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Updated: May 9, 2025
Among the tales entitled to special mention, as evincing considerable talent and more than the ordinary interest of mere sketches are Il Vesuviano, a Neapolitan Story the Voyage Out, by Mrs. Banim the Fords of Callum, by the Ettrick Shepherd Mourad and Euxabeet, a Persian Tale, by Mr.
Next is The Last of the Storm, a tale of deep and thrilling interest, by Mr. Banim. Of the same description is our prose extract By John Galt, Esq.
Banim, has great force and feeling, with the date 1828, significantly appended to this stanza: Alas! my boy, so beautiful! alas! my love, so brave! And must your manly Irish limbs still drag it to the grave? And thou, my son, yet have a son, foredoomed a slave to be? Whose mother, too, must weep o'er him the tears I weep o'er thee.
All the suns of the novel hitherto mentioned had moons and stars around them; all the cadres of the various kinds were filled with privates and non-commissioned officers to follow the leaders. Lady Morgan, who has been mentioned already, Banim, Crofton Croker, and others played a similar part to Miss Edgeworth. The didactic side of Miss Edgeworth was taken up by Harriet Martineau. Mrs.
Carleton does not stand by himself; he is the head and representative of a whole class of Irish novelists, among whom John Banim is the best known name. All of them were peasants who aimed at depicting scenes of peasant life from their own experience.
Banim, the great Irish novelist, withered early out of life upon a government pittance of a pension; Griffin gave up literature, became a monk, and found in youth a grave; Carleton, one of the most gifted humorists that ever painted the many-colored pictures of Irish character, is now struggling against the pressure of a small income in his advancing years.
Who can forget the melancholy but indignant reclamations of John Banim, the dark and touching power of Gerald Griffin, or the unrivalled wit and irresistible drollery of Samuel Lover? Nor can I omit remarking, that amidst the array of great talents to which I allude, the genius of our female writers bore off, by the free award of public opinion, some of the brightest wreaths of Irish literature.
Banim, told also in the Winter's Wreath, and Gem: Thrice the brindled cat hath mewed; and Zalim Khan, a beautiful Peruvian tale of thirty pages, by Mr. Fraser. The French story, La Fiancée de Marques, is a novelty for an annual, but in good taste. Tropical Sun-sets, by Dr. Philip, is just to our mind and measure: A setting sun between the tropics is certainly one of the finest objects in nature.
Banim, with an Ossian-like plate of the heroine; The Sisters of Albano, by Mrs. Shelley Death of the Laird's Jock, by the author of Waverley and Ferdinando Eboli, by Mrs. Shelley, with Adelinda, a plate, by Heath, on which we could feast our eyes for a full hour. Next, a sketch, by Theodore Hook, part of which will serve to vary our sheet:
Two Pencil-sketches, which no artist could approve of, hasty sketches done in some social hour, one by his friend Spedding, one by Banim the Novelist, whom he slightly knew and had been kind to, tell a much truer story so far as they go: of these his Brother has engravings; but these also I must suppress as inadequate for strangers.
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