The Press.
London, England, 1856-01-12 00:00:00

THE PRESS.

human piety : on a sudden, human passion broke forth;
the cold and polished world seemed to meet its end ; the
thin superlicies ot civilisation was torn asunder; the t'oun•
tains of the great deep Seemed opened ; impiety to meet
its end : the foundations of the world were out of course.
The article on " Mr. Thackeray as Artist and
Moralist," is one of the best of the many good
ones which have lately appeared; it contains a
distinct and, as far as we know, original theory of
him, which strikes us as very near the truth.
He never, says the reviewer, gives us a complete
haracter—never goes beyond just what man shows
of himself in society :
-

It is exactly as if you had put the people in actual life,
mixed constantly with them, known them as we know our
most intimate friends. Of course this is all that we can
know of a man, but not all we can imagine, nor all the
artist can, if he chroses, convey to us. We don't know
our nearest friends; we are always dependent on our
imagination.
There is a world of truth in thin remark ; and
towards forming this kind of special acquaintance
with his characters Mr. `thackeray affords us cer-
tainly no help. The criticism of Mr. Thackeray's
dialogue is also capital. We do not exactly agree
with the classification of his works, having never
thought "Vanity Fair" his masterpiece. But this is
a matter of taste. All lovers of literature will be
pleased with the article. The concluding paper, on
"Foreign Policy and the Next Campaign," israther a
medley—ably wiitten indeed, and full of shrewd and
caustic comment on our public men, whom, it is
justly said,—
We cannot follow, when they have ceased to lead—when
they have come to determine the right by merely assuming
the inevitable—a type of political morality which it was
the fatal merit of Sir Robert Peel to leave as a heritage to
his successors—

but at the same time characterised by a disregard of
what is practical, and of what history teaches us to
be our true interests.

The Irish Quarterly Review contains an interest.
ing article, entitled "A Quartette of Irish Poets,"
being an essay on the writings and genius of some
of those comparatively little known writers whose
productions are known wherever the language is
spoken. For spirited martial ballads it is impos-
sible to meet with anything superior to those in
which Davis celebrates the gallantry of the Irish
brigade in the service ot• France. " Clare's lira.
goons" and " The flower of Finae," are beautiful
and stirring lyrics. The article upon " Literary and
Artistic Life in Paris " is one of the most diverting
we have read f.r a long time. " Buliemianism "
is the subject of it ; and very strange, disrepu-
table, and low, it will doubtless app-ar to respecta•
ble English eyes. Any quotations from it would be
out of place here; but we can confidently recommend
it to the perusal of our less squeamish readers. The
number contains various other substantial and read-
able articles.

The Dublin University.—Sketches of Irish dra-
matic writers continue to be the principle at•
traction of this attractive magazine. No. X. contains
a great variety of names, among whom those of
James Kenney and Sir Martin Archer Shee are,
perhaps, the most conspicuous. Kenney, who died
in 1849, was au aston shingly prolific writer, and in
this list forty-one dramas are enumerated, among
which will be found many of those popular favorites
which seem likely to endure as long le: the English
stage. We need only mention Raising the Wind,
and Sweethearts and Wives, as specimens oh Kenney's
dramatic ability. "Love in Curl Papers" is in
amusing story in the Bentley style—" Missing Chap-
ters of Irish History," rather slow. But there are
three other very interesting papers, and thoroughly
in the best style of the Dublin, such as " The
Memoirs (.f Marshal Clarke" and "Twilight
Musings," which justify us in pronouncing the
January number fully equal to the past reputation
of the magazine.

The Monthly Review (No. I.) opens with a
cleverly-written article on Lieutenant Burton, butt it
is open to the objection to which so many reviews of
amateurs by professionals are open, of being unne-
cessarily and disproportionately severe. It bears all
the marks of being the work of a "sound, sullen,"
Oriental scholar; but he is too anxious to let us
know it. In the review of "Maud" there is nothing
original. The other articles possess average maga-
zine merit, and perhaps a little more, as they all
show signs of great carefulness.