dear Sir, Many thanks for your kind note recommending me to persevere in writing tragedies; but under favour of the same feeling in which the advice seems offered, let me remark that, from experience of what we have both observed, I can scarce see the good of my perseverance at present. No complaint is here made against you -you approved three of my tragedies, namely, The Prodigal, Sylla, and The Moorish Wife, and were anxious to get them acted; but, your wishes not succeeding, I withdrew at your instance the two first named, leaving the third which yet remains available, and has so remained two years. I therefore conclude I am shut out from the stage contrary to your wishes, and by causes over which you have no control, and why then -with due consideration for any suggestion of yours why continue to give time and effort to say nothing of the result to my feelings in a pursuit in which, what ever may be your kind wishes, you do not find it easy to obtain me even a trial? Engaged profitably, independent of the stage, I am thus in common prudence and selfrespect induced to take leave of a study which I liked, which I clung to as long as there was a chance of getting before the public, and which that public and yourself have done me the honour to admit I might not ultimately have disgraced. This course is adopted in utter despair that the third tragedy of mine approved by you, namely, The Moorish Wife, can be presented at your theatre. Meantime, should it be presented, I shall again write with willingness and zeal for Drury Lane, because the grounds of my present objection must then be removed; that is, a public trial would be afforded me, and with it some prospect of advantage, and I need not add that such a prospect is in every pursuit indispensable to prepare the mind even for the effort by which anything good may be expected. I am, dear Sir, very truly yours, "R. W. Elliston, Esq. JOHN BANIM." The first perception of Howard's restored senses brought him the intelligence of his being in the midst of an almost insufferable atmosphere, oppressive as it was strange and unusual. He breathed with difficulty, and coughed and sneezed himself very nearly back again into the state of unconsciousness out of which, it would seem, coughing and sneezing had just roused him; for he gained his senses while performing such operations as are understood by these words. When a reasonable pause occurred and that reflection had time to come into play, Howard wondered whether he was alive or dead, and whether or no he felt pain. Due consideration having ensued he was able to assure himself that, so far as he could judge, he lived, and without much pain of any kind into the bargain. Next he tried to stir himself, but here he was unsuccessful. Some unseen power paralyzed his legs and arms, feet and hands. He lay, it was evident, upon his back, and the surface he pressed seemed soft and genial enough. While in this position he looked straight upward. The stars, and a patch of deep blue sky, twinkled and smiled upon him through a hole in a low squalid roof overhead. This was a help. He remembered having fallen in through the slope of the hill, and, as an aperture must have been the consequence or the cause of his descent, he ventured to argue accordingly. He had intruded, it would rather seem, upon the private concerns of some person or persons, who, from motives unknown to him, chose to reside in a subterraneous retreat among the very sublimities of Slievenamon. Here the strange scent again filled his nostrils with overpowering effect. There was some part of it he thought he could, or ought to recollect having before experienced, and he sniffed once or twice with the hope of becoming satisfied. But a fresh, and, he conceived, a different effluvia thereupon rushed up into his head, and down his throat, and he had again to sneeze and cough his way into a better comprehension. |