The Sun.
London, England, 1835-02-03 00:00:00

sages in the first chapters, for which, we regret to say,
we cannot find space ; especially one containing the in-
structions of Father O'Flanaghan, a shrewd worldly-
minded priest, with a dash of the Machiavellian po-
licy, so common among men who have been thrown on
their own resources very early in life. However, it is
too valuable to be entirely lost sight of, so we shall
give it, as an extract, in the course of a day or two;
contenting ourselves for the present with the more
amusing parts of the work—of which not the least cha-
racteristic are the following passages, taken from the
stage performances of our hero
" My second and third appearances were as Hamlet and
Harlequin, both which trying characters I personated the
same evening. Public opinion was seriously divided on this
occasion. The more intellectual among the community pre-
ferred my Hamlet ; the more mercurial, my Harlequin. If,
on so delicate a topic, it may be permitted me to volunteer an
opinion, I should say, that my Hamlet was the triumph of
mind, my Harlequin of muscle. I state this with the less
hesitation, because the world long entertained a notion that I
myself gave the preference to my Harlequin; whereas, it was
ever my fixed opinion that no parallel could possibly be insti-
tuted between the two characters. As well might the fervent
passion of a Shakspeare be compared to the sparkling vivacity
of a Sheridan."
s $ •w R @ s

" The manager had announced for representation a melo-
drame, in which, among other attractions, was to be intro-
duced a view of the Lakes of Killarney, painted expressly for
the occasion. The announcement took prodigiouly, and on
the appointed night the barn was crowded to suffocation. So
far all was well, but unluckily, just at the moment when we
were preparing to draw up the curtain, we discovered that
our scene-painter, in revenge for some real or fancied affront
offered him by the manager, had inoculated the entire land-
scape with charcoal ; and, not content with this lively sample
of independence, had actually eloped, and, accompanied by the
treasurer, carried off with him the night's proceeds.
" Here was a dilemma ! What, in heaven's name, was to be
done ? This question we kept perpetually asking each other,
but, alas not one of us all could answer it.
‘‘ Meantime the audience became clamorous for the curtain
to draw IT. Oaths, squalls, shouts of laughter, and threats of
vengeance, pealed in all directions ; and even the orchestra—
notwithstanding it consisted of two cracked fiddles and a
hurdy-gurdy—failed to allay the storm.
" In this predicament our manager proposed an appeal to
the audience. But here again a difficulty presented itself.
Who was to be the spokesman ? Each declined the honour
in favour of the other, until at length—no better scheme pre-
senting itself—it was resolved, nem. con., that we should all
of us attempt our escape out of a. window at the rear of the

stage.
" The manager was the first to make the experiment, and
being of a thin, spare habit, succeeded to his heart's content.
The rest followed in rotation, until it came to the manager's
wife's turn,who was an immensely fat woman, of singular exu-
berance in the rear, and who consequently stuck fast in the
window, with her neck and shoulders out, but the rest of her
person hanging suspended over the stage. In this grotesque
position, she kicked—shoved—and strove to wriggle herself
through the aperture. But in vain. Her obesity put a veto
on all hopes of Emancipation. I think I never saw a tighter
fit !
" At this critical juncture I was the only one left upon the
stage. There was evidently no chance of escape • so, as a
last resource—for the audience had by this time become fu-
rious—l summoned the orchestra, bid them strike up St.
Patrick's Day,' and then slowly drawing aside the curtain,
advanced in front of the stage, made a profound obeisance,
and pointing to the fat dame who hung wriggling from the
window, exclaimed aloud, Ladies and gentlemen, behold a
view of the Lakes of Killarney I'
" Whether the likeness struck them or not, I cannot say ;
but never was any appeal more successful. The audience lite-
rally shouted with laughter, nor was peace restored till they
had testified the excess of their satisfaction by a general fight,
in the bustle of which I effected my escape. How the mana-
ger's wife effected her escape, I know not. Possibly she is
sticking in the window to this hour."
There are few passages in the writings of our most
eloquent Divines more solemn than the Irishman's
apostrophe to London, as he enters it for thefirst time.
One, in Masillon and another in Blair, may be
thought more touching ; because the subject of them
admits of a more direct appeal to our feelings and our
hearts, through our earliest and holiest impressions ;
but we question whether in themselves they are
more earnest. This chapter appears, how-
ever, to be introduced for no other reason than to
show that the author, if it had hit his fancy,
could have given a very different tone to his
book from that which pervades it.
There is one peculiarity in the " Bashful Irishman,"
which, we think, reflects great credit on the sound
judgment and good taste of the author—namely, that
there is not, throughout the two volumes, the slightest
attempt at enlisting a national prejudice against either
the hero, or his generous-hearted countrymen. Field-
ing, in his " Jonathan Wild," and Butler, in his
" Hudibras," construct temples for themselves on
the prostration of their respective heroes and heroines ; but
the author of the tale before us appears too good-na-
tured to have entertained such an idea ; and though
the Irishman violates the most rigidly enforced maxims
of social life, yet his faults are charitably placed to
the account of his false position in society. If the
author, in the design of the book, selected a model, we
should say at once, that his eye was more frequently
d;:yeeted to Cervantes than Rabelais, or any of the
great rtsmes already mentioned. In short, the
" Bashful Irishman " neither is, nor was in-
tended to be, a transcript of Irish life, as it
is to be met with among the middling and higher
classes in that country ; for the author, at the close
of his tale, declares that his sole object was to repre-
sent one of that class of low adventurers who are to
be met with in every corner of the globe, and who,
by the dint of mere assumption, contrive to have
themselves recognized among strangers as people
of some consequence, but who in the long run
are sure to be discovered. Where we catch a
glimpse of the real Irish character, is when we are
introduced to Mr. Mahon and his amiable daughter,
who would do honour to any country. In a word, the
great merit of the " Bashful Irishman" consists in
the rich vein of sly, quaint, original humour which
runs through it, and the burlesque imitations 'of
the speeches of the great Agitators, particularly in the
trial scene, where old Norbury, O'Connell, and Shiel
play a most conspicuous part. The peroration of
Shiers speech for the prosecution, is certainly equal to
anything which ever yet has fallen from the lips of
that celebrated orator. We shall conclude our notice
of this very amusing work, with an extract from the
Irishman's adventures while officiating as a medical
practitioner in Wales :
" Oh Quackery, to him who is inspired by thy spirit, the
road to notoriety lies equally open, whether in a crowded city,
or a secluded Welch district. While Genius trudges a-foot,
and by many a thorny, circuitous route, ascends the hill of
fame, thou bowlest along in thy chariot, and attainest the
same sunny eminence with scarce an effort. Genius is the
simpleton who made his pilgrimage vv;th raw peas in his shoes.
Quackery, the knave who had the sagacity first to boil them.
" The Infallible Resuscitating Elixir,' as I styled my new
specific, was a medicine composed in nearly equal quantities
of bark, brick-dust, gin, and gunpowder, boiled over a slow
fire, and flavoured with Scotch snuff ! Its success at first was
equivocal, but when its virtues had been duly insisted on in
all the provincial journals, it brought a world of patients of the
lower orders to my shop ; and I had the tact to confine it ex-
clusively to them (well knowing that your civilized stomach is
apt to be fastidious), just as if it were the balsam of Fairy
Bias, whose singular property it was to kill one half the com-
munity while it cured the other.
" The neighbouring small farmers and their serving-men
were among the first to honour my Elixir with their patronage.
The bark was so bracing, the brick-dust so cleansing, the
gunpowder so stimulating, the gin so palatable, that no mat-
ter what the disorder might be, one ingredient or the other
was sure to suit. If the bark failed, there was still a chance
for the brick-dust, while the gin acting in spirited accordance
with the gunpowder, produced an internal commotion, which,
in ca'.!
where the gastric juice was languid, wonderfully faci-
litated digestion.
" To be sure, it was my lot now and then to lose a patient;
and once, I recollect, a low, obnoxious, pettifogging attorney
died under the potent: stimulus ; but singularly enough, his
death, so far from proving injoriogs, actnally did me service.
I was looked on as a village Brutus who bad dptrpyp4 a village
Cesar; and though I declined the flattering distinction, yet
my neighbours still persisted in giving me the credit of the
deed. Nay, so grateful were they to me foe Wing rid them
of an arrant rogue, that a few of those who had most suffered
by him, actually talked of purchasing me a piece of plate, in
commemoration of the patriotic action But my modesty
would not hoar of ptich a proposition."

" But, alas 1 even slumber itself failed to bring relief. The
grimmest—most fantastic—and most ridiculous visions passed
and repassed before my mind's eye. I dreamed that I was
seated in my shop, gazing upwards at the shelf where stood,
ranged in due order, a row of Elixir bottles, when—whiz !