Thackeray

hey are all readable, almost all good, full of humour, and with some fine touches of pathos, most happy in their versification,

acob Omnium's Hoss may fairly be called a ballad, containing as it does a chronicle of a certain well-defined transaction; and the story of King Canute is a ballad,-one of the best that has been produced in our language in modern years. But such pieces as those called The End of the Play and Vanitas Vanita

f the effort. But if he write his book or poem simply because a book or poem is required from him, let his capability be what it may, it is not unlikely that he will do it badly. Thackeray occasionally suffered from the weakness thus produced. A ballad from Policeman X,-Bow Street Ballads they were first called,-was required by Punch, and had to be forthcoming, whatever might be the poet's humour, by a certain time. Jacob Omnium's Hoss

of them, for those who will look a little below the surface, there is something that will touch them. Thackeray, though he rarely uttered a word, either with his pen or his mouth, in which there was not an intention to reach our se

s to the Two Hundred Pounds, for whic

England who admire

sh jury worthy of th

each other at the

ildford 'sizes, this

ose of irony even there in regard to our vaunted freedom. With all your Magna Charta and your juries, what are you but snobs! There is nothing so often misguided as general indignation, and I think that in his judgment of outside things, in the measure which he usually took of them, Thackeray was very frequently misguided. A satirist by trade will learn to satirise everything, till the li

Court,

most p

amusi

t it, I'll

up a three-

-and-twe

ort it

the hon

r just or u

undred per c

and get you

not last

from tha

meless a

le, pickin

of Trut

thou hoar

hou shalt

t, Jacob

your i

up, Sir J

me up t

r fattening

nes of ho

less and unjust!" It is impossible not t

ich perhaps Barham's ballad on the coronation was the best, "When to Westminster the Royal Spinster and the Duke of Leinster all in order did repair!" Thackeray in some of his attempts has been equall

s holy

ndow p

diayva

orough

int th

w and ga

founta

rosse

ater-gods

organs

y, d'y

the Queen,

statue

rble

r, and o

ome i

me, I

n't ove

staym

ands in

s and a

ueal an

ales in

hants a

carts

ns for

lers and the

ughs li

ittle

ant whee

him g

de on

lenty to

s dros

Payte

cles from

cabs o

andthr

gons from N

Laplan

oss'd t

g cyars fro

but did not come till late on Saturday evening. The editor, who was among men the most good-natured and I should think the most forbearing, either could not, or in this case would not, insert it in t

Peninsular and Oriental Company, is so like Barham's coronation in the acco

air[7] stud

dhrums to t

nce to that

e of his C

irls and ric

he oys you s

ch oye you t

Jung Baha

great then

the other

oat, his bel

with preci

here, with

on his c

about his

in and the

irls, such ju

ion and n

of Tim, a

e high ge

rd de L'Huys, an

and his

ised, with m

e, Bob O'Gr

I, reader, were we from the West, and were the dear County Galway to send either of us to Parliament, would probably endeavour to drop the dear brogue of our country, and in doing so we should make some mistakes. It was these mistakes which Thackeray took for the natural Irish tone. He was amused to hear a major called "Meejor," but was unaware that the sound arose from Pat's affection of English softness of speech. The expression natural to the unadulterated Irishman would rather be "Ma-ajor." He discovers his own provincialism, and trying to be polite and urbane, he says "Meejor." In one of the lines I have quoted there occurs the word "troat." Such a sound never came naturally from the mouth of an Irishman. He puts in an h instead of omitting it, and says "dhrink." He comes to London, and finding out that he is wrong with

the French nation. The drummer, either by himself or by some of his family, has drummed through a century of French battling, caring much for his country and its glory, but understanding nothing of the causes for which he is enthusiastic. Whether for King, Republic, or Emperor, whether fighting and conquering or fig

the head of

r the blood

he came to

r fair neck

foul fingers t

ut she deigne

with a ro

th a blush

hat our coun

the Safet

ve the heart

ness, merc

o assist at

beat its lou

ed to justi

f the blood

uch foul re

the axe and

st fight of

'neath our gu

parte led

er permitted himself to use. The Chronicle of the Drum has not the finish which he achieved afterwards,

those Briti

the slaugh

Sir Hudson

of our

ll Russians,

sian and Au

I pray we m

them again

graphic descriptions ever put into verse. Nothing written by Thackeray shows more plainly his power over words and rhymes. He draws his picture withou

uall, upo

the waters

ouds began

was lashed

ering thund

tning jumped

ip and all

in wild

ind set up

oodle dog

cks began

d cow rais

d the tempe

and geese

rdage and

shriek an

y dashed o'e

the deck

shing wate

eamen in t

kers whose

of their

ptain, he

lors pullin

arter-deck

ed in the

passenge

tifully

ard jumps up

necessar

s they groaned

t, and moaned

nging wate

ed and ove

all in the

ess saints

arrowbones

ink the wor

urkish wo

tened and

ing and be

clutched the

ang "Alla

ah Bis-

ing waters

d them and

lled upon t

ht but li

the fleas

and bit

progeny

e main-de

ese greas

er pay fo

n moaned an

y Jewish

and lam

ing cons

lashing wa

y brats an

wl from bale

ed thousan

e White Squ

terly o'e

rally aware that the young lady in question lived in truth at Newton Limavady (with one d)

en or

Whig,

uld al

f Lim

Homer'

of Serge

y I'd

f Lim

ill I

l I go

ng unto

f Lim

as containing that mixture of burlesque with the pathetic which belonged so

eap treasures tha

t I love and I

f couches that's

ange thee, my ca

ed, high-bottomed

old back and t

ir morning when

love thee, old ca

*

the past and re

e then did all

tender, so fr

sits in my cane

ated herself in the chair of her old bachelor friend, she had not on a low dress and loosely-flowing drawing-room shawl, nor was there a footstool ready for her feet. I doubt also the head

se wooden statue he carried with him, escaped across the Borysthenes with all the Cossacks at his tail. It is very good fun; but not equal to many of t

regrets of life, with words so appropriate to its jollities? I do not know how far my readers will agree with me that to read it always must be a fresh pleasure; but in or

D OF BOUI

ere is in P

rhyme our lan

Petits Champ

et of the Li

inn, not ric

in comfort

n youth I o

owl of Bou

baisse a nob

oup, or bro

ch of all so

ich never c

ed peppers, mu

, garlic, roa

u eat at Ter

dish of Bo

ch and savou

hilosopher

sorts of natu

od victuals an

lier or B

y sure his

fast-day to

him up a Bo

the house st

he lamp is,

red-cheeked

ng oysters

till alive

t his drol

d smile befo

liked your

thing's chan

eur Terré, w

res and shrugs

s dead this

lot of sain

Terré's ru

nsieur requir

still cook Bo

ieur," 's the

Monsieur d

od one." "Tha

tin with ye

gone," I say

ustom'd co

h feasting and

dy and Boui

stomed corn

still is i

'd many a

wn chair sinc

I saw ye, c

a beard u

rizzled, gr

ait for Bou

u, old compa

ays here m

! quick, a f

them in the

d voices an

can quic

ard they take

e wine and B

as made a wond

hing Tom is

Augustus drive

old Fred in

head the gras

he world has

e set the cl

nd ate the B

ick the days

of a time

d sit, as no

e place,-bu

face was ne

r face look

poke and smil

one now to

*

as the Fate

and have don

lonely glass

of dear

ine, whate'er

down and s

heart, whate'e

he smoking B

t to ridicule such an assumption made on his behalf. But I think that his verses will be more popular than thos

TNO

r-i.e. C

he P. and