-he does it as like one of those harloty players as ever I see,' that a listener unacquainted with her unromantic nature might easily be betrayed into the belief that she actually meant a quotation from the bard. He was not, however, by any means so much of a visionary as to allow a theory, no matter what it might have for its object, or how large a share of his attention it might claim, to interfere materially with his serious occupations; indeed it was only under the most favorable circumstances as to health and leisure, that he purposed his present plan should be worked out. Whilst the chance of such a happy state of things was becoming every day more unlikely, though not so as to assume the appearance of an utter impossibility, a portion of a company just then disengaged by the periodical closing of one of the Dublin theatres, arrived in Kilkenny, and the local newspapers were requested to acquaint the public that a series of performances would be forthwith given in the Assembly Rooms' of the Tholsel,' under the management of Mr. Gardiner, a comedian of established reputation, assisted by some of the most distinguished names in the profession. Amongst other great feasts to which the citizens were to be treated, there appeared announced in very prominent characters, Banim's 'Mayor of Windgap' dramatised for the occasion by a member of the company.' Mr. Banim regarded the announcement with pleasure, believing that the story could be effectively used in that way by a skilful hand, and that the thing would not be attempted in his immediate presence, unless executed in commendable fashion. He awaited the performance, therefore, with some interest, hoping that the result would prove creditable both to himself and the dramatiser. It was evident, however, from the first scene that the gentleman who undertook the task was possessed of more temerity than talent. Mr. Gardiner's humor indeed secured him some applause in his personation of the Mayor's Bailiff, a character which had been sketched. with such fidelity in the original, that much of its individuality as it had lost in its transmutation, it was still easily recognized, and Bryan Sweeny' resounded from all directions of the house each time he made his appearance. Bryan Sweeny was the real name of the worthy who sat for this portrait to Banim, and though some years had elapsed since the decease of himself, and the corrupt old corporation of which he had been an officer, the identity was at once admitted by all who had been familiar with that model official. In the remainder of the details the piece bore so little resemblance to the original, that it would seem the title of Mayor of WindGap' was bestowed on it only as the best means that could be resorted to for the purpose of filling the house.' This report of the affair annoyed Mr. Banim, and for a time he felt almost as mortified as if the failure could be attributed to his own production. He bitterly observed that he believed there never yet was a scribbling fool who did not fancy he could write a play, and who failing to give the world some ridiculous production of his own, did not disfigure somebody else's. Anxious to impress his fellow citizens with a more favorable opinion as to his powers as a dramatic writer than what they could be expected to entertain from witnessing the performance just alluded to, and ambitious of having one of his own pieces represented in his native city, he proposed to Mr. Gardiner to bring out The Conscript Sisters,' which had been written for Arnold's Theatre, and acted there with eminent success. Gardiner perused it, but finding it did not come quite within the range of his own or his company's talents, he returned it to the author, who was thus debarred the only remedy that presented itself for the outrage committed on one of his most exquisite of the O'Hara tales." Taking up the narrative from this point Michael Banim writes to us: I "Late in July, 1842, I left home to spend a fortnight with some friends forty miles from Kilkenny: when parting from my brother I could perceive no change for the worse in his symptoms or appearance. I was suddenly summoned home. in consequence of his dangerous illness. I returned at once. I found him barely able to recognise me-only able to take my hand and look in my face, but incapable of speaking. I saw at a glance that his time of suffering was nearly over. attended on him until I closed his eyes. His struggle against death was an enduring one. His chest and lungs were sound and healthy, and he continued to breathe strongly, but not painfully, for a day and night after all consciousness had left him. Death was rather the extreme of exhaustion than a violent separation of the spirit from its prison. Life passed from him almost unperceived. Frequently, during the last six years of his life, my brother and I had been together, he engaged my promise that I would stand by while his grave was digging, that I would see the side of his mother's coffin laid bare, and that when his body was lowered to its last resting place, I should be certain the side of his coffin was in close contact with that of his beloved parent. His instructions were religiously observed. There are two portraits extant of the subject of your memoir; one, in my possession, painted by himself when in his nineteenth, or approaching to his twentieth year; the other remaining with the talented artist of whose pencil it is the production, Mr. George Mulvany of Dublin; the last mentioned taken after the total failure of health. Both these pictures are excellent likenesses of the original at the different periods of life when they were painted. Placing them side by side it would require almost a stretch of the imagination to trace a resemblance between them, or to acknowledge them as representations of the same person. I have not attempted, in any of my notes furnished you, to measure my brother's claims to literary distinction. His merit as a poet or novelist I have not sought to weigh or to decide on. I have contented myself with giving a faithful account of his early and more mature endeavours to establish the reputation he thirsted to attain. The range and quality of his genius as a writer I leave to more disinterested parties than myself to ascertain and define. I think I may claim for him, however, numerous amiable qualities, springing directly from the heart, the seat of the affections; and many valuable qualities emanating from the head, the formator of character. His affections were ardent, impulsive and uncalculating. He was industrious, persevering, and self-reliant so long as his physical capabilities enabled him to be so. It will be borne in mind that he died while yet young, and that, for fully thirteen years preceding his demise, the physique of his mental power was not in health, nor the full force of his mind at his command. At forty-four, his age when he died, men of genius begin to train the flights of imagination and fancy within the scope of reason, to prune exuberances and to contrast with judgment. I think I may affirm that, had it pleased Providence to have given him health during the thirteen years he was an ailing *This is the portrait of "her own graw-bawn" before which old Mrs. Banim, John's mother, used to pray. See IRISH QUARTERLY REVIEW, Vol. V., No. 19, p. 479. and incapable aspirant for fame and independence, and to have prolonged his life until he had descended even but little from the summit of existence which he had not reached, he would have made good way towards the goal he had marked out ultimately to reach. I am confident that, had health and life been his, he would have advanced much closer than he did to 'Fame's Magnetic Altar', the bourne to be attained, as expressed in one of his early rhymes. About to close my subject I will here reiterate the opinion I mentioned to you when relating the termination of his boyish passion. I still think that the peculiar ailment causing death, and which for some time baffled the skill of the most eminent medical men, had its origin at the period of this early calamity. I judge that his brain was then injured, and that the subsequent overworking of the seat of thought brought on the spinal disease, which first paralysed his limbs and finally extinguished life. My brother left behind him a widow and an only child, his daughter Mary. I have stated that this beloved daughter had been, through the kind interference of the present Earl of Carlisle, placed on the Pension List at £40 a year. Shortly after her father's death she was placed at the convent school of Waterford, under the special care of the sister of Mr. Sheil, Mr. Sheil himself being one of her guardians. In the October of 1843 I visited her there, and spent the day in private discourse with her. She was then a very lovely girl, full of talent, full of endearing affection, giving promise of doing credit to her parent's name. The February following I received notice that she was very ill. She had shown symptoms of chest disease at Christmas, at first thought lightly of. When I visited her in February, consumption had painted two vivid spots of dazzling red upon her cheeks, and given a flaring lustre to her dark eyes. The June following she died, in her eighteenth year, and her coffin was placed on the yet sound timber encasing her fathers remains." When John Banim's daughter, his only surviving child thus died, his fellow-countrymen feared that his widow might not be considered a fit object for the bounty of the State. Such fear, however, owing to the active interposition of the late Sir Robert Peel, was not well founded. The following paragraph, from The Nation of Saturday, May 10th, 1845. describes all the matters of interest connected with the case, and the names appended show how warmly and how generally, despite opposite feelings of politics and religion, the memory of John Banim, the Scott of Ireland, was cherished :— "MRS. BANIM. Sir Robert Peel has acted most kindly and creditably with reference to this lady. A Committee of twenty-one, including the most active of the Conservative and Repeal writers and speakers, undertook to procure subscriptions for the purchase of a small annuity for her; but at an early meeting it was agreed to make one more application to Government for the re-grant to the widow of that pension so freely and so worthily given to the orphan of JOHN BANIM. The application was made through Mr. E. B. ROCHE,* the Member for Cork County, and SIR ROBERT PEEL has answered by saying that the pension list applicable to such a purpose is full; but that he will give £50 from the Royal bounty now to Mrs. Banim, and will guarantee her £40 a year on the first vacancy. Such acts so done introduce an amenity and generosity into public life; and whether PEEL did this from feeling or policy, he deserves equal credit, and we thank him for it. Nor are we less pleased at another instance of the successful co-operation of Irishmen, differing in creeds and minor politics, when a matter of national duty or sentiment is involved. This was the Committee that took up Mrs. Banim's case, and carried it to this fortunate issue: Daniel O'Connell, Esq., M.P. Samuel Ferguson, Esq., Thomas O'Hagan, Esq. J. Grey Porter, Esq. • Now Lord Fermoy. ED. |