The Sun.
London, England, 1864-02-20 00:00:00

1I

71 North British Review. No. LXXIX., Ed-
monston and Douglas.
Although several articles of importance lend an
especial interest to the current number of the North
British Review--conspicuous among them a reve-
rential treatise upon the' Vie de Jesus," such as will
hardly satisfy the egotism of M. Renan should it
fall under his observation— we have turned, as we
conjecture every person taking up this ever welcome
blue covered northern quarterly will turn, must
perforce turn, instinctively, inevitably, to the last
paper of all—the eighth—simply entitled
" Thackeray." Of all the many memorials of
Thackeray yet given to the eager multitude of his
lamenting admirers since his startling demise, this
paper in the 21 orth British is, to our mind, in-
comparably the very best. To our think-
ing, it is beyond all comparison the best.
Nothing, it is true, could by possibility have been
more exactly what it ought to have been, what we
should (in our thorough appreciation of the two
men) have wished it to have been, could our wishes
have had any influence whatever in shaping out the
result—nothing could possibly have been in more
exquisite taste as an expression of manly sorrow
and fraternal sympathy than Charles Dickens's In
Memoriam paper leading off the last number of the
Corrthill. But then it was—though of the best—so
very brief! As for Mr. Anthony Trollope's tribute
to Thackeray in the same number of Thackeray's
own especial periodical—well, it was most gene-
rous in tone and feeling, only, in point of
fact, it was too much so, for, while it was
all that, it was also to the last degree extra-
vagant. The finest novel in literature, the
most perfect creation of a character in the whole
range of fiction—why, these superlatives were
simply preposterous as applied even to " Esmond"
(that exquisite romance !), even to Colonel New-
come, that worthy companion to other imaginary
beings, such, let us say, as Sir John Falstaff or
Sir Roger al Coverley. The charming little me-
moir published by Mr. Hannay, first of all, in his
own Edinburgh newspaper, and afterwards in a sepa-
rate form as a slight pamphlet, was—in bulk, or
rather in the lack of bulk—insufficient. The com-
pilation prepared for the press with such surprising
rapidity by Mr. Theodore Taylor, and published so
very promptly the other day by Mr. Hotten of Pic-
cadilly, turns out to be, when the kindest thing that
can be said of it, is said of it, wholly and solely a
compilation. Bearing in mind, therefore, all that
has yet appeared in regard to Thackeray since the
date of his lamentably sudden demise, this eighth
and last contribution, in the current number
of the North British Review, is, we repeat,
to our thinking, the very best, because in
every way the fullest, the most searching in its
criticism, and, therefore, all things consi-
dered, the most satisfactory. It is enough of itself
to secure to the number, as we can hardly doubt but
what it will, an unusually large and widely scattered
circulation. Often, throughout it, we don't the
least atom in the world agree with the writer in the
North British in his estimate of this or that among
Thackeray's writings. For example, We cannot for
the life of us regard that great writer's Lovel the
Widower as in any one respect a masterpiece. On
the contrary, it seems to us, among all his
writings, to be in almost every particu-
lar one of the least satisfactory._ It is
the old story he had an often and often related
before, told once more all over again—the tone of
it, meanwhile, as caught from one of the most pro-
minent characters in the fiction, to wit that horrid
butler, being inconceivably vulgar. Barring, how-
ever, instances like these, where our own judgment
flies to quite an opposite conclusion to the one
arrived at by the North British Reviewer, we have
to thank the latter for a memorial chapter on
our great humorous satirist, Thackeray, the
eager perusal of which has on the whole given us
the liveliest satisfaction. Among the scattered
treasures of Thackeray's own inimitably
comical writings, not to be found among his
works, even in his collected Miscellanies, we have
reason to be grateful to the North British for giving
us in its grotesque entirety, what we have often
heard sung, but never remember before this to have
seen any where in print—Thackeray's wonderfully
'tinny impromptu song of—

LITTLE BILLEE.

There were three sailors in Bristol city,
Who took a boat and went to sea.
But first with beef and captain's biscuit,
And pickled pork they loaded she.
There was guzzling, Jack and gorging Jimmy,
And the youngest ho was little Billee.
Now very soon, they wore so greedy,
They didn't leave not one split pea.
Says guzzling Jack to gorging Jemmy,
"I am extremely hungarec."
Says gorging Jim to guzzling Jacky,
"We have no provisions, so we must eat we."
Says guzzling Jack to gorging Jimmy,
" 0 gorging Jim, what a fool you be I
There's little Bill is young and tender,
We're old and tough, so let's eat he."
"0 Bill, we're going to kill and eat you,
So undo the collar of your clic:title."
When Bill received this infumation
He used his pocket-hindkerchie.
" 0 let me say my catechism,
As my poor mammy taught to me."
"Make haste, make haste," says guzzling Jacky,
While Jim pulled out his snickersnee.
So Bill went up the roaintopgallant mast,
Where down he fell on his bended knee.
He scarce had come to the Twelfth Commandment,
When up he jumps, " There's land, I see.
There's Jerusalem and Madagascar,
And North and South A.merikee.
There's the British fleet a riding at anchor,
With Admiral Nelson, K.C.8."
So when they came to the Admiral's vessel,
He hanged fat Jack and flogged Jimmee.
But as for little Bill, he made him
The captain of a seventy-three.
Our obligations ought also to be expressed here to
the .North Brittsh. Review for recalling to our re-
membrance that charming dedication of our great
humorist's " Paris Sketch Book," in the very grace-
ful terms to his Tailor, M. Aretz, of No. 27 in the
Rue Richelieu. Several perfectly original reminis-
cences of Mr. Thackeray, here published for the
first time, lend a peculiar interest to a paper that
altogether claims from us our very cordial com-
mendation.