THACKERAYANA 
 
LONDON : PRINTED BY 
 
 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE 
 
 AND PARLIAMENT STREET 
 
THACKERAYANA 
 
 NOTES &> ANECDOTES 
 
 fllttgfratefr bg ttmlg %\x Jgntteb Skcttljes 
 
 WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY 
 
 Depicting- Humorous Incidents in his School Life, and Favourite Scenes and 
 Characters in the Books of his Every-day Reading 
 
 
 ' L /^ 
 
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 CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 1875 
 
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 INTRODUCTION 
 
 LARGE portion of the public, and 
 especially that smaller section of the 
 community, the readers of books, will 
 not easily forget the shock, as uni- 
 versal as it was unexpected, which 
 was produced at Christmas, 1863, by 
 the almost incredible intelligence of 
 the death of William Makepeace 
 Thackeray. The mournful news was 
 repeated at many a Christmas table, 
 that he, who had led the simple 
 Colonel Newcome to his solemn and touching end, would 
 write no more. The circumstance was so startling from 
 the suddenness of the great loss which society at large had 
 sustained, that it was some time before people could 
 realise the dismal truth of the report. 
 
 It will be easily understood, without elaborating on so 
 saddening a theme, with how much keener a blow this 
 heavy bereavement must have struck the surviving relatives 
 of the great novelist. It does not come within our pro- 
 vince to speak of the paralysing effect of such emotion ; it 
 is sufficient to recall that Thackeray's death, with its over- 
 
vi INTRODUCTION. 
 
 whelming sorrow, left, in the hour of their trial, his two 
 young daughters deprived of the fatherly active mind 
 which had previously shielded from them the graver 
 responsibilities of life, with the additional anxiety of being 
 forced to act in their own interests at the very time such 
 exertions were peculiarly distracting. 
 
 It may be remembered that the author of ' Vanity 
 Fair ' had but recently erected, from his own designs, the 
 costly and handsome mansion in which he anticipated 
 passing the mellower years of his life ; a dwelling in 
 every respect suited to the high standing of its owner, 
 and, as has been said by a brother writer, ' worthy of one 
 who really represented literature in the great world, and 
 who, planting himself on his books, yet sustained the 
 character of his profession with all the dignity of a gen- 
 tleman.' 
 
 In such a house a portion of Thackeray's fortune might 
 be reasonably invested. To the occupant it promised the 
 enjoyment he was justified in anticipating, and was a solid 
 property to bequeath his descendants when age, in its 
 sober course, should have called him hence. But little 
 more than a year later, to those deadened with the effects 
 of so terrible a bereavement as their loss must have 
 proved when they could realise its fulness, this house must 
 have been a source of desolation. Its oppressive size, its 
 infinitely mournful associations, the hopeful expectations 
 with which it had been erected, the tragic manner in which 
 the one dearest to them had there been stricken down ; 
 with all this acting on the sensibilities of unhealed grief, 
 the building must have impressed them with peculiar 
 aversion ; and hence it may be concluded that their first 
 
INTRODUCTION. vii 
 
 desire was to leave it. The removal to a house of dimen- 
 sions more suitable to their requirements involved the 
 sacrifice of those portions of the contents of the larger 
 mansion with which it was considered expedient to dis- 
 pense ; and thus Messrs. Christie, Manson, and Woods 
 announced for sale a selection from the paintings, draw- 
 ings, part of the interesting collection of curious porcelain, 
 and such various objects of art or furniture as would other- 
 wise have necessitated the continuance of a house as large 
 as that at Palace Green. These valuable objects were 
 accordingly dispersed under the hammer, March 16 and 17, 
 1864, and on the following day the remainder of Thack- 
 eray's library was similarly offered to public competition. 
 To anyone familiar with Thackeray's writings, and more 
 especially with his Lectures and Essays, this collection of 
 books must have been both instructive and fascinating ; 
 seeing that they faithfully indicated the course of their 
 owner's readings, and through them might be traced many 
 an allusion or curious fact of contemporaneous manners, 
 which, in the hands of this master of his craft, had been 
 felicitously employed to strengthen the purpose of some 
 passage of his own compositions. 
 
 Without converting this introduction into a catalogue 
 of the contents of Thackeray's library it is difficult to par- 
 ticularise the several works found on his book-shelves ; it 
 is sufficient to note that all the authorities which have been 
 quoted in his Essays were fitly represented ; that such 
 books — in many instances, obscure and trivial in them- 
 selves, as threw any new or curious light upon persons or 
 things — on the private and individual, as well as the public 
 or political history of men, and of the events or writings to 
 
 / 
 
viii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 which their names owe notoriety, of obsolete fashions or of 
 the changing customs of society — were as numerous as the 
 most ardent and dilettanti of Thackeray's admirers could 
 desire. 
 
 The present volume is devised to give a notion, neces- 
 sarily restricted, of certain selections from these works, 
 chiefly chosen with a view of farther illustrating the bent 
 of a mind, with the workings of which all who love the 
 great novelist's writings may at once be admitted to the 
 frankest intercourse. It has been truly said that Thackeray 
 was ' too great to conceal anything ; ' the same candour is 
 extended to his own copies of the books which told of 
 times and company wherein his imagination delighted to 
 dwell ; for, pencil in hand, he has recorded the impressions of 
 the moment without reserve, whether whimsical or realistic. 
 
 A collection of books of this character is doubly inter- 
 esting. On the one hand were found the remnants of earlier 
 humorists, the quaint old literary standards which became, 
 in the hands of their owner, materials from which were 
 derived the local colouring of the times concerning which 
 it was his delightful fancy to construct romances, to philo- 
 sophise, or to record seriously. 
 
 On the other hand, the present generation was fitly 
 represented. To most of the writers of his own era it was 
 an honour that a presentation copy of their literary off- 
 spring should be found in the library of the foremost 
 author, whose friendship and open-handed kindness to the 
 members of his profession was one of many brilliant traits of 
 a character dignified by innumerable great qualities, and 
 tenderly shaded by instances uncountable of generous 
 readiness to confer benefits, and modest reticence to let the 
 fame of his goodness go forth. 
 
INTRODUCTION. ix 
 
 Presentation copies from his contemporaries were there- 
 fore not scarce ; and whether the names of the donors were 
 eminent, or as yet but little heard of, the creatures of their 
 thoughts had been preserved with unvarying respect. The 
 ' Christmas Carol/ that memorable Christmas gift which 
 Thackeray has praised with fervour unusual even to his 
 impetuous good-nature, was one of the books. The copy, 
 doubly interesting from the circumstances both of its 
 authorship and ownership, was inscribed in the well-known 
 hand of that other great novelist of the nineteenth century, 
 4 W. M. Thackeray, from Charles Dickens {whom he made 
 very happy once a long way from home)! Competition 
 was eager to secure this covetable literary memorial, which 
 may one day become historical ; it was knocked down at 
 25/. ioj\, and rumour circulated through the press, without 
 foundation, we believe with regret, that it had been secured 
 for the highest personage in the State, whose desire to 
 possess this volume would have been a royal compliment 
 to the community of letters. 
 
 Nor were books with histories wanting. George Au- 
 gustus Sala, in the introduction to his ingenious series of 
 ' Twice Round the Clock,' published in 1 S62, remarks with 
 diffidence, ' It would be a piece of sorry vanity on my part 
 to imagine that the conception of a Day and Night in Lon- 
 don is original. I will tell you how I came to think of the 
 scheme ©f " Twice Round the Clock." Four years ago, in 
 Paris, my then master in literature, Mr. Charles Dickens, 
 lent me a little thin octavo volume, which I believe had 
 been presented to him by another master of the craft, Mr. 
 Thackeray.' A slight resemblance to this opuscule was 
 offered in ' A View of the Transactions of London and 
 Westminster from the Hours of Ten in the Evening till 
 
x INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Five in the Morning,' which was secured at Thackeray's 
 sale for forty-four shillings. 
 
 Thus, without presuming to any special privileges, we 
 account for the selection of literary curiosities which form 
 settings for the fragments gathered in ' Thackerayana.' 
 The point of interest which rendered this dispersion of cer- 
 tain of Thackeray's books additionally attractive to us may 
 be briefly set forth. 
 
 In looking through the pages of odd little volumes, and 
 on the margins and fly-leaves of some of the choicest 
 works, presentation copies or otherwise, it was noticed that 
 pencil or pen-and-ink sketches, of faithful conceptions 
 suggested by the texts, touched in most cases with re- 
 markable neatness and decision, were abundantly dispersed 
 through various series. 
 
 It is notorious that their owner's gift of dexterous 
 sketching was marvellous ; his rapid facility, in the minds of 
 those critics who knew him intimately, was the one great 
 impediment to any serious advancement in those branches 
 of art which demand a lengthy probationship ; and to this 
 may be referred his implied failure, or but partial success, 
 in the art which, to him, was of all cultivated accomplish- 
 ments the most enticing. The fact has been dwelt on 
 gravely by his friends, and was a source of regret to cer- 
 tain eminent artists best acquainted with his remarkable 
 endowments. 
 
 The chance of securing as many of these characteristic 
 designs as was in our power directed the selection of books 
 which came into our possession in consequence of the sale 
 of Thackeray's library ; it was found they were richer in" 
 these clever pencillings than had been anticipated. 
 
INTRODUCTION. xi 
 
 An impulse thus given, the excitement of increasing 
 the little gathering was carried farther ; many volumes 
 which had been dispersed were traced, or were offered 
 spontaneously when the fact of the collection became 
 known ; from books wherein, pencil in hand, passages had 
 been noted with sprightly little vignettes, not unlike the 
 telling etchings which the author of ' Vanity Fair ' caused 
 to be inserted in his own published works, we became 
 desirous of following the evidence of this faculty through 
 other channels ; seeing we held the Alpha, as it were, 
 inserted in the Charter House School books, and the latter 
 pencillings, which might enliven any work of the hour 
 indifferently, as it excited the imagination, grotesque or 
 artist-like, as the case might be, of the original reader, 
 whether the book happened to be a modest magazine in 
 paper or an edition de luxe in morocco. 
 
 A demand created, the supply, though of necessity 
 limited, was for a time forthcoming ; the energy, which 
 fosters a mania for collecting, was aided by one of those 
 unlooked-for chances which sustain such pursuits, and, from 
 such congenial sources as the early companions of the 
 author, sufficient material came into our possession to 
 enable us to trace Thackeray's graphic ambition through- 
 out his career with an approach to consistency, following 
 his efforts in this direction through his school days, in 
 boyish diversions, and among early favourites of fiction ; as 
 an undergraduate of Cambridge ; on trips to Paris ; as a 
 student at Weimar and about Germany ; through maga- 
 zines, to Paris, studying in the Louvre ; to Rome, dwell- 
 ing among artists ; through his contributions to ' Fraser's,' 
 and that costly abortive newspaper speculation the ' Consti- 
 
xii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 tutional ; ' through the slashing Bohemian days, to the 
 period of ' Vanity Fair ; ' through successes, repeated and 
 sustained — Lectures and Essays ; through travels at home 
 and abroad — to America, from Cornhill to Grand Cairo, to 
 Scotland, to Ireland, ' Up the Rhine,' Switzerland, Italy, 
 Belgium, Holland, and wherever Roundabout ' sketches 
 by the way ' might present themselves. 
 
 The study which had attracted an individual, elicited 
 the sympathy of a larger circle ; the many who preserve 
 mementos similar to those dispersed through ' Thacke- 
 rayana' enlarged on the general interest of the materials, 
 and especially upon the gratification which that part of the 
 public representing Thackeray's admirers would discover in 
 such original memorials of our eminent novelist ; and 
 which, from the nature of his gifts, and the almost unique 
 propensity for their exercise, would be impossible in the 
 case of almost any other man of kindred genius. 
 
 Selections from the sketches were accordingly produced 
 in facsimile, only such subjects being used as, from their 
 relation to the context, derived sufficient coherence to be 
 generally appreciable. 
 
 The writer is aware that many such memorials exist, 
 some of them unquestionably of greater worth in them- 
 selves than several that are found in the present gathering ; 
 but it is not probable, either from their private nature, the 
 circumstances of their ownership, or from the fact that, in 
 their isolated condition, they do not illustrate any particular 
 stage of their author's progress, that the public will ever 
 become familiar with them. 
 
 1 Thackerayana' is issued with a sense of imperfections ; 
 many more finished or pretentious drawings might have 
 
INTRODUCTION. xiii 
 
 been offered, but the illustrations have been culled with a 
 sense of their fitness to the subject in view. It is the 
 intention to present Thackeray in the aspect his ambition 
 preferred, — as a sketcher ; his pencil and pen bequeath us 
 matter to follow his career ; we recognise that delightful 
 gift, a facility for making rapid little pictures on the inspi- 
 ration of the moment ; it is an endless source of pleasure to 
 the person who may exercise this faculty, and treasures up 
 the most abundant and life-like reminiscences for the de- 
 lectation of others. It will be understood as no implied 
 disparagement of more laboured masterpieces if we observe 
 that the composition of historical works, the conception 
 and execution of chefs-d'ceuvre, are grave, lengthy, and 
 systematic operations, not to be lightly intruded on ; they 
 involve much time and preparation, many essays, failures, 
 alterations, corrections, much grouping of accessories, posing 
 of models, and setting of lay-figures, — they become op- 
 pressive after a time, and demand a strain of absorption 
 to accomplish, and an effort of mind to appreciate, which 
 are not to be daily exerted ; long intervals are required to 
 recruit after such labours ; but the bright, ready croquis of 
 the instant, if not profound, embalms the life that is passing 
 and incessant ; the incident too fleeting to be preserved on 
 the canvas, or in a more ambitious walk of the art, lives in 
 the little sketch-book ; it is grateful to the hand which jots 
 it down, and has the agreeable result of being able to 
 extend that pleasure to all who may glance therein. If it 
 was one of Thackeray's few fanciful griefs that he was not 
 destined for a painter of the grand order, it doubtless con- 
 soled him to find that the happier gift of embodying that 
 abstract creation — an idea — in a few strokes of a pencil 
 
t I 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 was his beyond all question ; and this graceful faculty he 
 was accustomed to exercise so industriously, that myriad 
 examples survive of the originality of his invention as an 
 artist, in addition to the brilliant fancy and sterling truth 
 to be found in his works as an author. 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Voyage from India — Touching at St. Helena — Schooldays at the 
 Charterhouse — Early Reminiscences — Sketches in School Books — 
 Boyish Scribblings — Favourite Fictions — Youthful Caricatures — Sou- 
 venirs of the Play — Holidays — Visits to Parents . . ... I 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Early Favourites — The Castle of Otranto— Rollin's Ancient History . 20 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Thackeray's last visit to the Charterhouse — College days — Pendennis at 
 Cambridge — Sketches of University worthies — Sporting subjects — Pen's 
 popularity — Etchings at Cambridge — Pencillings in old authors — Pic- 
 torial Puns — The 'Snob,' a Literary and Scientific Journal — 'Tim- 
 buctoo,' apprize poem 49 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Early Favourites — Fielding's 'Joseph Andrews' — Imitations of Fielding's 
 novels — 'The Adventures of Captain Greenland' — 'Jack Connor' — 
 * Chrysal, or the Adventures of a Guinea ' .74 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Continental Ramblings — A Stolen Trip to Paris — Calais and the Paris 
 Road in 1830 — French Jottings — Thackeray's Residence at Weimar — 
 Contributions to Albums — Burlesque State — German Sketches and 
 Studies — The Weimar Theatre — Goethe — Weimar re-visited — Sou- 
 venirs of the Saxon city — 'Journal kept during a Visit to Germany ' . 92 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Thackeray's Predilections for Art — A Student in Paris — First Steps in 
 the Career — An Art Critic — Impressions of Turner — Introduction to 
 Marvy's English Landscape Painters — Early connection with Litera- 
 ture — Michael Angelo Titmarsh, a contributor to ' Fraser's Magazine ' 
 — French Caricature under Louis Philippe — Political Satires — A Young 
 Artist's life in Paris— Growing Sympathy with Literature — Paris 
 Sketches 116 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Thackeray on the staff of ' Fraser's Magazine ' — Early connection with 
 Maginn and his Colleagues — The Maclise Cartoon of the ' Fraserians' — 
 Thackeray's Noms de Plume — Charles Yellowplush as a Reviewer — 
 Skelton and his ' Anatomy of Conduct ' — Thackeray's proposal to 
 Dickens to illustrate his novels — Gradual growth of Thackeray's noto- 
 riety — His genial admiration for ' Boz ' — Christmas Books and Dickens's 
 ' Christmas Carol ' — Return to Paris — Execution of Fieschi and Lace- 
 naire — Daily Newspaper Venture — The ' Constitutional and Public 
 Ledger ' — Thackeray as Paris Correspondent — Dying Speech of the 
 'Constitutional' — Thackeray's marriage — Increased application to 
 Literature — The ' Shabby Genteel Story ' — Thackeray's article in the 
 'Westminster' on George Cruikshank — First Collected Writings — 
 The ' Paris Sketch Book,' illustrated by the Author — Dedication of M. 
 Aretz — ' Comic Tales and Sketches,' with Thackeray's original illustra- 
 tions — The 'Yellowplush Papers' — The ' Second Funeral of Napo- 
 leon,' with the 'Chronicle of the Drum' —The 'History of Samuel 
 Titmarsh and the great Hoggarty Diamond' — ' Fitzboodle's Confes- 
 sions' — The 'Irish Sketch Book,' with the Author's illustrations — 
 The 'Luck of Barry Lyndon' — Contributions to the 'Examiner' — 
 Miscellanies — ' Carmen Lilliense' — ' Notes of a Journey from Cornhill 
 to Grand Cairo,' with the Author's illustrations — Interest excited in 
 Titmarsh — Foundation of ' Punch ' — Thackeray's Contributions — His 
 comic designs — The 'Fat Contributor' — 'Jeames's Diary '—'Prize 
 Novelists,' &c. 130 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Increasing reputation — Later writings in ' Fraser' — ' Mrs. Perkins's Ball, 
 with Thackeray's illustrations — Early Vicissitudes of ' Pencil Sketches 
 of English Society' — Thackeray's connection with the Temple — 
 Appearance of ' Vanity Fair ' with the Author's original illustrations — 
 Appreciative notice in the ' Edinburgh Review ' — The impression pro- 
 
CONTENTS. xvii 
 
 PAGE 
 
 duced— 'Our Street,' with Titmarsh's Pencillings of some of its In- 
 habitants—The 'History of Pendennis,' illustrated by the Author — 
 ' Dr. Birch and his Young Friends,' with illustrations by M, A. Tit- 
 marsh — 'Rebecca and Rowena' — The Dignity of Literature and the 
 ' Examiner ' and l Morning Chronicle ' newspapers — Sensitiveness to 
 Hostile Criticism — The ' Kickleburys on the Rhine, ' with illusti-ations 
 by M. A. Titmarsh — Adverse bias of the ' Times ' newspaper — Thack- 
 eray's reply — An 'Essay on Thunder and Small Beer ' 152 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Commencement of the Series of early Essayists — Thackeray as a Lec- 
 turer — The ' English Humorists of the Eighteenth Century ' — Char- 
 lotte Bronte at Thackeray's readings — The Lectures repeated in Edin- 
 burgh — An invitation to visit America — Transatlantic popularity — 
 Special success attending the reception of the ' English Humorists ' in 
 the States — ' Week-day Preachers ' — Enthusiastic Farewell — Appleton's 
 New York edition of Thackeray's Works ; the Author's Introduction, 
 and remarks on International Copyright — Thackeray's departure — : Cor- 
 dial impression bequeathed to America — The ' History of Henry 
 Esmond, a story of Queen Anne's Reign' — The writers of the Augustan 
 Era — The ' Newcomes ' — An allusion to George Washington misunder- 
 stood — A second visit to America— Lectures on the 'Four Georges' 
 — The series repeated at home — Scotch sympathy — Thackeray proposed 
 as a candidate to represent Oxford in Parliament — His liberal views and 
 impartiality ........... 166 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Curious authors from Thackeray's library, indicating the course of his 
 readings — Early essayists illustrated with the humorist's pencillings — 
 Bishop Earle's ' Microcosmography ; a piece of the World Characterised,' 
 1628 — An 'Essay in Defence of the Female Sex,' 1697 — Thackeray's 
 interest in works on the Spiritual World — ' Flagellum Dsemonum, et 
 Fustis Doemonum. Auctore R. P. F. Hieronymo Mengo,' 1727 — 'La 
 Magie et L'Astrologie,' par L. F. Alfred Maury — 'Magic, Witchcraft, 
 Animal Magnetism, Hypnotism, and Electro Biology,' by James Baird, 
 1852 183 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ENGLISH ESSAYISTS OF THE GEORGIAN ERA. 
 
 Early Essayists whose writings have furnished Thackeray with the acces- 
 sories of portions of his Novels and Lectures — Works from the 
 
 a 
 
xviii CONTENTS. 
 
 I'ACE 
 
 Novelist's Library, elucidating his course of reading for the preparation 
 of his ' Lectures' : Henry Esmond,' the 'Virginians,' &c. — Character- 
 istic passages from the lucubrations of the Essayists of the Augustan 
 Era illustrated with original Marginal sketches, suggested by the Text, 
 by Thackeray's hand — The ' Tatler ' — Its history and influence — Re- 
 • forms introduced by the purer style of the Essayists — The Literature 
 of Queen Anne's Reign — Thackeray's love for the writings of that period 
 — His remarks on Addison and Steele ; the ' Early Humorists ' and 
 their contemporaries— His picture of their times — Thackeray's gift of 
 reproducing their masterly and simple style of composition, their irony, 
 and playful humour — Extracts from notable essays ; illustrated with 
 original pencillings from the Series of The ' Tatler,' 1709 . .218 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 thackeray's researches amongst the writings of the 
 early essayists — continued. 
 
 Extracts of characteristic Passages from the Works of ' the Humorists,' 
 from Thackeray's Library, illustrated with original Sketches by the 
 Author's hand — The Series of the 'Guardian,' 1713 — Introduction 
 —Steele's Programme — Authors who contributed to the ' Guardian ' — 
 Paragraphs and Pencillings . . . . . . . .276 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THACKERAY'S RESEARCHES AMONGST THE WRITINGS OF THE 
 
 early essayists— continued. 
 
 Characteristic Passages from the Works of Humorous Writers of the ' Era 
 of the Georges,' from Thackeray's Library, illustrated with original 
 Marginal Sketches by the Author's hand — The 'Humorist,' 1724 — 
 
 Extracts and Pencillings ......... 299 
 
 • 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THACKERAY'S RESEARCHES AMONGST THE WRITINGS OF THE 
 
 early essayists — continued. 
 
 Characteristic Passages from the Works of the ' Humorists,' from 
 Thackeray's Library, illustrated by the Author's hand, with Marginal 
 Sketches suggested by the Text — The 'World,' 1753 — Introduction 
 — Its Difference from the Earlier Essays — Distinguished Authors who 
 contributed to the ' World ' — Paragraphs and Pencillings . . . 318 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 thackeray's familiarity with the writings of the 
 satirical essayists — continued. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Characteristic Passages from the Compositions of the ' Early Humor- 
 ists,' from Thackeray's Library, illustrated by the Author's hand with 
 original Marginal Sketches suggested by the Text — The ' Connoisseur,' 
 1754 — Introduction — Review of Contributors — Paragraphs and Pen- 
 cillings 357 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 thackeray's researches amongst the writings of the 
 
 EARLY ESSAYISTS COJltilllied. 
 
 Characteristic Passages from the Works of the • Humorists,' from 
 Thackeray's Library, illustrated by the Author's hand with Marginal 
 Sketches suggested by the Text— The 'Rambler,' 1749-50 — Introduc- 
 tion — Its Author, Dr. Johnson — Paragraphs and Pencillings . . 370 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THACKERAY'S FAMILIARITY WITH THE WRITINGS OF THE 
 
 satirical essayists — continued. 
 
 Characteristic Passages from the Works of ' Early Humorists, ' from 
 Thackeray's Library, illustrated by the Author's hand with original 
 Marginal Sketches suggested by the Text — The ' Mirror,' Edinburgh, 
 1779-80 — Introduction — The Society in which the 'Mirror' and 
 ' Lounger ' "originated — Notice of Contributors — Paragraphs and Pen- 
 cillings ............ 408 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Thackeray as an Illustrator — Allusions to Caricature Drawing found 
 throughout his Writings — Skits on Fashion — Titmarsh on Artists, Men, 
 and Clothes — Sketches of the 'Fraser' Period — Jottings of the time of 
 ' Vanity Fair ' — Of the 'English Humorists ' — 'Esmond,' and the Days 
 of Qaeen Anne — ' The Virginians, ' and the Early Georges — Bohemian- 
 ism in youth — Sketches of Contemporary Habits and Manners — 
 Imaginative Illustrations to Romances — Skill in Ludicrous Parody — 
 Burlesque of the ' Official Handbook of Court and State ' . . . 436 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Thackeray as a Traveller — Journey in Youth from India to England — 
 Little Travels at Home — Sojourn in Germany — French Trips — Resi- 
 dence in Paris— Studies in Rome — Sketches and Scribblings in Guide 
 Books — Little Tours and Wayside Studies — Brussels — Ghent and the 
 Beguines — Bruges — Croquis in Murray's ' Handbooks to the Conti- 
 nent' — Up the Rhine — ' From Cornhill to Grand Cairo ' — Journeys to 
 America — Switzerland — A ' Leaf out of a Sketch Book' — The Grisons 
 — Verona — ' Roundabout Journeys ' — Belgium and Holland . -455 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Commencement of the 'Cornhill Magazine' — 'Roundabout Papers' — 
 ' Lovel the Widower ' — The ' Adventures of Philip on his Way through 
 the World ' — Lectures on the ' Four Georges ' — Editorial Penalties — 
 The 'Thorn in the Cushion'— Harass from disappointed Contributors 
 — Vexatious Correspondents — Withdrawal from the arduous post of 
 Editor — Building of Thackeray's House in Kensington Palace Gardens, 
 Christmas 1863 — Death of the great Novelist — The unfinished Work — 
 Circumstances of the Author's last Illness 485 
 
THACKERAYANA 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Voyage from India — Touching at St. Helena — School days at the Charter- 
 house — Early Reminiscences — Sketches in School Books — Boyish Scribblings 
 — Favourite Fictions — Youthful Caricatures — Souvenirs of the Play — Holi- 
 days — Visits to Parents. 
 
 The fondness of Thackeray for lingering 
 amidst the scenes of a boy's daily life in a 
 public grammar school, has generally been 
 attributed to his early education at the 
 Charterhouse, that celebrated monastic- 
 looking establishment in the neighbour- 
 hood of Smithneld, which he scarcely dis- 
 guised from his readers as 
 the original of the familiar 
 ' Greyfriars ' of his works 
 of fiction. Most of our 
 novelists have given us in 
 various forms their school 
 reminiscences ; but none 
 have reproduced them so 
 frequently, or dwelt upon 
 them with such manifest 
 bias towards the subject, 
 as the author of 'Vanity- 
 Fair,' ' The Newcomes,' 
 and 'The Adventures of 
 Philip.' It is pleasing to think that this habit, which Thackeray 
 was well aware had been frequently censured by his critics as 
 carried to excess, was, like his partiality for the times of Queen 
 
 R 
 
 View of Life as seen through the Charterhouse Gates 
 
THA CKERA VAN A. 
 
 Anne and the Georges, in some degree due to the traditional re- 
 verence of his family for the memory of their great-grandfather, Dr. 
 Thomas Thackeray, the well-remembered head-master of Harrow. 
 Sketches of Indian life and Anglo-Indians generally are abun- 
 dantly interspersed through Mr. Thackeray's writings, but he left 
 India too early to have profited much by Indian experiences. He 
 is said, however, to have retained so strong an impression of the 
 scene of his early childhood, as to have long wished to visit it, and 
 recall such things as were still remem- 
 bered by him. In his seventh year he 
 was sent to England, when the ship 
 
 An Exile 
 
 having touched at St. Helena, he was 
 taken up to have a glimpse of Bowood, 
 and there saw that great Captain at A Sentry 
 
 whose name the rulers of the earth had so often trembled. It is 
 remarkable that in his little account of the second funeral of Na- 
 poleon, which he witnessed in Paris in 1840, no allusion to this fact 
 appears ; but he himself has described it in one of his latest works. 
 ' When I first saw England,' he says, ' she was in mourning for the 
 young Princess Charlotte,* the hope of the empire. I came from 
 
 * The Princess Charlotte died Nov. 6, 181 7. 
 
EARLY REMINISCENCES. 
 
 India as a child, and our ship touched at an island on our way- 
 home, where my black servant took me a long walk over rocks 
 and hills, until we reached a garden where we saw a man walking. 
 " That is he ! " cried the black man ; " that is Bonaparte ! He eats 
 three sheep every day, and all the children he can lay his hands 
 on ! " With the same childish attendant,' he adds, ' I remember 
 peeping through the colonnade at Carlton House, and seeing the 
 abode of the Prince Regent. I can yet see the guards pacing 
 
 The 
 It is 
 
 A highly respectable Member of Society A Master of Arts 
 
 before the gates of the palace. The palace ! What palace ? 
 palace exists no more than the palace of Nebuchadnezzar, 
 but a name now.' * 
 
 We fancy that Thackeray was placed under the protection of 
 his grandfather, William Makepeace Thackeray, who had settled 
 with a good fortune, the fruit of his. industry in India, at Hadley, 
 near Chipping Barnet, a little village, in the churchyard of which 
 
 * * The Four Georges,' p. in. 
 
 B 2 
 
THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 lies buried the once-read Mrs. Chapone, the authoress of the 
 
 ' Letters on the Improvement of the Mind/ the correspondent of 
 
 Richardson, and the intimate friend of the 
 
 learned Mrs. Carter and other blue-stocking 
 
 ladies of that time. 
 
 In the course of time — we believe in his 
 
 twelfth year — Thackeray was sent to the 
 
 Charterhouse School, and remained there as 
 
 a boarder in the house of Mr. Penny. He 
 
 appears in the Charterhouse records for the 
 
 year 1822 as a boy on the tenth form. In the 
 
 next year we find him promoted to the seventh 
 
 form ; in 1 824 to the fifth ; and in 1828, when 
 
 he had become a day-boy, or one residing with 
 
 his friends, we find him in the honourable 
 
 positions of a first-form boy and one of the 
 
 monitors of the school. He was, however, 
 
 never chosen as one of the orators, or those 
 
 who speak the oration on the Founder's Day, 
 
 nor does he appear among the writers of the 
 
 Charterhouse odes, which have been col- 
 lected and printed from time to time in a 
 
 small volume. We need feel no surprise that 
 
 Thackeray's ambition did not lead him to 
 
 seek this sort of distinction ; like most keen 
 
 humorists he preferred exercising his powers of satire in bur- 
 lesquing these somewhat trite compositions to contributing seri- 
 ously to swell their num- 
 bers. Prize poems ever 
 yielded the novelist a de- 
 lightful field for his sar- 
 casms. 
 
 While pursuing his 
 studies at ' Snuffle/ as the 
 Carthusians were pleased 
 to style ' Grey friars/ Thac- 
 keray gave abundant evi- 
 dences of the gifts that 
 
 were in him. He scribbled juvenile verses, towards the close of 
 
 A Man of Letters 
 
 Early efforts at Drawing 
 
EARLY REMINISCENCES. 
 
 5 
 
 his school days, displaying taste for the healthy sarcasm, which 
 afterwards became one of his distinctive qualities, at the expense 
 of the prosaic compositions set down as school verses. In one of 
 his class books, 'Thucydides,' with his autograph, ' Charter House, 
 1827/ is scribbled two verses in which the tender passion is 
 treated somewhat realistically : — 
 
 Love 's like a mutton chop, 
 
 Soon it grows cold ; 
 All its attractions hop 
 
 Ere it grows old. 
 Love 's like the cholic sure, 
 Both painful to endure ; 
 Brandy 's for both a cure, 
 
 So I've been told. 
 
 When for some fair the swain 
 
 Burns with desire 
 In Hymen's fatal chain, 
 
 Eager to try her, 
 He weds as soon as he can, 
 And jumps — unhappy man — 
 Out of the frying pan 
 
 Into the fire. 
 
 As to the humorist's pencil, even throughout these early days, it 
 must have been an unfailing source of delight, not only to the owner 
 but to the companions of his form. ' Draw us some pictures,' the 
 boys would say, and straightway 
 down popped a caricature of a 
 master on slate or exercise pa- 
 per. Then school books were 
 brought into requisition, and the 
 fly-leaves were adorned with 
 whimsical travesties of the sub- 
 jects of their contents. Abbe 
 Barthelemy's 'Travels of Ana- 
 charsis the Younger ' suggested the figure of a wandering minstrel, 
 with battered hat and dislocated flageolet, piping his way through 
 the world in the dejected fashion those forlorn pilgrims might have 
 
THACKERAYAXA. 
 
 presented themselves to the charitable dwellers in Charterhouse 
 Square ; while Anacharsis, Junior, habited in classic guise, was sent 
 (pictorially) tramping the high road from Scythia to Athens, with 
 
 stick and bundle over his back, a wallet 
 at his side, sporting a family umbrella 
 of the defunct ' gingham ' species as a 
 staff, and furnished with lace-up hob- 
 nailed boots of the shape, size, and 
 weight popularly approved by navvies. 
 Then Ainsworth's Latin Dictionary 
 was turned into a sketch book, and sup- 
 plemented with studies of head-masters, 
 a Gmgham early conceptions of Roman warriors, 
 
 primitive Carthusians indulging disrespectful gestures, known as 
 ' sights,' at the rears of respectable governors, and boys of the 
 neighbouring ' blue coat ' foundation, their costume completed 
 with the addition of a fool's or dunce's long-eared cap. 
 
 Fantastic designs, even when marked by the early graphic 
 talent which Thackeray's rudest scribblings display, are apt to en- 
 tail unpleasant consequences when discovered in school-books, 
 and greater attractions were held 
 out by works of fiction. 
 
 Pages of knight- errantry were 
 the things for inspiration : Quix- 
 ote, Orlando Furioso, Valentine 
 and Orson, the Seven Champions, 
 Cyrus the Grand (and intermin- 
 able), mystic and chivalrous le- 
 gends, clean forgotten in our 
 generation, but which, in Thack- 
 eray's boyhood, were considered 
 fascinating reading ; — quaint ro- 
 mances, Italian, Spanish, and Per- 
 sian tales, familiar enough in those 
 days, and oft referred to, with ac- 
 cents of tender regret, in the re- 
 miniscences of the great novelist. 
 What charms did the ' Arabian Nights ' hold out for his kindling 
 imagination, — how frequently were its heroes and its episodes 
 
 In a state of suspense 
 
SCHOOLDAY ROMANCES. 
 
 brought in to supply some apt allusion in his later writings. It 
 seems that Thackeray's pencil never tired of his favourite stories 
 in the 'Thousand and One Nights/ precious to him for preserving 
 
 ever green the impressions of boyhood. How numerous his un- 
 published designs from these tales, those who treasure his number- 
 less and diversified sketches can alone tell. We see the thrilling 
 
 A Grey Friar 
 
 Fancy sketch A worthy Cit 
 
 episode of ' Ali Baba,' perched among the branches, while the 
 robbers bear their spoil to the 'mysterious cave, repeated with 
 unvarying interest, and each time with some fresh point of humour 
 to give value to the slight tracings. " ' I say, old boy,' writes 
 
8 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 Thackeray in his ' Roundabout Paper,' ' De Juventate,' treating 
 of schoolday reminiscences, ' draw Vivaldi tortured in the Inqui- 
 
 sition,' or, 'Draw. us Don Quixote and the windmills you know,' 
 amateurs would say to boys who had a taste for drawing — ' Pere- 
 grine Pickle we liked, our fathers 
 admiring it, and telling us (the sly 
 old boys) it was capital fun ; but I 
 think I was rather bewildered by it, 
 though Roderick Random was and 
 remains delightful.' " 
 
 ' Make us some more faces,' cry 
 theboys. 'Whom will you have? name 
 your friends,' says the young artist. 
 Perhaps one young rogue, with a 
 schoolboy's taste for personalities, 
 will cry, ' Old Buggins ; ' and the 
 junior Buggins blushes and fidgets 
 as the ideal presentment of his pro- 
 genitor is rapidly dashed off and 
 held up to the appreciation of a 
 circle of rapturous critics. ' Now,' 
 says the wounded youngster, glad to 
 retaliate, ' you remember old Fig- 
 Biueskin gins' pater when he brought Old 
 
MELODRAMATIC HEROES. 
 
 Virtue triumphant 
 
 Figs back and forgot to tip — draw him ! ' and a faithful portraiture 
 of that economic civic ornament is produced from recollection. 
 
 The gallery of family 
 portraits is doubtless 
 successfully exhausted, 
 and each of the boys who 
 love books, calls for a 
 different favourite of fic- 
 tion, or the designer ex- 
 ercises his budding fancy 
 in summoning monks, 
 Turks, ogres, bandits, 
 highwaymen, and other 
 heroes, traditional or 
 imaginary, from that won- 
 derful well of his, which, 
 in after years, was to pour 
 
 Early Recreations — Marbles 
 
io THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 out so frankly from its rich reservoirs for the recreation, and im- 
 provement too, of an audience more numerous, but perhaps less 
 enthusiastic, than that which surrounded him at Greyfriars. 
 
 Holidays came, and with them the chance of visiting the 
 
 theatres. Think of the plays in fashion between 1820 and ''30; 
 what juvenile rejoicings over the moral drama, over the wicked 
 earl unmasked in the last Act, the persecuted maiden triumphant, 
 and virtue's defenders rewarded. Recall the pieces in vogue in 
 those early days, to which the novelist refers with constant pleasure ; 
 
THE A TRICAL REMINISCENCES. 1 1 
 
 how does he write of nautical melodramas, of 'Black Ey'd Seusan,' 
 and such simply constructed pieces as he has parodied in the pages 
 of ' Punch ? ' such as Theodore Hook is described hitting off on 
 the piano after dinner. Think of Sadler's Wells, and the real 
 water, turned on from the New River adjacent. Remember Astley's, 
 and its gallant stud of horses. How faded are all these glories in 
 our time, yet they were gorgeous subjects for young Thackeray's 
 hand to work out ; and we can well conceive eager little Cistercians, 
 
 in miniature black gowns and breeches, revelling over the splendid 
 pictures, perhaps made more glorious with the colour box. How 
 many of these scraps have been treasured to this day, and are now 
 gone with the holders, heaven knows where ? 
 
 Then there was ' Shakespeare,' always a favourite with ' Tit- 
 marsh.' Think of the obsolete, conventional trappings in which the 
 characters of the great playwright were then condemned to strut 
 about to the perfect satisfaction of the audience, before theatrical 
 ' costume ' became a fine art ! And then there were Braham, and 
 Incledon, and the jovial rollicking tuneful 'Beggar's Opera.' 
 
1 2 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 Behold the swaggering Macheath, reckless in good fortune, and 
 consistently light-hearted up to his premature exit. 
 
 The Captain 
 
 Since laws were made for erfry degree, 
 To curb vice in others, as well as me, 
 I wonder we han't better company 
 Upon Tyburn tree ! 
 
 But gold from law can take out the sting ; 
 A?id if rich men like us were to swing, 
 'Twould thin the land, such numbers to string 
 Upon Tyburn tree! 
 
 1 The charge iz prepared, the Lawyers are met; 
 The fudges all rang'd (a terrible show I) 
 I go imdismay' d—for death is a debt, 
 A debt on demand, — so take what I owe. 
 
 Then, farewell, my love — dear charmers, adieu; 
 Contented I die — 'tis the better for you ; 
 Here ends all dispute the rest of our lives, 
 For this way at once I please all my wives.'' 
 
CAPTAIN MACHEATH. 
 
 J3 
 
H 
 
 T HACK ERA YANA. 
 
 In his 'English Humorists of the Eighteenth Century,' Thackeray 
 does not forget to pay his honest tribute to Gay. Writing of the 
 higher portions of this very Newgate Pastoral, he says of its 
 favoured author—' In almost every ballad of his, however slight, 
 there is a peculiar, hinted, pathetic sweetness and melody. It 
 charms and melts you. It's indefinable, but it exists ; and is the 
 property of John Gay's and Oliver Goldsmith's best verse, as 
 fragrance is of a violet, or freshness of a rose.' 
 
 1 At the tree I shall suffer with pleasure, 
 At the tree I shall suffer with pleasure, 
 
 Let me go where I will, 
 
 In all kinds of ill, 
 I shall find no such Furies as these arc.'' 
 
 Thackeray's predilections for the stage survived the first flush of 
 enthusiasm, and like most of his pleasures flourished vigorously 
 almost throughout his career. 
 
 It may be fresh to the recollections of most of his admirers 
 how in 1848 he describes, in his chef-d'oeuvre, a picture, the vivid 
 colouring of which outshines his entire gallery of theatrical sketches. 
 
 ' Do you remember, dear M , oh friend of my youth, 
 
 how one blissful night five and-twenty years since, the " Hypo- 
 crite " being acted, Elliston being manager, Dowton and Liston 
 
REMTNISCEXCES OF 'GOING TO THE PLAY: 
 
 IS 
 
 performers, two boys had leave from their loyal masters to go out 
 from Slaughter House School, where they were educated, and ap- 
 pear on Drury Lane stage, amongst 
 a crowd that assembled there to 
 greet the King. The King? 
 There he was. Beef-eaters were 
 before the august box ; the Mar- 
 quis of Steyne (Lord of the Pow- 
 der Closet) and other great offi- 
 cers of state were behind the chair- 
 on which he sate. He sate — 
 florid of face, portly of person, 
 covered with orders, and in a< 
 rich curling head of hair. How 
 we sang God save him ! How the 
 house rocked and shouted with that magnificent music. How 
 they cheered, and cried, and waved handkerchiefs. Ladies wept, 
 
 mothers clasped their children ; some fainted with emotion. People 
 were suffocated in the pit, shrieks and groans rising up amidst the 
 
i6 
 
 TH ACKER A VAN A. 
 
 writhing and shouting mass there of his people who were, and 
 indeed showed themselves almost to be, ready to die for him. 
 
 Speculation 
 
 ' Yes, we saw him. Fate cannot deprive us of that. Others 
 have seen Napoleon. Some few still exist who have beheld 
 
 
 Quixote 
 
 Frederick the Great, Doctor Johnson, Marie Antoinette, &c. — be 
 it our reasonable boast to our children, that we saw George the 
 Good, the Magnificent, the Great ! ' 
 
EARLY RECOLLECTIONS— TUNBRIDGE, 
 
 17 
 
 Mr. Thackeray's readers are familiar with the zest with which 
 the novelist looks back upon his early reminiscences. How faith- 
 fully and with what happy simplicity does he describe that while at 
 Greyfriars he was entrapped into incurring a liability of three and 
 sixpence by a boy he calls Hawker, one of those precocious com- 
 mercial geniuses who trade, even at school, on the weakness of 
 smaller and more ingenuous youths. How he relieved himself of 
 
 A Spanish Don 
 
 an incubus that had oppressed him through the half, with the small 
 balance his master had given him to defray the expenses of the 
 road on his return to his parents, who had then a house at Tun- 
 bridge Wells. We are admitted to view the picture of relief, which 
 Thackeray's mind preserved in all its freshness, when penning the 
 circumstances of this smallest of peccadilloes, in a memorable 
 ' Roundabout Paper ' upon ' Tunbridge Toys,' to which we must 
 turn for a description of his feelings at the period to which 
 we refer. < As I look up from my desk, I see Tunbridge Wells 
 
 c 
 
 
1 8 THA CKERA YANA . 
 
 Common, and the rocks, the strange familiar place which I remem- 
 ber forty years ago. Boys saunter over the green with stumps and 
 cricket-bats. Other boys gallop by on the riding master's hacks. 
 I protest it is Cramp, Riding Master, as it used to be in the reign 
 of George IV., and that Centaur Cramp must be at least a hun- 
 dred years old. Yonder comes a footman with a bundle of novels 
 from the library. Are they as good as our novels? Oh ! how 
 delightful they were I Shades of Valancour, awful ghost of Man- 
 froni, how I shudder at your appearance ! Sweet image of Thad- 
 deus of Warsaw, how often has this almost infantine hand tried to 
 
 depict you in a Polish cap and richly embroidered tights ! As 
 for Corinthian Tom in light-blue pantaloons and Hessians, and 
 Jerry Hawthorn from the country, can all the fashion, can all the 
 splendour of real life, which these eyes have subsequently beheld, 
 can all the wit I have heard or read of in later times, compare 
 with your fashion, with your brilliancy, with your delightful grace 
 and sparkling vivacious rattle ? 
 
 ' 1 stroll over the Common and survey the beautiful purple hills 
 around, twinkling with a thousand bright villas, which have sprung 
 up over this charming ground since first I saw it. What an admir- 
 able scene of peace and plenty! What a delicious air breathes 
 
EARLY RECOLLECTIONS— TUNBRIDGE. 19 
 
 over the heath, blows the cloud-shadows across it, and murmurs 
 through the full-clad trees ! Can the world show a land fairer, 
 richer, more cheerful ? I see a portion of it when I look up from 
 the window at which I write. But fair scene, green woods, bright 
 terraces gleaming in sunshine, and purple clouds swollen with 
 summer rain — nay the very pages over which my head bends — 
 disappear from before my eyes. They are looking backwards, 
 back into forty years off, into a dark room, into a little house hard 
 by on the Common, there in the Bartlemy-tide holidays. The 
 parents have gone to town for two days ; the house is all his own, 
 his own and a grum old maid- servants, and a little boy is seated 
 at night in the lonely drawing-room, poring over Ma?ifro?ii, or the 
 One-handed Monk, so frightened that he scarcely dares to turn 
 round.' 
 
 c 2 
 
20 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Early Favourites— The Castle of Otranto — Rollin's Ancient History. 
 
 The references made by- 
 Thackeray to the romances 
 which thrilled the sympathies 
 of novel-readers in his youth 
 are spread throughout his 
 writings. In the ' Round- 
 about Paper' (No. xxiv.), de- 
 voted to reminiscences of 
 fictions which delighted his 
 schooldays, he thus solilo- 
 quises : — ' Ah, woe is me that 
 the glory of novels should 
 ever decay ; that dust should 
 gather round them on the shelves ; that the annual cheques from 
 Messieurs the publishers should dwindle, dwindle ! Inquire at 
 Mudie's, or the London Library, who asks for the " Mysteries of 
 Udolpho " now ? ' and then the great author proceeds to demand 
 intelligence of his other early favourites. 
 
 In the 'Roundabout Paper' 'De Juventate ' (No. viii.) he 
 makes an earlier record of his partiality for the imaginary com- 
 panions of his boyhood. ' For our amusements, besides the games 
 in vogue, which were pretty much in old times as they are now, 
 there were novels — ah ! I trouble you to find such novels in the 
 present day ! O " Scottish Chiefs," didn't we weep over you ? 
 O "Mysteries of Udolpho," didn't I and Briggs minor draw pictures 
 out of you, as I have said ? This was the sort of thing ; this was 
 the fashion in our day ; ' — and here follows, on what purports to 
 be the title-page of an old class book, ' The Eton Latin Gram- 
 
THE CASTLE OF OTRANTO. 21 
 
 mar,' fanciful scribblings, founded on the manner of Skelt's once 
 famous theatrical characters, of schoolboy versions of Sir William 
 Wallace triumphing over the fallen Sir Aymer de Valence, while 
 Thaddeus of Warsaw, attired in a square Polish cap, laced jacket, 
 tights, and Hessian boots, his belt stuck round with pistols, is gal- 
 lantly nourishing a curly sabre. 
 
 Sketches of this picturesque nature seem to have held a 
 certain charm over the novelist's fancy through life ; the impres- 
 sions of his boyhood are jotted down in all sorts of melodramatic 
 fragments. 
 
 Similar reminiscences, applying to different stages of our 
 writer's career, and forming portions of the illustrations to 
 ' Thackerayana,' will be recognised throughout this work. 
 
 We endeavour to trace sufficient of the thread of the once 
 familiar story of 'The Castle of Otranto' (published in 1782, the 
 fourth edition), enlivened with highly droll marginal pencillings, 
 to assist our readers in a ready appreciation of the point and cha- 
 racter of the little designs, as it is more than probable that, by 
 this time, the interest and incidents of the original fiction are 
 somewhat obscured in the memories of our readers. We follow 
 the words of the author as closely as possible. 
 
 ' Manfred, Prince of Otranto, had one son and one daughter. 
 The latter, a most beautiful virgin, aged eighteen, was called 
 Matilda. Conrad, the son, was only fifteen, and of a sickly con- 
 stitution j he was the hope of his father, who had contracted a 
 marriage for him with the Marquis of Vicenza's daughter, Isabella. 
 The bride elect had been delivered by the guardians into Man- 
 fred's hands,^ that the marriage might take place as soon as Con- 
 rad's infirm health would permit it. The impatience of the prince 
 for the completion of this ceremonial was attributed to his 
 dread of seeing an ancient prophecy accomplished, which pro- 
 nounced — " that the Castle and Lordship of Otranto should pass 
 from the present family, whenever the real owner should be 
 grown too large to inhabit it." 
 
 ' Young Conrad's birthday was fixed for the marriage, the 
 company were assembled in the chapel of the castle, everything 
 ready, — but the bridegroom was missing ! The prince, in alarm, 
 went in search of his son. The first object that struck Manfred's 
 eyes was a group of his servants endeavouring to raise something 
 
22 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 that appeared to him a mountain of sable plumes. " What are 
 ye doing?" he cried, wrathfully ; "where is my son 1 " A volley of 
 voices replied, " Oh ! my lord ! the prince ! the helmet ! the 
 
 helmet ! " Shocked with these lamentable sounds, and dreading 
 he knew not what, he advanced hastily, — but what a sight for a 
 father's eyes ! He beheld his child dashed to pieces, and almost 
 buried under an enormous helmet, a hundred times larger than 
 any casque ever made for human being, and shaded with a pro- 
 portionable quantity of black feathers. 
 
THE CASTLE OF OTRANTO. 
 
 23 
 
 ' The consternation produced by this murderous apparition did 
 not diminish. Isabella was, however, relieved at her escape from 
 an ill-assorted union. Manfred continued to 
 gaze at the terrible casque. No one could ex- 
 plain its presence. In the midst of their sense- 
 less guesses, a young peasant, whom rumour had 
 drawn thither from a neighbouring village, ob- 
 served that the miraculous helmet was like that 
 on the figure in black marble, in the church 
 of St. Nicholas, of Alonzo the Good (the original 
 Prince of Otranto. who having died without leaving an ascertained 
 heir, his steward, Manfred's grandfather, had illegally contrived to 
 obtain possession of the castle, estates, and title). " Villain ! 
 What sayest thou ? " cried Manfred, starting from 
 his trance in a tempest of rage, and seizing the 
 young man by the collar. " How darest thou 
 utter such treason ? Thy life shall pay for it ! " 
 The peasant was secured, and confined, as a 
 necromancer, under the gigantic helmet, there 
 to be starved to death. Manfred retired to his 
 chamber to meditate in solitude over the blow 
 which had descended on his house. His gentle 
 daughter, Matilda, heard his disordered footsteps. 
 She was just going to beg admittance, when Manfred suddenly opened 
 the door; and as it was now twilight, concurring with the disorder of 
 his mind, he did not distinguish the person, but asked angrily who 
 it was. Matilda replied, trem- 
 bling, " My dearest father, it 
 is I, your daughter." Man- 
 fred, stepping back hastily, 
 cried, " Begone, I do not want 
 a daughter ; " and flinging back 
 abruptly, clapped the door 
 against the terrified Matilda. 
 His dejected daughter returned 
 to her mother, the pious Hippolita, who was being comforted 
 by Isabella. A servant, on the part of Manfred, informed the 
 latter that Manfred demanded to speak with her. " With me ! " 
 cried Isabella. " Go," said Hippolita, " console him, and tell 
 
24 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 him that I will smother my own anguish rather than add to 
 his." 
 
 ' As it was now evening, the servant, who conducted Isabella, 
 bore a torch before her. When they came to Manfred, who was 
 
 walking impatiently about the 
 gallery, he started, and said 
 hastily, "Take away that light, 
 and begone." Then, shutting 
 the door impetuously, he flung 
 himself upon a bench against 
 the wall, and bade Isabella sit 
 by him. She obeyed trem- 
 bling. The iniquitous Manfred 
 then proposed, that as his son 
 was dead, Isabella should espouse him instead, and he would 
 divorce the virtuous Hippolita. Manfred, on her refusal, resorted 
 to violence, when the plumes of the 
 fatal helmet suddenly waved to and 
 fro tempestuously in the moonlight. 
 Manfred, disregarding the portent, 
 cried — " Heaven nor hell shall im- 
 pede my designs," and advanced to 
 seize the princess. At that instant 
 the portrait of his grandfather, which 
 hung over the bench where they had & 
 been sitting, uttered a deep sigh, 
 and heaved its breast. Manfred was distracted between his pur- 
 suit of Isabella and the aspect of the picture, which quitted its 
 panel and stepped on the floor with a grave and melancholy air. 
 The vision sighed and made a sign to Manfred to follow him. 
 " Lead on ! " cried Manfred ; " I will follow thee to the gulph of 
 perdition." The spectre marched sedately, but dejected, to the end 
 of the gallery. Manfred followed, full of anxiety and horror, but 
 resolved. The spectre retired. Isabella had fled to a subterranean 
 passage leading from the Castle to the Sanctuary of St. Nicholas. 
 In this vault she encountered the young peasant who had provoked 
 the animosity of Manfred. He lifted up a secret trap-door, and 
 Isabella made her escape ; but Manfred and his followers prevented 
 the flight of the daring stranger. The prince, who expected to 
 
THE CASTLE OF OTRANTO. 
 
 25 
 
 secure Isabella, was considerably startled to discover this youth in 
 her stead. The weight of the helmet had broken the pavement 
 above, and he had thus alighted in time to assist Isabella, whose 
 disappearance he denied. A noise of voices startled Manfred, who 
 was alarmed by fresh indications of hostile evidences. Jacques 
 and Diego, two of his retainers, detailed the fresh cause of alarm. 
 It was thus : they had heard a noise — they opened a door and ran 
 back, their hair standing on end with terror. 
 
 "It is a giant, I believe," said Diego ; " he is all clad in armour, 
 for I saw his foot and part of his leg, and they are as large as the 
 
 helmet below in the court. We heard a violent motion, and the 
 rattling of armour, as if the giant was rising. Before we could get 
 to the end of the gallery we heard the door of the great chamber 
 clap behind us ; but for Heaven's sake, good my lord, send for 
 the chaplain and have the place exorcised, for it is certainly 
 haunted." The attendants searched for Isabella in vain. The 
 next morning father Jerome arrived, announcing that she had 
 taken refuge at the altar of St. Nicholas. He came to inform 
 Hippolita of the perfidy of her husband. Manfred prevented him, 
 saying, " I do not use to let my wife be acquamted 
 with the affairs of my state ; they are not within 
 a woman's province." " My Lord," said the holy 
 man, " I am no intruder into the secrets of families. 
 My office is to promote peace and teach man- 
 kind to curb their headstrong passions. I forgive 
 your highness's uncharitable apostrophe ; I know 
 my duty, and am the minister of a mightier Prince than Manfred. 
 Hearken to Him who speaks through my organs." The good 
 father — to divert Manfred by a subterfuge from his unhallowed de- 
 signs — suggested that there might, perhaps, be an attachment be- 
 
26 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 tween the peasant and his recluse. Manfred was so enraged that he 
 ordered the youth who defied him to be executed forthwith. The 
 removal of the peasant's doublet disclosed the mark of a bloody arrow. 
 " Gracious Heaven ! " cried the priest, starting, " what do I see ? it 
 is my child ! my Theodore ! " Manfred was deaf to the prayers of 
 the father and friar, and ordered the tragedy to proceed. " A- 
 saint's bastard may be no saint himself," said the prince sternly. 
 The friar exclaimed, " His blood is noble ■ he is my lawful son, and 
 I am the Count of Falconara ! " At this critical 
 juncture the tramp of horses was heard, the 
 sable plumes of the enchanted helmet were 
 again agitated, and a brazen trumpet was sounded 
 without. " Father," said Manfred, " do you go to 
 the wicket and demand who is at the gate." "Do 
 you grant me the life of Theodore ? " replied 
 the friar. " I do," said the prince. The new 
 arrival was a herald from the Knight of the 
 Gigantic Sabre, who requested to speak with the Usurper of Otranto. 
 ' Manfred was enraged at this message ; he ordered Jerome to 
 be thrust out, and to reconduct Isabella to the castle, and com- 
 manded Theodore to be confined in the black tower. He then 
 directed the herald to be admitted to his presence. 
 
 " Well ! thou insolent ! " said the prince, " what would'st thou 
 with me?" " I come," replied he, " to thee, Manfred, usurper ol 
 the principality of Otranto, from the renowned and invincible 
 knight, the Knight of the Gigantic Sabre : in the name of his Lord, 
 Frederic, Marquis of Vicenza, he demands the Lady Isabella, 
 daughter of that prince whom thou hast basely and treacherously 
 got into thy power, by bribing her false guardians during his 
 absence ; he requires thee to resign the principality of Otranto, 
 which thou hast usurped from the said Lord Frederic, the nearest 
 of blood to the last rightful Lord Alonzo the Good. If thou dost 
 not instantly comply with these just demands, he defies thee to 
 single combat to the last extremity." And so saying, the herald 
 cast down his warder. Manfred knew how well-founded this claim 
 was ; indeed, his object in seeking an alliance with Isabella had 
 been to unite the claimants in one interest. 
 
 ' The herald was despatched to bid the champions welcome, and 
 the prince ordered the gates to be flung open for the reception of 
 
THE CASTLE OF OTRANTO. 
 
 27 
 
 the stranger knight and his retinue. In a few minutes the caval- 
 cade arrived. First came two harbingers with wands. Next a 
 herald, followed by two pages and two trumpets. Then a hundred 
 foot-guards. These were attended by as many horse. After them 
 fifty foot-men clothed in scarlet and black, the colours of the 
 knight. Then a led horse. Two heralds on each side of a gentle- 
 man on horseback bearing a banner with the arms of Vicenza and 
 Otranto quarterly — a circumstance that much offended Manfred, 
 but he stifled his resentment. Two more pages. The knight's 
 confessor telling his beads. Fifty more foot-men clad as before. 
 Two knights habited in complete armour, their beavers down, 
 comrades to the principal knight. The squires of the two knights, 
 carrying their shields and devices. The knight's own squire. A 
 hundred gentlemen bearing an enormous sword, and seeming to 
 
 faint under the weight of it. The knight himself on a chestnut steed, 
 in complete armour, his lance in the rest, his face entirely concealed 
 by his vizor, which was surmounted by a large plume of scarlet and 
 black feathers. Fifty foot-guards, with drums and trumpets, 
 closed the procession. Manfred invited the train to enter the great 
 hall of his castle. He proposed to the stranger to disarm, but the 
 knight shook his head in token of refusal. " Rest here/' said Man- 
 fred ; " I will but give orders for the accommodation of your train, 
 and return to you." The three knights bowed as accepting his 
 courtesy. Manfred directed the stranger's retinue to be conducted 
 to an adjacent hospital, founded by the Princess Hippolita for the 
 reception of pilgrims. As they made the circuit of the court, the 
 gigantic sword burst from the supporters, and falling to the ground 
 opposite the helmet, remained immovable. 
 
28 
 
 THACKERA YANA. 
 
 1 Manfred, almost hardened to supernatural appearances, sur- 
 mounted the shock of this new prodigy ; and returning to the hall, 
 
 where by this time the feast was 
 ready, he invited his silent guests to 
 take their places. Manfred, however 
 ill his heart was at ease, endeavoured 
 to inspire the company with mirth. 
 He put several questions to them, 
 but was answered only by signs. 
 They raised their vizors but suffi- 
 ciently to feed themselves, and that 
 #? sparingly. During the parley Father 
 Jerome hurried in to report the disappearance of Isabella. The 
 knights and their retinue dispersed to search the neighbourhood, 
 and Manfred, with his vassals, quitted the castle to confuse their 
 movements. Theodore was still confined in the black tower, but 
 his guards were gone. The gentle Matilda came to his assistance ; 
 she carried him to her father's armoury, and having equipped 
 him with a complete suit, conducted him to the postern-gate. 
 " Avoid the town," said the princess, " but hie thee to the opposite 
 quarter ; yonder is a chain of rocks, hollowed into a labyrinth of 
 caverns that lead to the sea-coast. Go ! Heaven be thy guide ! 
 and sometimes, in thy prayers, remember Matilda ! " Theodore 
 flung himself at her feet, and seizing 
 her lily hand, which with struggles 
 she suffered him to kiss, he vowed 
 on the earliest opportunity to get 
 himself knighted, and fervently in- 
 treated her permission to swear him- 
 self eternally her champion. He 
 then sighed and retired, but with 
 eyes fixed on the gate, until Matilda, 
 closing it, put an end to an interview, in which the hearts of both 
 had drunk so deeply of a passion which both now tasted for the first 
 time.' 
 
 We must now crowd the sequel of this remarkable story into 
 the smallest possible space. In the caverns Theodore recovered 
 the distracted Isabella, but a knight arrived at the moment of his 
 happy discovery, and mistrusting her deliverer, while Theodore 
 
THE CASTLE OF OTRANTO. 29 
 
 deceived himself as to the intentions of the stranger, a desperate 
 combat ensued, and the younger champion gained the victory. The 
 stranger knight explained his mistake, and revealed himself as the 
 missing Marquis of Vicenza, father to Isabella, and nearest heir 
 
 to Alonzo. He anticipated his wounds were fatal, but he recovered 
 at the castle. Manfred artfully pursued his unholy designs for a 
 union with Isabella. He gave a great feast, with this object, but 
 Theodore withdrew from the revelry to pray with Matilda at the 
 tomb of Alonzo. Manfred followed him to the chapel, believing 
 his companion was Isabella, and struck his dagger through the 
 heart of his daughter. He was overwhelmed with remorse for his 
 errors on discovering that he had murdered his child. Theodore 
 
3o 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 revealed to Frederic that he was the real and rightful successor to 
 Alonzo. This declaration was confirmed by the apparition of 
 Alonzo. Thunder and a clank of more than mortal armour was 
 heard. The walls of the 
 castle behind Manfred 
 were thrown down with 
 a mighty force, and the 
 form of Alonzo, dilated 
 to an immense magni- 
 tude, appeared in the 
 centre of the ruins. 'Be- 
 hold in Theodore the true 
 heir of Alonzo ! ' said the 
 vision, and, ascending so- 
 lemnly towards heaven, the 
 clouds parted asunder, and 
 the form of St. Nicholas 
 received Alonzo's shade. 
 Manfred confessed, in his 
 terror, that Alonzo had 
 been poisoned by his grand- 
 father, and a fictitious will 
 had accomplished his trea- 
 cherous end. Jerome fur- 
 ther revealed that Alonzo had secretly 
 espoused Victoria, a Sicilian virgin. 
 After the good knight's decease a daugh 
 ter was born. Her hand had been be- 
 stowed on him, the disguised Count of 
 Falconara. Theodore was the fruit of 
 their marriage, thus establishing his di- 
 rect right to the principality. Manfred 
 and his virtuous wife, Hippolita, retired 
 to neighbouring convents. Frederic 
 offered his daughter to the new prince, 
 but ' it was not until after frequent dis- 
 courses with Isabella of dear Matilda that he was persuaded he 
 could know no happiness but in the society of one with whom 
 he could for ever indulge the melancholy that had taken pos- 
 
ROLLINGS ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 3i 
 
 session of his soul,' with which cheerful prospect the ' Castle of 
 Otranto ' is brought to an appropriate conclusion. 
 
 On the fly-leaf at the end of this worthy novel follows a sketch 
 suggestive of the out-of-door sports alluded to earlier. 
 
 An instance of the felicitous parodies to which the works of 
 grave historians are liable at the hands of a budding satirist is sup- 
 plied by ' Rolling Ancient History/ one of the books of which we 
 feel bound to give more than a passing' notice ; we therefore select 
 the more tempting passages of the eight volumes forming the par- 
 ticular edition in question, to which a fresh interest is contributed 
 by certain slight but pertinent pencillings probably referable to a 
 somewhat later period. 
 
 SKETCHES ILLUSTRATIVE OF ROLLIN'S ANCIENT 
 HISTORY. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Ancient History of the Egyptians, etc, etc. 
 
 ' ... In the early morning and at daybreak, when their 
 minds were clearest and their thoughts were most pure, the 
 Egyptians would read the letters they had re- 
 ceived, the better to obtain a just and truthful 
 impression of the business on which they had to 
 decide.' — Vol. I. p. 60. 
 
 ' ... In addition to the adoration practised 
 by the Egyptians of 
 Osiris, Isis, and the 
 higher divinities, they 
 worshipped a large 
 number of animals, 
 paying an especial re- 
 spect to the cat.' — 
 Vol. I. p. 73. 
 
 ' Until the reign of Psammeticus the Egyp- 
 tians were believed to be the most ancient 
 people on the earth. Wishing to assure them- 
 selves of this antiquity, they employed a most 
 remarkable test, if the statement is worthy of credit. Two chil- 
 
32 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 dren, just born of poor parents, were shut up in two separate 
 cabins in the country, and a shepherd was directed to feed them 
 on goat's milk. (Others state they were nourished by nurses 
 
 The Historic Muse supported by the veracious historians. 
 
 Frontispiece to Vol. I. 
 
 In this sketch Monsieur Rollin is archly classed among the ranks of the writers 
 of fiction — a position to which he is entitled from the remarkable nature of the 
 facts he gravely puts on record. 
 
ROLLINGS ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 33 
 
 whose tongues had been cut out.) No one was permitted to enter 
 the cabins, and no word was ever allowed to be pronounced in 
 their presence. One day, 
 when these children arrived at 
 the age of two years, the shep- 
 herd entered to bring them 
 their usual food, when each of 
 them, from their different di- 
 visions, extending their hands 
 to the keeper, cried, " Beccos, 
 beccos." This word, it was 
 discovered, was employed by the Phrygians to signify bread ; and 
 since that period this nation has enjoyed, above all other peoples, 
 the honour of the earliest antiquity.' — Vol. I. p. 162. 
 
 Triumphant Statue of Scipio Africanus.— End of Vol. I. 
 D 
 
34 
 
 TH ACKER A YANA. 
 
 History of the Carthaginians, etc. etc. 
 
 1 . . . Virgil has greatly altered many facts in his " History of 
 
 the Carthaginians," by the supposition that his hero, Eneas, was a 
 
 contemporary of Dido, although there 
 
 is an interval of about three centuries 
 
 between the two personages ; Carthage 
 
 having been built nearly three hundred 
 years before 
 the Fall of 
 Troy.'— Vol. I. 
 p. 241. 
 
 '-. . . By the &&&* AENEAS 
 order of Hannibal a road was excavated 
 through the bed of the rocks, and this 
 labour was carried on with astonishing 
 vigour and perseverance. To open and 
 enlarge this pathway they felled all the 
 trees in the adjoining parts, and as soon 
 as the timber was cut down the soldiers 
 arranged the trunks on all sides of the 
 rocks, and the wood was then set on fire. 
 
 \ 
 
 Fortunately, there being a high wind, an ardent flame was quickly 
 kindled, until the rock glowed with heat as fiery as the furnace burn- 
 ing round it. Hannibal — if we may credit Titus Livius (for Polybius* 
 does not mention the circumstance) — then caused a great quan- 
 tity of vinegar to be poured upon the heated stone, which ran into 
 
 * The most improbable part of this narrative, observes the historian, is, 
 that Hannibal, in the very centre of the mountains, should have been able to 
 obtain sufficiently large quantities of vinegar for the operations. 
 
ROLLINS ANCIENT HISTORY 
 
 35 
 
 the fissures of the rocks (already cracked by the heat of the fire), 
 and caused them to soften and calcine to powder. By this con- 
 trivance he prepared a road through the heart of the mountains, 
 giving easy passage to his troops, their baggage, and even their 
 elephants.' — Vol. I. p. 406. 
 
 *yE BATTLE OF CANNES 
 
 Battle Cannes. — Vol. I. p. 439. 
 
 History of the Lydians. 
 
 1 Crcesus, wishing to assure himself of the veracity of the dif- 
 ferent oracles, sent deputies to consult the most celebrated sooth- 
 sayers both in Africa and in Greece, with orders to inform them- 
 selves how Crcesus was engaged at a certain hour on a day that 
 was pointed out to them. 
 
 'His instructions were exactly carried out. The oracle of 
 Delphi returned the only correct reply. It was given in verses of 
 the hexameter metre, and was in sub- 
 stance : " I know the number of grains 
 of sand in the sea, and the measure of 
 the vast deep. I understand the dumb, 
 and those who have not learned to 
 speak. My senses are saluted with the 
 savoury odour of a turtle stewed with 
 the flesh of lambs in a brazier, which 
 has copper on all sides, above and 
 below ! ' ; 
 
 1 In fact the king, desiring to select 
 some employment which it would be 
 impossible to divine, had occupied him- 
 self at the hour appointed for the 're- 
 velation in preparing a turtle and a lamb in a copper stewpan, 
 which had also a lid of copper.' — Vol. II. p. 129. 
 
TH ACKER A YANA. 
 
 History of Cyrus. 
 
 * , . . When the people of Ionia and Eolia learnt that Cyrus 
 had mastered the Lydians, tbey despatched ambassadors to him 
 at Sardis, proposing to be received into his empire, under the same 
 conditions as he had accorded to the Lydians. Cyrus, who before 
 
 his victories had vainly solicited them to 
 unite in his cause, and who now found 
 himself in a position to constrain them by 
 force, gave as his only answer the apologue 
 of a fisherman, who, having tried to lure 
 the fish with the notes of his flute, without 
 any success, had recourse to his net as the 
 shortest method of securing them.' — Vol. 
 II. p. 232. 
 
 1 Herodotus, and after him Justinian, re- 
 counts that Astyages, King of the Medes, 
 on the impressions of an alarming dream, 
 which announced that a child, his daugh- 
 ter was to bear, would dethrone him, gave 
 
ROLLINGS ANCIENT HISTORY. 37 
 
 Mandane, his daughter, in marriage to a Persian of obscure birth 
 and condition, named Cambyses. A son being born of this mar- 
 riage, the king charged Harpagus, one of his principal officers, to 
 put the child to death. Harpagus gave him to one of his shep- 
 herds to be exposed in a forest. However, the infant, being 
 miraculously preserved, and afterwards nourished in secret by the 
 herd's wife, was at last recognised by his royal grandfather, who 
 contented himself by his removal to the centre of Persia, and 
 vented all his fury on the unhappy officer, whose own son he 
 caused to be served up, to be eaten by him at a feast. Some 
 years later the young Cyrus was informed by Harpagus of the 
 circumstances of his birth and position ; animated by his counsels 
 and remonstrances, he raised an army in Persia, marched against 
 Astyages, and challenged him to battle. The sovereignty of the 
 empire thus passed from the hands of the Medes to the Persians.' 
 -Vol. II. p. 315. 
 
 Ancient History of Greece. 
 
 ' The wealthy and luxurious members of the Lacedemonians 
 were extremely irritated against Lvcurgus on account of his 
 decree introducing public repasts 
 as the means best suited to en- 
 force temperance. 
 
 1 It was on this occasion that 
 a young man, named Alcandres, 
 put out one of Lycurgus's eyes 
 with his staff, during a popular 
 tumult. The people, indignant 
 
 at so great an outrage, placed the youth in his hands. Lycurgus 
 permitted himself a most honourable vengeance, converting him, 
 by his kindness, and the generosity of his treatment, from violence 
 and rebellion to moderation and wisdom.' — Vol. II. p. 526. 
 
38 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 Ancient History of the Persians and the Greeks. 
 
 'The Greek historians gave to Artaxerxes the surname of 
 
 " Longhand," became, according to Strabo, his hands were so long 
 
 that, when he stood erect, he was able to touch 
 
 his knees. According to Plutarch, because his 
 
 right hand was longer than the left.' — Vol. III. 
 
 P- 347- 
 
 ' The stories related of the 
 voracity of the Athletes are 
 almost incredible. The appe- 
 tite of Milo was barely ap- 
 peased with twenty " mines " 
 (or pounds) of meat, as much 
 bread, and three " conges " (fif- 
 teen pints) of wine daily. 
 Athenes relates that Milo, 
 after traversing the entire length of the state 
 — bearing on his shoulders an ox of four years' 
 growth — felled the beast with one blow of his 
 fist, and entirely devoured it in one day. 
 ' 1 willingly admit other exploits attributed to Milo, but is it in 
 
 the least degree probable that a single man could eat an entire ox 
 
 in one day?' — Vol. III. p. 516. 
 
 1 . . . While Darius was absent, making war in Egypt and 
 Arabia, the Medes revolted against him ; but they were over- 
 powered and forced into submission. To chastise this rebellion, 
 their yoke, which had until that date been very easy to bear, was 
 made more burdensome. This fate has never been spared to 
 those subjects who, having revolted, are again compelled to sub- 
 mit to the- power they wished to depose.' — Vol. III. p. 613. 
 
ROLLINS ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 39 
 
 Ancient History of the Persians and the Greeks. 
 
 Death of Alcibiades. 
 
 '. . . Alcibiades was living at that time in a small town of 
 Phrygia, with Timandra, his mistress (it is pretended that Lais, 
 the celebrated courtesan — known as "the Corinthian" — was a 
 daughter of this Timandra). The ruffians who were engaged to 
 
 Frontispiece to Vol. IV. 
 
 assassinate him had not the courage to enter his house; they 
 contented themselves by surrounding it and setting it on fire. 
 Alcibiades, sword in hand, having passed through the flames, 
 these barbarians did not dare to ' await a hand-to-hand combat 
 with him, but sought safety in flight ; but, in their retreat, they 
 overcame him with showers of darts and arrows. Alcibiades fell 
 
4o 
 
 T HACK ERA YANA. 
 
 down dead in the place. Timandra secured the remains, and 
 draped the body with her finest vestments; she gave him the 
 
 most magnificent funeral the state of her fortune would permit.' 
 Vol. IV. p. no. 
 
 Retreat of the Greeks from Babylon. 
 
 * . . . The troops put themselves in marching order ; the 
 battalions forming one large square, the baggage being in the 
 centre. Two of the oldest 
 colonels commanded the 
 right and left wings.' — Vol. 
 IV. p. 190. 
 
 'Agesilaus was in Bceotia, 
 ready to give battle, when 
 he heard the distressing 
 news of the destruction of 
 the Lacedemonian fleet by 
 Conon, near Cnidus. Fear- 
 ing the rumour of this de- 
 feat would discourage and 
 intimidate his troops, who 
 were then preparing for battle, he reported throughout the army 
 that the Lacedemonians had gained a considerable naval victory ; 
 he also appeared in public, wearing his castor crowned with flowers, 
 and offered sacrifices for the good news.' — Vol. IV. p. 287. 
 
 * . . . Artaxerxes resorted to treason unworthy of a prince to 
 rid himself of Datames, his former favour and friendship for whom 
 were changed into implacable hatred. 
 
ROLLINS ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 4i 
 
 1 He employed assassins to destroy him, but Datames had the 
 food fortune to escape their ambuscades. 
 
 1 At last Mithridates, influenced by the splendid rewards pro- 
 mised by the king if he suc- 
 ceeded in destroying so re- 
 doubtable an enemy, insinu- 
 ated himself into his friend- 
 ship • and having afforded 
 Datames sufficient evidences 
 of fidelity to gain his confi- 
 dence, he took advantage of a favourable moment when he hap- 
 pened to be alone, and 
 pierced him with his 
 sword before he was in a 
 condition to defend him 
 self— Vol. IV. p. 345. 
 
 c . . . Socrates took 
 the poisoned cup from 
 the valet without chang- 
 ing colour, or exhibiting 
 emotion. " What say 
 you of this drink ? " he 
 asked ; "is it permitted to take more than one draught?" 
 
 replied that it was but for one libation. " At 
 least," continued he, " it is allowable to suppli- 
 cate the gods to render easy my departure be- 
 neath the earth, and my last journey happy. I 
 ask this of them with my whole heart." Having 
 spoken these words, he remained silent for some 
 time, and then drank the entire contents of the 
 cup, with marvellous tranquillity and irresistible 
 gentleness. 
 
 ' " Cito," said he — and these were his last 
 words — " we owe a cock to Esculapius ; acquit 
 yourself of this vow for me, and do not forget ! " ' 
 — Vol. IV. p. 439.. 
 
 4 . . . The Greek dances prescribed rules for 
 those movements most proper to render the figure free and the 
 
 They 
 
42 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 carriage unconstrained ; to form a well-proportioned frame, and to 
 give the entire person a graceful, noble, and easy air ; in a word, 
 to obtain that politeness of exterior, if the expression is admissible, 
 which always impresses us in favour of those who have had the 
 advantage of early training.'— Vol. IV. p. 538. 
 
 ' . . . After these observations on the government of the prin- 
 cipal peoples of Greece, both in peace and in war, and on their 
 various characteristics, it now remains for me to speak of their 
 religion.' 
 
 End of Vol. IV. 
 
 History of the Successes of Alexander. 
 Battle of Lamia. 
 
 '. . . The cavalry amounted to 3,500 horse, of which 2,000 
 were from Thessaly ; this constituted the chief force of the army, 
 
 and their only hope of success. In fact, battle being given, it 
 was this cavalry which obtained the victory, under the leadership 
 
ROLLINS ANCIENT HISTORY. 43 
 
 of Menon. Lennatus, covered with mortal wounds, fell on the 
 field of battle, and was borne to the camp by his followers/ — 
 Vol. VII. p. 55. 
 
 Battle of Cappadocia. 
 
 ' Neoptolemus and Eumenes (the generals in command of the 
 hostile forces) cherished a personal hatred of each other. They 
 came to a hand-to-hand encounter, and 
 their horses falling into collision, they 
 seized each other round the body, and 
 their chargers escaping from under them 
 they fell to the ground together. Like en- 
 raged athletes, they fought in that posi- 
 tion for a long time, with a species of maddened fury, until 
 Neoptolemus received a mortal blow and expired. Eumenes then 
 remounted his horse and continued the battle.' — Vol. VII. p. 89. 
 
 ' The reign of Seleucus was described by the Arabs as the era 
 of the " Double-horned," sculptors generally representing him de- 
 corated thus, wearing the horns of a bull on his head ; this prince 
 being so powerful that he could arrest the course of a bull by 
 simply seizing it by the horns.' — Vol. VII. p. 189. 
 
 ' . . . Democies, surnamed the Beautiful, in order to escape the 
 violence of Demetrius, threw himself, while still a youth, into a 
 vessel of boiling water, which was being prepared to heat a bath, 
 and was scalded to death ; preferring to sacrifice his life rather 
 than lose his honour.' — Vol. VII. p. 374. 
 
 The Engagement of Pyrrhus with the Consul Aevinus. 
 
 ' . . . Pyrrhus exerted himself without any precaution for his 
 own security. He overthrew all that opposed him ; never losing 
 
44 
 
 TH ACKER A YANA. 
 
 sight of the duties of a general, he preserved perfect coolness, 
 giving orders as if he were not exposed to peril j hurrying from 
 
 post to post to re-establish the troops who wavered, and support- 
 ing those most assailed.' — Vol. VII. p. 404. 
 
 Death of Pyrrhus at Argos, etc. etc. 
 
 ' . . . Placing confidence in the swiftness 
 of his charger, Pyrrhus threw himself into the 
 midst of his pursuers. He was fighting des- 
 perately when one of the enemy approached 
 him, and. penetrated his javelin through his 
 armour. The wound was neither deep nor 
 dangerous, and Pyrrhus immediately attacked 
 the man who had struck him, a mere com- 
 mon soldier, son of a poor woman of Argos. 
 Like the rest of the townswomen, his mother 
 was observing the conflict from the roof of a 
 house, and, seeing her son, who chanced to be 
 beneath her, engaged with Pyrrhus, she was 
 seized with fright at the great danger to which 
 her child was exposed, and raising a heavy 
 tile, with both hands, she hurled it on Pyrrhus. 
 
ROLLINS ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 45 
 
 It struck him on the head with its full force, and his helmet being 
 powerless to resist the blow, he became unconscious instantly. 
 The reins dropped from his hands, and he fell from his horse with- 
 out recognition. Soon after a soldier who knew Pyrrhus observed 
 his rank, and completed the work by cutting off the king's head.'' — 
 Vol. VII. p. 460. 
 
 * . . . A few days after Ptolemy had refused the 
 peace proposals of the Gauls, the armies came to 
 an engagement, in which the Macedonians were 
 completely defeated and cut to pieces. Ptolemy, 
 covered with wounds, was made prisoner, his head 
 was cut off, and, mounted on the point of a lance, 
 was shown in derision to the soldiers of the enemy.' 
 —Vol. VII. p. 376. 
 
 ' . . . The Colossus of Rhodes remained as it 
 fell, without being disturbed for 894 years, at the 
 expiration of which time (in the year 672 
 of the Christian era) the Sixth Caliph, or 
 Emperor of the Saracens, having con- 
 quered Rhodes, he sold the remains of 
 the Colossus to a Hebrew merchant, 
 who carried it off in 500 camel loads ; thus — reck- 
 oning eight quintals to one load — the bronze of this 
 figure, after the decay, by rust, of so many years, and 
 after the probable loss of some portion by pillage, still 
 
 amounted to a weight of 720,000 pounds, or 7.200 quintals. '- 
 Vol. VII. p. 650. 
 
46 
 
 THA CKERA YA NA. 
 
 * Philip returned to the Peloponnesus shortly 
 after his defeat. He directed all his exertions 
 to deceive and surprise the Messenians. His 
 stratagems being discovered, however, he raised 
 the mask, and ravaged the entire country.' — 
 Vol. VIII. p. 121. 
 
 ' Philammon (the assassin who had been em- 
 ployed to murder Queen Arsinoe) returned to 
 Alexandria (from Cyrene) two or three days be- 
 fore the tumult. The ladies of honour, who 
 had been attached to the unfortunate queen, 
 had early information of his arrival, and they 
 determined to take advantage of the disorder 
 
 then prevailing in the city to avenge the death 
 of their mistress. They accordingly broke into 
 the house where he had sought refuge, and 
 overcame him with showers of blows from stones 
 and clubs.' — Vol. VIII. p. 215. 
 
 ' . . . Scopas, finding himself at the head of 
 all the foreign troops — of whom the principal 
 portions were Aetolians like himself — believed 
 that as he held the command of such a formid- 
 able body of veterans, so thoroughly steeled 
 by warfare, he could easily usurp the crown 
 during the minority of the king.'— Vol. VIII. 
 
 P- 327. 
 
 ' . . . The arrival of Livius, who had com- 
 manded the fleet, and who was now sent to 
 Prusias (King of Bithynia), in the quality of an ambassador, 
 
ROLLINGS ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 47 
 
 decided the resolutions of that monarch. He assisted the king 
 to discover on which side victory might be reasonably expected 
 
 to turn, and showed him how much safer it would be to trust 
 to the friendship of the Romans rather than rely on that of 
 Antiochus.'— Vol. VIII. p. 426. 
 
 Funeral Obsequies of Philopoemen. 
 
 * . . . When the body had been burned, and the ashes were 
 gathered together and placed in an urn, the cortege set out to 
 
 carry the remains to Megalopolis. This ceremonial resembled a 
 triumphal celebration rather than a funeral procession, or at least 
 a mixture of the two. 
 
 ' The urn, borne by the youthful Polybius, was followed by the 
 entire cavalry, armed magnificently and superbly mounted. They 
 
4 8 
 
 T HACK ERA YANA. 
 
 followed the procession without exhibiting signs of dejection for 
 so great a loss, or exultation for so great a victory.' — Vol. VIII. 
 P- 537- 
 
 Attempted Sacking of the Sanctuary. 
 
 ' . . . Heliodorus, with his guards, entered the temple, and he 
 was proceeding to force the treasures, when a horse, richly clad, 
 
 suddenly appeared, and threw himself on Heliodorus, inflicting 
 several blows with his hoofs. The rider had a terrible aspect, 
 and his armour appeared to be of gold. At the same moment 
 two celestial-looking youths were observed on each side of the 
 violater of the sanctuary dealing chastisement without cessation, 
 and giving him severe lashes from the whips they held in their 
 hands. —Vol. VIII. p. 632. 
 
49 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Thackeray's last visit to the Charterhouse — College days — Pendennis at Cam- 
 bridge — Sketches of University worthies — Sporting subjects — Pen's popu- 
 larity — Etchings at Cambridge— Pencillings in old authors — Pictorial Puns — 
 'The Snob,' a Literary and Scientific Journal — ' Timbuctoo,' a prize poem. 
 
 In Thackeray's schooldays the Charterhouse enjoyed considerable 
 reputation under the head-mastership of Dr. Russell, whose death 
 happened in the same year as that of his illustrious pupil. No 
 one who has read Thackeray's novels can fail to know the kind 
 of life he led here. He has continually described his experi- 
 ences at this celebrated school — the venerable archway into 
 Charterhouse Square, which still preserves an interesting token 
 of the old monkish character of the neighbourhood. Only a fort- 
 night before his death he was there again, as was his custom, on 
 the anniversary of the death of Thomas Sutton, the munificent 
 founder of the school. ' He was there,' says one who has 
 described the scene, 'in his usual back seat in the quaint old 
 chapel. He went thence to the oration in the Governor's room ; 
 and as he walked up to the orator with his contribution, was 
 received with such hearty applause as only Carthusians can give 
 to one who has immortalised their school. At the banquet after- 
 wards he sat at the side of his old friend and artist-associate in 
 " Punch," John Leech ; and in a humorous speech proposed, as a 
 toast, the noble foundation which he had adorned by his literary 
 fame, and made popular in his works.' 'Divine service,' says 
 another describer of this scene, for ever memorable as the last 
 appearance of Thackeray in public life, 'took place at four 
 o'clock, in the quaint old chapel ; and the appearance of the 
 brethren in their black gowns, of the old stained glass and carving 
 in the chapel, of the tomb of Sutton, could hardly fail to give a 
 peculiar and interesting character to the service. Prayers were 
 
So 
 
 THACKERA YANA. 
 
 said by the Rev. J. J. Halcombe, the reader of the house. There 
 was only the usual parochial chanting of the Nunc Dimzttis ; the 
 familiar Commemoration-day psalms, cxxii. and c, were sung 
 after the third collect and before the sermon; and before the 
 
 general thanksgiving 
 the old prayer was 
 offered up expressive 
 of thankfulness to 
 God for the bounty 
 of Thomas Sutton, 
 and of hope that all 
 who enjoy it might 
 make a right use of 
 it. The sermon was 
 preached by the Rev. 
 Henry Earle Tweed, 
 late Fellow of Oriel 
 College, Oxford, who 
 prefaced it with the " Bidding Prayer," in which he desired the con- 
 gregation to pray generally for all public schools and colleges, and 
 particularly for the welfare of the house " founded by Thomas 
 Sutton for the support of age and the education of youth." ' 
 
 ( 
 
 First Term 
 
 Second Term 
 
 From Charterhouse School Thackeray went to Trinity College, 
 Cambridge, about 1828, the year of his leaving the Charterhouse, 
 and among his fellow-students there had Mr. John Mitchell 
 Kemble, the great Anglo-Saxon scholar, and Mr. Tennyson. 
 With the latter — then unknown as a poet — he formed an ac- 
 
COLLEGE DA VS. 
 
 5' 
 
 quaintance which he maintained to the last, and no reader of the 
 Poet Laureate had a more earnest admiration of his productions 
 than his old Cambridge associate, Thackeray. At college, 
 Thackeray kept seven or eight terms, but took no degree : though 
 he was studious, and his love of classical literature is apparent in 
 most of his writings, either in his occasional apt two words from 
 Horace, or in the quaint and humorous adoption of Latin idioms 
 
 ' O crikey, Father, there's a jolly great what's-a-name !' 
 
 in which, in his sportive moods, he sometimes indulged. A 
 recent writer tells us that his knowledge of the classics — of 
 Horace at least — was amply sufficient to procure him an honour- 
 able place in the ' previous examination.' 
 
 To the reader who would gain an insight into Thackeray's 
 doings at Cambridge, we say, 'Glance through the veracious 
 pages in which he records the University career of Mr. Arthur 
 Pendennis ; you will there at least seize the spirit of his own 
 college days, if perchance you do not find the facts of the author's 
 
52 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 own residence circumstantially stated. Take his studies for 
 
 example. 
 
 1 During the first term of Mr. Pen's academical life, he 
 
 attended classical and mathematical lectures with tolerable assi- 
 duity; but discovering before very 
 long time that he had little taste 
 or genius for the pursuing the exact 
 sciences, and being perhaps rather 
 annoyed that one or two very vulgar 
 young men, who did not even use 
 straps to their trousers so as to cover 
 the abominably thick and coarse 
 shoes and stockings which they wore, 
 beat him completely in the lecture- 
 room, he gave up his attendance at 
 that course, and announced to his fond 
 parent that he proposed to devote 
 himself exclusively to the cultivation 
 of Greek and Roman Literature. 
 
 ' Presently he began to find that 
 he learned little good at the classical 
 lecture. His fellow- students were 
 too dull, as in mathematics they 
 were too learned, for him. Mr. Buck, 
 the tutor, was no better a scholar 
 than many a fifth-form boy at Grey- 
 
 A University Tradesman, ^ . ^^ ^ ^^ ^^ j^ 
 
 drum notion about the metre and grammatical construction of a 
 passage of iEschylus or Aristophanes, but had no more notion of 
 the poetry than Mrs. 
 Binge, his bed-maker; 
 and often grew weary 
 of hearing the dull stu- 
 dents and tutor blun- 
 der through a few lines 
 of a play, which he 
 could read in a tenth 
 
 A Mathematical Lecturer part Qf ^ i[mQ which 
 
 they gave to it. After all, private reading, as he began to per- 
 
 A Classman 
 
COLLEGE DAYS. 53 
 
 ceive, was the only study which was really profitable to a man ; 
 and he announced to his mamma that he should read by himself 
 a great deal more, and in public a great deal less.' % 
 
 ' A Grinder ' A Plodder ' 
 
 Pen's circumstances, tastes, and disposition generally, pre- 
 suming the resemblance to be merely accidental, present a tole- 
 rably faithful reflection of those of his biographer at this period. 
 
 ' Thus young Pen . . . with a good allowance, and a gentleman- 
 like bearing and person, looked to be a lad of more consequence 
 
 than he was really ; and was held by the Oxbridge authorities, 
 tradesmen, and undergraduates as quite a young buck and 
 member of the aristocracy. His manner was frank, brave, and 
 perhaps a little impertinent, as becomes a high-spirited youth. He 
 was perfectly generous and free-handed with his money, which 
 seemed pretty plentiful. He loved joviality, and had a good 
 voice for a song. Boat-racing had not risen in Pen's time to the 
 
54 
 
 TH ACKER A YANA. 
 
 fureur which, as we are given to understand, it has since attained 
 in the University ; and riding and tandem-driving were the 
 fashions of the ingenuous youth. Pen rode to hounds, appeared 
 in pink, as became a young buck, and not particularly extravagant 
 in equestrian or any other amusement, yet managed to run up a 
 fine bill at Nile's, the livery-stable keeper, and in a number of 
 other quarters. In fact, this lucky young gentleman had almost 
 every taste to a considerable degree. He was very fond of books 
 of all sorts : Doctor Portman had taught him to like rare editions, 
 
 Vingt-et-un 
 
 and his own taste led him to like beautiful bindings. It was 
 marvellous what tall copies, and gilding and marbling, and blind 
 tooling the booksellers and binders put upon Pen's shelves. He 
 had a very fair taste in matters of art, and a keen relish for prints 
 of a high school — none of your French opera dancers, or tawdry 
 racing prints, but your Strange's, and Rembrandt etchings, and 
 Wilkie's before the letter, with which his apartments were fur- 
 nished presently in the most perfect good taste, as was allowed 
 in the University, where this young fellow got no small reputation. 
 ' He was elaborately attired. He would ogle the ladies who 
 came to lionise the University and passed before him on the arms 
 of happy gownsmen, and give his opinion upon their personal 
 
COLLEGE DA VS. 
 
 55 
 
 charms, or their toilettes, with the gravity of a critic whose expe- 
 rience entitled him to speak with authority. Men used to say 
 they had been walking with Pen- 
 dennis, and were as pleased to be 
 seen in his company as some of 
 us would be if we walked with a 
 duke down Pall Mall. He and 
 the proctor capped each other as 
 they met, as if they were rival 
 powers, and the men hardly knew 
 which was the greater. 
 
 ' In fact, in the course of his 
 second year, Arthur Pendennis 
 had become one of the men of 
 fashion in the university. It is 
 
 curious to watch that facile admiration and simple fidelity of 
 youth. They hang round a leader and wonder at him, and love 
 
 Well on' 
 
 111 off* 
 
 him, and imitate him. No generous boy ever lived, I suppose, that 
 has not had some wonderment of admiration for another boy; 
 
56 
 
 THACKERAYANA, 
 
 A -few University Favourites 
 
COLLEGE DA VS. 
 
 57 
 
 and Monsieur Pen at Oxbridge had his school, his faithful band 
 of friends, and his rivals. 
 
 ' Hence young Pen got a prodigious reputation at the Uni- 
 versity, and was hailed as a sort of Crichton ; and as for the 
 English verse prize, Jones of Jesus carried it that year certainly, 
 but the undergraduates thought Pen's a much finer poem, and he 
 had his verses printed at his own expense and distributed in gilt 
 morocco covers amongst his acquaintance. I found a copy of it 
 
 'Just a little playful 
 
 lately in a dusty corner of Mr. Pen's bookcases, and have it before 
 me this minute, bound up in a collection of old Oxbridge tracts, 
 university statutes, prize poems by successful and unsuccessful 
 candidates, declamations recited in the college chapel, speeches 
 delivered at the Union Debating Society, and inscribed by Arthur 
 with his name and college, " Pendennis, Boniface;" or presented 
 to him by his affectionate friend Thompson or Jackson, the 
 author. How strange the epitaphs look in those half-boyish 
 hands, and what a thrill the sight of the documents gives one after 
 
58 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 Sport in earnest. 
 
 the lapse of a few lustres ! How fate, since that time, has 
 removed some, estranged others, dealt awfully with all ! Many a 
 hand is cold that wrote those kindly memorials, and that we 
 pressed in the confident and generous grasp of youthful friend- 
 ship. What passions 
 our friendships were 
 in those old days, how 
 artless and void of 
 doubt ! How the arm 
 you were never tired 
 of having linked in 
 your's, under the fair 
 college avenues, or 
 = by the river side, 
 where it washes Mag- 
 dalene Gardens, or 
 Christ Church Mea- 
 dows, or winds by Trinity and King's, was withdrawn of neces- 
 sity, when you entered presently the world, and each parted to 
 push and struggle for himself through the great mob on the way 
 through life ! Are we the same men now that wrote those inscrip- 
 tions — that read those poems? that delivered or heard those 
 essays and speeches, so simple, so pompous, so ludicrously 
 solemn ; parodied so artlessly from books, and spoken with smug 
 chubby faces, and such an admirable aping of wisdom and gra- 
 vity ? Here is the book before me; it is scarcely fifteen years old 
 (the monthly numbers of Pendennis appeared in 1849 an d 1850). 
 Here is Jack moaning with despair and Byronic misanthropy, 
 whose career at the University was one of unmixed milk-punch. 
 Here is Tom's daring essay in defence of suicide and of republi- 
 canism in general, apropos of Roland and the Girondins. Tom's, 
 who wears the stiffest tie in all the diocese, and would go to 
 Smithfield rather than eat a beef-steak on a Friday in Lent. Here 
 
 is Bob of the circuit, who has made a fortune in railroad 
 
 committees, and whose dinners are so good, bellowing out with 
 Tancred and Godfrey, 
 
 1 " On to the breach, ye soldiers of the cross, 
 Scale the red wall and swim the choking foss. 
 
COLLEGE DA VS. 59 
 
 Ye dauntless archers, twang your crossbows well; 
 On bill and battle axe and mangonel ! 
 Ply battering-ram and hurtling catapult, 
 Jerusalem is ours — id Deus vult." 
 
 After which comes a mellifluous description of the garden of 
 Sharon and . the maids of Salem, and a prophecy that roses shall 
 deck the entire country of Syria and a speedy reign of peace be 
 established — all in undeniably decasyllabic lines, and the queerest 
 aping of sense and sentiment and poetry. And there are essays 
 and poems along with the grave parodies and boyish exercises 
 (which are at once frank and false, and so mirthful, yet, somehow, 
 so mournful), by youthful hands that shall never write more. 
 Fate has interposed darkly, and the young voices are silent, and 
 the eager brains have ceased to work.' 
 
 Who shall say how faithfully, albeit perhaps unconsciously, 
 the following paragraphs picture the earliest impressions of the 
 writer, or how nearly the descriptions approximate to the actual 
 circumstances of his own college career ? 
 
 ' Amidst these friends then, and a host more, Pen passed 
 more than two brilliant and happy years of his life. He had his 
 fill of pleasure and popularity. No dinner or supper party was 
 complete without him ; and Pen's jovial wit, and Pen's songs, and 
 dashing courage, and frank and manly bearing, charmed all the 
 undergraduates, and even disarmed the tutors, who cried out at 
 his idleness, and murmured about his extravagant way of life. 
 Though he became the favourite and leader of young men who 
 were much his superiors in wealth and station, he was much too 
 generous to endeavour to propitiate them by any meanness or 
 cringing on his own part, and would not neglect the humblest 
 man of his acquaintance in order to curry favour with the richest 
 young grandee in the University. 
 
 ' There are reputations of this sort made quite independent of 
 the collegiate hierarchy, in the republic of gownsmen. A man 
 may be famous in the honour lists, and entirely unknown to the 
 undergraduates; who elect kings and chieftains of their own, 
 whom they admire and obey as negro gangs have private black 
 sovereigns in their own body, to whom they pay an occult obe- 
 dience, besides that which they publicly profess for their owners 
 
6o 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 Occasional Canters from ' Childe Harold's (first and last) Pilgrimage' 
 
COLLEGE DA VS. 
 
 61 
 
 and drivers. Among the young ones Pen became famous and 
 popular ; not that he did much, but there was a general determi- 
 nation that he could do a great deal 
 more if he chose. " Ah, if Pendennis 
 of Boniface would but try," the men 
 said, " he might do anything." He 
 was backed for the Greek ode won by 
 Smith of Trinity; everybody was sure 
 he would have the Latin hexameter 
 prize which Brown of St. John's, how- 
 ever, carried off; and in this way one 
 University honour after another was lost 
 by him, until, after two or three failures, 
 Mr. Pen ceased to compete.' 
 
 We are not informed how far the 
 sequel of Pen's college career coincides 
 with that of his author. The two his- 
 tories are, however, identical in one 
 fact, both the real and the ideal man of 
 genius left the University abruptly and 
 without taking honours. 
 
 1 At last came the Degree Examina- 
 tions. Many a young man of his year, 
 whose hob-nailed shoes Pen had de- 
 rided, and whose faces or coat he had caricatured ; many a man 
 whom he had treated with scorn in the lecture-room, or crushed 
 
 with his eloquence 
 in the debating-club ; 
 many of his own set, 
 who had not half his 
 brains, but a little re- 
 gularity and constancy 
 of occupation, took 
 high places in the ho- 
 nours or passed with 
 decent credit. And 
 where in the list was 
 Pen the superb, Pen 
 the wit and dandy, 
 Pen the poet and 
 
62 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 orator? Let us hide our heads, and shut up the page. The 
 lists came out ; and a dreadful rumour ran through the University 
 that Pendennis of Boniface was plucked.' 
 
 His pencil would seem to have been a recreation of Thack- 
 eray's college days as well as of his later career. His first efforts 
 in etching on copper were probably produced about the period of 
 which we treat ; the subjects of nearly all of these plates, none 
 of which, we believe, were ever published, were evidently sug- 
 gested by incidents in the career of an undergraduate. 
 
 The margins and fly-leaves of a copy of Ovid's ' Opera Omnia,' 
 one of Black's editions of the Classics (1825), offer various whim- 
 sical illustrations of certain portions of the poems ; we incline to 
 the impression, however, that although some of these parodies 
 may be referred to Thackeray's college days, to others must be 
 assigned a considerably later date. 
 
 P. Ovidii Nasonis Opera omnia. 
 
 P. Ovidii Nasonis 
 
 Remediorum Amoris,' ' Medicaminum Faciei/ et ' Halieutici 
 Fragmenta.' 
 
OVID'S WORKS. 
 
 63 
 
 Epigramma Nasonis in Amores Suos. 
 
 Qui modo Nasonis fueramus quinque libelli, 
 Tres sumus : hoc illi praetulit auctor opus, 
 
 Ut iam nulla tibi nos sit legisse voluptas : 
 At levior demtis poena duobus erit. 
 
 Artis Amatory. (Lib. II.) 
 
 Ecce ! rogant tenerse, sibidem praecepta, puellae. 
 Vos eritis chartae proxima cura mese. 
 
6 4 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 Remedia Amoris. 
 
 Hoc opus exegi : fessae date serta carinae 
 Contigimus portum, quo mihi cursus erat 
 
 Postmodo reddetis.sacro pia vota poetae, 
 Carmine sanati femina virque meo. 
 
 Death mowing down the Loves 
 
OVID'S WORKS. 
 
 65 
 
 Another amusement at this period was the designing of picto- 
 rial puns, after the manner introduced by Cruikshank, and which 
 was successfully prac- 
 tised by Aiken, Sey- 
 
 mour, and Tom Hood. 
 
 India Ink 
 
 Among the sketches 
 by the hand of the no- 
 velist, which we attribute 
 to these earlier days, are /Ju 
 a number of humorous 
 
 Chalk 
 
 designs, many of them equal to the most grotesque efforts of the 
 well-known artists we have mentioned. 
 
 A full length 
 
66 
 
 TH ACKER A YANA. 
 
 LEGAL DEFINITIONS. 
 
 BY A GENTLEMAN WHO MAY BE CALLED TO THE BAR. 
 
 Fee Simple 
 
 On freeholds — A general clause 
 
PICTORIAL PUNS. 
 
 67 
 
 A declarat 
 
 A rejoinder 
 
65 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 Possession. — With remarks on assault and battery 
 if 
 
 An ejectment 
 
RECREATIONS AT THE UNIVERSITY. 
 
 69 
 
 The earliest of Thackeray's literary efforts are associated with 
 Cambridge. It was in the year 1829 that he commenced, in con- 
 junction with a friend and fellow-student, to edit a series of 
 humorous papers, published in 
 that city, which bore the title of 
 1 The Snob : a Literary and Scien- 
 tific Journal.' The first num- 
 ber appeared on April 9 in that 
 year, and the publication was con- 
 tinued weekly. Though affect- 
 ing to be a periodical, it was not 
 originally intended to publish 
 more than one number; but the 
 project, was carried on for eleven 
 weeks, in which period Mr. Lett- 
 som had resigned the entire 
 management to his friend. The 
 contents of each number — which consisted only of four pages 
 — were scanty and slight, and were made up of squibs and 
 
 Fives 
 
 Beauty is but skin deep 
 
 humorous sketches in verse and prose, many of which, however, 
 show some germs of that spirit of wild fun which afterwards dis- 
 
7o 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 tinguished the * Yellowplush ' papers in ' Fraser.' A specimen of 
 the contents of this curious publication cannot but be interesting 
 
 Prisoners' base 
 
 to the reader. The parody we have selected, a clever skit upon 
 the ' Cambridge Prize Poem,' appeared as follows : — 
 
 Timbuctoo. 
 
 To the Editor of ' The Snob: 
 
 Sir, — Though your name be ' Snob,' I trust you will not refuse 
 this tiny ' Poem of a Gownsman/ which was unluckily not finished 
 on the day appointed for delivery of the several copies of verses 
 on Timbuctoo. I thought, Sir, it would be a pity that such a 
 poem should be lost to the world ; and conceiving ' The Snob ' to 
 be the most widely-circulated periodical in Europe, I have taken 
 the liberty of submitting it for insertion or approbation. 
 
 I am, Sir, yours, &c, &c, &c. 
 
 TIMBUCTOO. — PART I. 
 
 The situation. 
 
 In Africa (a quarter of the world), 
 Men's skins are black, their hair is crisp and curl'd. 
 
 Lines I and 2. — See 'Guthrie's Geography.' 
 
 The site of Timbuctoo is doubtful ; the Author has neatly expressed this 
 in the poem, at the same time giving us some slight hints relative to its situa- 
 tion. 
 
'THE SNOB' MAGAZINE. 
 
 And somewhere there, unknown to public view, 
 A mighty city lies, called Timbuctoo. 
 
 The natural history. 
 
 There stalks the tiger, — there the lion roars, 
 Who sometimes eats the luckless blackamoors ; 
 All that he leaves of them the monster throws 
 Ta jackals, vultures, dogs, cats, kites, and crows ; 
 His hunger thus the forest monarch gluts, 
 And then lies down 'neath trees called cocoa nuts. 
 
 Line 5. — So Horace : ' leonum arida nutrix.' 
 Line 8. — Thus Apollo : 
 
 kKapia T6u^6 Kvveffaiv 
 Oldovoicri re iraai. 
 Lines 5-10. — How skilfully introduced are the animal and vegetable pro- 
 ductions of Africa ! It is worthy to remark the various garments in which the 
 Poet hath clothed the lion. He is called, 1st, the ' Lion ; ' 2nd, the 
 'Monster' (for he is very large); and 3rd, the 'Forest Monarch,' which 
 undoubtedly he is. 
 
72 THA CKERA VAN A. 
 
 The lion hunt. 
 
 Quick issue out, with musket, torch, and brand, 
 The sturdy blackamoors, a dusky band ! 
 The beast is found — pop goes the musketoons — 
 The lion falls covered with horrid wounds. 
 
 Their lives at home. 
 
 At home their lives in pleasure always flow, 15 
 
 But many have a different lot to know ! 
 
 Abroad. 
 They're often caught, and sold as slaves, alas ! 
 
 Reflections on the foregoing. 
 
 Thus men from highest joys to sorrow pass. 
 
 Yet though thy monarchs and thy nobles boil 
 
 Rack and molasses in Jamaica's isle ; 20 
 
 Desolate Afric ! thou art lovely yet ! ! 
 
 One heart yet beats which ne'er thee shall forget. 
 
 Lines H-14. — The author confesses himself under peculiar obligations to 
 Denham's and Clapperton's Travels, as they suggested to him the spirited 
 description contained in these lines. 
 
 Line 13. — ' Pop goes the musketoons.' A learned friend suggested 
 ' Bang ' as a stronger expression, but as African gunpowder is notoriously bad, 
 the author thought ' Pop ' the better word. 
 
 Lines 15-18. — A concise but affecting description is here given of the 
 domestic habits of the people. The infamous manner in which they are 
 entrapped and sold as slaves is described, and the whole ends with an appro- 
 priate moral sentiment. The Poem might here finish, but the spirit of the 
 bard penetrates the veil of futurity, and from it cuts off a bright piece for the 
 hitherto unfortunate Africans, as the following beautiful lines amply ex- 
 emplify. 
 
 It may perhaps be remarked that the Author has here ' changed his hand. ' 
 He answers that it was his intention to do so. Before, it was his endeavour 
 to be elegant and concise, it is now his wish to be enthusiastic and magni- 
 ficent. He trusts the Reader will perceive the aptness with which he has 
 changed his style ; when he narrated facts he was calm, when he enters on 
 prophecy he is fervid. 
 
' THE SNOB ' MA GAZINE. 73 
 
 What though thy maidens are a blackish brown, 
 
 Does virtue dwell in whiter breasts alone ? 
 
 Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no ! 25 
 
 It shall not, must not, cannot, e'er be so. 
 
 The day shall come when Albion's self shall feel 
 
 Stern Afric's wrath, and writhe 'neath Afric's steel. 
 
 I see her tribes the hill of glory mount, 
 
 And sell their sugars on their own account; 30 
 
 While round her throne the prostrate nations come, 
 
 Sue for her rice, and barter for her rum ! 32 
 
 The burlesque prize poem concludes with a little vignette in 
 the ' Titmarsh ' manner, representing an Indian smoking a pipe, 
 of the type once commonly seen in the shape of a small carved 
 image at the doors of tobacconists' shops. 
 
 The enthusiasm which he feels is beautifully expressed in lines 25 and 26. 
 He thinks he has very successfully imitated in the last six lines the best manner 
 of Mr. Pope ; and in lines 12-26, the pathetic elegance of the author of 
 'Australasia and Athens.' 
 
 The Author cannot conclude without declaring that his aim in writing this 
 Poem will be fully accomplished if he can infuse into the breasts of English- 
 men a sense of the danger in which they lie. Yes — Africa ! If he can awaken 
 one particle of sympathy for thy sorrows, of love for thy land, of admiration for 
 thy virtue, he shall sink into the grave with the proud consciousness that he 
 has raised esteem,, where before there was contempt, and has kindled the flame 
 of hope on the mouldering ashes of despair ! 
 
74 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Early Favorites — Fielding's ' Joseph Andrews ' — Imitators of Fielding — 'The 
 Adventures of Captain Greenland' — 'Jack Connor' — 'Chrysal, or the Ad- 
 ventures of a Guinea. ' 
 
 Thackeray's references to his favourite novels, and his liking, 
 which assumed a sort of personal regard, for the authors who 
 had given him pleasure, especially in youth, occur constantly 
 throughout his writings, both early and late. 
 
 He has told us how in the boyish days spent in the Charter- 
 house he began to cultivate an acquaintance with the sterling 
 English humorists whose works had a deeply-marked influence 
 on his own literary training. ' Peregrine Pickle ' was familiar to 
 him at Greyfriars ; later on, Fielding's masterpieces came into his 
 possession. The buoyant spirit, vigorous nature, and absence of 
 affectation which are peculiarly the property of that great novelist, 
 must have highly delighted the budding author. Not only did 
 Thackeray treasure up ' Tom Jones ' and * Joseph Andrews/ but 
 by some means he managed to get possession of various novels 
 now completely obsolete, the productions of less brilliant contem- 
 poraries of Fielding, who were tempted by the success of his 
 frankly penned novels to attempt to reach a similar success by- 
 walking servilely in the footsteps of the inaugurator of what may 
 be considered the natural order of English novel writing. Once 
 more we refer to the reminiscences of school and college days 
 scattered through the confidentially chatty ' Roundabout Papers.' 
 
 ' Any contemporary of that coin,' says Thackeray, musing 
 over the memories which for him surround a crown-piece, ' who 
 takes it up and reads the inscription round the laurelled head, 
 " Georgius IV. Britanniarum Rex. Fid. Def. 1823," if he will but 
 look steadily enough at the round, and utter the proper incantation, 
 I dare say may conjure back his life there. Look well, my 
 
EARL Y FA VORITES. 7$ 
 
 elderly friend, and tell me what you see ? First I see a sultan, 
 with hair, beautiful hair, and a crown of laurels round his head, 
 and his name is Georgius Rex. Fid. Def. and so on. Now the 
 sultan has disappeared ; and what is that I see ? A boy — a boy 
 in a jacket. He is at a desk ; he has great books before him, 
 Latin and Greek books and dictionaries. Yes, but behind the 
 great books, which he pretends to read, is a little one with 
 
 Bambooz-ling 
 
 pictures, which he is really reading. It is — yes, I can read now — 
 it is the " Heart of Midlothian," by the author of "Waverley ;" 
 or, no, it is " Life in London • or, the Adventures of Corinthian 
 Tom, Jeremiah Hawthorn, and their Friend Bob Logic," by Pierce 
 Egan ; and it has pictures — oh ! such pictures ! As he reads, 
 there comes behind the boy a man, a dervish, in a funny black 
 gown, like a woman, and a black square cap, and he has a 
 book in each hand, and he seizes the boy who is reading the 
 picture-book, and lays his head upon one of his books and smacks 
 
76 
 
 THACKERA YANA. 
 
 it with the other. The boy makes faces, and so that picture 
 disappears. 
 
 ' Now the boy has grown bigger. He has got on a black 
 
 Blind man's buft 
 
 gown and cap, something like the dervish. He is at a table, with 
 ever so many bottles on it, and fruit, and tobacco \ and other 
 
 Pitch and toss 
 
 young dervishes come in. They seem as if they were singing. 
 To them enters an old mollah \ he takes down their names, and 
 orders them all to go to bed.' 
 
 
EARL Y FA VORITES.— JOSEPH ANDRE WS. 77 
 
 THE HISTORY OF 'JOSEPH ANDREWS.' 
 
 T HE edition (1742) of 
 Fielding's earliest novel, 
 which formed a portion 
 of Mr. Titmarsh's libra- 
 ry, has been enriched by 
 certain characteristic il- 
 lustrations of the drollest 
 incidents. 
 
 But few of Thack- 
 eray's readers can fail 
 to remember his sincere 
 appreciation of the works 
 of his brilliant predeces- 
 sor, Justice Fielding, the 
 founder of that unaffec- 
 ted school of novel writ- 
 ing which has since been 
 rendered illustrious by many masterpieces of genius. 
 
 It is singularly appropriate that ' Joseph Andrews ' happens to 
 form one of the series distinguished with Thackeray's pencillings, 
 as no one acquainted with his writings can fail to recall his ten- 
 derly affectionate allusions to the author of ' Tom Jones.' 
 
 On the fly-leaf of ' Joseph Andrews ' occurs the group of Lady 
 Booby tempting the Joseph of the Georgian era, which forms our 
 initial ; the cut gives, without effort, a key to the wittiest of sly 
 satires ; for ws cannot easily forget that merry mischievous 
 Fielding projected this work as a ludicrous contrast to the exem- 
 plary 'Pamela,' whose literary success brought its well-meaning 
 prosy author so much fame, profit, and flattery. The wicked 
 irony of Fielding was peculiarly shocking to sensitive Richardson; 
 and it is positive that the persecuted Pamela appears shorn of 
 much of her dignity when associated with the undignified tempta- 
 tions suffered by her unexceptionable brother ' Joseph.' 
 
78 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 The substance of this novel is so generally familiar that the 
 merest reference will refresh the memories of our readers so 
 far as the incidents illustrated by these slight pencillings are 
 concerned. 
 
 Parson Adams, it may be remembered, endeavoured to raise a 
 loan on a volume of manuscript sermons to assist Joseph An- 
 drews, when Tow-mouse (the landlord), who 
 mistrusted the security, offered excuses. 
 
 Poor Adams was extremely dejected at 
 this disappointment. He immediately ap- 
 plied to his pipe, his constant friend and 
 comfort in his afflictions; and leaning over 
 the rails, he devoted himself to meditation, 
 assisted by the inspiring fumes of tobacco. 
 
 He had on a night-cap drawn over his 
 wig, and a short great coat, which half covered 
 his cassock; a dress which, added to some- 
 thing comical enough in his countenance, composed a figure 
 likely to attract the eyes of those who were not over-given to 
 observation. 
 
 Joseph Andrews and Parson Adams arrived at the inn in no 
 cheery plight, the hero's leg having been injured by a propensity 
 for performing unexpected genuflections, the pride of a horse bor- 
 rowed by the parson for the occasion. The host, a surly fellow, 
 treated the damaged Joseph with roughness, and Parson Adams 
 briskly resented the landlord's brutality by ' sending him sprawling ' 
 
 on his own floor. His wife retaliated by seizing a pan of hog's- 
 blood, which unluckily stood on the dresser, and, discharging its 
 contents in the good parson's face, rendered him a horrible spec- 
 tacle. Mrs. Slipshod entered the kitchen at this critical moment, 
 
JOSEPH ANDREWS. 
 
 79 
 
 and attacked the hostess with a skill developed by practice, tear- 
 ing her cap, uprooting handfuls of hair, and delivering a succession 
 of dexterous facers. 
 
 Parson Adams, when he required a trifling loan, ventured to 
 wait on the swinish Parson Trulliber, whose wife introduced 
 Adams in error, as ' a man come for some of his hogs.' Trulliber 
 asserted that his animals were all pure fat, and upwards of twenty- 
 score a piece ; he then dragged the parson into his stye, which 
 
 was but two steps from his parlour- window, insisting that he 
 
 should examine them before he would speak one word with him. 
 
 Adams, whose natural complacence was beyond any artifice, was 
 
 obliged to comply before he was suffered to explain 
 
 himself, and laying hold of one of their tails, the 
 
 wanton beast gave such a sudden spring that he 
 
 threw poor Adams all along in the mire. Trulliber, 
 
 instead of assisting him to get up, burst into laughter, 
 
 and, entering the stye, said to Adams, with some 
 
 contempt, ' Why, dost not know how to handle a 
 
 hog?' 
 
 To those writers whose heroes are of their own 
 creation, and whose brains are the chaos whence all 
 their materials are collected — one may apply the 
 saying of Balzac regarding Aristotle, that they are 
 a second nature, for they have no communica- 
 tion with the first, by which authors of an in- 
 ferior class, who cannot stand alone, are obliged to support them- 
 selves as with crutches ; but these of whom I am now speaking 
 
8o 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 seem to be possessed of those stilts which the excellent Voltaire 
 tells us, in his letters, carry the genius far off , but with an irregular 
 pace. Indeed, far out of the sight of the reader — 
 
 Beyond the realm of chaos and old night. 
 
 The pedlar, introduced in these adventures, while relating to 
 Joseph Andrews and Parson Adams the early history of Fanny 
 (then returned from Lady Booby's), proceeded thus : ' Though I 
 
 am now contented with this humble way of getting my livelihood, 
 I was formerly a gentleman ; for so all those of my profession are 
 called. In a word, I was drummer in an Irish regiment of foot. 
 Whilst I was in this honourable station, I attended an officer of our 
 regiment into England, a recruiting/ The pedlar then described 
 meeting a gipsy-woman, who confided to him, on her death-bed, 
 that she had kidnapped a beautiful female infant from a family 
 named Andrews, and sold her to Squire Booby for three guineas. 
 In Fanny, he professed to recognise the stolen infant. 
 
CAPTAIN GREENLAND. 
 
 81 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN GREENLAND. 
 
 * The Adventures of Cap- 
 tain Greenland/ an ano- 
 nymous novel published 
 in 1752, are avowedly 
 'written in imitation of 
 all those wise, learned, 
 witty, and humorous 
 authors who either have 
 or hereafter may write 
 in the same style and 
 manner.' 
 
 The story, divided 
 over a tedious number 
 of books — like the high- 
 flown romances of the 
 'Grand Cyrus' order — 
 also resembles those antiquated and unreal elaborations in the 
 astonishing intrepidity of its professed hero, Sylvius, who, however, 
 engages, like his model ' Joseph Andrews,', in situations generally 
 described as menial. Captain Greenland himself, denuded of his 
 powerful swearing propensities, might be regarded at this date as 
 an interesting curiosity, a British commander of the true-blue 
 salt type. A parson, and other characters suggestive of the ac- 
 quaintances we make in 'Joseph Andrews/ contribute to swell 
 the ' dramatis personam ' A portion of the adventures, which are 
 neither new nor startling, consists of escapes from Spanish con- 
 vents, and complications connected with the Romanist faith, not 
 unlike somewhat kindred allusions in Richardson's ' Sir Charles 
 Grandison.' 
 
 A stage-coach journey occupies ten chapters of one book; and 
 the travellers relieve this lengthy travel (from Worcester to Lon- 
 don) by unfinished anecdotes. Captain Greenland relates an 
 adventure with a highwayman who once stopped his coach. The 
 
 G 
 
82 
 
 THA CKERA YANA, 
 
 < gentleman of the road ' bade the driver ' unrein/ The captain 
 seized his blunderbuss and ' jumped ashore/ thinking it a scandal 
 
 that a gentleman who had the honour of commanding one of His 
 Majesty's ships of war should suffer himself to be boarded and 
 plundered by a single fellow. Being a little warm and hasty, he 
 salutes his enemy with, ' " Blank my heart, but you are a blank 
 cowardly rascal, and a blank mean-spirited villain ! You scoun- 
 drel, you ! you lurk about the course here to plunder every poor 
 creature you meet, that have nothing at all to defend themselves ; 
 but you dare not engage with one that is able to encounter with 
 you. Here, you rascal ! if you dare fight for it, win it and wear 
 it." With that I pulled out my purse and money, and flung it to 
 the ground between us ; but the faint-hearted blank durst as well 
 be blank'd as come near me. So after I had swore myself pretty 
 well out of wind (judging from the captain's ordinary vernacular, 
 the strongest lungs could not have held out long), I ran towards 
 him with my cock'd blunderbuss ready in my hand ; but he 
 at that very moment tacked about, and sheer'd off. I now 
 picked up my purse, and went aboard the coach ; but, blank my 
 heart ! I can't forgive myself for not saluting the rascal with one 
 broadside.' 
 
 At the conclusion of ten chapters of stage-coach journeying, 
 the author brilliantly observes, ' He has cooped up his readers for 
 a considerable time,' and the captain swears the coach is somewhat 
 ' over-manned.' 
 
 ' At night they were all exceedingly merry and agreeable ; 
 and the generous captain again insisted upon paying the bill him- 
 self, which he found no matter of fault with, but in the customary 
 
CAPTAIN GREENLAND. 
 
 83 
 
 article (at that place) of sixpence a head for firing ; which he 
 swore was as much as could have been demanded if they had 
 supp'd at an inn in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.' 
 
 The next day's journey being happily concluded, without any 
 extraordinary occurrences, they arrived about six o'clock in the 
 afternoon at the ' Blue Boar Inn, in Holborn, where they all 
 agreed to sup together, and to lie that night.' 
 
 Rosetta the heroine, and her brother, Sir Christopher, attended 
 by the faithful Sylvius as steward, embark at Portsmouth for 
 
84 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 Lisbon. After some thirty hours' sea-sickness, Rosetta resumed 
 her usual cheerfulness by making merry over her late incapacity. 
 ' Sylvius was yet as bad as any of them. The knight (her brother) 
 was also in the same helpless condition, and continued in the 
 same manner till he was eased of the lofty tosses which were so 
 plentifully bestowed on them by the restless Biscaian Bay.' They 
 all recover at last, and are diverted by the shoals of wanton por- 
 poises. ' By and by their remarks turned on their " little bark's 
 climbing so wonderfully over the vast ridges of the mountainous 
 waves, which formed perpetual and amazing prospects of over- 
 rolling hills and vales, as could scarcely meet belief from those 
 who had never been at sea.'" 
 
 'JACK CONNOR/ 
 
 ' Jack Connor ' is another instance of the novels written by 
 imitators of Fielding. Aiming to produce an unaffected and easy 
 style of fiction, enlivened by incidents of every-day interest, it falls 
 far short of the standard to which it aspires, as one would reason- 
 ably suppose. The book is anonymous, and is dedicated to 
 Henry Fox, ' Secretary at War,' and was published in 1752 j it is 
 founded on a rambling plot, detailing the adventures of a ' waif 
 thrown on the world by his Irish parents. The first volume is 
 mostly occupied by youthful ' amours,' and ends with the ' Story 
 of Polly Gunn,' which unfortunately bears a certain resemblance 
 to De Foe's { Moll Flanders,' in a condensed form. 
 
 'Jack Connor' had a patron, a marvellously proper man, 
 the ' model of righteous walking,' and the dispenser of admirable 
 precepts, over which the hero grew eminently sentimental; but 
 directly after acted in direct opposition to the teaching of this 
 worthy guardian. The pencilling we have selected from the 
 margin of vol. i. illustrates a passage describing the scandals of 
 the kitchen, which affixed to Jack Connor's benefactor, Mr. Kindly, 
 the questionable honour of being father to his protege. 
 
 ' I hope,' said Tittle, ' your la'ship won't be angry with me, 
 only they say that the boy is as like Mr. Kindly as two peas ; but 
 they say, " Mem "— ' 
 
JACK CONNOR. 85 
 
 'Hold your impertinent tongue,' said my lady; 'is this the 
 occasion of so much giggle? 
 You are an ungrateful pack. 
 I am sure 'tis false,' &c. 
 
 'Indeed,' said Tittle, 'if 
 I've said anything to offend 
 your la'ship — ' 
 
 ' Yes, madam,' said my 
 lady, ' you have greatly of- 
 fended me; and so you all 
 have,' &c. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Tittle was not 
 only vastly disappointed, but 
 greatly frightened. She in- 
 formed the rest of the recep- 
 tion she had met with. The 
 servants were quite surprised at the oddity of her ladyship's 
 temper, and quoted many examples diametrically opposite. 
 
 ' I'm sure,' said Mrs. Tittle, ' had I told as much to Squire 
 Smart's lady, we should have laughed together about it the live- 
 long night ! ' 
 
 ' Ay, ay,' said Mrs. Matthews, ' God bless the good Lady 
 Malign ! When I waited on her in Yorkshire, many a gown, and 
 petticoat, and smock have I gotten for telling her half so much; 
 but, to be sure, some people think themselves wiser than all the 
 world ! ' 
 
 ' Hold, hold,' said Tom Blunt, the butler. ' Now, d'ye see, if 
 so be as how my lady is wrong, she'll do you right ; and if so be 
 as how my lady is right, how like fools and ninnihammers will 
 you all look ! ' 
 
 In vol. ii. we find Jack Connor resorting to the reputable pro- 
 fession of 'gentleman of the road ;' he plans his first ' stand-and- 
 deliver ' venture in company with two experienced highwaymen. 
 Hounslow is the popular spot selected for his debfit. Thither he 
 proceeds in a post-chaise from Piccadilly, having arranged for his 
 horse in advance. Two circumstances favour him ; he knows a 
 family in the neighbourhood, and he wears a surtout of a cloth 
 that is blue on one side and red on the other, and that has no other 
 lining. In a blue coat with scarlet cuffs he orders wine, arranges fc* 
 
86 
 
 THACKERA VAN A. 
 
 a return post-chaise, and enquires the address of the people whose 
 
 name he knows. He then departs, secures his horse, and turns 
 
 his coat ; he is behind-hand, 
 and the coach just then 
 coming up, the two high- 
 waymen lead the attack; 
 one is shot, and the other 
 disabled and captured. 
 Connor escapes in the con- 
 fusion, ties up his horse, 
 turns his coat, and walks 
 
 back to the inn for his post-chaise, which is delayed, one horse 
 
 being wanting. The landlord enters. ' There now,' said he, ' is 
 
 two fine gentlemen that have made a noble kettle of fish of it this 
 
 morning ! ' 
 
 ' Bless me, my dear,' said his wife, ' what's the matter ? ' 
 
 f Not much ; only a coach was stopped on the heath by 
 
 three highwaymen, and two of 'em is now taken, and at the next 
 
 inn.' 
 
 ' Dear sirs,' said the landlady, ' 'tis the most preposteroustest 
 
 thing in life that gentlefolks won't travel in post-chaises ; and then 
 
 they're always safe from these fellows.' 
 
 ' Well,' said the husband, ' I must send after the third, who 
 
 escaped; I'll engage to find out his scarlet coat before night' 
 Connor, recollecting his situation, chimed in with the hostess, 
 
 and spoke greatly against the disturbers of the public. At last he 
 
 and 
 
 safe to London; but 
 
 took leave, mounted his chaise, 
 often thought the horses very bad. 
 
 Jack Connor, after various vicissitudes, was at last reduced to 
 service, and was employed as secretary 
 by Sir John Curious, an infirm compound 
 of wealth and avarice, married, in his last 
 days, to a young wife. Connor became 
 unpopular with the ladies of the estab- 
 lishment, on account of his over-correct 
 behaviour. One day he was busy read- 
 ing to Sir John, when Mr. Sampson, a wine merchant, entered. 
 The knight had a great regard for this gentleman, and was ex- 
 tremely civil to him. ' Well, friend Sampson,' said he, l time was 
 
JACK CONNOR. 8/ 
 
 when we used to meet oftener ; but this plaguy gout makes me 
 perform a tedious quarantine, you see.' 
 
 ' Ah, Sir John,' replied Mr. Sampson, l you are at anchor in a 
 safe harbour: but I have all your ailments, and am buffeted about 
 in stormy winds.' 
 
 ' Not so, not so,' answered the knight ; ' I hope my old friend 
 is in no danger of shipwreck. No misfortunes, I hope.' 
 
 ' None,' said Mr. Sampson, ' but what my temper can bear. I 
 have lost my only child, just such a youth as that (pointing to 
 Jack). I have lost the best part of my substance by the war, and 
 I have found old age and infirmities.' 
 
 Sir John regretted that he could not assist his friend with a 
 loan, but he paid his account for wine, and handed over Connor 
 to assist Mr. Sampson in his business. 
 
 After a long letter on the state of Ireland — which appeared even 
 in 1744 a question beyond the wisdom of legislation to dispose 
 
 of satisfactorily — the author apologises for his digressions with con- 
 siderable novelty. ' I am afraid I have carried my reader too far 
 from the subject-matter of this history, and tried his patience ; 
 but I assure him that my indulgence has been very great, for, 
 at infinite pains, I have curtailed the last chapter (the Irish ques- 
 tion) at least sixty pages. Few know the difficulty of bridling the 
 imagination, and reining back a hard-mouthed pen. It sometimes 
 gets ahead, and, in spite of all our skill, runs away with us into 
 mire and dirt ; nay, at this minute I find my quill in a humour to 
 gallop, so shall stop him short in time.' 
 
 The life of Connor is chequered. He finally figures as a cap- 
 tain of dragoons in the campaign in Flanders, under the ' Cullo- 
 den' Duke. He performs deeds of valour with the army, and 
 rescues a Captain Thornton from three assailants, preserves his life 
 and secures his gratitude. He next appears at Cadiz, on a commer- 
 cial errand, and he regains his long-lost mother in Mrs. Magraph, a 
 
88 
 
 TH ACKER A YANA. 
 
 wealthy widow, to whom he had made love. This lady, who had 
 saved thirty thousand pounds, was very communicative, she finally 
 recognised him as her son, and acquainted him that Sir Roger Thorn- 
 ton, the life of whose son he had preserved, was in reality his father, 
 and not Connor, as he had previously believed. The hero then set 
 out for Paris. The ship was ready to sail. All were concerned at 
 losing so polite a companion, and he was loaded with praises and 
 caresses. His mother could not bear it with that resignation she 
 
 at first thought ; but, how- 
 ever, she raised her spirits, 
 and with many blessings 
 saw him set sail. 
 
 The voyage was pros- 
 perous, and he arrived at 
 Marseilles, safe and in good 
 health. He took post for 
 Paris, and embraced his dear 
 friend Captain Thornton, as 
 indicated in the marginal 
 illustration. Jack Connor marries a lord's daughter, and becomes 
 an Irish landed gentleman. The author concludes with the regret 
 that he has not the materials to reveal his hero's future. 
 
 CHRYSAL, OR THE ADVENTURES OF A GUINEA. 
 
 overtaken by a 
 
 We gather from the copy of this work, 
 which was formerly on the shelves of 
 Thackeray's library, that * Chrysal ' had 
 reached seven editions in 1771, having 
 been originally published, in 1760, with 
 a dedication of a highly laudatory order 
 to William Pitt. 
 
 The bookseller's prefix to the first 
 edition is slightly imaginative. To de- 
 scribe its nature briefly, the publisher, 
 while taking a country stroll in White- 
 chapel, then an Arcadian village, was 
 shower, and sought shelter in a cottage where a 
 
CHRYSAL. 
 
 89 
 
 humble family were breakfasting. His eye was caught by a sheet 
 of manuscript which had done duty for a butter- plate. Jts contents 
 interested him, and he learnt that the chandler next door wrapped 
 up her commodities in such materials. He made an experimental 
 purchase, which was done up in another leaf of 
 the paper. Cautious enquiries elicited that 
 brown paper being costly, and a quantity of old 
 'stuff' having been left by a long deceased 
 lodger of her departed mother's, the manuscript 
 was thus turned into use. The enterprising 
 publisher invested is. 6d. for brown paper, and 
 secured the entire remaining sheets in exchange. 
 Finding, on perusal, that he had secured matter 
 of some literary value, he pursued his investi- 
 gations with the same lady, and learned that the author was an 
 unfortunate schemer, who, after wasting his entire fortune in 
 seeking the philosopher's stone, perceived his folly too late, wrote 
 the story of ' Chrysal ' in ridicule of the fallacy of golden visions, 
 and' expired before he could realise any profit by the publication 
 of his papers. The bookseller secretly resolved to admit the 
 good woman to a half share of the profits of her 'heirship,' 
 and 'Chrysal' appeared. It excited some attention, and had 
 various charges laid to its account. 
 
 The scheme is ingenious, tracing the guinea from its pro- 
 jection, and giving an account of the successive stages of its 
 changing existence. We are admitted to con- 
 template the influence of gold in various situa- 
 tions j with dissertations on ' traffic,' and, in 
 short, follow the history of a guinea through 
 the possession of numerous owners, male and 
 female, while the reader is by these means introduced to 
 some very curious situations. 
 
 The little design in the margin occurs in the history 
 of a horned cock, a parody on collectors of curiosities, 
 describing the manner in which a noble ' virtuoso ' was 
 imposed upon by a cunning vendor of wonderful produc- 
 tions. There was considerable competition to secure the 
 composite phenomenon, and when his lordship obtained it, 
 vocation of ' savants ' was summoned to report on the marvel. 
 
 con- 
 The 
 
9o THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 bird, a game-cock, had unfortunately taken offence at an owl in 
 a neighbouring cage, and when the company arrived it had rubbed 
 off one of the horns and disturbed the other. While arguing that 
 the bird had shed its horn in the course of nature, one of the com- 
 pany dropped some snuff near the bird's eye, who thereupon shook 
 his head with sufficient violence to dislodge the remaining 
 horn ; exposing the imposture, and overwhelming the virtuose 
 with such vexation that the cock was sacrificed to ^sculapius 
 forthwith. 
 
 The guinea gets into the hands of a justice of the peace, in 
 the shape of a bribe, and a very remarkable state of corruption 
 and traffic in iniquity is displayed. The little pencilling of a 
 quaint figure holding the scales occurs on the margin of a para- 
 graph which records a warm dispute 
 between the justice and his clerk on 
 the proportioning of their plunder, the 
 llS^I^J? /LjU clerk revolting against an arrangement 
 by which it is proposed to confine him 
 to a bare third ! The dispute is 
 checked by the arrival of some cus- 
 tomers, matrons dwelling within the justice's district, who come to 
 compound with him in regular form ' for the breach of those laws 
 he is appointed to support.' 
 
 The sketches pencilled in ' Chrysal ' do not follow the story 
 very closely ; indeed, they can hardly be intimately associated 
 with the text they accompany. This, however, is quite an excep- 
 tional case ; the drawings found in Mr. Thackeray's books, in 
 nearly every instance, being very felicitous embodiments of the 
 subject matter of the works they may be considered to illustrate 
 with unusual fidelity. 
 
 On a fly-leaf of ' Chrysal' is a jovial sketch of light-hearted 
 and nimble-toed tars, who form a realistic picture of the good 
 cheer a guinea may command, and is immediately suggestive of 
 bags of prize-money, apoplectically stored with the yellow boys, 
 which in the good old days were supposed to profusely line the 
 pockets of true salts when they indulged in the delights of a 
 spell on shore, at the date sailors experimented in frying, as the 
 story represents them, superfluous watches in bacon-fat, as a 
 scientific relaxation, when the ships were paid off at Portsmouth, 
 
jolly tars: 
 
 91 
 
 and ' jolly tars ' had invested in more timekeepers than the exi- 
 gencies of punctuality strictly demanded. 
 
THACKERA YANA. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Continental Ramblings — A Stolen Trip to Paris — Calais and the Paris Road 
 in 1830 — French Jottings — Thackeray's Residence at Weimar — Contribu- 
 tions to Albums — Burlesque State— German Sketches and Studies — The 
 Weimar Theatre — Goethe — Weimar re-visited — Souvenirs of the Saxon 
 city — 'Journal kept during a visit to Germany.' 
 
 We cannot take leave of Thackeray's college days without 
 referring to the first trip he made to Paris during a vacation, on 
 his own responsibility, and, indeed, without consulting his pastors 
 and masters on the subject. This little episode occurred when 
 he was nineteen, and we feel that no language but his own will do 
 justice to the characteristic anecdote which is happily introduced 
 in a gossiping essay on the Hotel Dessein at Calais. 
 
 6 1 remember as boy, at the " Ship " at Dover (imperante Can^o 
 Decimo), when, my place to London being paid, I had but twelve 
 shillings left after a certain little Paris excursion 
 (about which my benighted parents never knew 
 anything), ordering for dinner a whiting, a beef- 
 steak, and a glass of negus, and the bill was, dinner 
 seven shillings, glass of negus two shillings, waiter 
 sixpence, and only half-a-crown left, as I was a 
 sinner, for the guard and coachman on the way to 
 London ! And I was a sinner. I had gone without 
 leave. What a long, dreary, guilty, forty hours' jour- 
 ney it was from Paris to Calais I remember ! How 
 did I come to think of this escapade, which oc- 
 curred in the Easter vacation of the year 1830 ? I 
 always think of it when I am crossing to Calais. 
 Guilt, sir, guilt remains stamped on the memory, 
 and I feel -easier in my mind now that it is liber- 
 ated of the old peccadillo. I met my college tutor only yesterday. 
 We were travelling, and stopped at the same hotel. He had the 
 
 Coachee, 1830 
 
THE PARIS ROAD IN 1830. 93 
 
 very next room to mine. After he had gone to his apartment, 
 having shaken me quite kindly by the hand, I felt inclined to 
 knock at his door, and say, " Doctor Bentley, I beg your pardon, 
 but do you remember, when I was going down at the Easter 
 vacation in 1830, you asked me where I was going to spend 
 my vacation, and I said, with my friend Slingsby, in Hunting- 
 donshire ? Well, Sir, I grieve to have to confess that I told you 
 a fib. I had got twenty pounds, and was going for a lark to Paris, 
 where my friend Edwards was staying." 
 
 *' That first day at Calais ! The voices of the women crying out 
 at night, as the vessel came alongside the pier ; the supper at 
 Quillacq's, and the flavour of the cutlets and wine ; the red-calico 
 canopy under which I slept ; the tiled floor, and the fresh smell of * 
 the shells ; the wonderful postilion in his jack-boots and pig- 
 tail — all return with perfect clearness to my 
 mind, and I am seeing them and not the 
 objects actually under my eyes. Here is 
 Calais. Yonder is that commissioner I have 
 known this score of years. Here are the 
 women screaming and bustling over the bag- 
 gage ; the people at the passport barrier who 
 take your papers. My good people, I hardly 
 see you. You no more interest me than a 
 dozen orange women in Covent Garden, or a postilion 
 
 a shop book-keeper in Oxford Street. But you make me think ot 
 a time when you were indeed wonderful to behold — when the little 
 French soldiers wore white cockades in their shakoes, when the dili- 
 gence was forty hours going to Paris, and the great-booted postilion, 
 as surveyed by youthful eyes from the coupe, with his jurons, his 
 ends of rope for harness, and his clubbed pigtail, was a wonderful 
 being, and productive of endless amusement. You young folks 
 don't remember the apple-girls who used to follow the diligence up 
 the hill beyond Boulogne, and the delights of the jolly road ? In 
 making continental journeys with young folks, an oldster may be 
 very quiet, and, to outward appearance, melancholy ; but really 
 he has gone back to the days of his youth, and he is seventeen or 
 eighteen years of age (as the case may be), and is amusing himself 
 
 * A Roundabout Journey. 
 
94 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 with all his might. He is noting the horses as they come squealing 
 
 out of the post-house yard at midnight ; he is enjoying the delicious 
 
 meals at Beauvais and Amiens, and 
 quaffing ad libitum the rich table-d'hote 
 wine ; he is hail fellow with the con- 
 ductor, and alive to all the incidents of 
 the road. A man can't be alive in i860 
 and 1830 at the same time, don't you see. 
 Bodily, I may be in i860, inert, silent, 
 torpid ; but in the spirit I am walking 
 
 about in 1828, let us say, in 
 
 a blue dress coat and brass buttons, 
 a sweet figured silk waistcoat (which I 
 button round a slim waist with perfect 
 ease), looking at beautiful beings with 
 gigot sleeves and tea-tray hats under 
 the golden chesnuts of the Tuileries, or 
 round the Place Vendome, where the 
 drapeau blanch floating over the statue- 
 less column. Shall we go and dine at 
 Bombarda's, near the Hotel Breteuil, 
 or at the Cafe Virginie ? Away ! Bom- 
 barda's and the Hotel Breteuil have 
 
 been pulled down ever so long. They knocked down the poor 
 
 old Virginia Coffee-house last 
 
 year. My spirit goes and dines 
 
 there. My body, perhaps, is 
 
 seated with ever so many people 
 
 in a railway carriage, and no 
 
 wonder my companions find me 
 
 dull and silent. My soul whisks 
 
 away thirty years back into the 
 
 past. I am looking out anxiously 
 
 for a beard. I am getting past 
 
 the age of loving Byron's poems, 
 
 and pretend that I like Words- 
 worth and Shelley much better. 
 
 Nothing I eat or drink (in reason) 
 
 disagrees with me ; and I know 
 
WEIMAR SKETCHES. 
 
 95 
 
 whom I think to be the most lovely creature in the world. Ah, 
 dear maid (of that remote but well-remembered period), are you 
 a wife or widow now ? are you 
 dead ? are you thin and with- 
 ered and old? are you grown 
 much stouter, with a false 
 front? and so forth.' 
 
 About 1830 Thackeray re- 
 paired to Weimar, in Saxony, 
 where, as he describes it, he 
 lived with a score of young 
 English lads, 'for study, or 
 sport, or society.' Mr. G. H. 
 Lewes, in his ' Life of Goethe,' 
 tells us that Weimar albums 
 still display with pride the cari- 
 catures which the young artist 
 sketched at that period. ' My 
 delight in those days,' says 
 Mr. Thackeray, ' was to make 
 caricatures for children' — a 
 habit, we may add, which he 
 never forgot. Years after- 
 wards, in the fulness of his 
 fame, revisiting the 'friendly 
 
 little Saxon capital,' he found, to his great delight, that these were 
 
 yet remembered, and some even 
 preserved still ; but he was much 
 more proud to be told, as a lad, 
 that the great Goethe himself had 
 looked at some of them. In a letter 
 to his friend Mr. Lewes, inserted by 
 the latter in the work referred to, 
 Thackeray has given a pleasing pic- 
 ture of this period of his life, and 
 of the circle in which he found 
 himself. The Grand Duke and 
 Duchess (he tells us) received the 
 
 A Court chaplain 
 
 English lads with the kindliest 
 
96 
 
 THACKERA YAK A. 
 
WEIMAR SKETCHES. 
 
 97 
 
 hospitality. 'We knew the whole society of the little city, and 
 but that the young ladies, one and all, spoke admirable English, 
 
 - © & v ®> 
 
 W 
 
 7<0 6^ 
 
 01V 
 
 6w 
 
 t)i/ju - A// oufUal 
 
 we surely might have learned the very best German.' Readers 
 familiar with the ' Rose and the Ring,' Thackeray's popular 
 
 Rara avis in terris, nigroque simillima cigno. 
 (Album oddities. Weimar, 1830) 
 
 Weimar, 1830 
 
 Christmas book, will recognise in the sketch on page 98 the 
 artist's fondness for playing with ' royalty— especially with pan- 
 tomimic royalty. The Weimar court was full of old ceremony, 
 
 H 
 
9« 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
RESIDENCE AT WEIMAR. 
 
 99 
 
 A Weimar sketch. 
 
 and yet most pleasant and homely withal. Thackeray and his 
 friends were invited in turns to dinners, balls, and assemblies 
 
 Schiller's plays. Weimar, 1830 
 
 there. Such young men as had a right appeared in uniforms, 
 diplomatic and military. Some invented gorgeous clothing : the 
 
IOO 
 
 TH ACKER A YANA. 
 
 old Hof Marschall, M. de Spiegel, who (says our author) 
 had two of the most lovely daughters ever looked on, being in 
 nowise difficult as to the admission of these young Englanders. 
 Of the winter nights they used to charter sedan chairs, in which 
 
 they were carried through the 
 snow to these court entertain- 
 ments. Here young Thackeray 
 had the good luck to purchase 
 Schiller's sword, which formed a 
 part of his court costume, and 
 
 v which hung in his study till the 
 A day of his death, to put him (as 
 
 i he said) in mind of days of youth 
 the most kindly and delightful. 
 
 Here, too, he had the advan- 
 tage of the society of his friend 
 Church militant and fellow-student at Cambridge, 
 
 Mr. W. G. Lettsom, later Her 
 Majesty's Charge-d' Affaires at Uruguay, but who was at the 
 period referred to attached to the suite of the English Minister at 
 
 Triumphal march of the British forces 
 
 Weimar. To the kindness of this gentleman he was indebted in a 
 considerable degree for the introductions he obtained to the best 
 
JOTTINGS IN GERMANY. 
 
 ior 
 
 families in the town. Thackeray was always fond of referring 
 to this period of his life. In a private letter, written long after- 
 wards, he says :— ' I recollect, many years ago, at the theatre at 
 Weimar, hearing Beethoven's "Battle of Vittoria," in which, 
 amidst a storm of glorious music, the air of '*God save 
 the King" was intro- 
 duced. The very in- 
 stant it begun every 
 Englishman in the 
 theatre stood upright, 
 and so stood rever- 
 ently until the air was 
 finished. Why so ? 
 From some such thrill 
 of excitement as 
 makes us glow and 
 rejoice over Mr. Tur- 
 ner and his " Fighting 
 Temeraire.'" 
 
 The spirited sketch 
 of a German Fencing 
 Bout, given on the 
 following page, was 
 probably drawn on 
 the spot during the 
 progress of the com- 
 bat. The collegians 
 enable us to con- 
 struct a realistic 
 picture of the student 
 of a generation ago. 
 
 The object of the 
 combatants being to 
 inflict a prick or scratch in some conspicuous part ot the face, the rest 
 of the person is carefully padded and protected. In our days the 
 loose cap with its pointed peak has disappeared before its gay 
 muffin-shaped substitute ; but the traditional pride in a scarred face 
 is still observable. Even at the present day we find the youths 
 of German University towns rejoicing in a seam down the nose, 
 
 Opera at Weimar 
 
102 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
WEIMAR REVISITED. 
 
 103 
 
 or swaggering in the conscious dignity of a slashed cheek, as out- 
 ward and visible evidence of the warlike soul within. 
 
 Devrient, who appeared some 
 years since at the St. James's 
 Theatre in German versions of 
 Shakspeare, was performing at 
 Weimar at that period, in ' Shy- 
 lock/ 'Hamlet, 
 
 Shakspeare at Weimar 
 
 Operatic reminiscences at Weimar 
 
 the ' Robbers ;' and the beautiful Madame Schroder was appearing 
 in 'Fidelio.' 
 
 The young English students at Weimar spent their evenings in 
 frequenting the performances at the theatres, or attending the 
 levees of the Court ladies. 
 
 ' After three-and-twenty years' absence,' continues Mr. Thack- 
 eray, ' I passed a couple of summer days in the well-remembered 
 place, and was fortunate enough to find some of the friends of my 
 youth. Madame de Goethe was there, and received me and my 
 
104 
 
 T HACK ERA YANA. 
 
 daughters with the kindness of old days. We drank tea in the open 
 air at the famous cottage in the park, which still belongs to the 
 family, and had been so often inhabited by her illustrious father. 
 In 1 83 1, though he had retired from the world, Goethe would 
 nevertheless very kindly receive strangers. His daughter-in-law's 
 
 tea-table was always spread for 
 us. We passed hours after 
 hours there, and night after 
 night with the pleasantest talk 
 and music. We read over end- 
 less novels and poems in 
 French, English, and German. 
 . . . He remained in his 
 private apartment, where only 
 a very few privileged persons 
 were admitted ; but he liked to 
 know all that was happening, 
 and interested himself about 
 all strangers. ... Of 
 course I remember very well 
 the perturbation of spirit with 
 which, as a lad of nineteen, 
 I received the long-expected 
 intimation that the Herr Ge- 
 heimrath would see me on 
 such a morning. This notable 
 audience took place in a little 
 ante-chamber of his private 
 apartments, covered all round 
 with antique casts and bas- 
 reliefs. He was habited in a 
 
 German student of the period. (Weimar, x8 3 o) ^ ^ ^ dmb redingotej 
 
 with a white neckcloth and a red riband in his button-hole. He 
 kept his hands behind his back, just as in Rauch's statuette. His 
 complexion was very bright, clear, and rosy ; his eyes extraordi- 
 narily dark, piercing, and brilliant. I felt quite afraid before 
 them, and recollect comparing them to the eyes of the hero of 
 a certain romance called " Melmoth the Wanderer," which used 
 to alarm us boys thirty years ago ; eyes of an individual who 
 
GOETHE AND WEIMAR. 
 
 105 
 
 had made a bargain with a certain person, and at an extreme old 
 age retained these eyes in all their awful splendour. I fancied 
 Goethe must have been still more handsome as an old man than 
 even in the days of his youth. His voice 
 was very rich and sweet. He asked me 
 questions about myself, which I answered 
 as best I could. I recollect I was at first 
 astonished, and then somewhat relieved, 
 
 Goethe 
 (Sketched at Weimar, 1830) 
 
 Goethe. A sketch from the Fraser portrait 
 
 when I found he spoke French with not 
 a good accent. Vidi tantum. I saw him 
 but three times. Once walking in the 
 garden of his house in the Frauenplan; 
 once going to step into his chariot on a 
 sunshiny day, wearing a cap, and a cloak 
 with a red collar. He was caressing at the time a beautiful little 
 golden-haired granddaughter, over whose sweet fair face the earth 
 has long since closed too. Any of us who had books or magazines 
 from England sent them to him, and he examined them eagerly. 
 "Fraser's Magazine" had lately come out, and I remember he 
 was interested in those admirable outline portraits which appeared 
 for a while in its pages. But there was one, a very ghastly carica- 
 ture of Mr. R * which, as Madame Goethe told me, he shut 
 
 iamuel Rogers, the poet. 
 
io6 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
RESIDENCE AT WEIMAR. 107 
 
 up and put away from him angrily. ? They would make me look 
 like that," he said ; though in truth I can fancy nothing more 
 serene, majestic, and healthy-\ook\\\g than the grand old Goethe. 
 Though his sun was setting, the sky round about was calm and 
 bright, and that little Weimar was illumined by it. In every one 
 of those kind salons the talk was still of art and letters. ... At 
 
 Album sketches 
 
 court the conversation was exceedingly friendly, simple, and 
 polished. The Grand Duchess (the present Grand Duchess 
 Dowager), a lady of very remarkable endowments, would kindly 
 borrow our books from us,* lend us her own, and graciously talk to 
 
 * In October 1830, we find Thackeray writing from W.eimar to a bookseller 
 in Charterhouse Square, for a liberal supply of the Bath post paper, on which 
 he wrote his verses and drew his countless sketches. On certain sheets of this 
 paper, after his memorable interview with Goethe, we find the young, artist 
 
:oS 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
RESIDENCE AT WEIMAR. 
 
 109 
 
 us young men about our literary tastes and pursuits. In the 
 respect paid by this court to the patriarch of letters there was 
 something ennobling, I think, alike to the subject and sovereign. 
 With a five-and-twenty years' experience since those happy days 
 of which I write (says our author), and an acquaintance with 
 an immense variety of human kind, I think I have never seen a 
 society more simple, charitable, courteous, gentlemanlike, than 
 that of the dear little Saxon city where the good Schiller and the 
 great Goethe lived and lie buried.' * 
 
 The preceding sketch of sleighing, which has all the life and 
 spirit of a drawing executed whilst the recollection of its subject is 
 still fresh, was evidently made at the period 
 of Thackeray's residence at Weimar. He 
 has left various pen-and-ink dottings of 
 the quaint houses in this town, which cor- 
 respond with the little buildings in the 
 above landscape. 
 
 Thackeray frequently carries his read- 
 ers back to the delightful days he spent at 
 the miniature capital. In his ' Roundabout 
 Paper,' ' De Finibus ' (1862), he writes: 
 ' Every man who has had his German 
 tutor, and has been coached through the 
 famous Faust of Goethe (thou wert my 
 
 instructor, gOOd Old Weissenbom, and A German peasant maiden 
 
 those eyes beheld the great master himself in that dear little 
 Weimar town !), has read those charming verses which are pre- 
 fixed to the drama, in which the poet reverts to the time when his 
 
 trying to trace from recollection the features of the remarkable face which had 
 deeply impressed his fancy. There are portraits in pen and ink, and others 
 washed with colour to imitate more closely the complexion of the study he was 
 endeavouring to work out. The letter to which we here refer contains an order 
 of an extensive character, for the current literature, which throws some light on 
 his tastes at this period : — 'Fraser's Town and Country Magazine for August, 
 September, October, and November. The four last numbers of the Examiner 
 and Literary Gazette, The Co?nic Annual, The Keepsake, and any others of the 
 best annuals, and Bombastes Furioso, with Geo. Cruikshank's illustrations. 
 The parcel to be directed to Dr. Frohrib, Industrie Comptoir, Weimar.' 
 
 * The whole of this valuable and interesting letter may be found in Mr. 
 Lewes's biography of ' the Great Goethe.' 
 
1 10 THA CKERA VAN A. 
 
 work was first composed, and recalls the friends now departed, 
 who once listened to his song. The dear shadows rise up around 
 him, he says; he lives in the past again. It is to-day which ap- 
 pears vague and visionary.' 
 
 Among the volumes originally in Thackeray's possession was a 
 book, privately printed, containing portions of the diaries of Mrs. 
 Colonel St. George, written during her sojourn among the German 
 courts, 1799 and 1800. As the margins of the book are pencilled 
 with slight but graphic etchings illustrative of the matter, we insert 
 a few extracts while treating of Thackeray's early experience of 
 Weimar, as harmonising with this part of our subject. It may be 
 premised that the actual sketches belong to a considerably later 
 date. 
 
 JOURNAL KEPT DURING A VISIT TO GERMANY 
 IN 1799, 1800. 
 
 One of the most entertaining diaries of travel among the 
 German courts which flourished at the beginning of this century 
 proceeds from the pen of a widow of distinction, who was received 
 with refined courtesy at the capitals described in her journal. 
 The work, privately printed, is really valuable for the life-like 
 studies it offers of certain celebrities ; one portion, describing the 
 appearance of Lord Nelson, with Lady Hamilton, at the Elector's 
 capital, is peculiarly interesting. 
 
 ' Vienna, July 18, 1800. — Dined at La Gardie's ; read " Les 
 Meres Rivales " aloud, while she made a eouvre-pied for her ap- 
 proaching confinement ; her mother worked a cap for the babe, 
 and he sat down to his netting ; it was a black shawl for his wife. 
 A fine tall man, a soldier, too, with a very martial appearance, 
 netting a shawl for his wife amused me. 
 
 ' Dresden, Oct. 2. — Dined at the Elliots'.* While I was playing 
 at chess with Mr. Elliot, came the news of Lord Nelson's arrival, 
 with Sir William and Lady Hamilton, Mrs. Cadogan, mother of 
 
 * The Right Hon. Hugh Elliot, brother to Lord Minto, at that date English 
 * Minister at Dresden : he was afterwards made Governor of Madras. 
 
JOURNAL OF A VISIT TO GERMANY. in 
 
 the latter, and Miss Cornelia Knight, famous for her " Continua- 
 tion of Rasselas " and her " Private Life of the Romans.'' * 
 
 1 Oct. 3.— Dined at Mr. 
 Elliot's, with only the Nelson 
 party. It is plain that Lord 
 Nelson thinks of nothing but 
 Lady Hamilton, who is totally 
 occupied by the same object. 
 She is bold, forward, coarse, 
 assuming, and vain. Her 
 figure is colossal, but except- 
 ing her feet, well shaped. Her 
 bones are large, and she is 
 exceedingly embonpoint. She 
 resembles the bust of Ariadne ; 
 the shape of all her features is fine, as is the form of her head, and 
 particularly her ears ; her teeth are a little irregular, but tolerably 
 white ; her eyes light blue, with a brown spot in one, which though 
 a defect, takes nothing away from her beauty and expression. Her 
 eyebrows and hair are dark, and her complexion coarse. Her 
 expression is strongly marked, variable, and interesting; her 
 movements in common life ungraceful ; her voice loud, yet not 
 disagreeable. Lord Nelson is a little man, without any dignity ; 
 who, I suppose, must resemble what Suwarrow was in his youth, 
 as he is like all the pictures I have seen of that general. Lady 
 Hamilton takes possession of him, and he is a willing captive, the 
 most submissive and devoted I have seen. Sir William is old, 
 infirm, all admiration of his wife, and never spoke to-day but to 
 applaud her. Miss Cornelia Knight seems the decided flatterer 
 of the two, and never opens her mouth but to show forth their 
 praise ; and Mrs. Cadogan, Lady Hamilton's mother, is what one 
 might expect. After dinner we had several songs in honour of 
 Lord Nelson, written by Miss Knight, and sung by Lady Hamil- 
 ton. She puffs the incense full in his face ; but he receives it 
 with pleasure and sniffs it up very cordially. The songs all 
 ended in the sailor's way, with " Hip, hip, hip, hurra ! " and a 
 bumper with the last drop on the nail, a ceremony I had never 
 heard of or seen before. 
 
 * Marcus rlaminius ; or, Life of ' tJie Romans, 1795- 
 
U2 thackerayana; 
 
 ' Oct. 4. — Accompanied the Nelson party to Mr. Elliot's box at 
 the opera. She and Lord Nelson were wrapped up in each 
 other's conversation during the chief part of the evening. 
 
 ' Oct. 5. — Went, by Lady Hamilton's invitation, to see Lord 
 Nelson dressed for court. On his hat he wore the large diamond 
 feather, or ensign of sovereignty, given him by the Grand Signior ; 
 on his breast the order of the Bath, the order he received as Duke 
 of Bronte ; the diamond star, including the sun or crescent, given 
 him by the Grand Signior; three gold medals, obtained by three 
 different victories ; and a beautiful present from the King of 
 Naples. On one side is His Majesty's picture, richly set, and 
 surrounded with laurels, which spring from two united laurels at 
 bottom, and support the Neapolitan crown at top ; on the other 
 is the Queen's cypher, which turns so as to appear within the 
 same laurels, and is formed of diamonds on green enamel. In 
 short, Lord Nelson was a periect constellation of stars and 
 orders. 
 
 ' Oct. 7. — Breakfasted with Lady Hamilton, and saw her repre 
 sent in succession the best statues and paintings extant. She 
 assumes their attitude, expression, and drapery with great facility, 
 swiftness, and accuracy. Several Indian shawls, a chair, some 
 antique vases, a wreath of roses, a tambourine, and a few children 
 are her whole apparatus. She stands at one end of the room, 
 with a strong light on her left, and every other window closed. 
 Her hair is short, dressed like an antique, and her gown a simple 
 calico chemise, very easy, with loose sleeves to the wrist. She 
 disposes the shawls so as to form Grecian, Turkish, and other 
 drapery, as well as a variety of turbans. Her arrangement of the 
 turbans is absolutely sleight-of-hand ; she does it so quickly, so 
 easily, and so well. It is a beautiful performance, amusing to the 
 most ignorant, and highly interesting to the lovers of art. The 
 chief of her imitations are from the antique. Each representation 
 lasts about ten minutes. It is remarkable that, though coarse and 
 ungraceful in common life, she becomes highly graceful, and even 
 beautiful, during this performance. After showing her attitudes, 
 she sang, and I accompanied. Her voice is good and very 
 strong, but she is frequently out of tune ; her expression strongly 
 marked and various ; but she has no flexibility, and no sweetness. 
 She acts her songs. ... 
 
A VISIT TO GERMANY. 
 
 113 
 
 ' Still she does not gain upon me. I think her bold, daring, 
 vain even to folly, and stamped with the manners of her first situa- 
 tion much more strongly than one would suppose, after having 
 represented majesty, and lived in good company fifteen years. 
 Her ruling passions seem to me vanity, avarice, and love for the 
 pleasures of the table. Mr. Elliot says, "She will captivate the 
 Prince of Wales, whose mind is as vulgar as her own, and play 
 a great part in England." 
 
 1 Oct. 8. — Dined at Madame de Loss's, wife to the Prime 
 Minister, with the Nelson party. The Electress will not receive 
 Lady Hamilton, on account of her former dissolute life. She 
 wished to go to court, on which a pretext was made to avoid 
 receiving company last Sunday, and I understand there will be no 
 court while she stays. Lord Nelson, understanding the Elector 
 did not wish to see her, said to Mr, Elliot, " Sir, if there is any 
 difficulty of that sort, Lady Hamilton will knock the Elector down, 
 and me, I'll knock him down too ! " 
 
 ' Oct. 9. — A great breakfast at the Elliot's, given to the Nelson 
 party. Lady Hamilton repeated her attitudes with great effect. 
 All the company, except their party and myself, went away before 
 dinner ; after which Lady Hamilton, who declared she was pas- 
 sionately fond of champagne, took such a portion of it as asto- 
 nished me. Lord Nelson was not behind-hand, called more 
 vociferously than usual for songs in his own praise, and after many 
 bumpers proposed the Queen of Naples, adding, " She is my 
 queen; she is queen to the back-bone." Poor Mr. Elliot, who 
 was anxious the party should not expose themselves more than 
 they had done already, and wished to get over the last day 
 as well as he had done the rest, endeavoured to stop the effusion 
 of champagne, and effected it with some difficulty, but not till the 
 lord and lady, or, as he calls them, Antony and Moll Cleopatra, 
 
 1 
 
ii4 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 were pretty far gone. I was so tired, I returned home soon after 
 dinner ; but not till Cleopatra had talked to me a great deal of 
 her doubts whether the queen would receive her, adding, " I care 
 little about it. I had much sooner she would settle half Sir 
 William's pension on me." After I went, Mr. Elliot told me she 
 acted Nina intolerably ill, and danced the Tarantola. During her 
 acting, Lord Nelson expressed his admiration by the Irish sound 
 of astonished applause, and by crying every now and then, " Mrs. 
 
 Siddons be ! " Lady Hamilton expressed great anxiety to 
 
 go to court, and Mrs. Elliot assured her it would not amuse her, 
 and that the Elector never gave dinners or suppers. " What ? " 
 cried she, " no guttling ! " Sir William also this evening per- 
 formed feats of activity, hopping round the room on his backbone, 
 his arms, legs, star and ribbon all flying about in the air. 
 
 ' Oct. 10. — Mr. Elliot saw them on board to-day. He heard, 
 by chance, from a king's messenger, that a frigate waited for them 
 at Hamburg, and ventured to announce it formally. He says : 
 " The moment they were on board, there was an end of the fine 
 arts, of the attitudes, of the acting, the dancing, and the singing. 
 Lady Hamilton's maid began to scold, in French, about some 
 provisions which had been forgot. Lady Hamilton began bawl- 
 ing for an Irish stew, and her old mother set about washing the 
 potatoes, which she did as cleverly as possible. They were 
 exactly like Hogarth's actresses dressing in the barn." 
 
 At Berlin, the fair diarist was introduced to Beurnonville, the 
 French minister, who had gained notoriety for his services at Valmy 
 and Gemappes. He was one of the commissioners despatched by 
 the convention to arrest Dumouriez, who, it may be remembered, 
 treated him with marked cordiality; the special envoy of the 
 republic was, however, arrested, with his companions, and delivered 
 by the general into the hands of the Austrians. 
 
 ' Nov. 18-23. — I have been at a great supper at Count Schulen- 
 berg's. As usual, I saw Beurnonville, who was very attentive. 
 He looks like an immense cart-horse, put by mistake in the finest 
 caparisons ; his figure is colossal and ungainly ; and his unifonn 
 of blue and gold, which appears too large even for his large 
 person, is half covered with the broadest gold lace. His ton is 
 that of a corps-de-garde (he was really a corporal), but when he 
 addresses himself to women, he affects a softness and tegerete, 
 
SUPPER AT MAD. ANGESTROM'S. 
 
 5 
 
 which reminds one exactly of the " Ass and the Spaniel," and his 
 compliments are very much in the style of M. Jourdain. It 
 is said, however, he is benevolent and well 
 meaning. 
 
 ' Nov. 30. — Supped at Mad. Angestrom's, 
 wife of the Swedish Minister, who is perfectly 
 
 indifferent to all the interests of Europe, provided nothing inter- 
 rupts her reception of the Paris fashions, for which she has an un- 
 common avidity. " Nest-ce pas, ma chere, que 
 ceci est charmantl C est copie fidele?nent cF tin jour- 
 nal de Paris, et quel journal delicieux f" 
 
 ' She wears very little covering on her person, 
 and none on her arms of any kind (shifts being 
 long exploded), except sleeves of the finest cam- 
 bric, unlined and travaille au jour, which reach 
 only half way from the shoulder to the elbow. 
 She seems to consider it a duty to shiver in 
 this thin attire, for she said to Lady Carysfort, 
 " Ah, Miledi, que vous etes heureuse, vous portez 
 des poches et des jupes /" I conversed chiefly with 
 Beurnonville and Pignatelli. Beurnonville says, 
 " Mo?i secretaire est pour les affaires, mon aide-de- 
 camp pour les dames, et moi pour la represent- 
 ation." The people about him are conscious 
 he is peu de chose, but say, " Qii'importe ? on est 
 si bon en Prusse, et si Men dispose pour nous." 
 A person asked Vaudreuil, aide-de-camp to 
 Beurnonville, if the latter was a ci-devant. " Non," 
 dit- il, " mats il voudroit Fetre " — a reply of a good deal of jinesse, 
 and plainly proving how unconquerable the respect for rank, and 
 wish among those who have destroyed the substance to possess 
 the shadow.' , 
 
 i 2 
 
 
16 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Thackeray's Predilections for Art — A Student in Paris — First Steps in the 
 Career — An Art Critic — Impressions of Turner — Introduction to Marvy's 
 English Landscape Painters — Early connection with Literature — Michael 
 Angelo Titmarsh, a contributor to ' Fraser's Magazine ' — French Caricature 
 under Louis Philippe — Political Satires — A Young Artist's life in Paris — 
 Growing Sympathy with Literature — Paris Sketches. 
 
 The Weimar reminiscences show how early Thackeray's passion 
 for art had developed itself. One who knew him well affirms 
 that he was originally intended for the Bar ; but he had, indeed, 
 already determined to be an artist, and for a considerable period 
 he diligently followed his bent. He visited Rome, where he 
 stayed some time, and subsequently, as we shall see, settled for a 
 considerable time in Paris, ' where,' says a writer in the 'Edin- 
 burgh Review' for January 1848, 'we well remember, ten or 
 twelve years ago, finding him, day after day, engaged in copying 
 pictures in the Louvre, in order to qualify himself for his intended 
 profession. It may be doubted, however,' adds this writer, 
 ' whether any degree of assiduity would have enabled him to excel 
 in the money-making branches, for his talent was altogether of the 
 Hogarth kind, and was principally remarkable in the pen-and-ink 
 sketches of character and situation which he dashed off for the 
 amusement of his friends.' This is just criticism; but Thackeray, 
 though caring little himself for the graces of good drawing or 
 correct anatomy, had a keen appreciation of the beauties of his 
 contemporary artists. Years after — in 1848 — when, as he says, 
 the revolutionary storm which raged in France 'drove many 
 peaceful artists, as well as kings, ministers, tribunes, and socialists 
 of state for refuge to our country,' an artist friend of his early 
 Paris life found his way to Thackeray's home in London. This 
 was Monsieur Louis Marvy, in whose atelier the former had 
 
IMPRESSIONS OF TURNER. 
 
 117 
 
 passed many happy hours with the family of the French artist— in 
 that constant cheerfulness and sunshine, as his English friend 
 expressed it, which the Parisian was now obliged to exchange for 
 a dingy parlour and the fog and solitude of London. A fine and 
 skilful landscape-painter himself, M. Marvy, while here, as a 
 means of earning a living, made a series of engravings after the 
 works of our English landscape-painters. For some of these his 
 friend obtained for M. Marvy permission to take copies in the 
 valuable private collection of Mr. Thomas Baring. The pub- 
 
 lishers, however, would not undertake the work without a series 
 of letter-press notices of each picture from Mr. Thackeray; and 
 the latter accordingly added some criticisms which are interesting 
 as developing his theory of this kind of art. The artists whose 
 works are engraved are Calcott, Turner, Holland, Danby, Cres- 
 wick, Collins, Redgrave, Lee, Cattermole, W. J. Miiller, Harding, 
 Nasmyth, Wilson, E. W. Cooke, Constable, De Wint, and Gains- 
 borough. Of Turner he says : ' Many cannot comprehend the 
 pictures themselves, but stand bewildered before those blazing 
 wonders, those blood-red shadows, those whirling gamboge suns — 
 awful hieroglyphics, which even the Oxford undergraduate (Mr. 
 Ruskin), Turner's most faithful priest and worshipper, cannot 
 
1 1 8 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 altogether make clear. Nay, who knows whether the prophet 
 himself has any distinct idea of the words which break out from 
 him as he sits whirling on the tripod, or of what spirits will come 
 up as he waves his wand and delivers his astounding incantation ? 
 It is not given to all to understand: but at times we have 
 
 The Two-penny Post-bag 
 
 glimpses of comprehension, and in looking at such pictures as the 
 " Fighting Temeraire," for instance, or the " Slave Ship," we 
 admire, and can scarce find words adequate to express our 
 wonder at the stupendous skill and genius of this astonishing 
 master. If those words which we think we understand are sub- 
 lime, what are those others which are unintelligible ? Are they 
 
ENGLISH LANDSCAPE PAINTERS. 119 
 
 sublime too, or have they reached that next and higher step 
 which by some is denominated ridiculous ? Perhaps we have not 
 arrived at the right period for judging, and Time, which is pro- 
 verbial for settling quarrels, is also required for sobering pictures.' 
 Of Danby he says : ' His pictures are always still. You stand 
 before them alone, and with a hushed admiration, as before a 
 great landscape when it breaks on your view.' On Constable's 
 well-known picture of the ' Corn-field ' in the National Gallery he 
 says : ' This beautiful piece of autumn appears to be under the 
 influence of a late shower. The shrubs, trees, and distance are 
 saturated with it. What a lover of water that youngster must be 
 who is filling himself within after he has been wetted to the skin 
 by the rain which has just passed away. As one looks at this 
 delightful picture one cannot but admire the manner in which the 
 specific character of every object is made out : the undulations of 
 the ripe corn, the chequered light on the road, the freshness of 
 the banks, the trees and their leafage, the brilliant cloud, awfully 
 contrasting against the trees, and here and there broken with 
 azure.' Such were the opinions of the author of the grotesque 
 illustrations of ' Vanity Fair ' and ' Pendennis ' upon those 
 great landscape painters of whom England is proud — opinions 
 which show at least a warm sympathy with that higher order of 
 art in which he had failed to achieve a satisfactory degree of 
 success. 
 
 It was, we believe, in 1834, and while residing for a short 
 period in Albion Street, Hyde Park, the residence of his mother 
 and her second husband, Major Carmichael Smyth, that Mr. 
 Thackeray began his literary career as a contributor to ' Fraser's 
 Magazine.' The pseudonyms of ' Michael Angelo Titmarsh,' 
 1 Fitz Boodle,' 6 Yellowplush,' or ' Lancelot Wagstaff,' under which 
 he afterwards amused the readers of the periodicals, had not then 
 been thought of. His early papers were chiefly relating to the 
 Fine Arts ; but most of them had some reference to his French 
 experiences. He seems to have had a peculiar fancy for Paris, 
 where he resided, with brief intervals, for some years after coming 
 of age, and where most of his magazine papers were written. 
 
 The drawing on p. 120 represents the despair (desespoir) of 
 the Orleans family at the threatened political decease (deces) of 
 Louis Philippe, familiar to Parisians as the ' Pear ' (Poire), from 
 
120 
 
 TH ACKER A YANA. 
 
FRENCH CARICATURES. 121 
 
 the well-known resemblance established by the caricaturists 
 between the shape and appearance of the king's head and a 
 Burgundy pear. Thackeray resided in Paris during the contests 
 of the king with the caricaturists (under the banner of Phillipon), 
 and he was much impressed by their wit and artistic power. If 
 the reader will turn to the ' Paris Sketch Book,' he will see Mr. 
 Thackeray's own words upon the subject. 
 
 We may state, for the assistance of the reader unacquainted 
 with the French caricatures of that period, that the figure to the 
 right with an elongated nose is M. d'Argout ; the gentleman at the 
 foot of the bed, astride a huge squirt (the supposed favourite im-. 
 plement with every French physician), is Marshal Lobau. Queen 
 Marie Amelie, the Due d' Orleans, and other members of the 
 royal family are in the background. 
 
 One of Thackeray's literary associates has given some amusing 
 particulars of his Paris life, and his subsequent interest in the city, 
 where he had many friends and was known to a wide circle of readers. 
 ' He lived,' says this writer, ' in Paris " over the water," and it is not 
 long since, in strolling about the Latin Quarter with the best of 
 companions, that we visited his lodgings, Thackeray inquiring after 
 those who were already forgotten — unknown. Those who may 
 wish to learn his early Parisian life and associations should turn to 
 the story of " Philip on his Way through 
 the World." Many incidents in that nar- 
 rative are reminiscences of his own youth- 
 ful literary struggles whilst living modestly 
 in this city. Latterly, fortune and fame 
 enabled the author of " Vanity Fair " to 
 visit imperial Paris in imperial style, and 
 Mr. Thackeray put up generally at the 
 Hotel de Bristol, in the Place Vendome, 
 Never was increase of fortune more grace- 
 fully worn or more generously employed. 
 The struggling artist and small man of tJnder the second empire 
 letters, whom he was sure to find at home or abroad, was pretty 
 safe to be assisted if he learned their wants. I know of many 
 a kind act. One morning, on entering Mr. Thackeray's bed- 
 room in Paris, I found him placing some napoleons in a pill-box, 
 on the lid of which was written, " One to be taken occasionally." 
 
122 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 "What are you doing?" said I. "Well," he replied, " there is 
 an old person here who says she is very ill 
 and in distress, and I strongly suspect that 
 this is the sort of medicine she wants. Dr. 
 Thackeray intends to leave it with her him- 
 self. Let us walk out together." * Thackeray 
 used to say that he came to Paris for a holiday 
 and to revive his recollections of French 
 cooking. But he generally worked here, espe- 
 cially when editing the "Cornhill Magazine."'f 
 Thackeray's affection for Paris, however, appears to have been 
 
 The political Morgiana 
 
 founded upon no relish for the gaieties of the French metropolis, 
 and certainly not upon any liking for French institutions. His 
 papers on this subject are generally criticisms upon political, 
 
 * A similar story has been told of Goldsmith, which, indeed, may have 
 suggested the pill-box remedy in the instance in the text, 
 f Pans correspondent, Morning Post. 
 
 , 
 
PARIS VISITS. 
 
 123 
 
 social, and literary failings of the French, written in a severe spirit 
 which savours more of the confident judgment of youth than ot 
 the calm spirit of the citizen of the world. The reactionary rule 
 of Louis Philippe, the 
 Government of July, 
 and the boasted Charter 
 of 1830, were the ob- 
 jects of his especial dis- 
 like ; nor was he less 
 unsparing in his views 
 of French morals as 
 
 ' exemplified in their law 
 courts, and in the novels 
 of such writers as Ma- 
 dame Dudevant. The 
 truth is, that at this 
 period Paris was, in the 
 eyes of the art- student, 
 simply the Paradise of 
 young painters. Pos- 
 sessed of a good fortune 
 —said to have amoun- 
 ted, on his coming of 
 age in 1832, to 20,000/. 
 — the young English- 
 man passed his days in 
 the Louvre, his even- 
 ings with Jhis French 
 artist acquaintances, of 
 whom his preface to 
 Louis Marvy's sketches 
 gives so pleasant a 
 glimpse ; or sometimes 
 in his quiet lodgings in 0ne of the ornaments of ParIs - 
 
 the Quartier Latin in dashing off for some English or foreign 
 paper his enthusiastic notices of the Paris Exhibition, or a criticism 
 on French writers, or a story of French artist life, or an account 
 of some great cause celebre then stirring the Parisian world. This 
 
 was doubtless the happiest period of his life. In one of these 
 
1 24 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 papers he describes minutely the life of the art student in Paris, 
 and records his impressions of it at the time. 
 
 ' To account,' he says, ' for the superiority over England — 
 which, I think, as regards art, is incontestable — it must be remem- 
 bered that the painter's trade, in France, is a very good one; 
 better appreciated, better understood, and, generally, far better 
 paid than with us. There are a dozen excellent schools in which 
 a lad may enter here, and, under the eye of a practised master, 
 learn the apprenticeship of his art at an expense of about ten 
 pounds a year. In England there is no school except the " Aca- 
 demy," unless the student can afford to pay a very large sum, and 
 
 v 
 
 A decorated artist 
 
 place himself under the tuition of some particular artist. Here 
 a young man for his ten pounds has all sorts of accessory instruc- 
 tion, models, &c. ; and has further, and for nothing, numberless 
 incitements to study his profession which are not to be found in 
 England ; the streets are filled with picture-shops, the people 
 themselves are pictures walking about; the churches, theatres, 
 eating-houses, concert-rooms, are covered with pictures; Nature 
 itself is inclined more kindly to him, for the sky is a thousand 
 times more bright and beautiful, and the sun shines for the greater 
 part of the year. Add to this, incitements more selfish, but quite 
 as powerful : a French artist is paid very handsomely — for five 
 
PARIS SKETCH BOOK. 
 
 125 
 
 hundred a year is much where all are poor — and has a rank in 
 society rather above his merits than below them, being caressed 
 by hosts and hostesses in places where titles are laughed at, and 
 a baron is thought of no more account than a banker's clerk. 
 
 ' The life of the young artist here is the easiest, merriest, 
 dirtiest existence possible. He comes to Paris, probably at six- 
 teen, from his province; his parents settle forty pounds a year on 
 nim, and pay his master ; he establishes himself in the Pays Latin, 
 or in the new quarter of Notre Dame de Lorette (which is quite 
 peopled with painters); he arrives at his atelier at a tolerably 
 
 *arly hour, and labours among a score of companions as merry 
 and poor as himself. Each gentleman has his favourite tobacco- 
 pipe, and the pictures are painted in the midst of a cloud of 
 smoke, and a din of puns and choice French slang, and a roar of 
 choruses, of which no one can form an idea who has not been 
 present at such an assembly.' In another paper he discourses 
 enthusiastically of the French school of painting as exemplified in 
 a picture in the Exhibition by Carel Dujardin, as follows : — 
 
 ' A horseman is riding up a hill, and giving money to a blowsy 
 beggar- wench. O matutini rores aui<(zque salnbres ! in what a won- 
 derful way has the artist managed to create you out of a few 
 
126 
 
 TH ACKER A YANA. 
 
 bladders of paint and pots of varnish. You can see the matutinal 
 dews twinkling in the grass, and feel the fresh, salubrious airs 
 (" the breath of Nature blowing free," as the corn-law man sings) 
 blowing free over the heath. Silvery vapours are rising up from 
 the blue lowlands. You can tell the hour of the morning and the 
 time of the year ; you can do anything but describe it in words. 
 As with regard to the Poussin above mentioned, one can never 
 pass it without bearing away a certain pleasing, dreaming feeling 
 of awe and musing; the other landscape inspires the spectator 
 
 Back to the past 
 
 infallibly with the most delightful briskness and cheerfulness of 
 spirit. Herein lies the vast privilege of the landscape painter ; he 
 does not address you with one fixed particular subject or expres- 
 sion, but with a thousand never contemplated by himself, and 
 which only arise out of occasion. You may always be looking at 
 a natural landscape as at a fine pictorial imitation of one; it seems 
 eternally producing new thoughts in your bosom, as it does fresh 
 beauties from its own.' 
 
 It is certain that he had developed a talent for writing long 
 before he had abandoned his intention of becoming a painter, and 
 that he became a contributor to magazines at a time when there 
 
EARLY CONTRIBUTIONS TO LITERATURE. 127 
 
 was at least no necessity for his earning a livelihood by his pen. 
 It is probable, therefoie, that it was his success in the literary art, 
 rather than his failure, as has been assumed, in acquiring skill as a 
 painter, which gradually drew him into that career of authorship, 
 the pecuniary profits of which became afterwards more important 
 to him. Other papers of his, written at this undecided period of 
 his life, contain numerous interesting evidences of his growing 
 love of literature. Of his contemporary English writers he has 
 much to say. ' Pickwick ' and ' Nicholas Nickleby,' then publish- 
 ing, are frequently mentioned. We have seen how he quotes the 
 Corn Law Rhymer, then but little known to the English public. 
 Speaking of the French, he says, ' They made Tom Paine a 
 deputy ; and as for Tom Macaulay, they would make a dynasty of 
 him.' In a paper ' On French Fashionable Novels,' in an Ameri- 
 can newspaper, of which he was the Paris correspondent, he thus 
 alludes to the circulating libraries of Paris, from which he obtained 
 his supply of contemporary reading : — 
 
 ' Twopence a volume bears us whithersoever we will ; — back 
 to Ivanhoe and Cceur de Lion, or to Waverley and the Young 
 Pretender, along with Walter Scott ; up to the heights of fashion 
 with the charming enchanters of the silver- fork school ; or, better 
 still, to the snug inn parlour or the jovial tap-room, with Mr. 
 Pickwick and his faithful Sancho Weller. 
 
 ' I am sure that a man who, a hundred years hence, should sit 
 down to write the history of our time, would do wrong to put that 
 great contemporary history of " Pickwick " aside, as a frivolous 
 work. It contains true character under false names; and, like 
 " Roderick Random," an inferior work, and " Tom Jones ,; (one 
 that is immeasurably superior), gives us a better idea of the state 
 and ways of the people than one could gather from any more 
 pompous or authentic histories.' 
 
 In another paper on Caricatures and Lithography, in the same 
 journal, containing a kindly allusion to his friend, George 
 Cruikshank, he develops this idea further, giving us a still more 
 interesting view of his reading, and of his growing preference for 
 fiction over other forms of literature. ' At the close,' he says, 'of 
 his history of George II., Smollet condescends to give a short chap- 
 ter on Literature and Manners. He speaks of Glover's " Leonidas," 
 Gibber's "Careless Husband," the poems of Mason, Gray, the 
 
128 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 two Whiteheads, "the nervous style, extensive erudition, and 
 superior sense of a Cooke ; the delicate taste, the polished muse, 
 and tender feeling of a Lyttelton." "King," he says, "shone 
 unrivalled in Roman eloquence, the female sex distinguished them- 
 selves by their taste and ingenuity. Miss Carter rivalled the cele- 
 brated Dacier in learning and critical know- 
 ledge; Mrs. Lennox signalised herself by 
 many successful efforts of genius, both in 
 poetry and prose ; and Miss Reid excelled 
 the celebrated Rosalba in portrait painting, 
 both in miniature and at large, in oil as well 
 as in crayons. The genius of Cervantes was 
 transferred into the novels of Fielding, who 
 painted the characters and ridiculed the follies 
 of life with equal strength, humour, and pro- 
 priety. The field of history and biography 
 was cultivated by many writers of ability, 
 among whom we distinguish the copious 
 Guthrie, the circumstantial Ralph, the la- 
 borious Carte, the learned and elegant Robertson, and, above 
 all, the ingenious, penetrating, and comprehensive Hume," &c. &c. 
 We will quote no more of the passage. Could a man in the best 
 humour sit down to write a graver satire? Who cares for the 
 tender muse of Lyttelton ? Who knows the signal efforts of Mrs. 
 Lennox's genius? Who has seen the admirable performances, in 
 miniature and at large, in oil as well as in crayons, of a Miss 
 Reid ? Laborious Carte, and circumstantial Ralph, and copious 
 Guthrie, where are they, their works, and their reputation? Mrs. 
 Lennox's name is just as clean wiped out of the list of worthies as 
 if she had never been born ; and Miss Reid, though she was once 
 actual flesh and blood, " rival in miniature and at large " of the 
 celebrated Rosalba, she is as if she had never been at all; her 
 little farthing rushlight of a soul and reputation having burnt out, 
 and left neither wick nor tallow. Death, too, has overtaken 
 copious Guthrie and circumstantial Ralph. Only a few know 
 whereabouts is the grave where lies laborious Carte; and yet, oh ! 
 wondrous power of genius ! Fielding's men and women are alive, 
 though history's are not. The progenitors of circumstantial 
 Ralph sent forth, after much labour and pains of mating, edu- 
 
LOVE FOR LITERATURE. 129 
 
 eating, feeding, clothing, a real man-child — a great palpable mass 
 of flesh, bones, and blood (we say nothing about the spirit), which 
 was to move through the world, ponderous, writing histories, and 
 to die, having achieved the title of circumstantial Ralph ; and lo ! 
 without any of the trouble that the parents of Ralph had under- 
 gone, alone, perhaps, in a watch or sponging-house, fuddled, most 
 likely, in the blandest, easiest, and most good-humoured way in 
 the world, Henry Fielding makes a number of men and women 
 on so many sheets of paper, not only more amusing than Ralph or 
 Miss Reid, but more like flesh and blood, and more alive now 
 than they. 
 
 ' Is not Amelia preparing her husband's little supper? Is not 
 Miss Snap chastely preventing the crime of Mr. Firebrand ? Is 
 not Parson Adams in the midst of his family, and Mr. Wild 
 taking his last bowl of punch with the Newgate Ordinary ? Is not 
 every one of them a real substantial Aave-been personage now ? — 
 more real than Reid or Ralph ? For our parts, we will not take 
 upon ourselves to say that they do not exist somewhere else; 
 that the actions attributed to them have not really taken place ; 
 certain we are that they are more worthy of credence than Ralph, 
 who may or may not have been circumstantial ; — who may or may 
 not even have existed, a point unworthy of disputation. As for 
 Miss Reid, we will take an affidavit that neither in miniature nor 
 at large did she excel the celebrated Rosalba ; and with regard to 
 Mrs. Lennox, we consider her to be a mere figment, like Narcissa, 
 Miss Tabitha Bramble, or any hero or heroine depicted by the 
 historian of " Peregrine Pickle." ' 
 
1 30 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Thackeray on the staff of 'Frasers Magazine ' — Early connection with Maginn 
 and his Colleagues — The Maclise Cartoon of the Fraserians — Thackeray's 
 Noms de Plume — Charles Yellowplush as a Reviewer — Skelton and his 
 ' Anatomy of Conduct ' — Thackeray's proposal to Dickens to- illustrate his 
 novels — Gradual growth of Thackeray's notoriety — His genial admiration 
 for 'Boz' — Christmas Books and Dickens's ' Christmas Carol' — Return to 
 Paris — Execution of Fieschi and Lacenaire — Daily Newspaper Venture — 
 The ' Constitutional ' and ' Public Ledger ' — Thackeray as Paris Correspon- 
 dent — Dying Speech of the 'Constitutional' — Thackeray's marriage — 
 Increased application to Literature — The 'Shabby Genteel Story' — 
 Thackeray's article in the ' Westminster ' on George Cruikshank — First 
 Collected Writings— The ' Paris Sketch,' illustrated by the Author — Dedi- 
 cation of M. Aretz — ' Comic Tales and Sketches,' with Thackeray's original 
 illustrations — The 'Yellowplush Papers ' — The ' Second Funeral of Napoleon, ' 
 with the ' Chronicle of the Drum ' — ' The History of Samuel Titmarsh and 
 the great Hoggarty Diamond ' — ' Fitzboodle's Confessions ' — ' The Irish 
 Sketch Book,' with the Author's illustrations — 'The Luck of Barry Lyndon ' 
 — Contributions to the ' Examiner ' — Miscellanies — ' Carmen Lilliense ' — 
 'Notes of a Journey from Cornhill to Grand Cairo,' with the Author's illus- 
 trations — Interest excited in Titmarsh — Foundation of Punch — Thackeray's 
 Contributions — His comic designs — 'The Fat Contributor' — 'Jeames's 
 Diary ' — ' Prize Novelists,' &c. 
 
 Thackeray had scarcely attained the age of three-and-twenty 
 when the young literary art-student in Paris was recognised as an 
 established contributor of ' Fraser,' worthy to take a permanent 
 place among that brilliant staff which then rendered this periodical 
 famous both in England and on the Continent. It was at that 
 time under the editorship of the celebrated Maginn, one of the 
 last of those compounds of genius and profound scholarship with 
 reckless extravagance and loose morals, who once flourished under 
 the encouragement of a tolerant public opinion. There can be no 
 doubt that the editor and Greek scholar who is always in diffi- 
 
LITERARY ASSOCIATES. 131 
 
 culties, who figures in several of his works, is a faithful picture of 
 this remarkable man as he appeared to his young contributor. 
 His friend, the late Mr. Hannay, says : — 
 
 ' Certain it is that he lent — or in plainer English, gave — five 
 hundred pounds to poor old Maginn when he was beaten in the 
 battle of life, and like other beaten soldiers made a prisoner — in 
 the Fleet. With the generation going out — that of Lamb and 
 Coleridge — he had, we believe, no personal acquaintance. 
 Sydney Smith he met at a later time ; and he remembered with 
 satisfaction that something which he wrote about Hood gave 
 pleasure to that delicate humorist and poet in his last days.* 
 Thackeray's earliest literary friends were certainly found among the 
 brilliant band of Fraserians, of whom Thomas Carlyle, always 
 one of his most appreciative admirers, is probably the solitary 
 survivor. From reminiscences of the wilder lights in the " Fraser " 
 constellation were drawn the pictures of the queer fellows con- 
 nected with literature in " Pendennis " — Captain Shandon, the 
 ferocious Bludyer, stout old Tom Serjeant, and so forth. Maga- 
 zines in those days were more brilliant than they are now, when 
 they are haunted by the fear of shocking the Fogy element in 
 their circulation ; and the effect of their greater freedom is seen 
 in the buoyant, riant, and unrestrained comedy of Thackeray's 
 own earlier " Fraser" articles. " I suppose we all begin by being 
 too savage," is the phrase of a letter he wrote in 1849; " I know 
 one %vho did" He was alluding here to the " Yellowplush Papers " 
 in particular, where living men were very freely handled. This 
 old, wild satiric spirit it was which made him interrupt even the 
 early chapters of " Vanity Fair," by introducing a parody which 
 he could not resist of some contemporary novelist.' f 
 
 But we have a proof of the fact of how fully he was recognised 
 by his brother Fraserians as one of themselves, in Maclise's 
 picture of the contributors, prefixed to the number of ' Fraser's 
 Magazine' for January 1835 — a picture which must have been 
 drawn at some period in the previous year. This outline car- 
 toon represents a banquet at the house of the publisher, Mr. 
 
 * He had certainly seen Sydney Smith. A quaint, half- caricature, outline 
 sketch of the latter was contributed by ' T-itmarsh ' to Erasers Magazine, at an 
 early period of his connection with that journal. 
 
 f Edinburgh Evening Courant, Jan. 5, 1864. 
 
 K 2 
 
132 
 
 TH ACKER A YANA. 
 
 Fraser, at which, on some of his brief visits to London, Thackeray 
 had doubtless been present, for it is easy to trace in the juvenile 
 features of the tall figure with the double eyeglass — Thackeray 
 was throughout life somewhat near-sighted — a portrait of the 
 future author of 'Vanity Fair.' Mr. Mahony, the well-known 
 \ Father Prout ' of the magazine, in his account of this picture, 
 written in 1859, te ^ s us tnat the banquet was no fiction. In the 
 chair appears Dr. Maginn in the act of making a speech; and 
 around him are a host of contributors, including Bryan Waller 
 Procter (better known then as Barry Cornwall), Robert Southey, 
 
 William Harrison Ainsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, James 
 Hogg, John Gait, Fraser the publisher, having on his right, Crofton 
 Croker, Lockhart, Theodore Hook, Sir David Brewster, Thomas 
 Carlyle, Sir Egerton Brydges, Rev. G. R. Gleig, Mahoney, Edward 
 Irving, and others, numbering twenty-seven in all — of whom, in 
 1859, eight only were living. 
 
 This celebrated cartoon of the Fraserians appears to place 
 Thackeray's connection with the magazine before 1835; ^ ut 
 we have not succeeded in tracing any contribution from his hand 
 earlier than November 1837. Certainly, the afterwards well-used 
 notns de plume of Michael Angelo Titmarsh, Fitzboodle, Charles 
 
THE ANATOMY OF CONDUCT. 
 
 133 
 
 Yellowplush, and Ikey Solomons, are wanting in the earlier 
 volumes. 
 
 It is in the number for the month and year referred to that we 
 first find him contributing a paper which is not reprinted in his 
 'Miscellanies/ and which is interesting as ex- 
 plaining the origin of that assumed character of 
 a footman in which the author of the 'Yellow- 
 plush Papers' and 'Jeames's Diary' afterwards 
 took delight. A little volume had been pub- 
 lished in 1837, entitled, 'My Book; or, The 
 Anatomy of Conduct, by John Henry Skelton.' 
 The writer of this absurd book had been a 
 woollendraper in the neighbourhood of Regent 
 Street. He had become possessed of the fixed 
 idea that he was destined to become the in- 
 structor of mankind in the true art of etiquette. 
 He gave parties to the best company whom he could induce to 
 eat his dinners and assemble at his conversaziones, where his 
 amiable delusion was the frequent subject of the jokes of his 
 friends. Skelton, however, felt them little. He spent what fortune 
 he had, and brought himself to a position in which his fashionable 
 acquaintances no longer troubled him with their attentions; but 
 he did not cease to be, in his own estimation, a model of de- 
 portment. He husbanded his small resources, limiting himself to 
 a modest dinner daily at a coffee-house in the neighbourhood of 
 his old home, where his perfectly fitting dress-coat — for in this 
 article he was still enabled to shine — his brown wig and dyed 
 whiskers, his ample white cravat of the style of the Prince 
 Regent's days, and his well polished boots, 
 were long destined to raise the character of 
 the house on which he bestowed his patro- 
 nage. In the days of his prosperity Skelton 
 was understood among his acquaintances to 
 be engaged on a work which should hand 
 down to posterity the true code of etiquette 
 —that body of unwritten law which regulated 
 the society of the time of his favourite mo- 
 narch. In the enforced retirement of his less prosperous days, 
 the ex-woollendraper's literary design had time to develop itself, 
 
34 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 and in the year 1837 ' My Book; or, The Anatomy of Conduct, by 
 John Henry Skelton,' was finally given to the world. 
 
 It was this little volume which fell in the way of Thackeray, 
 who undertook to review it for ' Fraser's Magazine.' In order to 
 do full justice to the work, nothing seemed more proper than to 
 present the reviewer in the assumed character of a fashionable 
 footman. The review, therefore, took the form of a letter from 
 Charles Yellowplush, Esq., containing ' Fashionable fax and 
 
 polite Annygoats,' dated from ' No. , Grosvenor Square 
 
 (N.B. — Hairy Bell),' and addressed to Oliver Yorke, the well- 
 known pseudonym of the editor of Fraser.' To this accident may 
 be attributed those extraordinary efforts of 
 cacography which had their gerrn in the 
 Cambridge 'Snob,' but which attained 
 their full development in the Miscellanies, 
 the Ballads, the ' Jeames's Diary,' and other 
 short works, and also in some portions of 
 the latest of the author's novels. The 
 precepts and opinions of 'Skelton,' or 
 'Skeleton,' as the reviewer insisted on 
 calling the author of the ' Anatomy,' were 
 fully developed and illustrated by Mr. 
 Yellowplush. The footman who reviewed 
 the ' fashionable world' achieved a decided 
 success. Charles Yellowplush was re- 
 quested by the editor to extend his com- 
 ments upon society and books, and in 
 January 1838 the k Yellowplush Papers ' 
 were commenced, with those vigorous 
 though crude illustrations by the author, 
 which appear at first to have been suggested 
 by the light-spirited style of Maclise's por- 
 traits in the same magazine, a manner which 
 afterwards became habitual to him. 
 
 It was in the year 1836 that Thackeray, 
 according to an anecdote related by himself, offered Dickens to 
 undertake the task of illustrating one of his works. The story was 
 told by the former at an anniversary dinner of the Royal Academy 
 a few years since, Dickens being present on the occasion. 
 
 The rejected one 
 
 I can 
 
SLOW GROWTH OF FAME. 135 
 
 remember,' said Thackeray, 'when Dickens was a very young man, 
 and had commenced delighting the world with some charming 
 humorous works in covers, which were coloured light green, and 
 came out once a month, that this young man wanted an artist to 
 illustrate his writings j and I recollect walking up to his chambers 
 in Furnival's Inn, with two or three drawings in my hand, which, 
 strange to say, he did not find suitable. But for the unfortunate 
 blight which came over my artistical existence, it would have been 
 my pride and my pleasure to have endeavoured one day to find a 
 place on these walls for one of my performances.' The work re- 
 ferred to was the ' Pickwick Papers,' which were originally com- 
 menced in April of that year, as the result of an agreement with 
 Dickens and Mr. Seymour, the comic artist — the one to write, and 
 the other to illustrate a book which should exhibit the adventures 
 of cockney sportsmen. As our readers know, the descriptive 
 letterpress, by the author of the ' Sketches by Boz,' soon attracted 
 the attention of the world ; while the clever illustrations by Seymour, 
 which had the merit of creating the well-known pictorial character- 
 istics of Mr. Pickwick and his friends, became regarded only as 
 illustrations of the new humorist's immortal work. Unhappily, 
 only two or three monthly numbers had been completed, when 
 Seymour destroyed himself in a fit of derangement. A new artist 
 was wanted, and the result was the singular interview between the 
 two men whose names, though representing schools of fiction so 
 widely different, were destined to become constantly associated in 
 the public mind. Dickens was then acquiring the vast popularity 
 as a writer of fiction which never flagged from that time : the 
 young artist had scarcely attempted literature, and had still before 
 him many years of obscurity. The slow growth of his fame pre- 
 sents a curious contrast to the career of his fellow-novelist. So 
 much as Thackeray subsequently worked in contributing to ' Fraser,' 
 in co-operating with others on daily newspapers, in writing for 
 ' Cruikshank's Comic Almanac,' for the ' Times ' and the ' Ex- 
 aminer,' for ' Punch,' and for the ' Westminster ' and other 
 Reviews, it could not be said that he was really known to the 
 public till the publication of ' Vanity Fair,' when he had been an 
 active literary man for at least ten years, and had attained the age 
 of thirty-seven. The ' Yellowplush Papers ' in ' Fraser ' enjoyed a 
 sort of popularity, and were at least widely quoted in the news- 
 
1 36 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 papers; but of their author few inquired. Neither did the two 
 volumes of the ' Paris Sketch Book,' though presenting many good 
 specimens of his peculiar humour, nor the account of the second 
 funeral of Napoleon, nor even the ' Irish Sketch Book,' do much 
 to make their writer known. It was his ' Vanity Fair ' which, 
 issued in shilling monthly parts, took the world of readers as it 
 were by storm; and an appreciative article from the hand of a 
 friend in the ' Edinburgh Review' in 1848, which for the first time 
 helped to spread the tidings of a new master of fiction among us, 
 destined to make a name second to none in English literature in 
 its own field. • 
 
 Still later fl when commenting on the Royal Academy Exhibi- 
 tion, we find another interesting reference to Dickens, with a 
 prophecy of his future greatness : ' Look (he says, in the as- 
 sumed character of Michael Angelo Titmarsh) at the portrait of 
 Dickens — well arranged as a picture, good in colour and light and 
 shadow, and as a likeness perfectly amazing; a looking-glass 
 could not render a better facsimile. Here we have the real 
 identical man Dickens : the artist must have understood the 
 inward Boz as well as the outward before he made this admirable 
 representation of him. What cheerful intelligence there is about 
 the man's eyes and large forehead ! The mouth is too large and 
 full, too eager and active, perhaps ; the smile is very sweet and 
 aenerous. If Monsieur de Balzac, that voluminous physiogno- 
 mist, could examine this head, he would no doubt interpret every 
 line and wrinkle in it : the nose firm and well placed, the nostrils 
 wide and full, as are the nostrils of all men of gen us (this is 
 Monsieur Balzac's maxim). The past and the future, says Jean 
 Paul, are written in every countenance. I think we may promise 
 ourselves a brilliant future from this one. There seems no 
 flagging as yet in it, no sense of fatigue, or consciousness of 
 decaying power. Long mayest thou, O Boz ! reign over thy 
 comic kingdom ; long may we pay tribute, whether of threepence 
 weekly or of a shilling monthly, it matters not. Mighty prince ! 
 at thy imperial feet, Titmarsh, humblest of thy servants, offers his 
 vows of loyalty and his humble tribute of praise.' 
 
 But a still more touching and beautiful tribute to Dickens's 
 ^enius from the yet unknown Michael Angelo Titmarsh appears 
 in ' Fraser' for July 1844. A box of Christmas books is supposed 
 
TRIBUTES TO <BOZ: 137 
 
 to have been sent by the editor to Titmarsh in his retirement in 
 Switzerland, whence the latter writes his notions of their contents. 
 The last book of all is Dickens's Christmas Carol — we mean 
 the story of old Scrooge — the immortal precursor of that long line 
 of Christmas stories since become so familiar to his readers. 
 
 1 And now/ says the critic, ' there is but one book left in the box, 
 the smallest one, but oh ! how much the best of all ! It is the 
 work of the master of all the English humorists now alive ; the 
 young man who came and took his place calmly at the head of 
 the whole tribe, and who has kept it. Think of all we owe Mr. 
 Dickens since those half dozen years, the store of happy hours 
 that he has made us pass, the kindly and pleasant companions 
 whom he has introduced to us ; the harmless laughter, the gene- 
 rous wit, the frank, manly, human love which he has taught us to 
 feel ! Every month of those years has brought us some kind 
 token from this delightful genius. His books, may have lost in 
 art, perhaps, but could we afford to wait ? Since the days when 
 the " Spectator " was produced by a man of kindred mind and 
 temper, what books have appeared that have taken so affectionate 
 a hold of the English public as these ? 
 
 , 'Who can listen to objections regarding such a book as this? 
 It seems to me a national benefit, and to every man or woman who 
 reads it a personal kindness. The last two people I heard speak 
 of it were women; neither knew the other, or the author, and 
 both said by way of criticism, " God bless him ! " ... As for 
 Tiny Tim, there is a certain passage in the book regarding that 
 young gentleman about which a man should hardly venture to 
 speak in print or in public, any more than he would of any other 
 affections of his private heart. There is not a reader in England 
 but that little creature will be a bond of union between author and 
 him ; and he will say of Charles Dickens, as the woman just now, 
 " God bless him ! " What a feeling is this for a writer to be able 
 to inspire, and what a reward to reap ! ' 
 
 Thackeray was in Paris in March 1836, at the time of the 
 execution of Fieschi and Lacenaire, upon which subject he wrote 
 some remarks in one of his anonymous papers which it is interest- 
 ing to compare with the more advanced views in favour of the 
 
1 3 8 
 
 THACKERA YANA. 
 
 abolition of the punishment of death, which are familiar to the 
 readers of his subsequent article, ' On Going to see a Man Hanged.' 
 
 He did not witness the execution either 
 of Fieschi or Lacenaire, though he made 
 unsuccessful attempts to be present at 
 both events. 
 
 The day for Fieschi's death was pur- 
 posely kept secret ; and he was executed 
 at a remote quarter of the town. But 
 the scene on the morning when his ex- 
 ecution did not take place was never 
 forgotten by the young English artist. 
 
 It was carnival time, and the rumour 
 had pretty generally been carried abroad 
 that the culprit was to die on that day. 
 A friend who accompanied Thackeray 
 came many miles through the mud and 
 dark, in order to be 'in at the death.' 
 They set out before light, floundering 
 through the muddy Champs Elysees, 
 where were many others bent upon the 
 same errand. They passed by the 
 Somewhat sanguinary Concert of Musard, then held in the 
 
 Rue St. Honore ; and round this, in the wet, a number of coaches 
 were collected : the ball was just up ; and a crowd of people, in 
 hideous masquerade, drunk, tired, dirty, dressed in horrible old 
 frippery and daubed with filthy rouge, were trooping out of the 
 place ; tipsy women and men, shrieking, jabbering, gesticulating, 
 as French will do ; parties swaggering, staggering forwards, arm in 
 arm, reeling to and fro across the street, and yelling songs in 
 chorus. Hundreds of these were bound for the show, and the 
 two friends thought themselves lucky in finding a vehicle to the 
 execution place, at the Barriere d'Enfer. As they crossed the 
 river, and entered the Rue d'Enfer, crowds of students, black 
 workmen, and more drunken devils, from more carnival balls, were 
 nllino- it ; and on the grand place there were thousands of these 
 assembled, looking out for Fieschi and his cortege. They waited, 
 but no throat-cutting that morning ; no august spectacle of satisfied 
 justice \ and the eager spectators were obliged to return, disap- 
 
EXECUTION OF LACENAIRE. 
 
 139 
 
 pointed of the expected breakfast of blood. ' It would/ says 
 Thackeray, ' have been a fine scene, that execution, could it but 
 have taken place in the midst of the mad mountebanks and tipsy 
 strumpets who had flocked so far to witness it, wishing to wind 
 up the delights of their carnival by a bonne-bonche of a murder.' 
 
 The other attempt was equally unfortunate. The same friend 
 accompanied him, but they arrived too late on the ground to be 
 present at the execution of Lacenaire and his co-mate in murder, 
 Avril. But as they came to the spot (a gloomy round space, 
 within the barrier — three roads led to it — and, outside, they saw 
 the wine-shops and restaurateurs of the barrier looking gay and 
 inviting), they only found, in the midst of it, a little pool of ice, 
 
 just partially tinged with red. Two or three idle street boys were 
 dancing and stamping about this pool ; and when the Englishmen 
 asked one of them whether the execution had taken place, he 
 began dancing more madly than ever, and shrieked out with a 
 loud fantastical theatrical voice, ' Venez tons, Messieurs et Dames, 
 voyez ici le sang du monstre Lachiaire, et de son compagnon, le 
 traitre Avril', and straightway all the other gamins screamed out 
 the words in chorus, and took hands and danced round the little 
 puddle. ' Oh, august Justice ! ' exclaimed the young art-student, 
 1 your meal was followed by an appropriate grace ! Was any man 
 who saw the show deterred, or frightened, or moralised in any 
 way ? He had gratified his appetite for blood, and this was all. 
 Remark what a good breakfast you eat after an execution ; how 
 
Ho THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 pleasant it is to cut jokes after it, and upon it. This merry, plea- 
 sant mood is brought on by the blood-tonic' 
 
 Thackeray returned to London in March 1836, and resided 
 for a few months in the house of his step-father, Major Henry 
 Carmichael Smyth. The principal -object of his return was to 
 concert with the Major, who was a gentleman of some literary 
 attainments, a project for starting a daily newspaper. The time 
 was believed to be remarkably opportune for the new journal ; the 
 old oppressive newspaper stamp being about to be repealed, and 
 a penny stamp, giving the privilege of a free transmission through 
 the post, to be substituted. Their project was to form a small 
 joint-stock company, to be called the Metropolitan Newspaper 
 Company, with a capital of 60,000/., in shares of 10/. each. The 
 Major, as chief proprietor, became chairman of the new company; 
 Laman Blanchard was appointed editor, Douglas Jerrold the dra- 
 matic critic, and Thackeray the Paris correspondent. An old and 
 respectable, though decaying journal, entitled the ' Public Ledger,' 
 was purchased by the company; and on September 15, the first 
 day of the reduced stamp duty, the newspaper was started with 
 the title of the ' Constitutional and Public Ledger.' The politics 
 of the paper were ultra-liberal. - Its programme was entire freedom 
 of the press, extension of popular suffrage, vote by ballot, shorten- 
 ing of duration of parliaments, equality of civil rights and re- 
 ligious liberty. A number of the most eminent of the advanced 
 party, including Mr. Grote, Sir William Molesworth, Mr. Joseph 
 Hume, and Colonel Thompson, publicly advertised their intention 
 to support the new journal, and to promote its circulation. 
 Thackeray's Paris letters, signed 'T. T.,' commenced on Sep- 
 tember 24, and were continued at intervals until the spring of the 
 following year. They present little worth notice. At that time 
 the chatty correspondent who discourses upon all things save the 
 subject of his letter was a thing unknown. Bare facts, such as 
 the telegraph-wire now brings us, with here and there a soup^on of 
 philosophical reflection, was the utmost that the readers of news- 
 papers in those days demanded of the useful individual who kept 
 watch in the capital of civilisation for events of interest. Gene- 
 rally, however, the letters are characterised by a strong distaste for 
 the Government of July, and by an ardent liberalism which had 
 but slightly cooled down when, at the Oxford election in 1857, he 
 
DYING SPEECH OF THE 'CONSTITUTIONAL: 141 
 
 declared himself an uncompromising advocate of vote by ballot. 
 Writing from Paris on October 8, he says : ' We are luckily too 
 strong to dread much from open hostility, or to be bullied back 
 into Toryism by our neighbours ; but if Radicalism be a sin in 
 their eyes, it exists, thank God ! not merely across the Alps, but 
 across the channel.' The new journal, however, was far from 
 prosperous. After enlarging its size and raising its price from 
 fourpence-halfpenny to fivepence, it gradually declined in circula- 
 tion. The last number appeared on July 1, 1837, bearing black 
 borders for the death of the king. ' We can estimate, therefore,' 
 says the dying speech of the ' Constitutional,' ' the feelings of the 
 gentleman who once walked at his own funeral,' and the editor, or 
 perhaps his late Paris correspondent, adds : 'The adverse circum- 
 stances have been various. In the philosophy of ill-luck it may 
 be laid down as a principle that every point of discouragement 
 tends to one common centre of defeat. When the Fates do concur 
 in one discomfiture their unanimity is wonderful. So has it hap- 
 pened in the case of the " Constitutional." In the first place, a 
 delay of some months, consequent upon the postponement of the 
 newspaper stamp reduction, operated on the minds of many who 
 were originally parties to the enterprise; in the next, the majority 
 of those who remained faithful were wholly inexperienced in the 
 art and mystery of the practical working of an important daily 
 journal; in the third, and consequent upon the other two, there 
 was the want of those abundant means, and of that wise applica- 
 tion of resources, without which no efficient organ of the interests 
 of any class of men — to say nothing of the interests of that first 
 and greatest class whose welfare has been our dearest aim and 
 most constant object — can be successfully established. Then 
 came further misgivings on the part of friends, and the delusive 
 undertakings of friends in disguise.' The venture proved in every 
 way a disastrous one. Although nominally supported by a joint- 
 stock company, the burden of the undertaking really rested upon 
 the original promoters, of whom Major Smyth was the principal, 
 while his step-son, Thackeray, also lost nearly all that remained 
 of his fortune. 
 
 It was shortly after the failure of the ' Constitutional ' that 
 Thackeray married in Paris a Miss Shaw, sister of the Captain 
 Shaw, an Indian officer, who was one of the mourners at his 
 
H2 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 funeral, an Irish lady of good family, who bore him two daughters, 
 the elder of whom first gave, during her illustrious father's life -time, 
 indications of inheriting his talents, in the remarkable story of 'Eliza- 
 beth,' written by her, and published in the ' Cornhill Magazine.' In 
 1837 he left Paris with his family, and resided for two years in Great 
 Coram Street, London, when he began to devote himself seriously 
 to literary labour, adding, we believe, occasional work as an illus- 
 trator. We are told that he contributed some papers to the 
 'Times' during the late Mr. Barnes's editorship— an article on 
 c Fielding ' among them. He is believed to have been connected 
 with two literary papers of his time — the ' Torch,' edited by Felix 
 Fax, Esq., and the ' Parthenon/ which must not be confounded 
 with a literary journal with the same name recently existing. The 
 'Torch/ which was started on August 26, 1837, ran only for six 
 months, and was immediately succeeded by the 'Parthenon/ 
 which had a longer existence. In neither paper, however, is it 
 possible to trace any sign of that shrewd criticism or overflowing 
 humour which distinguish the papers in ' Fraser.' For the latter 
 publication he laboured assiduously, and it was at this time that 
 the ' Yellowplush Papers ' appeared, with occasional notices of the 
 Exhibitions of Paintings in London. Among his writings of this 
 period (1837-1840) we also find 'Stubbs's Calendar, or the Fatal 
 Boots/ contributed to his friend Cruikshank's ' Comic Almanac ' 
 for 1839, and since included in the ' Miscellanies;' ' Catherine, by 
 Tkey Solomons, jun./ a long continuous story, founded on the 
 crime of Catherine Hays, the celebrated murderess of the last 
 century, and intended to ridicule the novels of the school of Jack 
 Sheppard, and illustrated with outline cartoons by the author ; 
 ' Cartouche ' and ■ Poinsonnet/ two stories, and ' Epistles to the 
 Literati.' In 1839 ne visited Paris again, at the request of the 
 proprietor of ' Fraser/ in order to write an account of the French 
 Exhibition of Paintings, which appeared in the December 
 number. 
 
 On his return he devoted himself to writing ' The Shabby 
 Genteel Story/ which was begun in ' Fraser ' for June, and con- 
 tinued in the numbers for July, August, and October, when it 
 stopped unfinished at the ninth chapter. The story of this strange 
 failure is a mournful one. While busily engaged in Working out this 
 affecting story, a dark shadow descended upon his household, 
 
APPRECIATION OF GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. 143 
 
 making all the associations of that time painful to him for ever. 
 The terrible truth, long suspected, that the chosen partner of his 
 good and evil fortunes could never participate in the success for 
 which he had toiled, became confirmed. The mental disease 
 which had attacked his wife rapidly developed itself, until the 
 hopes which had sustained those to whom she was most dear 
 were wholly extinguished. Thackeray was not one of those who 
 love to parade their domestic sorrows before the world. No ex- 
 planation of his omission to complete his story was given to his 
 readers ; but, years afterwards, in reprinting it in his ' Miscellanies,' 
 he hinted at the circumstances which had paralyzed his hand, and ■ 
 rendered him incapable of ever resuming the thread of his story, 
 with a touching suggestiveness for those who knew the facts. The 
 tale was interrupted, he said, ' at a sad period of the writer's own 
 life.' When the republication of the 'Miscellanies' was announced, 
 it was his intention to complete the little story — but the colours 
 were long since dry — the artist's hand had changed. It 'was 
 best,' he said, ' to leave the sketch as it was when first designed 
 seventeen years ago. The memory of the past is renewed as he 
 looks at it.'* 
 
 It was in 1840 that Thackeray contributed to the 'West- 
 minster ' a kindly and appreciative article upon the productions 
 of his friend George Cruikshank, illustrated — an unusual thing for 
 the great organ of the philosophers of the school of Bentham, J. 
 Mill, and Sir W. Molesworth — with numerous specimens of the 
 comic sketches of the subject of the papers. His defence of 
 Cruikshank from the cavils of those who loved to dwell upon his 
 defects as a draughtsman is full of sound criticism, and his claim 
 for his frienH as something far greater, a man endowed with that 
 rarest of all faculties, the power to create, is inspired by a gene- 
 rous enthusiasm which lends a life and spirit to the paper not often 
 found in a critical review. But perhaps the noblest defence of his 
 friend was in the concluding words : — ' Many artists, we hear, hold 
 his works rather cheap ; they prate about bad drawing, want of 
 scientific knowledge — they would have something vastly more 
 neat, regular, anatomical. Not one of the whole band, most 
 likely, but can paint an academy figure better than himself — nay, 
 
 * Miscellanies, vol. iv. p. 324. 
 
U4 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 or a portrait of an alderman's lady and family of children. But look 
 down the list of the painters, and tell us who are they ? How many 
 among these men are poets, makers, possessing the faculty to create, 
 the greatest among the gifts with which Providence has endowed 
 the mind of man ? Say how many there are ? Count up what 
 they have done, and see what, in the course of some nine-and- 
 twenty years, has been done by this indefatigable man. What 
 amazing energetic fecundity do we find in him ! As a boy, he 
 began to fight for bread, has been hungry (twice a-day, we trust) 
 ever since, and has been obliged to sell his wit for his bread week 
 •by week. And his wit, sterling gold as it is, will find no such 
 purchasers as the fashionable painter's thin pinchbeck, who can 
 live comfortably for six weeks, when paid for and painting a por- 
 trait, and fancies his mind prodigiously occupied all the while. 
 There was an artist in Paris — an artist hairdresser — who used to 
 be fatigued and take restoratives after inventing a new coiffure. 
 By no such gentle operation of head-dressing has Cruikshank 
 lived ; time was (we are told so in print) when for a picture with 
 thirty heads in it, he was paid three guineas — a poor week's pit- 
 tance truly, and a dire week's labour. We make no doubt that the 
 same labour would at present bring him twenty times the sum ; 
 but whether it be ill paid or well, what labour has Mr. Cruikshank's 
 been, week by week, for thirty years, to produce something new ; 
 some smiling offspring of painful labour, quite independent and 
 distinct from its ten thousand jovial brethren ; in what hours of 
 sorrow and ill health to be told by the world, " Make us laugh, or 
 you starve — give us fresh fun ; we have eaten up the old, and are 
 hungry ! " And all this has he been obliged to do — to wring 
 laughter day by day, sometimes, perhaps, out of want, often, cer- 
 tainly, from ill-health and depression — to keep the fire of his brain 
 perpetually alight, for the greedy public will give it no leisure to 
 cool. This he has done, and done well. He has told a thousand 
 new truths in as many strange and fascinating ways ; he has given 
 a thousand new and pleasant thoughts to millions of people ; he 
 has never used his wit dishonestly ; he has never, in all the exu- 
 berance of his frolicsome nature, caused a single painful or guilty 
 blush. How little do we think of the extraordinary power of this 
 man, and how ungrateful we are to him ! ' This long paper, 
 signed with the Greek letter Theta, is little known, but Thackeray 
 
THE PARIS SKETCH BOOK. 145 
 
 frequently referred to it as a labour in which he had felt a peculiar 
 pleasure. 
 
 In the summer of 1840 Thackeray collected some of his original 
 sketches inserted in ' Fraser ' and other periodicals, English and 
 foreign, and republished them under the title of • The Paris Sketch 
 Book.' This work is interesting as the first independent publication 
 of the author, but of its contents few things are now remembered. 
 The dedicatory letter prefixed, however, is peculiarly characteristic 
 of the writer. It relates to a circumstance which had occurred to 
 him some time previously in Paris. The old days when money 
 was abundant, and loitering among the pictures of the Paris galle- 
 ries could be indulged in without remorse had gone. The res an- 
 gusta domi with which genius has so often been disturbed in its 
 day-dreams began to be familiar to him. The unfortunate failure 
 of the ' Constitutional,' — a loss which he, years afterwards, occasion- 
 ally referred to as a foolish commercial speculation on which he 
 had ventured in his youth — had absorbed the whole of his patri- 
 mony. At such a time a temporary difficulty in meeting a creditor's 
 demand was not uncommon. On one such occasion, a M. Aretz, 
 a tailor in the Rue Richelieu, who had for some time supplied him 
 with coats and trousers, presented him with a small account for 
 those articles, and was met with a statement from his debtor that 
 an immediate settlement of the bill would be extremely inconve- 
 nient to him. To Titmarsh's astonishment the reply of his creditor 
 was, ' Mon Dieu, sir, let not that annoy you. If you want money, as 
 a gentleman often does in a strange country, I have a thousand-franc 
 note at my house which is quite at your service.' The generous 
 offer was accepted. The coin which, in proof of the tailor's 
 esteem for his customer, was advanced without any interest, was 
 duly repaid together with the account ; but the circumstance could 
 not be forgotten. The person obliged felt how becoming it was to 
 acknowledge and praise virtue, as he slily said, wherever he might 
 find it, and to point it out for the admiration and example of his 
 fellow-men. Accordingly, he determined to dedicate his first 
 book to the generous tailor, giving at full length his name and 
 address. In the dedicatory letter, he accordingly alludes to this 
 anecdote, adding — 
 
 ' History or experience, sir, makes us acquainted with so few 
 actions that can be compared to yours ; a kindness like yours, 
 
 L 
 
146 
 
 THACKERA YANA. 
 
 from a stranger and a tailor, seems to me so astonishing, that you 
 must pardon me for thus making your virtue public, and acquaint- 
 ing the English nation with your merit and your name. Let me 
 add, sir, that you live on the first floor ; that your clothes and fit 
 are excellent, and your charges moderate and just ; and, as a 
 humble tribute of my admiration, permit me to lay these volumes, 
 at your feet 
 
 ' Your obliged, faithful servant, 
 
 ' M. A. Titmarsh.' 
 
 A second edition of the • Paris Sketch Book' was announced 
 by the publisher, Macrone — the same publisher who had a few years 
 before given to the world the 'Sketches by Boz,' the first of Dick- 
 ens' publications ; but the 
 second edition was probably 
 only one of those conven- 
 tional fictions with which 
 the spirits of young authors 
 are sustained. Though con- 
 taining many flashes of the 
 Titmarsh humour, many 
 eloquent passages, and 
 much interesting reading 
 of a light kind, the public 
 took but a passing interest 
 in it. Years after, in que ting 
 its title, the author good- 
 humouredly remarked, in a 
 parenthesis, that some co- 
 ^ pies, he believed, might still 
 N be found unsold at the pub- 
 lisher's; but the book was 
 forgotten and most of its 
 contents were rejected by 
 the writer when preparing 
 his selected miscellanies for 
 the press. A similar couple 
 of volumes published by 
 Cunningham in 1841, under the title of ' Comic Tales and Sketches, 
 
 General Buonaparte. 
 
JiTMARSH AND THE ' HOGGARTY DIAMOND: 147 
 
 edited and illustrated by Mr. Michael Angelo Titmarsh,' and an in- 
 dependent republication, also in two volumes, of the ' Yellowplush 
 Papers,' from ' Fraser,' were somewhat more successful. The former 
 contained ' Major Gahagan ' and ' The Bedford-row Conspiracy,' 
 reprinted from ' The New Monthly ; ' ' Stubbs's Calendar, or the 
 Fatal Boots,' from Cruikshank's 'Comic Almanac;' some amusing 
 criticisms on the 'Sea Captain,' and ' Lady Charlotte Bury's Diary,' 
 and other papers from ' Fraser.' The illustrations to the volumes 
 were tinted etchings of a somewhat more careful character than 
 those unfinished artistic drolleries in which he generally indulged. 
 A brace of portraits of Dr. Lardner and Bulwer may be reckoned 
 in the great humorist's happiest caricature vein. 
 
 In Dec. 1840 he again visited Paris, and remained there until 
 the summer of the following year. He was in that city on the 
 memorable occasion of the second funeral of Napoleon, or the 
 ceremony of conveying the remains of that great warrior, of whom, 
 as a child, he had obtained a living glimpse, to their last resting 
 place at the Hotel des Invalides. An account of that ceremony, in 
 the form of a letter to Miss Smith, was published by Macrone. It 
 was a small square pamphlet, chfefly memorable now as containing 
 at the end his remarkable poem of ' The Chronicle of the Drum.' 
 About this time he advertised as preparing for immediate publica- 
 tion, a book entitled ' Dinner Reminiscences, or the Young Gor- 
 mandiser's Guide at Paris, by Mr. M- A- Titmarsh.' It was to be 
 issued by Hugh Cunningham, the publisher, of St. Martin's Place, 
 Trafalgar Square,, but we believe was never published. 
 
 It was in the September number of ' Fraser,' for 1841, that he 
 commenced^ his story of the ' History of Samuel Titmarsh, and the 
 Great Hoggarty Diamond,' which, though it failed to achieve 
 an extraordinary popularity, first convinced that select few who 
 judge for themselves in matters of literature and art, of the great 
 power and promise of the unknown ' Titmarsh.' Carlyle, in his 
 ' Life of John Sterling,' quotes the following remarkable passage 
 from a letter of the latter to his mother, written at this period : — 
 ' I have seen no new books, but am reading your last. I got hold 
 of the two first numbers of the ' Hoggarty Diamond,' and read 
 them with extreme delight. What is there better in Fielding or 
 Goldsmith ? The man is a true genius, and with quiet and comfort 
 might produce masterpieces that would last as long as any we have, 
 
 1. 2 
 
1 48 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 and delight millions of unborn readers. There is more truth and 
 
 nature in one of these papers than in all 's novels put together/ 
 
 1 Thackeray (adds Carlyle), always a close friend of the Ster- 
 ling House, will observe that this is dated 1 841, not 185 1, and will 
 have his own reflections on the matter.' The ' Hoggarty Diamond ' 
 was continued in the numbers for October and November, and 
 completed in December 1841. In the number for June of the 
 following year, 'Fitzboodle's Confessions' were commenced, and 
 were continued at intervals down to the end of 1843. The ' Irish 
 Sketch Book/ in two volumes, detailing an Irish tour, was also 
 published in the latter year. The ' Sketch Book ' did not at the 
 time attract much attention. The ' Luck of Barry Lyndon,' by 
 many considered the most original of his writings, was begun and 
 finished at No. 88, St. James Street, previously known as the Conser- 
 vative Club, where at this time he occupied chambers. The first 
 part appeared in ' Fraser ' for January 1 844, and was continued 
 regularly every month, till its completion in the December number. 
 He was engaged a short time before this as assistant editor of the 
 ' Examiner ' newspaper, to which journal he contributed numerous 
 articles ; and among his papers in ' Fraser' and other magazines 
 of the same period, we find, ' Memorials of Gourmandising ; ' ' Pic- 
 torial Rhapsodies on the Exhibitions of Paintings ; ' ' Bluebeard's 
 Ghost,; ' a satirical article on Grant's ' Paris and the Parisians ; ' a 
 ' Review of a Box of Novels ' (already quoted from) ; ' Little 
 Travels and Roadside Sketches ' (chiefly in Belgium) ; ' The 
 Partie Fine, by Lancelot Wagstaff ; ' a comic story, with a sequel 
 entitled ' Arabella, or the Moral of the Partie Fine ; ' ' Carmen 
 Lilliense ; ' ' Picture Gossip ; ' more comic sketches, with the titles 
 of ' The Chest of Cigars, by Lancelot Wagstaff ; ' ' Bob Robinson's 
 First Love ;' and i Barmecide Banquets,' and an admirable satirical 
 review entitled ' A Gossip about Christmas Books.' 
 
 The ' Carmen Lilliense ' will be well remembered by the 
 readers of the 'Miscellanies,' published in 1857, in which it was 
 included. Thackeray was in the north of France and in Bel- 
 gium about the period when it is dated (2nd September, 1843) ; 
 and the ballad describes a real accident which befel him, though 
 doubtless somewhat heightened in effect. It tells how, leaving 
 Paris with only twenty pounds in his pocket, for a trip in Belgium, 
 he arrived at Antwerp, where, feeling for his purse, he found it had 
 
CARMEN LILLIENSE: 
 
 •49 
 
 vanished with the entire amount of his little treasure. Some 
 rascal on the road had picked his pocket, and nothing was left but 
 to borrow ten guineas of a friend whom he met, and to write a 
 note to England addressed to ' Grandmamma,' for whom we may 
 probably read some other member of the Titmarsh family. The 
 ten guineas, however, were soon gone, and the sensitive Titmarsh 
 
 Memorials of gourmandising 
 
 found himself in a position of great delicacy. What was to be 
 done? 'To stealing,' says the ballad, 'he could never come.' 
 To pawn his watch he felt himself ' too genteel ; ' besides, he had 
 left his watch at home, which at once put an end to any debates 
 on this point. There was nothing to do but to wait for the remit- 
 tance, and beguile the time with a poetical description of his woes. 
 The guests around him ask for their bills. Titmarsh is in agonies. 
 The landlord regards him as a ' Lord-Anglais,' serves him with the 
 
1 50 THACKERA YANA. 
 
 best of meat and drink, and is proud of his patronage. A sense of 
 being a kind of impostor weighs upon him. The landlord's eye 
 became painful to look at. Opposite is a dismal building — the 
 prison-house of Lille, where, by a summary process, familiar to 
 French law, foreigners who run in debt without the means of paying 
 may be lodged. He is almost tempted to go into the old Flemish 
 church and invoke the saints there after the fashion of the country. 
 One of their pictures on the walls becomes, in his imagination, 
 like the picture of ' Grandmamma,' with a smile upon its coun- 
 tenance. Delightful dream ! and one of good omen. He returns 
 to his hotel, and there to his relief finds the long-expected letter, 
 in the well-known hand, addressed to ' Mr. M. A. Titmarsh, 
 Lille.' He obtains the means of redeeming his credit, bids fare- 
 well to his host without any exposure, takes the diligence, and is 
 restored to his home that evening. Such are the humorous exag- 
 gerations with which he depicts his temporary troubles at Lille, in 
 the shape of a ballad, originally intended, we believe, for the 
 amusement of his family, but finally inserted in ' Fraser.' 
 
 It was in July 1844 that Thackeray started on a tour in the 
 East — the result of a hasty invitation, and of a present of a free 
 pass from a friend connected with the Peninsular and Oriental 
 Steam Navigation Company. His sudden departure, upon less 
 than thirty- six hours' notice, is pleasantly detailed in the preface to 
 his book, published at Christmas, 1.845, w i' tn the title of ' Notes of 
 a Journey from Cornhill to Grand Cairo byway of Lisbon, Athens, 
 Constantinople, and Jerusalem : performed in the steamers of the 
 Peninsular and Oriental Company, By M. A. Titmarsh, author of 
 " The Irish Sketch Book," &c. ' 
 
 The book was illustrated with coloured drawings by the author, 
 treating, in a not exaggerated vein of fun, the peculiarities of the 
 •daily life of the East. The little book was well received, and in 
 jthe reviews of it there is evidence of the growing interest of the 
 public in the writer. For the first time it presented him to his 
 readers in his true name, for though the ' Titmarsh ' fiction is pre- 
 served on the title page, the prefatory matter is signed ' W. M. 
 Thackeray.' 
 
 '"Who is Titmarsh?" says one of his critics at this time. 
 Such is the ejaculatory formula in which public curiosity gives vent 
 to its ignorant impatience of pseudonymous renown. "Who is 
 
THE PUBLIC INTERESTED. 
 
 151 
 
 Michael Angelo Titmarsh?" Such is the note of interrogation 
 which has been heard at intervals these several seasons back, 
 among groups of elderly loungers in that row of clubs, Pall Mall ; 
 from fairy lips, as the light wheels whirled along the row called 
 "Rotten;'' and oft amid keen-eyed men in that grandfather of 
 rows which the children of literature call Paternoster. 
 
 ' This problem has been variously and conflictingly solved, as 
 in the parallel case of the grim old stat nominis umbra. There is 
 a hint in both instances of some mysterious 
 connexion with the remote regions of Bengal, 
 and an erect old pigtail of the E.I.C.S. boasts 
 in the " horizontal " jungle off Hanover Square, 
 of having had the dubious advantage of his 
 personal acquaintanceship in Upper India, 
 where his I O U's were signed Major Goliah 
 Gahagan ; and several specimens of that docu- 
 mentary character, in good preservation, he 
 offers at a low figure to amateurs.' 
 
 The foundation in 1841 of a weekly pe- 
 riodical, serving as a vehicle for the circu- 
 lation of the lighter papers of humorists, 
 had unquestionably an important influence 
 in the development of his talents and fame. 
 From an early date he was connected with 
 1 Punch,' at first as the ' Fat Contributor,' and 
 soon after as the author of ' Jeames's Diary ' and ' The Snob 
 ."Papers.' If satire could do aught to check the pride of the vulgar 
 upstart, or shame social hypocrisy into truth and simplicity, these 
 writings would accomplish the task. In fact, Thackeray's name 
 was now becoming known, and people began to distinguish and 
 inquire for his contributions ; his illustrations in ' Punch ' being as 
 funny as his articles were. The series called ' Jeames's Diary ' 
 caused great amusement and no little flutter in high polite circles, 
 for the deposition from the throne of railwaydom of the famous 
 original of ' Jeames de la Pluche ' had hardly then begun, though 
 it was probably accelerated by the universal titters of recognition 
 which welcomed the weekly accounts of the changing fortunes of 
 ' Jeames.' 
 
 The Major 
 
152 THA CKERA VA&A. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Increasing reputation — Later writings in ' Fraser ' — Mrs. Perkins's Ball, with 
 Thackeray's illustrations — Early Vicissitudes of ' Pencil Sketches of English 
 Society' — Thackeray's connection with the Temple — Appearance of 'Vanity 
 Fair ' with the Author's original illustrations — Appreciative notice in the 
 'Edinburgh Review' — The impression produced — 'Our Street,' with Tit- 
 marsh's Pencillings of some of its Inhabitants — 'The History of Pendennis,' 
 illustrated by the Author — ' Dr. Birch and his Young Friends,' with illus- 
 trations by M. A. Titmarsh — ' Rebecca and Rowena : — The Dignity of 
 Literature and the ' Examiner ' and ' Morning Chronicle ' newspapers — 
 Sensitiveness to Hostile Criticism — 'The Kickleburys on the Rhine,' with 
 illustrations by M. A. Titmarsh — Adverse bias of the ' Times ' newspaper — 
 Thackeray's reply — 'An Essay on Thunder and Small Beer.' 
 
 The great work, however, which was to stamp the name of 
 Thackeray for ever in the minds of English readers was yet to 
 come. Hitherto all his writings had been brief and desultory, but 
 in contributing to magazines his style had gradually matured itself. 
 That ease of expression, and that repose which seems so full of 
 power, were never more exemplified than in some of his latest 
 essays in ' Fraser/ before book writing had absorbed all his time. 
 His article on Sir E. B. Lytton's ' Memoir of Laman Blanchard/ 
 his paper ' On Illustrated Children's Books/ his satirical proposal 
 to Mons. Alexandre Dumas for a continuation of ' Ivanhoe/ all 
 contributed to 'Fraser' in 1846, and his article — we believe the 
 last which he wrote for that periodical — entitled 'A Grumble 
 about Christmas Books/ published in January 1847, are equal to 
 anything in his later works. The first-mentioned of these papers, 
 indeed — the remonstrance with Laman Blanchard's biographer — 
 is unsurpassed for the eloquence of its defence of the calling of 
 men of letters, and for the tenderness and manly simplicity with 
 which it touches on the history of the unfortunate subject of the 
 memoir. 
 
PENCIL SKETCHES OF ENGLISH SOCIETY. 153 
 
 'Mrs. Perkins's Ball,' a Christmas book, was published in 
 December 1846. But its author had long been preparing for a 
 more serious undertaking. Some time before, he had sketched 
 some chapters entitled ' Pencil Sketches of English Society/ which 
 he had offered to Colburn for insertion in the ' New Monthly 
 Magazine.' It formed a portion of a continuous story, of a 
 length not yet determined, and was rejected by Colburn after 
 consideration. The papers which Thackeray had previously 
 contributed to the 'New Monthly ' were chiefly slight comic 
 stories — perhaps the least favourable specimens of his powers. 
 They were, indeed, not superior to the common run of magazine 
 papers, and were certainly not equal to his contributions to 
 ' Fraser.' In fact, as a contributor to the ' New Monthly ' he 
 had achieved no remarkable success, and his papers appear to 
 have been little in demand there. Whether the manuscript had 
 been offered to ' Fraser ' — the magazine in which ' Titmarsh ' had 
 secured popularity, and where he was certainly more at home — we 
 cannot say. Happily, the author of ' Pencil Sketches of English 
 Society,' though suspending his projected work, did not abandon 
 it. He saw in its opening chapters — certainly not the best por- 
 tions of the story when completed — the foundations of a work 
 which was to secure him at last a fame among contemporary 
 writers in his own proper name. The success of Dickens's shilling- 
 monthly parts suggested to him to make it the commence- 
 ment of a substantive work of fiction, to be published month by 
 month, with illustrations by the author. The work grew up by 
 degrees, and finally took shape under the better title of ' Vanity 
 Fair.' It was during this time, the latter part of 1846, that he 
 removed to his' house at No. 13 Young Street, Kensington, a 
 favourite locality with him, in which house he resided for some 
 years. He also at this time occupied chambers at No. 10 Crown- 
 office Row, Temple, the comfortable retirement which, * up four 
 pair of stairs,' with its grand view, when the sun was shining, of 
 the chimney-pots over the way, he has himself described. His 
 friend, Tom Taylor, the well-known dramatist and biographer, 
 had chambers in the same house ; and we believe, on the demoli- 
 tion of No. 10 Crown-office Row, wrote a poem, published in the 
 pages of ' Punch,' in which, if we remember rightly, mention is 
 made of the fact of Thackeray's having resided there. Thackeray 
 
1 54 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 was called to the bar by the Honourable Society of the Middle 
 Temple in 1848, though he never practised, and never probably 
 intended to do so. The Benchers, howeve *, were not insensible 
 to the addition to the numerous literary associations with their 
 venerable and quiet retreat which they thus gained. After his 
 death there was some proposition to bury him in the Temple, of 
 which he was a member, amid (as Spenser says) — 
 
 Those bricky towers 
 The which on Thames' broad back do ride, 
 Where now the student lawyers have their bowers, 
 Where whilom wont the Templar Knights to bide, 
 Till they decayed through pride. 
 
 There Goldsmith is buried, and Thackeray's ashes would have 
 been fitly laid near those of the author of the ' Vicar of Wakefield,' 
 whose brilliant genius he so heartily eulogised, and whose many 
 shortcomings he so tenderly touched upon, in the ' Lectures on 
 the Humorists.' But, after consultation with his relations, it was 
 deemed better that he should rest with his own family in Kensal 
 Green. Pending this decision, the sanction of the Benchers to 
 interment within the precincts of the Temple Church had been 
 asked and cheerfully accorded ; and when the Kensal Green 
 Cemetery was finally decided upon, the Benchers were requested 
 to permit the erection of a memorial slab in their church. Their 
 reply to this was, that not only should they be honoured by such 
 a memento, but that, if allowed,. they would have it erected at 
 their own cost* 
 
 The first monthly portion of ' Vanity Fair ' was published on 
 February 1, 1847, in the yellow wrapper which served to distinguish 
 it from Charles Dickens's stories, and which afterwards becarne the 
 standard colour for the covers of Thackeray's serial stories. The 
 work was continued monthly, and finished with the number for 
 July of the following year. Thackeray's friends, and all those who 
 had watched his career with special interest, saw in it at once a 
 work of greater promise than any that had appeared since the 
 dawn of his great contemporary's fame ; but the critical journals 
 received it somewhat coldly. There were indeed few tokens of its 
 future success in the tone of its reception at this early period. 
 
 * Letter of Edmund Yates in the Belfast Whig. 
 
VANITY FAIR: 
 
 *55 
 
 It is generally acknowledged that to the thoughtful and appreci- 
 ative article in the 'Edinburgh Review' of January 1848, which dealt 
 with the first eleven numbers of the work only, is due the merit of 
 authoritatively calling attention to 
 the great power it displayed. The 
 writer was evidently one who knew 
 Thackeray well ; for he gives a sketch 
 of his life, and mentions having met 
 him some years before, painting in 
 the Louvre in Paris. ,c In forming,' 
 says this judicious critic, 'our gene- 
 ral estimate of this writer, we wish 
 to be understood as referring princi- 
 pally, if not exclusively, to " Vanity 
 Fair" (a novel in monthly parts), 
 which, though still unfinished, is im- 
 measurably superior, in our opinion, 
 to every other known production of 
 his pen. The great charm of this 
 work is its entire freedom from 
 
 , „ . ... The British Army 
 
 mannerism and affectation both in 
 
 style and sentiment — the confiding frankness with which the reader 
 is addressed — the thoroughbred carelessness with which the author 
 permits the thoughts and feelings suggested by the situations to 
 flow in their natural channel, as if conscious that nothing mean or 
 unworthy, nothing requiring to be shaded, gilded, or dressed up in 
 company attire, could fail from him. In a word, the book is the 
 work of a gentleman, which is one great merit, and not the work 
 of a fine (or would-be fine) gentleman, which is another. Then, 
 again, he never exhausts, elaborates, or insists too much upon 
 anything ; he drops his finest remarks and happiest illustrations as 
 Buckingham dropped his pearls, and leaves them to be picked up 
 and appreciated as chance may bring a discriminating observer to 
 the spot. His effects are uniformly the effects of sound, whole- 
 some, legitimate art ; and we need hardly add, that we are never 
 harrowed up with physical horrors of the Eugene Sue school in his 
 writings, or that there are no melodramatic villains to be found in 
 them. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, and here 
 are touches of nature by the dozen. His pathos (though not so 
 
156 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 deep as Dickens's) is exquisite ; the more so, perhaps, because 
 he seems to struggle against it, and to be half ashamed of being 
 caught in the melting mood ; but the attempt to be caustic, sati- 
 rical, ironical, or philosophical, on such occasions, is uniformly 
 vain ; and again and again have we found reason to admire how 
 an originally fine and kind nature remains essentially free from 
 worldliness, and, in the highest pride of intellect, pays homage to 
 the heart' 
 
 It was at this time, his friend Hannay tells us, that he first 
 had the pleasure of seeing him. * " Vanity Fair," ' he adds, ' was 
 then unfinished, but its success was made ; and he spoke frankly 
 and genially of his work and his career. " Vanity Fair " always, 
 we think, ranked in his own mind as best in story of his greater 
 books ; and he once pointed out to us the very house in Russell 
 Square where his imaginary Sedleys lived — a curious proof of the 
 reality his creations had for his mind.' The same writer tells us 
 that when he congratulated Thackeray, many years ago, on the 
 touch in ' Vanity Fair ' in which' Becky admires her husband 
 when he is giving Lord Steyne the chastisement which ruins her 
 for life, the author answered with that fervour as well as heartiness 
 of frankness which distinguished him : * Well, when I wrote the 
 sentence, I slapped my fist on the table, and said, " That is a 
 touch of genius I " ' ' Vanity Fair ' soon rose rapidly in public 
 favour, and a new work from the pen of its author was eagerly 
 looked for. 
 
 During the time of publication of ' Vanity Fair ' he had found 
 time to write and publish the little Christmas book entitled ' Our 
 Street,' which appeared in December 1847, and reached a second 
 edition soon after Christmas. ' Vanity Fair' was followed in 1849 
 with another long work of fiction, entitled the ' History of Pen- 
 dennis ; his Fortunes and Misfortunes, his Friends and his Greatest 
 Enemy; with Illustrations by the Author;' which was completed 
 in two volumes. In this year, too, he published ' Dr. Birch ' and 
 1 Rebecca and Rowena.' It was during the publication of ' Pen- 
 dennis' that a criticism in the ' Morning Chronicle' and in the 
 ' Examiner ' newspapers drew from him the following remarkable 
 letter on the ' Dignity of Literature/ addressed to the editor of the 
 former journal : — 
 
REFUTED CRITICISMS ON < PENDENNIS: 157 
 
 'To the Editor of the "Morning Chronicler 
 
 ' Reform Club, Jan. 8, 1850. 
 'Sir, — In a leading article of your journal of Thursday, the 
 3rd instant, you commented upon literary pensions and the status 
 of literary men in this country, and illustrated your argument by 
 extracts from the story of " Pendennis," at present in course of 
 publication. You have received my writings with so much kind- 
 ness that, if you have occasion to disapprove of them or the 
 author, I can't question your right to blame me, or doubt for a 
 moment the friendliness and honesty of my critic ; and however 
 I might dispute the justice of your verdict in my case, I had pro- 
 posed to submit to it in silence, being indeed very quiet in my 
 conscience with regard to the charge made against me. But 
 another newspaper of high character and repute takes occasion to 
 question the principles advocated in your article of Thursday; 
 arguing in favour of pensions for literary persons, as you argued 
 against them ; and the only point upon which the " Examiner " 
 and the " Chronicle " appear to agree unluckily regards myself, 
 who am offered up to general reprehension in two leading articles 
 by the two writers : by the latter, for " fostering a baneful pre- 
 judice " against literary men \ by the former, for " stooping to 
 natter" this prejudice in the public mind, and condescending to 
 caricature (as is too often my habit) my literary fellow-labourers, 
 in order to pay court to " the non-literary class." The charges of 
 the " Examiner " against a man who has never, to his knowledge, 
 been ashamed of his profession, or (except for its dulness) of any 
 single line from his pen — grave as they are, are, I hope, not 
 proven. "To stoop to natter" any class is a novel accusation 
 brought against my writings ; and as for my scheme " to pay 
 court to the non-literary class by disparaging my literary fellow- 
 labourers," it is a design which would exhibit a degree not only of 
 baseness but of folly upon my part, of which I trust I am not 
 capable. The editor of the " Examiner "■ may, perhaps, occasion- 
 ally write, like other authors, in a hurry, and not be aware of the 
 conclusions to which some of his sentences may lead. If I stoop 
 to flatter anybody's prejudice for some interested motives of my 
 own, I am no more nor less than a rogue and a cheat : which 
 deductions from the "Examiner's" premises I will not stoop to 
 
1 58 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 contradict, because the premises themselves are simply absurd. I 
 deny that the considerable body of our countrymen, described by 
 the " Examiner " as " the non-literary class," has the least gratifi- 
 cation in witnessing the degradation or disparagement of literary 
 men. Why accuse " the non-literary class " of being so ungrate- 
 ful ? If the writings of an author give a reader pleasure or profit, 
 surely the latter will have a favourable opinion of the person who 
 so benefits him. What intelligent man, of what political views, 
 would not receive with respect and welcome that writer of the 
 " Examiner " of whom your paper once said, that " he made all 
 England laugh and think " ? Who would deny to that brilliant 
 wit, that polished satirist, his just tribute of respect and admira- 
 tion ? Does any man who has written a book worth reading — any 
 poet, historian, novelist, man of science— lose reputation by his 
 character for genius or for learning ? Does he not, on the con- 
 trary, get friends, sympathy, applause — money, perhaps? — all 
 good and pleasant things in themselves, and not ungenerously 
 awarded as they are honestly won. That generous faith in men of 
 letters, that kindly regard in which the whole reading nation holds 
 them, appear to me to be so clearly shown in our country every 
 day, that to question them would be as absurd as — permit me to 
 say for my part — it would be ungrateful. What is it that fills 
 mechanics' institutes in the great provincial towns when literary 
 men are invited to attend their festivals ? Has not every literary 
 man of mark his friends and his circle, his hundreds or his tens of 
 thousands of readers ? And has not every one had from these 
 constant and affecting testimonials of the esteem in which they 
 hold him ? It is of course one writer's lot, from the nature of his 
 subject or of his genius, to command the sympathies or awaken 
 the curiosity of many more readers than shall choose to listen to 
 another author ; but surely all get their hearing. The literary 
 profession is not held in disrepute ; nobody wants to disparage it ; 
 no man loses his social rank, whatever it may be, by practising it. 
 On the contrary, the pen gives a place in the world to men who 
 had none before — a fair place fairly achieved by their genius ; as 
 any other degree of eminence is by any other kind of merit. 
 Literary men need not, as it seems to me, be in the least queru- 
 lous about their position any more, or want the pity of anybody. 
 The money-prizes which the chief among them get are not so high 
 
SOCIAL ESTIMATION OF LITERARY MEN. 159 
 
 as those which fall to men of other callings— to bishops, or to 
 judges, or to opera-singers and actors ; nor have they received 
 stars and garters as yet, or peerages and governorships of islands, 
 such as fall to the lot of military officers. The rewards of the pro- 
 fession are not to be measured by the money standard : for one 
 man spends a life of learning and labour on a book which does 
 not pay the printer's bill, and another gets a little fortune by a few 
 light volumes. But, putting the money out of the question, I 
 believe that the social estimation of the man of letters is as good 
 as it deserves to be, and as good as that of any other professional 
 man. With respect to the question in debate between you and 
 the " Examiner" as to the propriety of public rewards and honours 
 for literary men, I don't see why men of letters should not very 
 cheerfully coincide with Mr. "Exa- 
 miner" in accepting all the honours, 
 places, and prizes which they can get. 
 The amount of such as will be awarded 
 to them will not, we may be pretty sure, 
 impoverish the country much ; and if 
 it is the custom of the State to reward 
 by money, or titles of honour, or stars 
 
 and garters of any sort, individuals who do the country service, and 
 if individuals are gratified at having " Sir " or " My Lord " appended 
 to their names, or stars and ribands hooked on their coats and waist- 
 coats, as men most undoubtedly are, and as their wives, families, and 
 relations are, there can be no reason why men of letters should not 
 have the chance, as well as men of the robe or the sword ; or why, 
 if honour and money are good for one profession, they should not 
 be good for another. No man in other callings thinks himself 
 degraded by receiving a reward from his Government ; nor, 
 surely, need the literary man be more squeamish about pensions, 
 and ribands, and titles* than the ambassador, or general, or judge. 
 Every European State but ours rewards its men of letters ; the 
 American Government gives them their full share of its small 
 patronage, and if Americans, why not Englishmen ? If Pitt 
 Crawley is disappointed at not getting a riband on retiring from 
 his diplomatic post at Pumpernickel, if General O'Dowd is 
 pleased to be called Sir Hector O'Dowd, K.C.B., and his wife at 
 being denominated my Lady O'Dowd, are literary men to be the 
 
i6o 
 
 THA CKERA YANA , 
 
 only persons exempt from vanity, and is it to be a sin in them to 
 covet honour? And now, with regard to the charge against myself 
 
 of fostering baneful preju- 
 dices against our calling — 
 to which I no more plead 
 guilty than I should think 
 Fielding would have done 
 if he had been accused of a 
 design to bring the Church 
 into contempt by describing 
 Parson Trulliber — permit 
 me to say, that before you 
 deliver sentence it would 
 be as well if you had waited 
 to hear the whole of the 
 argument. Who knows what 
 is coming in the future 
 numbers of the work which 
 has incurred your displea- 
 sure and the " Examiner's," 
 and whether you, in accus- 
 ing me of prejudice, and the " Examiner " (alas !) of swindling 
 and flattering the public, have not been premature ? Time and 
 the hour may solve this mystery, for which the candid reader is 
 referred " to our next." That I have a prejudice against running 
 into debt, and drunkenness, and disorderly life, and against 
 quackery and falsehood in my profession, I own, and that I like 
 to have a laugh at those pretenders in it who write confidential 
 news about fashion and politics for provincial gobemouches ; but I 
 am not aware of feeling any malice in describing this weakness, or 
 of doing anything wrong in exposing the former vices. Have 
 they never existed amongst literary men ? Have their talents 
 never been urged as a plea for improvidence, and their very faults 
 adduced as a consequence of their genius ? The only moral that 
 I, as a writer, wished to hint in the descriptions against which you 
 protest, was, that it was the duty of a literary man, as well as any 
 other, to practise regularity and sobriety, to love his family, and 
 to pay his tradesmen. Nor is the picture I have drawn " a cari- 
 cature which I condescend to," any more than it is a wilful and 
 
 Sir Hector 
 
SOCIAL ESTIMATION OF LITERARY MEN. 161 
 
 insidious design on my part to flatter " the non-literary class." If 
 it be a caricature, it is the result of a natural perversity of vision, 
 not of an artful desire to mislead ; but my attempt was to tell the 
 truth, and I meant to tell it not unkindly. I have seen the book- 
 seller whom Bludyer robbed of his books : I have carried money, 
 and from a noble brother man-of-letters, to some one not unlike 
 Shandon in prison, and have watched the beautiful devotion of 
 his wife in that dreary place. Why are these things not to be 
 described, if they illustrate, as they appear to me to do, that 
 strange and awful struggle of good and wrong which takes place 
 in our hearts and in the world ? It may be that I worked out my 
 moral ill, or it may be possible that the critic of the " Examiner " 
 fails in apprehension. My efforts as an artist come perfectly 
 within his province as a censor ; but when Mr. " Examiner " says 
 of a gentleman that he is " stooping to flatter a public prejudice," 
 which public prejudice does not exist, I submit that he makes a 
 charge which is as absurd as it is unjust, and am thankful that it 
 repels itself. And, instead of accusing the public of persecuting 
 and disparaging us as a class, it seems to me that men of letters 
 had best silently assume that they are as good as any other gen- 
 tlemen, nor raise piteous controversies upon a question which all 
 people of sense must take to be settled. If I sit at your table, I 
 suppose that I am my neighbour's equal as that he is mine. If I 
 begin straightway with a protest of " Sir, I a/n a literary man, but 
 I would have you to know I am as good as you," which of us is it 
 that questions the dignity of the literary profession — my neighbour 
 who would like to eat his soup in quiet, or the man of letters who 
 commences the argument? And I hope that a comic writer, 
 because he describes one author as improvident and another as a 
 parasite, may not only be guiltless of a desire to vilify his profes- 
 sion, but may really have its honour at heart. If there are no 
 spendthrifts or parasites amongst us, the satire becomes unjust; 
 but if such exist, or have existed, they are as good subjects for 
 comedy as men of other callings. I never heard that the Bar felt 
 itself aggrieved because " Punch " chose to describe Mr. Dunup's 
 notorious state of insolvency, or that the picture of Stiggins in 
 " Pickwick " was intended as an insult to all Dissenters, or that all 
 the attorneys in the empire were indignant at the famous history of 
 the firm of " Quirk, Gammon, and Snap." Are we to be passed 
 
 M 
 
162 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 over because we are faultless, or because we cannot afford to be 
 laughed at ? And if every character in a story is to represent a 
 class, not an individual — if every bad figure is to have its obliged 
 contrast of a good one, and a balance of vice and virtue is to be 
 struck — novels, I think, would become impossible, as they would 
 be intolerably stupid and unnatural, and there would be a lament- 
 able end of writers and readers of such compositions. 
 
 ' Believe me, Sir, to be your very faithful servant, 
 
 ' W. M. Thackeray/ 
 
 It was a peculiarity of Thackeray to feel annoyed at adverse 
 criticism, and to show his annoyance in a way which more cautious 
 
 Sensitive to a point 
 
 men generally abstain from. He did not conceal his feeling 
 when an unjust attack was levelled at him in an influential journal. 
 He was not one of those remonstrators who never see anything 
 in the papers, but have their 'attention called' to them by 
 friends. If he had seen, he frankly avowed that he had seen 
 the attack, and did not scruple to reply if he had an opportunity, 
 and the influence of the journal or reviewer made it worth while. 
 With the ' Times ; he had had very early a bout of this kind. When 
 the little account of the funeral of Napoleon in 1840 was published, 
 the ' Times,' as he said, rated him, and talked in ■ its own great 
 roaring way about the flippancy and conceit of Titmarsh,' to which 
 he had replied by a sharp paragraph or two. In 1850 a very 
 elaborate attack in the chief journal roused his satirical humour 
 
THE 'TIMES' ON CHRISTMAS BOOKS. 
 
 [63 
 
 A Rhinelander 
 
 more completely. The article which contained the offence was 
 on the subject of his Christmas Book, entitled ' The Kickleburys 
 on the Rhine,' published in Dec. 
 1850, upon which a criticism ap- 
 peared in that journal, beginning 
 with the following passage : — 
 
 ' It has been customary, of late 
 years, for the purveyors of amusing 
 literature — the popular authors of 
 the day — to put forth certain opuscles, 
 denominated " Christmas Books," 
 with the ostensible intention of swell- 
 ing the tide of exhilaration, or other 
 expansive emotions, incident upon 
 the exodus of the old and the in- 
 auguration of the new year. We 
 have said that their ostensible inten- 
 tion was such, because there is ano- 
 ther motive for these productions, 
 locked up (as the popular author 
 deems) in his own breast, but which betrays itself, in the quality 
 of the work, as his principal incentive. Oh ! that any muse 
 should be set upon a high stool to cast up accounts and balance 
 a ledger ! Yet so it is ; and the popular author finds it con- 
 venient to fill up the declared deficit and place himself in a 
 position the more effectually to encounter those liabilities which 
 sternly assert themselves contemporaneously and in contrast with 
 the careless and free-handed tendencies of the season by the 
 emission of Christmas books — a kind of literary assignats, re- 
 presenting to the emitter expunged debts, to the receiver an 
 investment of enigmatical value. For the most part bearing the 
 stamp of their origin in the vacuity of the writer's exchequer 
 rather than in the fulness of his genius, they suggest by their 
 feeble flavour the rinsings of a void brain after the more important 
 concoctions of the expired year. Indeed, we should as little 
 think of taking these compositions as examples of the merits of 
 their authors as we should think of measuring the valuable ser- 
 vices of Mr. Walker the postman, or Mr. Bell the dust-collector, 
 by the copy of verses they leave at our doors as a provocative 
 
1 64 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 of the expected annual gratuity— effusions with which they may 
 fairly be classed for their intrinsic worth no less than their ultimate 
 purport.' 
 
 Upon this, and upon some little peculiarities of style in the 
 review, such as a passage in which the learned critic compared the 
 author's satirical attempts to ' the sardonic divings after the pearl 
 of truth whose lustre is eclipsed in the display of the diseased 
 oyster/ Thackeray replied in the preface to a second edition 
 
 Over-weighted 
 
 of the little book, published a few days later, and entitled * An 
 Essay on Thunder and Small Beer.' The style of the 'Times' 
 critique, which was generally attributed to Samuel Phillips, 
 afforded too tempting a subject for the satirical pen of the au- 
 thor of ' Vanity Fair ' to be passed over. The easy humour with 
 which he exposed the pompous affectation of superiority in his 
 critic, the tawdry sentences and droll logic of his censor, whom 
 he likened not to the awful thunderer of Printing House Square, 
 but to the thunderer's man, ' Jupiter Jeames, trying to dazzle and 
 roar like his awful employer,' afforded the town, through the news- 
 papers which copied the essay, an amount of amusement not often 
 
l AN ESS A Y ON THUNDER AND SMALL BEER: 165 
 
 derived from an author's defence of himself from adverse criticism. 
 The essay was remembered long after, when work after work of 
 the offending author was severely handled in the same paper ; and 
 the recollection of it gave a shadow of support to the theory 
 by which some persons, on the occasion of Thackeray's death, 
 
 Too much for his horse 
 
 endeavoured to explain the fact that the obituary notice in the 
 ' Times/ and the account of his funeral, were more curt than those 
 of any other journal ; while the ' Times ' alone, of all the daily 
 papers, omitted to insert a leading article on the subject of the 
 great loss which had been sustained by the world of letters. 
 
1 66 THA CKERA YA NA . 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Commencement of the Series of early Essayists — Thackeray as a I ecturer — 
 ' The English Humorists of the Eighteenth Century ' — Charlotte Bronte at 
 Thackeray's readings — The Lectures repeated in Edinburgh — An invitation 
 to visit America — Transatlantic popularity — Special success attending the 
 reception of the 'English Humorists' in the States — ' Week-day Preachers' 
 — Enthusiastic Farewell — Appleton's New York edition of Thackeray's 
 works ; the Author's introduction, and remarks on International Copyright — 
 Thackeray's departure — Cordial impression bequeathed to America — ' The 
 History of Henry Esmond, a story of Queen Anne's Reign ' — The writers of 
 the Augustan Era — ' The Newcomes' — An allusion to George Washington 
 misunderstood — A second visit to America —Lectures on the ' Four Georges ' 
 — The series repeated at home — Scotch sympathy — Thackeray proposed as a 
 candidate to represent Oxford in Parliament — His liberal views and 
 impartiality. 
 
 In i 85 i Thackeray appeared in an entirely new character, but 
 one which subsequently proved so lucrative to him, that to 
 this cause, even more than the labours of his pen, must be attri- 
 buted that easy fortune which he had accumulated before he died. 
 In May he commenced the delivery of a series of lectures on the 
 English Humorists. The subjects were — Swift, Congreve and 
 Addison • Steele ; Prior, Gay and Pope ; Hogarth, Smollet and 
 Fielding, and Sterne and Goldsmith. The lectures were delivered 
 at Willis's Rooms. The price of admission was high, and the 
 audience was numerous, and of the most select kind. It was 
 not composed of that sort of people who crowd to pick up in- 
 formation in the shape of facts with which they have been pre- 
 viously unacquainted, but those who, knowing the eminence of 
 the lecturer, wished to hear his opinion on a subject of national 
 interest. One of the two great humorists of the present age was 
 about to utter his sentiments on the humorists of the age now 
 terminated, and the occasion was sufficient to create an interest 
 
THACKERAY AS A LECTURER. 167 
 
 which not even the attractive power of the Great Exhibition, then 
 open, could check. The newspapers complained slightly of the low 
 key in which the lecturer spoke, from which cause many of his best 
 points were sometimes lost to the more distant of his auditors. 
 1 In other respects/ says a newspaper report, ' we cannot too highly 
 praise the style of his delivery.' Abstaining from rant and gesticu- 
 lation he relied for his effect on the matter which he uttered, and 
 it was singular to see how the isolated pictures by a few magic 
 touches descended into the hearts of his hearers. Among the 
 most conspicuous of the literary ladies at this gathering was Miss 
 Bronte, the authoress of ' Jane Eyre.' She had never before seen 
 the author of ' Vanity Fair,' though the second edition of her own 
 celebrated novel was dedicated to him by her, with the assurance 
 that she regarded him ' as the social regenerator of his day — as the 
 very master of that working corps who would restore to rectitude 
 the warped state of things.' Mrs. Gaskell tells us that, when the 
 lecture was over, the lecturer descended from the platform, and 
 making his way towards her, frankly asked her for her opinion. 
 ' This,' adds Miss Bronte's biographer, ' she mentioned to me not 
 many days afterwards, adding remarks almost identical with those 
 which I subsequently read in " Villette," where a similar action on 
 the part of M. Paul Emanuel is related.' The remarks of this 
 singular woman upon Thackeray and his writings, and her 
 accounts of her interviews with him, are curious, and will be found 
 scattered about Mrs. Gaskell's popular biography. Readers of the 
 ' Cornhill Magazine ' will not have forgotten Thackeray's affec- 
 tionate and discriminating sketch of her, which appears some years 
 later in that- periodical. 
 
 The course was perfectly successful, and the Lectures, subse- 
 quently reprinted, rank among the most masterly of his writings. 
 They were delivered again soon afterwards in some of the provin- 
 cial cities, including Edinburgh. A droll anecdote was related 
 at this period in the newspapers, in connection with one of these 
 provincial appearances. Previously to delivering them in Scotland, 
 the lecturer bethought himself of addressing them to the rising 
 youth of our two great nurseries of the national mind ; and it was 
 necessary, before appearing at Oxford, to obtain the license of the 
 authorities — a very laudable arrangement, of course. The Duke of 
 Wellington was the Chancellor, who, if applied to, would doubtless 
 
1 68 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 have understood at once the man and his business. The Duke 
 lived in the broad atmosphere of the every-day world, and a copy 
 of ' Vanity Fair ' was on a snug shelf at Walmer Castle. But his 
 deputy at Oxford, on whom the modest applicant waited, knew 
 less about such trifles as ' Vanity Fair ' and ' Pendennis.' ' Pray 
 what can I do to serve you, sir ? ' enquired the bland functionary. 
 ' My name is Thackeray.' ' So I see by this card.' 'I seek per- 
 mission to lecture within the precincts.' ' Ah ! you are a lecturer; 
 what subjects do you undertake — religious or political ? ' ' Nei- 
 ther ; I am a literary man.' 'Have you written anything?' 
 'Yes ; I am the author of "Vanity Fair."' 'I presume a dis- 
 senter — has that anything to do with John Bunyan's book?' 
 ' Not exactly ; I have also written " Pendennis." ' ' Never heard 
 of these works ; but no doubt they are proper books.' 'I have 
 also contributed to "Punch."' '"Punch!" I have heard of 
 that ; is it not a ribald publication ? ' 
 
 An invitation to deliver the lectures in America speedily fol- 
 lowed. The public interest which heralded his coming in the 
 United States was such as could hardly have been expected for a 
 writer of fiction who had won his fame by so little appeal to the 
 love of exciting scenes. His visit (as an American critic remarked 
 at the time) at least demonstrated that if they were unwilling to 
 pay English authors for their books, they were ready to reward 
 them handsomely for the opportunity of seeing and hearing them. 
 
 At first the public feeling on the other side of the Atlantic had 
 been very much divided as to his probable reception. ' He'll 
 come and humbug us, eat our dinners, pocket our money, and go 
 home and abuse us, like Dickens,' said Jonathan, chafing with the 
 remembrance of that grand ball at the Park Theatre, and the Boz 
 tableaux, and the universal speaking and dining, to which the 
 author of ' Pickwick ' was subject while he was their guest. ' Let 
 him have his say,' said others, ' and we will have our look. We 
 will pay a dollar to hear him, if we can see him at the same time ; 
 and as for the abuse, why it takes even more than two such cubs 
 of the roaring British lion to frighten the American eagle. Let 
 him come, and give him fair play.' He did come, and certainly 
 had fair play ; and as certainly there was no disappointment with 
 his lectures. Those who knew his books found the author in the 
 lecturer. Those who did not know the books, says one enthu- 
 
GENIAL RECEPTION IN AMERICA. 
 
 169 
 
 siastic critic, ' were charmed in the lecturer by what is charming in 
 
 the author — the unaffected humanity, 
 
 the tenderness, the sweetness, the genial 
 
 play of fancy, and the sad touch of truth, 
 
 with that glancing stroke of satire which, 
 
 lightning-like, illumines while it withers/ 
 
 He did not visit the West, nor Canada. 
 
 He went home without seeing Niagara 
 
 Falls. But wherever he did go, he found 
 
 a generous social welcome, and a re- 
 spectful and sympathetic hearing. He 
 
 came to fulfil no mission; but it was 
 
 felt that his visit had knit more closely 
 
 the sympathy of the Americans with 
 
 Englishmen. Heralded by various ro- 
 mantic memoirs, he smiled at them, 
 
 stoutly asserted that he had been always 
 
 able to command a good dinner, and to 
 
 pay for it, nor did he seek to disguise 
 
 that he hoped his American tour would 
 
 help him to command and pay for more. 
 
 He promised not to write a book about 
 
 the Americans, and he kept his word. 
 
 His first lecture was delivered to a crowded audience : on 
 
 November 19 he commenced his lectures before the Mercantile 
 
 Library Association, in the spacious 
 New York church belonging to the 
 congregation presided over by the 
 Rev. Dr. Chapin. 
 
 Before many days the publishers 
 told the world that the subject of 
 Thackeray's talk had given rise to 
 a Swift and Congreve and Addi- 
 son furor. The booksellers were 
 driving a thrifty trade in forgotten 
 volumes of ' Old English Essayists ; ' 
 the ' Spectator ' found its way again 
 Another ' Spectator' to' the parlour tables ; old Sir Roger 
 
 de Coverley was waked up from his long sleep. 'Tristram 
 
 An old English gentleman 
 
i7o 
 
 THACKERA YANA. 
 
 Shandy' even was almost forgiven his lewdness, and the Ass 
 of Melun and Poor Le Fevre were studied wistfully, and placed 
 on the library table between ' Gulliver' and the ' Rake's Progress.' 
 Girls were working Maria's pet lamb upon their samplers, and 
 hundreds of Lilliput literary ladies were twitching the mammoth 
 Gulliver's whiskers. 
 
 The newspaper gossipers were no less busy in noting every 
 personal characteristic of the author. One remarks : ' As for the 
 man himself who has lectured us, he is a stout, healthful, broad- 
 shouldered specimen of a man, with cropped greyish hair, and 
 keenish grey eyes, peering very sharply through a pair of spec- 
 tacles that have a very satiric focus. He seems to stand strongly 
 on his own feet, as if he would not be easily blown about or upset, 
 either by praise or pugilists; a man of good digestion, who takes 
 the world easy, and scents all shams and humours (straightening 
 them between his thumb and forefinger) as he would a pinch 
 of snuff.' A London letter of the time says : ' The New York 
 journalists preserve, on the whole, a delicate silence (very credit- 
 able to them) on the subject of Mr. Thack- 
 eray's nose ; but they are eloquent about his 
 legs ; and when the last mail left a contro- 
 versy was raging among them on this matter, 
 one party maintaining that " he stands very 
 firm on his legs," while the opposition as- 
 serted that his legs were decidedly " shaky." J 
 These, however, were light matters com- 
 pared with the notices in other newspapers, 
 which unscrupulously raked together, for the 
 amusement of their readers, details which 
 were mostly untrue, and where true, were of 
 too private a character for public discussion. 
 This led to a humorous remonstrance, for- 
 warded by Thackeray to ' Fraser's Maga- 
 zine,' where it appeared with the signature 
 of ' John Small.' In this he gave a droll 
 parody of his newspaper biographers' style, 
 which caused some resentment on the part of the writers 
 attacked. One Transatlantic defender of the New York 
 press said that 'the two most personal accounts of Thackeray 
 
GRATEFUL TRIBUTE TO AMERICAN AUDIENCES, iji 
 
 published appeared in one of the Liverpool papers, and in 
 the London " Spectator ; " ' adding, ' the London correspondents 
 of some of the provincial papers spare nothing of fact or comment 
 touching the private life of public characters. Nay, are there not 
 journals expressly devoted to the contemporary biography of 
 titled, wealthy, and consequential personages, which will tell you 
 how, and in what company, they eat, drink, and travel ; then- 
 itinerary from the country to London, and from the metropolis to 
 the Continent ; the probable marriages, alliances, &c. ? No 
 journal can be better acquainted with these conditions of English 
 society than the classical and vivacious " Fraser." Why, then, 
 does John Small address that London editor from New York, 
 converting some paltry and innocent-enough penny-a-liner notice 
 of the author of " Vanity Fair " into an enormous national sin and 
 delinquency.' Among the lectures delivered at New York, before 
 he quitted the gay circles of the ' Empire City ' for Boston, was 
 one in behalf of a charity ; and the charity lecture was stated to 
 be a melange of all the others, closing very appropriately with an 
 animated tribute to the various literary, social, and humane 
 qualities of Charles Dickens. ' Papa,' he described his daughter 
 as exclaiming, with childish candour; 'papa,' I like Mr. Dickens's 
 book much better than yours.' 
 
 The remonstrance of John Small in ' Fraser,' however, did not 
 conclude without a warm acknowledgment of the general kindness 
 he had received in America, thus feelingly expressed in his last 
 lecture of the series, delivered on April 7. ' In England,' he said, 
 ' it was my custom, after the delivery of these lectures, to point 
 such a moral as seemed to befit the country I lived in, and to pro- 
 test against an outcry which some brother authors of mine most 
 imprudently and unjustly raise, when they say that our profession 
 is neglected and its professors held in light esteem. Speaking in 
 this country, I would say that such a complaint could not only not 
 be advanced, but could not even be understood here, where your 
 men of letters take their manly share in public life; whence 
 Everett goes as minister to Washington, and Irving and Bancroft 
 to represent the Republic in the old country. And if to English 
 authors the English public is, as I ■ believe, kind and just in the 
 main, can any of us say, will any who visit your country not 
 proudly and gratefully own, with what a cordial and generous 
 
1 72 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 greeting you receive us ? I look around on this great company. 
 I think of my gallant young patrons of the Mercantile Library 
 Association, as whose servant I appear before you, and of the 
 kind hand stretched out to welcome me by men famous in letters, 
 and honoured in our own country as in their own, and I thank 
 you and them for a most kindly greeting and a most generous 
 hospitality, At home and amongst his own people it scarce 
 becomes an English writer to speak of himself ; his public estima- 
 tion must depend on his works ; his private esteem on his cha- 
 racter and his life. But here, among friends newly found, I ask 
 leave to say that I am thankful ; and I think with a grateful heart 
 of those I leave behind me at home, who will be proud of tie 
 welcome you hold out to me, and will benefit, please God, when 
 my days of work are over, by the kindness which you show to 
 their father.' 
 
 A still more interesting paper was his Preface to Messrs. 
 Appleton and Co.'s New York edition of his minor works. 
 Readers will remember Thackeray's droll account, in one of 
 his lectures, of his first interview with the agent of Appleton and 
 Co., when holding on, sea-sick, to the bulwarks of the New York 
 steam-vessel on his outward voyage. The preface referred to 
 contains evidence that the appeal of the energetic representative 
 of that well-known publishing house was not altogether fruitless. 
 It is as follows : — 
 
 ' On coming into this country I found that the projectors of 
 this series of little books had preceded my arrival by publishing 
 a number of early works, which have appeared under various 
 pseudonyms during the last fifteen years. I was not the master to 
 choose what stories of mine should appear or not; these miscella- 
 nies were all advertised, or in course of publication ; nor have I 
 had the good fortune to be able to draw a pen, or alter a blunder 
 of author or printer, except in the case of the accompanying 
 volumes which contain contributions to " Punch," whence I have 
 been enabled to make something like a selection. In the 
 " Letters of Mr. Brown," and the succeeding short essays and 
 descriptive pieces, something graver and less burlesque was 
 attempted than in other pieces which I here publish. My friend, 
 the " Fat Contributor," accompanied Mr. Titmarsh in his " Journey 
 from Cornhill to Cairo." The prize novels contain imitations of 
 
PREFACE TO THE NEW YORK COLLECTION. 173 
 
 the writings of some contemporaries who still live and flourish in 
 the novelists' calling. I myself had scarcely entered on it when 
 these burlesque tales were begun, and I stopped further parody 
 from a sense that this merry task of making fun of the novelists 
 should be left to younger hands than my own; and in a little 
 book published some four years since, in Eng- 
 land, by my friends Messrs. Hannay and Shirley 
 Brooks, I saw a caricature of myself and writings 
 to the full as ludicrous and faithful as the prize 
 novels of Mr. Punch. Nor was there, had I de- 
 sired it, any possibility of preventing the re-ap- 
 pearance of these performances. Other publishers, \ 'w^iil 
 besides the Messrs. Appleton, were ready to 
 bring my hidden works to the light. Very 
 many of the other books printed I have not seen since their 
 appearance twelve years ago, and it was with no small feelings of 
 curiosity (remembering under what sad circumstances the tale 
 had been left unfinished) that I bought the incomplete " Shabby 
 Genteel Story," in a railway car, on my first journey from Boston 
 hither, from a rosy-cheeked, little peripatetic book merchant, who 
 called out " Thackeray's Works " in such a kind, gay voice, as 
 gave me a feeling of friendship and welcome. 
 
 ' There is an opportunity of being either satiric or sentimental. 
 The careless papers written at an early period, and never seen 
 since the printer's boy carried them away, are brought back and 
 laid at the father's door; and he cannot, if he would, forget or 
 disown his own children. 
 
 'Why were some of the little brats brought out of their 
 obscurity ? I own to a feeling of anything but pleasure in review- 
 ing some of these misshapen juvenile creatures, which the pub- 
 lisher has disinterred and resuscitated. There are two perform- 
 ances especially (among the critical and biographical works of the 
 erudite Mr. Yellowplush) which I am very sorry to see reproduced ; 
 and I ask pardon of the author of the " Caxtons " for a lampoon, 
 which I know he himself has forgiven, and which I wish I could 
 recall. 
 
 ' I had never seen that eminent writer but once in public 
 when this satire was penned, and wonder at the recklessness of 
 the young man who could fancy such personality was harm- 
 
174 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 less jocularity, and never calculate that it might give pain. The 
 best experiences of my life have been gained since that time of 
 youth and gaiety, and careless laughter. I allude to them, per- 
 haps, because I would not have any kind and friendly American 
 reader judge of me by the wild performances of early years. Such 
 a retrospect as the sight of these old acquaintances perforce occa- 
 sioned cannot, if it would, be gay. The old scenes return, the 
 remembrance of the bygone time, the chamber in which the stories 
 were written, the faces that shone round the table. 
 
 ' Some biographers in this country have been pleased to depict 
 that homely apartment after a very strange and romantic fashion ; 
 and an author in the direst struggles of poverty, waited upon by a 
 family domestic in " all the splendour of his menial decorations," 
 has been circumstantially described to the reader's amusement as 
 well as to the writer's own. I may be permitted to assure the 
 former that the splendour and the want were alike fanciful, and 
 that the meals were not only sufficient but honestly paid for. 
 
 ■ That extreme liberality with which American publishers have 
 printed the works of English authors has had at least this bene- 
 ficial result for us, that our names and writings are known by 
 multitudes using our common mother tongue, who never had 
 heard of us or our books but for the speculators who have sent 
 them all over this continent. 
 
 ' It is of course not unnatural for the English writer to hope 
 that some day he may share a portion of the profits which his 
 works bring at present to the persons who vend them in this 
 country; and I am bound gratefully to say myself, that since 
 my arrival here I have met with several publishing houses who 
 are willing to acknowledge our little claim to participate in the 
 advantages arising out of our books; and the present writer 
 having long since ascertained that a portion of a loaf is more 
 satisfactory than no bread at all, gratefully accepts and acknow- 
 ledges several slices which the book-purveyors in this city have 
 proffered to him of their own free-will. 
 
 ' If we are not paid in full and in specie as yet, English writers 
 surely ought to be thankful for the very great kindness and friend- 
 liness with which the American public receives them ; and if in 
 hope some day that measures may pass here to legalise our right 
 to profit a little by the commodities which we invent and in which 
 
COPYRIGHT GRIEVANCES. 175 
 
 we deal, I for one can cheerfully say that the good-will towards us 
 from publishers and public, is undoubted, and wait for still better 
 times with perfect confidence and good-humour. 
 
 1 If I have to complain of any special hardship, it is not that 
 our favourite works are reproduced, and our children introduced 
 to the American public — children whom we have educated with 
 care, and in whom we take a little paternal pride — but that ancient 
 magazines are ransacked, and shabby old articles dragged out, 
 which we had gladly left in the wardrobes where they have lain 
 hidden many years. There is no control, however, over a man's 
 thoughts — once uttered and printed, back they may come upon us 
 on any sudden day; and in this collection which Messrs. Appleton 
 are publishing I find two or three such early productions of my 
 own that I gladly would take back, but that they have long since 
 gone out of the paternal guardianship. 
 
 1 If not printed in this series, they would have appeared from 
 other presses, having not the slightest need of the author's own 
 imprimatur ; and I cannot sufficiently condole with a literary gen- 
 tleman of this city, who (in his voyages of professional adventure) 
 came upon an early performance of mine, which shall be name- 
 less, carried the news of the discovery to a publisher of books, and 
 had actually done me the favour to sell my book to that liberal 
 man; when, behold, Messrs. Appleton announced the book in 
 the press, and my confrere had to refund the prize-money which 
 had been paid to him. And if he is a little chagrined at finding 
 other intrepid voyagers beforehand with him in taking possession 
 of my island, and the American flag already floating there, he will 
 understand the feelings of the harmless but kindly-treated aborigi- 
 nal, who makes every sign of peace, who smokes the pipe of sub- 
 mission, and meekly acquiesces in his own annexation. 
 
 \ It is said that those only who win should laugh : I think, in 
 this case, my readers will not grudge the losing side its share of 
 harmless good-humour. If I have contributed to theirs, or pro- 
 vided them with means of amusement, I am glad to think my 
 books have found favour with the American public, as I am proud 
 to own the great and cordial welcome with which they have 
 received me. 
 
 ' W. M. Thackeray. 
 
 1 New York, December 1852.' 
 
176 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 A mere accident. 
 
 Such words could not fail to be gratifying to the American 
 people, as an evidence of Thackeray's sense of the reception he 
 
 had received ; and in spite of 
 a subsequent slight misunder- 
 standing founded on a mistake 
 and speedily cleared up, it 
 may be said that no English 
 writer of fiction was ever more 
 popular in the United States. 
 The publication of ' The 
 Adventures of Henry Esmond,' 
 which appeared just as its 
 author was starting for America in 1852, marked an important 
 epoch in his career. It was a continuous story, and one worked 
 out with closer attention to the thread of the narrative than he 
 had hitherto produced — a fact due, no doubt, partly to its appear- 
 ance in three volumes complete, instead of in detached monthly 
 portions. But its most striking feature was its elaborate imita- 
 tion of the style and even 
 the manner of thought of the 
 time of Queen Anne's reign, 
 in which its scenes were laid. 
 The preparation of his Lecture 
 on the Humorists had no 
 doubt suggested to him the 
 idea of writing a story of this 
 kind, as it afterwards suggested 
 to him the design of writing a 
 history of that period which he 
 had long entertained, but in 
 which he had, we believe, made 
 no progress when he died. But 
 his fondness for the Queen 
 Anne writers was of older date. 
 Affectionate allusions to Sir 
 Richard Steele — like himself a 
 Charterhouse boy — and to Ad- 
 dison, and Pope, and Swift, may be found in his earliest maga- 
 zine articles. That the style with which the author of ' Vanity 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF HENRY ESMOND. 
 
 177 
 
 Fair ' and ' Pendennis ' had so often delighted his readers was to 
 some degree formed upon those models so little studied in his 
 boyhood, cannot be doubt- 
 ed by anyone who is fa- 
 miliar with the literature 
 of the 'Augustan age of 
 English authorship.' The 
 writers of that period were 
 fond of French models, as 
 the writers of Elizabeth's 
 time looked to Italy for 
 their literary inspiration ; 
 but there was no time when 
 English prose was generally 
 written with more purity 
 and ease ; for the translation 
 of the Scriptures, which is 
 generally referred to as an 
 evidence of the perfection 
 of our English speech in 
 Elizabeth's time, owed its 
 
 strength and simplicity chiefly to the rejection by the pious trans- 
 lators of the scholarly style most in vogue, in favour of the homely 
 English then current among the people. If we except the pam- 
 phlet writers of earlier reigns, the Queen Anne writers were the 
 first who systematically wrote for the people in plain Saxon 
 English, not easy to imitate in these days. ' Esmond ' was from 
 the first most liked among literary men who can appreciate a style 
 having no resemblance to the fashion of the day ; but there was a 
 vein of tenderness and true pathos in the story which, in spite of 
 some objectionable features in the plot, and of a somewhat weari- 
 some genealogical introduction, has by degrees gained for it a 
 high rank among the author's works. ' Esmond ' was followed by 
 1 The Newcomes,' in 1855, a work which revealed a deeper pathos 
 than any of his previous novels, and showed that the author could, 
 when he pleased, give us pictures of moral beauty and exquisite 
 tenderness. In this work he returned to the yellow numbers in the 
 old monthly form. 
 
 An incident in connection with the publication of ' The New- 
 
 N 
 
i?8 
 
 THA CKERA VAN A. 
 
 comes ' may here be mentioned. Thackeray's fondness for irony 
 had frequently brought him into disgrace with people not so 
 ready as himself in understanding that dangerous figure. A 
 passage in one of his chapters of this story alluding to ' Mr. Wash- 
 ington/ in a parody of the style of the Bi'itish Patriot of the 
 
 An embarrassing situation 
 
 time of the War of Independence, was so far misunderstood in 
 America that the fact was alluded to by the New York corre- 
 spondent of the ' Times.' Upon which Thackeray addressed the 
 following letter to that journal : — 
 
 1 Sir, — Allow me a word of explanation in answer to a strange 
 charge which has been brought against me in the United States, 
 and which your New York correspondent has made public in this 
 country. 
 
 ' In the first number of a periodical story which I am now 
 publishing, appears a sentence in which I should never have 
 thought of finding any harm until it has been discovered by some 
 critics over the water. The fatal words are these : — 
 
 ' " When pigtails grew on the backs of the British gentry, and 
 their wives wore cushions on their heads, over which they tied 
 their own hair, and disguised it with powder and pomatum ; when 
 ministers went in their stars and orders to the House of Com- 
 mons, and the orators of the opposition attacked nightly the noble 
 lord in the blue riband; when Mr. Washington was heading the 
 American rebels with a courage, it must be confessed, worthy of a 
 
THACKERAY ON GEORGE WASHINGTON. 179 
 
 better cause, there came to London, out of a northern county, 
 Mr. Thomas Newcome," &c. 
 
 1 This paragraph has been interpreted in America as an insult 
 to Washington and the whole Union ; and from the sadness and 
 gravity with which your correspondent quotes certain of my words, 
 it is evident he, too, thinks they have an insolent and malicious 
 meaning. 
 
 ' Having published the American critic's comment, permit the 
 author of a faulty sentence to say what he did mean, and to add 
 the obvious moral of the apologue which has been so oddly con- 
 strued. I am speaking of a young apprentice coming to London 
 between the years 1770 and '80, and want to depict a few figures of 
 the last century. (The illustrated head-letter 
 of the chapter was intended to represent 
 Hogarth's " Industrious Apprentice.") I fancy 
 the old society, with its hoops and powder 
 — Barre or Fox thundering at Lord North 
 asleep on the Treasury bench — the news 
 readers at the coffee-room talking over the 
 paper, and owning that this Mr. Washington, 
 who was leading the rebels, was a very coura- 
 geous soldier, and worthy of a better cause 
 than figbging against King George. The 
 images are at least natural and pretty con- 
 secutive. 1776 — the people of London in I?So 
 '76 — the Lords and House of Commons in 
 '76 — Lord North — Washington — what the people thought about 
 Washington^ — I am thinking about '76. Where, in the name 
 of common sense, is the insult to 1853? The satire, if 
 satire there be, applies to us at home, who called Wash- 
 ington "Mr. Washington;" as we called Frederick the Great 
 " the Protestant Hero/' or Napoleon " the Corsican Tyrant," or 
 "General Bonaparte." Need I say, that our officers were in- 
 structed (until they were taught better manners) to call Wash- 
 ington "Mr. Washington"? and that the Americans were called 
 rebels during the whole of that contest ? Rebels ! — of course 
 they were rebels ; and I should like to know what native American 
 would not have been a rebel in that cause ? 
 
 ' As irony is dangerous, and has hurt the feelings of kind 
 
 N 2 
 
1 80 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 friends whom I would not wish to offend, let me say, in perfect 
 faith and gravity, that I think the cause for which Washington 
 fought entirely just and right, and the champion the very noblest, 
 purest, bravest, best of God's men.' * 
 
 Another journey to the United States, equally successful, and 
 equally profitable in a pecuniary sense, was the chief event in his 
 life in 1856. The lectures delivered were those admirable anec- 
 dotal and reflective discourses on the * Four Georges/ made 
 familiar to readers by their publication in the ' Cornhill Magazine,' 
 and since then in a separate form. The subject was not favour- 
 able to the display of the author's more genial qualities. But 
 where in English literature could we find anything more solemn 
 and affecting than his picture of the old king, the third of that 
 name ? When ' all light, all reason, all sound of human voices, 
 all the pleasures of this world of God were taken from him' — 
 concluding with the affecting appeal to his American audience 
 — ' O brothers ! speaking the same dear mother tongue — O com- 
 rades ! enemies no more, let us take a mournful hand together as 
 we stand by this royal corpse, and call a truce to battle ! Low he 
 lies to whom the proudest used to kneel once, and who was cast 
 lower than the poorest — dead whom millions prayed for in vain. 
 Hush, Strife and Quarrels over the solemn grave ! Sound, Trum- 
 pets, a mournful march. Fall, Dark Curtain, upon his p%eant, his 
 pride, his grief, his awful tragedy ! ' 
 
 These lectures were successfully repeated in England. Thack- 
 eray, indeed, was now recognised as one of the most attrac- 
 tive lecturers of the day. His presence, whether in lecturing 
 on the ' Georges ' for his own profit, or on * Week-day Preachers ' 
 or some other topic for the benefit of the families of deceased 
 brother writers, such as he delivered to assist in raising monu- 
 ments to the memories of Angus B. Reach and Douglas 
 Jerrold, always attracted the most cultivated classes of the 
 various cities in which he appeared; but an attempt to draw 
 together a large audience of the less educated classes by giving a 
 
 * A somewhat similar circumstance happened during the delivery of the 
 lectures in America, an allusion in which to ' Catherine Hayes ' was warmly 
 resented by the Irish newspapers, until the explanation arrived from Thackeray 
 that the allusion was not to Catherine Hayes, the famous Irish singer, but to 
 Catherine Hayes, the murderess of the last century. 
 
THACKERAY'S ADMIRERS IN SCOTLAND. 181 
 
 course of lectures at the great Music Hall was less happy. In 
 Edinburgh his reception was always in the highest degree suc- 
 cessful. He was more extensively known and admired among the 
 intellectual portion of the people of Scotland than any living 
 writer, not excepting Thomas Carlyle. There was something 
 in his peculiar genius that commended him to the Northern tem- 
 perament. Thackeray delivered his essays on the ' Four Georges ' 
 in Scotland to larger and more intellectual audiences than have 
 probably nocked to any other lecturer, and he later on lectured 
 there for the benefit of Angus B. Reach's widow. Nearly all the 
 men of Edinburgh, with any tincture of literature, had met him 
 personally, and a few knew him well. He was almost the only 
 great author that the majority of the lovers of literature in it had 
 
 Champions of order 
 
 seen and heard, and his form and figure and voice, with its tragic 
 tones and pauses, well entitled him to "take his place in any ideal 
 rank of giants. He was much gratified (says James Hannay) by 
 the success of the ' Four Georges ' (a series which superseded an 
 earlier scheme for as many discourses on ' Men of the World ') 
 in Scotland. ' I have had three per cent, of the whole population 
 here,' he wrote from Edinburgh in November 1856. ' If I could 
 but get three per cent, out of London ! ' 
 
 Most of Thackeray's readers will remember that in 1857 
 he was invited by some friends to offer himself as a candidate for 
 the representation in Parliament of the city of Oxford. 
 
 A characteristic anecdote was told in the newspapers relating 
 to the Oxford election by one who was staying with Thack- 
 eray at his hotel during his contest with Mr. Cardwell. Whilst 
 
1 82 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 looking out of window a crowd passed along the street, hooting 
 and handling rather roughly some of his opponent's supporters. 
 Thackeray started up in the greatest possible excitement, and 
 using some strong expletive rushed down stairs, and notwith- 
 standing the efforts of numerous old electioneerers to detain him, 
 who happened to be of opinion that a trifling correction of the 
 opposite party might be beneficial pour encourager les autres, he 
 was not to be deterred, and was next seen towering above the 
 crowd, dealing about him right and left in defence of the partisans 
 of his antagonist and in defiance of his own friends. 
 
i8 3 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Curious authors from Thackeray's library, indicating the course of his readings 
 — Early essayists illustrated with the humorist's pencillings — Bishop 
 Earle's ' Microcosm ography ; apiece of the World Characterised,' 1628 — 'An 
 Essay in Defence of the Female Sex,' 1697 — Thackeray's interest in works 
 on the Spiritual World — ' Flagellum Dsemonum, et Fustis Doemonum. 
 Auctore R. P. F. Hieronymo Mengo,' 1727 — ' La Magie et L' Astrologie, ' 
 par L. F. Alfred Maury — ' Magic, Witchcraft, Animal Magnetism, Hyp- 
 notism, and Electro Biology,' by James Baird, 1852. 
 
 MICROCOSMOGRAPHY (1628), 
 
 OR A PIECE OF THE WORLD DISCOVERED IN ESSAYS AND CHARACTERS. 
 
 By JOHN EARLE, D.D., Bishop of Salisbury. 
 
 Preface to the Edition o/iy$2. 
 
 This little book had six editions between 1628 and 1633, without 
 any author's name to recommend it. An eighth edition is spoken 
 of in 1664. The present is reprinted from the edition of 1633, 
 without altering anything but the plain errors of the press, and the 
 old printing and spelling in some places. . 
 
 The language is generally easy, and proves our English 
 tongue not to be so very changeable as is commonly supposed. 
 The change of fashions unavoidably casts a shade upon a few 
 places, yet even those contain an exact picture of the age wherein 
 they were written, as the rest does of mankind in general ; for 
 reflections founded upon nature will be just in the main, as long 
 as men are men, though the particular instances of vice and folly 
 may be diversified. Perhaps these valuable essays may be as 
 acceptable to the public as they were at first ; both for the enter- 
 tainment of those who are already experienced in the ways of 
 mankind, and for the information of others who would know the 
 world the best way, that is — without trying it. 
 
THACKERA YANA. 
 
 Advertise?nent to the Edition of 1786. 
 
 'This entertaining little book' is become rather scarce, and is 
 replete with so much good sense and genuine humour, which, 
 though in part adapted to the times when it first appeared, seems 
 on the whole by no means inapplicable to any era of mankind.' 
 
 ' Earle's Microcosmography ; is undoubtedly a favourable 
 example of the quaint epigrammatic wisdom of the early English 
 writers, and few could question the appropriateness of the pencil 
 which has lightly margined the settings of these terse and sterling 
 essays, to the wisdom and humour of which the happiest produc- 
 tions of later essayists can but be appreciatively likened.. Con- 
 cerning the profoundly accomplished and eminently modest author, 
 ' a most eloquent and powerful preacher, a man of great piety and 
 devotion • and of a conversation so pleasant and delightful, so very 
 innocent, and so very facetious, that no man's company was more 
 desired and more loved ; no man was more negligent in his 
 dress, habit, and mien, no man more wary and cultivated in his 
 behaviour and discourse ; insomuch as he had the greater advan- 
 tage when he was known, by promising so little before,' we may 
 accept the testimony of Lord Clarendon's ' Account of his own 
 Life.' The observations of the great Chancellor are supplemented 
 by the character which honest Isaac Walton has sketched of this 
 estimable prelate in his ',Life of Hooker.' 
 
 ' . . . Dr. Earle, now Lord Bishop of Salisbury,* of whom I 
 may justly say (and let it not offend him, because it is such a 
 truth as ought not to be concealed from posterity, or those that 
 now live and yet know him not) that since Mr. Hooker died, 
 none have lived whom God hath blessed with more innocent 
 wisdom, more sanctified learning, or a more pious, peaceable, 
 primitive temper ; so that this excellent person seems to be only 
 like himself, and our venerable Richard Hooker.' 
 
 * Dr. Earle was formerly Bishop of Worcester, from which see he was 
 translated to that of Sarum in 1663 j he died at Oxford 1665. 
 
EARLE'S MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 185 
 
 A Child 
 
 Is a man in a small letter, yet the best copy of Adam before he 
 tasted of Eve or the apple ; and he is happy whose small practice 
 in the world can only write his character. He is nature's fresh 
 picture newly drawn in oil, which time, and much handling, dims 
 and defaces. His soul is yet a white paper unscribbled with obser- 
 vations of the world, wherewith at length it becomes a blurred note- 
 book. He is purely happy because he knows no evil, nor hath 
 made means by sin to be acquainted with misery. He arrives not 
 at the mischief of being wise, nor endures evils to come by fore- 
 seeing them. He kisses and loves all, and, when the smart of the 
 
THA CKERA YA NA . 
 
 rod is past, smiles on his beater. Nature, and his parents alike, 
 dandle him, and 'tice him on with a bit of sugar to a draught of 
 wormwood. He plays yet like a young 'prentice the first day, and 
 is not come to his task of melancholy. 
 
 All the language he speaks yet is tears, and they serve him well 
 enough to express his necessity. His hardest labour is his tongue, 
 as if he were loth to use so deceitful an organ, and he is best com- 
 pany with it when he can but prattle. We laugh at his foolish 
 sports, but his game is our earnest, and his drums, rattles, and 
 hobby-horses, but the emblems and mocking of man's business. 
 His father hath writ him as his own little story, wherein he reads 
 those days of his life that- he cannot remember, and sighs to see 
 what innocence he hath outlived. The older he grows, he is a star 
 lower from God ; and, like his first father, much worse in his 
 breeches. He is the Christian's example, and the old man's 
 relapse ; the one imitates his pureness, and the other falls into his 
 simplicity. Could he put off his body with his little coat, he had 
 got eternity without a burden, and exchanged but one heaven for 
 another. 
 
 An Upstart Knight. 
 
 An upstart country knight is a holiday 
 clown, and differs only in the stuff of 
 his clothes, not the stuff of himself, 
 for he bare the king's sword before 
 he had arms to wield it ; yet being 
 once laid o'er the shoulder with a 
 knighthood, he finds the herald his 
 friend. His father was a man of 
 good stock, though but a tanner or 
 usurer ; he purchased the land, and 
 his son the title. He has doffed off 
 the name of a country lout, but the 
 look not so easy, and his face still 
 bears a relish of churn milk. He is 
 guarded with more gold lace than all 
 the gentlemen of the country, yet his 
 body makes his clothes still out of fashion. His housekeeping 
 is seen much in the distinct families of dogs, and serving-men 
 
EARLE'S M1CR0C0SM0GRAPHY. 
 
 187 
 
 attendant on their kennels, and the deepness of their throats is 
 the depth of his discourse. 
 
 A justice of peace he is to domineer in his parish, and do his 
 neighbour wrong with more right. He will be drunk with his 
 hunters for company, and stain his gentility with drippings of ale. 
 He is fearful of being sheriff of the shire by instinct, and dreads 
 the assize week as much as the prisoner. 
 
 In sum, he's but a clod of his own earth, or his land is the 
 dung-hill, and he the cock that crows over it ; and commonly his 
 race is quickly run, and his children's children, though they 'scape 
 hanging, return to the place from whence they came. 
 
 A Plain Country-Fellow. 
 
 A plain country- fellow is one that manures his ground well, 
 but lets himself lie fallow and untilled. He has reason enough to 
 do his business, and not enough to be idle and melancholy. 
 He seems to have the punishment of Nebuchadnezzar, for his 
 conversation is among beasts, and his talons none of the shortest, 
 
 only he eats not grass because he loves not salads. His hand 
 guides the plough, and the plough his thoughts, and his ditch and 
 landmark is the very mound of his meditations. He expostulates 
 with his oxen very understandingly, and speaks gee, and ree, 
 better than English. His mind is not much distracted with 
 objects, but if a good fat sow come in his way, he stands dumb 
 and astonished, and though his haste be never so great, will fix 
 
1 88 THA CKERA YANA . 
 
 here half an hour's contemplation. His habitation is some poor 
 thatched roof, distinguished from his barn by the loop-holes that 
 let out smoke, which the rain had long since washed through, but 
 for the double ceiling of bacon on the inside, which has hung there 
 from his grandsire's time, and is yet to make rashers for posterity. 
 His dinner is his other work, for he sweats at it as much as at his 
 labour ; he is a terrible fastener on a piece of beef, and you may 
 hope to stave the guard off sooner. His religion is part of his 
 copyhold, which he takes from his landlord, and refers it wholly to 
 his discretion. Yet if he give him leave he is a good Christian to 
 his power — that is, comes to church in his best clothes, and sits 
 there with his neighbours, where he is capable only of two prayers, 
 for rain, and fair weather. He apprehends God ; s blessings only in 
 a good year, or a fat pasture, and never praises him but on good 
 ground. Sunday he esteems a day to make merry in, and thinks a 
 bagpipe as essential to it as evening prayer, when he walks very 
 solemnly after service with his hands coupled behind him, and 
 censures the dancing of his parish. His compliment with his 
 neighbour is a good thump on the back, and his salutation com- 
 monly some blunt curse. He thinks nothing to be vices, but pride 
 and ill husbandry, from which he will gravely dissuade the youth, 
 and has some thrifty hob-nail proverbs to clout his discourse. He 
 is a niggard all the week, except only market days, when, if his corn 
 sell well, he thinks he may be drunk with a good conscience. He 
 is sensible of no calamity but the burning of a stack of corn, or the 
 overflowing of a meadow, and thinks Noah's flood the greatest 
 plague that ever was, not because it drowned the world, but 
 spoiled the grass. For death he is never troubled, and if he get in 
 but his harvest before, let it come when it will, he cares not. 
 
 A Pot Poet. 
 
 A pot poet is the dregs of wit, yet mingled with good drink 
 may have some relish. His inspirations are more real than others, 
 for they do but feign a god, but he has his by him. His verse runs 
 like the tap, and his invention as the barrel ebbs and flows at the 
 mercy of the spiggot. In thin drink he aspires not above a ballad, 
 but a cup of sack inflames him, and sets his muse and nose a-fire 
 
EARLE'S MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 189 
 
 together. The press is his mint, and stamps him now and then a six- 
 pence or two in reward of the baser coin, his pamphlet. His works 
 would scarce sell for three halfpence, though they are given oft for 
 three shillings, but for the pretty title that allures the country gen- 
 tleman ; for which the printer maintains him in ale for a fortnight. 
 His verses are, like his clothes, miserable stolen scraps and 
 patches, yet their pace is not altogether so hobbling as an alma- 
 nac's. The death of a great man, or the burning of a house, 
 furnish him with an argument, and the nine muses are out strait in 
 
 mourning gowns, and Melpomene cries ' Fire ! fire ! ' His other 
 poems are but briefs in rhyme, and, like thepoor Greek's collections, 
 to redeem from captivity. 
 
 His frequentest works go out in single sheets, and are chanted 
 from market to market to a vile tune and a viler throat ; whilst the 
 poor country wench melts like her butter to hear them. And these 
 are the stories of some men of Tyburn, or of a strange monster 
 broken loose ; or sitting in a tap-room he writes sermons on 
 judgments. He drops away at last, and his life, like a can too 
 full, spills upon the bench. He leaves twenty shillings on the 
 score, which his hostess loses. 
 
 A Bowl Alley. 
 
 A bowl alley is the place where there are three things thrown 
 away besides bowls — to wit, time, money, and curses, and the last 
 ten for one. The best sport in it is the gamesters, and he enjoys 
 
190 
 
 THA CKERA YA NA , 
 
 it that looks on and bets not. It is the school of wrangling, and 
 worse than the schools, for men will cavil here for a hair's breadth, 
 and make a stir where a straw would end the controversy. No 
 antic screws men's bodies into such strange flexures, and you 
 would think them here senseless, to speak sense to their bowl, and 
 put their trust in entreaties for a good cast. It is the best dis- 
 
 ^MfteZvM&a 
 
 covery of humours, especially in the losers, where you have fine 
 variety of impatience, whilst some fret, some rail, some swear, and 
 others more ridiculously comfort themselves with philosophy. To 
 give you the moral of it, it is the emblem of the world, or the 
 world's ambition ; where most are short, or over, or wide, or wrong- 
 biassed, and some few justle in to the mistress of fortune. And it 
 is here as in the court, where the nearest are most spited, and all 
 blows aimed at the toucher. 
 
 A Handsome Hostess. 
 
 A handsome hostess is the fairer commen- 
 dation of an inn, above the fair sign, or 
 fair lodgings. She is the loadstone that 
 attracts men of iron, gallants and roarers, 
 where they cleave sometimes long, and are 
 not easily got off. Her lips are your wel- 
 come, and your entertainment her com- 
 pany, which is put into the reckoning too, 
 and is the dearest parcel in it. No citi- 
 zen's wife is demurer than she at the first greeting, nor draws in 
 her mouth with a chaster simper ; but you may be more familiar 
 
EARLE'S MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 191 
 
 without distaste, and she does not startle at a loose jest. She is the 
 confusion of a pottle of sack more than would have been spent 
 elsewhere, and her little jugs are accepted to have her kiss excuse 
 them. She may be an honest woman, but is not believed so in her 
 parish, and no man is a greater infidel in it than her husband. 
 
 A Poor Fiddler. 
 
 A poor fiddler is a man and a fiddle out of 
 case, and he in worse case than his fiddle. 
 One that rubs two sticks together (as the 
 Indians strike fire), and rubs a poor 
 living oat of it ; partly from this, and 
 partly from your charity, which is more 
 in the hearing . than giving him, for he 
 sells nothing dearer than to be gone. 
 He is just so many strings above a 
 beggar, though he have but two ; and yet he begs too. Hunger 
 is the greatest pain he takes, except a broken head sometimes. 
 Otherwise his life is so many fits of mirth, and 'tis some mirth 
 to see him. A good feast shall draw him five miles by the nose, 
 and you shall track him again by the scent. His other pilgrim- 
 ages are fairs and good houses, where his devotion is great to 
 the Christmas ; and no man loves good times better. He is in 
 league with the tapsters for the worshipful of the inn, whom he 
 torments next morning with his art, and has their names more 
 perfect than " their men. A new song is better to him than a 
 new jacket, especially if it be lewd, which he calls merry ; 
 and hates naturally the puritan, as an enemy to this mirth. A 
 country wedding and Whitson-ale are the two main places he 
 domineers in, where he goes for a musician, and overlooks the 
 bagpipe. The rest of him is drunk, and in the stocks. 
 
1 92 THA CKERA YA NA , 
 
 A Coward. 
 
 A coward is the man that is commonly most fierce against the 
 coward, and labouring to take off this suspicion from himself ; for 
 the opinion of valour is a good protection to those that dare not 
 use it. No man is valianter than he is in civil company, and 
 where he thinks no danger may come of it, and is the readiest 
 man to fall upon a drawer and those that must not strike again ; 
 wonderfully exceptious and choleric where he sees men are loth to 
 give him occasion, and you cannot pacify him better than by quar- 
 relling with him. The hotter you grow, the more temperate man 
 is he ; he protests he always honoured you, and the more you rail 
 upon him, the more he honours you, and you threaten him at last 
 
 into a very honest quiet man. The sight of a sword wounds him 
 more sensibly than the stroke, for before that come, he is dead 
 already. Every man is his master that dare beat him, and every 
 man dares that knows him. And he who dare do this is the only 
 man that can do much with him ; for his friend he cares not, as 
 a man that carries no such terror as his enemy, which for this 
 cause only is more potent with him of the two ; and men fall out 
 with him on purpose to get courtesies from him, and be bribed 
 again to a reconcilement. A man in whom no secret can be 
 bound up, for the apprehension of each danger loosens him, and 
 makes him betray both the room and it. He is a Christian merely 
 for fear of hell fire ; and if any religion could frighten him more, 
 would be of that. 
 
EARLESS MICROCOSMOGRAPHY. 
 
 t93 
 
 {APPENDIX.') 
 
 CHARACTERS FROM * THE FRATERNITY OF VAGABONDS,' 
 
 WITH A DESCRIPTION OF THE CRAFTY COMPANY OF CUSONERS AND SHIFTERS. 
 WHEREUNTO IS ADDED THE TWENTY-FIVE ORDERS OF KNAVES. 1565. 
 
 ' A Ruffler goeth with a weapon to seek service, saying he hath been a 
 servitor in the wars, and beggeth for relief. But his chiefest trade is to rob 
 poor wayfaring men and market-women. 
 
 ' An Upright Man is one that goeth with the truncheon of a staff. This 
 man is of so much authority, that, meeting with any of his profession, he may 
 call them to account, and command a share or ''snap" unto himself of all 
 that they have gained by their trade in one month. 
 
 ' A Whipiake, or fresh-water mariner, is a person who travels with a 
 counterfeit license in the dress of a sailor. 
 
 4 An Abraham Man (hence to " Sham- Abraham") is he that walketh 
 bare-armed and bare-legged, and feigneth himself mad, and carryeth a pack of 
 wool, or a stick with a bauble on it, or such like toy, and nameth himself 
 " Poor Tom." ' 
 
 1 
 
194 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 AN ESSAY IN DEFENCE OF THE FEMALE SEX. 
 
 DEDICATED TO THE PRINCESS ANNE OF DENMARK. 
 
 As this book does not bear 
 the reputation of being 
 generally familiar, we give 
 a slight sketch of its con- 
 tents. The vitality of a 
 work depends in so large 
 a degree on the estima- 
 tion which its subject hap - 
 pens to secure at the date 
 of publication, that, as 
 a rule, it may be held 
 when a book is forgotten, 
 or extinguished before its 
 first spark of life has time 
 to catch popular atten- 
 tion, the fault is its own, 
 and, being buried, it is a charity to allow its last rest to remain 
 undisturbed. We are inclined to believe, however, that this little 
 treatise forms an exception. ' The Essay in Defence of the 
 Female Sex ' is Written by a lady. The third edition, which 
 now comes under our consideration as having formed one of the 
 works in Thackeray's library (illustrated with original little sketches 
 of the characters dealt with by their authors), was published in 1697, 
 at the signs of the ' Black Boy ' and the ' Peacock,' both in Fleet 
 Street. The authoress disclaims any participation in a brace of 
 verses which appear on its title : — 
 
 ' Since each is fo?id of his own ugly face, 
 Why should you, when we hold it, break the glass V 
 
 Prol. to < Sir F. Flutter.' 
 
 The second couplet appears under an engraving of 'The 
 Compleat Beau,' an elaborate creation adjusting his curls with a 
 
DEFENCE OF THE FEMALE SEX. 
 
 195 
 
 simper, whilst a left-handed barber bestows a finishing puff from 
 his powder box : — 
 
 ' This vain gay thing set up for man, 
 But see what fate attends htm, 
 The powdering Barber first began, 
 The barber-Surgeon ends him /' 
 
 The paragraphs distinguished with little drawings, which we 
 have extracted, may give an impression that the ' defence ' c6nsists 
 of an attack on the male, rather than a vindication of the fair sex. 
 The arguments of the gentle champion are, however, temperate 
 and sensible, in parts \ they are stated in a lively, quaint manner,, 
 and the general quality of the book may be considered superior to 
 the average of its class and date. The preface, which discourses of 
 vanity as the mainspring of our actions, deals with the characters 
 it is designed to introduce in the work as with the mimic actors of 
 a puppet-show ; this coincidence with a similar assumption in the 
 preface to the great novel of our century, from the pen of the gifted 
 author who at one time possessed this little treatise, is worthy of 
 a passing remark. 
 
 Preface. 
 
 ' Prefaces to most books are like prolocu- 
 tors to puppet-shows ; they come first 
 to tell you what figures are to be pre- 
 sented, and what tricks they are to play. 
 According, therefore, to ancient and 
 laudable custom, I thought fit to let you 
 know, by way of preface or advertise- 
 ment (call it which you please), that 
 here are many fine figures within to be 
 seen, as well worth your curiosity as 
 any in Smithfield at Bartholomew-tide. 
 I will not deny, reader, but that you may 
 have seen some of them there already ; 
 to those that have I have little more to 
 say, than that if they have a mind to see 
 them again in effigie, they may do it here. What is it you would 
 
 o 2 
 
9 6 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 have? Here are St. Georges, Batemans, John Dories, Punch i- 
 nelloes, and the " Creation of the World," or what's as good, &c. 
 The bookseller, poor man, is desirous to please you at firsthand, 
 and therefore has put a fine picture in the front to invite you in.' 
 
 Character of a Pedant. 
 
 i(The Authoress alludes to scholars ' falling short ' of certain qualifications. 
 The expression is literally illustrated.) 
 
 ' For scholars, though by their acquaint- 
 ance with books, and conversing much 
 with old authors, they may knowperfectly 
 the sense of the learned dead, and be 
 perfect masters of the wisdom, be tho- 
 roughly informed of the state, and nicely 
 skilled in the policies of ages long since 
 past, yet by their retired and inactive 
 life, their neglect of business, and con- 
 stant conversation with antiquity, they 
 are such strangers to, and so ignorant 
 of the domestic affairs and manners of 
 their own country and times, that they 
 appear like the ghosts of old Romans 
 raised by magic. Talk to them of the 
 Assyrian or Persian monarchies, the 
 Grecian or Roman commonwealths, 
 they answer like oracles ; they are such 
 finished statesmen, that we should scarce take them to have been 
 less than confidants of Semiramis, tutors to Cyrus the Great, old 
 cronies of Solon and Lycurgus, or privy councillors at least to 
 the twelve Caesars successively. But engage them in a discourse 
 that concerns the present times, and their native country, and 
 they hardly speak the language of it, and know so little of the 
 affairs of it, that as much might reasonably be expected from an 
 animated Egyptian mummy. 
 
 ' They are much disturbed to see a fold or plait amiss in the 
 picture of an old Roman gown, yet take no notice that their own 
 are threadbare, out at the elbows or ragged ; or suffer more if 
 Priscian's head be broken than if it were their own. They are ex- 
 
DEFENCE OF THE FEMALE SEX. 
 
 197 
 
 every alley and turning 
 
 cellent guides, and can direct you to 
 in old Rome, yet lose their way at 
 home in their own parish. They are 
 mighty admirers of the wit and elo- 
 quence of the ancients, and yet had 
 they lived in the time of Cicero and 
 Caesar, would have treated them with 
 as much supercilious pride and disre- 
 spect as they do now with reverence. 
 They are great hunters of ancient ma- 
 nuscripts, and have in great veneration 
 anything that has escaped the teeth of 
 time and rats, and if age has obliterated 
 the characters 'tis the more valuable 
 for not being legible. But if by chance 
 they can pick out one word, they rate 
 it higher than the whole author in print, 
 and would give more for one proverb 
 of Solomon under his own hand, than for all his wisdom.' 
 
 Extracts from the Character of a Country Gentleman. 
 
 Contrasting the picture of a pedant 
 with that of a country gentleman 
 the writer states these two charac- 
 ters are presented to show ' that 
 men may, and do often, baffle and 
 frustrate the effects of a liberal 
 education as well by industry as 
 negligence. For my part I think 
 the learned and unlearned blockhead pretty equal, for 'tis all 
 one to me, whether a man talk nonsense or unintelligible sense.' 
 After describing the relief experienced by the country squire 
 on his release from the bondage of learning, the authoress continues 
 her sketch : 
 
 ' Thus accomplished and finished for a gentleman, he enters 
 the civil list, and holds the scales of Justice with as much blindness 
 as she is said to do. From henceforward his worship becomes a? 
 
1 98 THA CKERA YA NA . 
 
 formidable to the ale-houses as he was before familiar ; he sizes an 
 ale-pot, and takes the dimensions of bread with great dexterity and 
 sagacity. He is the terror of all the deer and poultry stealers in the 
 neighbourhood, and is so implacable a persecutor of poachers that 
 he keeps a register of all the guns and dogs in the hundred, and is 
 the scare-beggar of the parish. Short pots, and unjustifiable dogs 
 and nets, furnish him with sufficient matter of presentments to 
 carry him once a quarter to the sessions, where he says little, eats 
 and drinks much, and after dinner, hunts over the last chase, and 
 so rides, worship fully drunk, home again.' 
 
 Extracts fi-om the Character of a Scowler, 
 
 * These are your men of 
 nice honour, that love 
 fighting for the sake of 
 blows, and are never 
 well but when they are 
 wounded ; 'they are severe 
 interpreters of looks, are 
 affronted at every face that don't please them, and like true cocks 
 of the game, have a quarrel with all mankind at first sight. They 
 are passionate admirers of scarred faces, and dote on a wooden 
 leg. They receive a challenge like a " billet-doux," and a home- 
 thrust as a favour. Their common adversary is the constable, 
 and their usual lodging "the counter." Broken heads are a 
 diversion, and an arm in a scarf is a high satisfaction. They are 
 frugal in their expenses with the tailor, for they have their 
 doublets pinked on their backs ; but they are as good as an 
 annuity to the surgeon, though they need him not to let them 
 blood.' 
 
 Extracts from the Character of a Beau. 
 
 ' A beau is one that has more learning in his heels than his 
 head, which is better covered than filled. His tailor and his barber 
 are his cabinet council, to whom he is more beholden for what he 
 is than to his Maker. He is one that has travelled to see fashions, 
 and brought aver with him the newest cut suits and the prettiest 
 
DEFENCE OF THE FEMALE SEX. 
 
 199 
 
 fancied ribands for sword-knots. He should be a philosopher, 
 for he studies nothing but himself, yet every one knows him better 
 that thinks him not worth knowing. 
 His looks and gestures are his constant 
 lesson, and his glass is the oracle that 
 resolves all his mighty doubts and 
 scruples. He examines and refreshes 
 his complexion by it, and is more de- 
 jected at a pimple than if it were a 
 cancer. When his eyes are set to a 
 languishing air, his motions all prepared 
 according to art, his wig and his coat 
 abundantly powdered, his gloves essenced, and his handkerchief 
 perfumed, and all the rest of his bravery adjusted rightly, the 
 
 greatest part of the day, as well as 
 the business of it at home, is over ; 
 'tis time to launch, and down he 
 comes, scented like a perfumer's 
 shop, and looks like a vessel with all 
 her rigging under sail without ballast.' 
 . . . . ' He first visits the chocolate- 
 house, where he admires himself in 
 the glass, and starts a learned argu- 
 ment on the newest fashions. From 
 hence he adjourns to the play-house, where he is to be met again 
 in the side box, from whence he makes his court to all the ladies 
 in general with his eyes, and is par- 
 ticular only with the orange wench. 
 After a while he engages some neigh- 
 bouring vizor, and together they rwr 
 over all the boxes, take to pieces every 
 face, examine every feature, pass their 
 "censure upon every one, and so on to 
 their dress ; but, in conclusion, sees 
 nobody complete, but himself, in the 
 whole house. After this he looks down 
 with contempt upon the pit, and rallies all the slovenly fellows and 
 awkward " beaux," as he calls them, of the other end of the town ; 
 is mightily offended at their ill-scented snuff, and, in spite of all his 
 
200 
 
 TH ACKER A YANA. 
 
 " pulvilio" and essences, is overcome with the stink of their Cor- 
 dovant gloves. To close all, Madam in the mask must give him 
 an account of the scandal of the town, which she does in the 
 history of abundance of intrigues, real or feigned, at all of which 
 he laughs aloud and often, not to show his 
 satisfaction, but his teeth. His next stage 
 is Locket's, where his vanity, not his stomach, 
 is to be gratified with something that is little 
 and dear. Quails and ortolans are the 
 meanest of his diet, and a spoonful of green 
 peas at Christmas is worth more to him than 
 the inheritance of the field where they grow 
 in summer. His amours are all profound 
 secrets, yet he makes a confidence of them 
 to every man he meets with. Thus the show 
 goes forward, until he is beaten for trespasses 
 he was never guilty of, and shall be damned 
 for sins he never committed. At last, with 
 his credit as low as his fortune, he retires 
 sullenly to his cloister, the King's Bench or 
 the Fleet, and passes the rest of his days in 
 privacy and contemplation. Here, if you 
 please, we will give him one visit more, and 
 see the last act of the farce \ and you shall 
 find him (whose sobriety was before a vice, as being only the 
 pander to his other pleasures, and who feared a lighted pipe as 
 much as if it had been a great gun levelled at him) with his 
 nose flaming, and his breath stinking of spirits worse than a Dutch 
 tarpaulin's, and smoking out of a short pipe, that for some months 
 has been kept hot as constantly as a glass-house, and so I leave 
 him to his meditation.' 
 
 Extracts from the Character of a '•Poetaster? 
 
 After commencing his education in a shop or counting-house, 
 the poetaster sets up as a manufacturer of verse. 
 
 * He talks much of Jack Dry den, and Will Wycherley, and the 
 rest of that set, and protests he can't help having some respect for 
 
DEFENCE OF THE FEMALE SEX. 201 
 
 them, because they have so much for him and his writings ; other- 
 wise he could prove them to be mere sots and blockheads that 
 understand little of poetry in comparison with 
 himself. He is the oracle of those who want 
 wit, and the plague of those that have it, for he 
 haunts their lodgings, and is more terrible to 
 them than their duns. His pocket is an inex- 
 haustible magazine of rhyme and nonsense, and 
 his tongue, like a repeating clock with chimes, 
 is ready upon every touch to sound them. Men 
 avoid him for the same reason they avoid the 
 pillory, the security of their ears, of which he is 
 as merciless a prosecutor. He is the bane to so- 
 ciety, a friend to the stationers, the plague of the press, and the 
 ruin of his. bookseller. He is more profitable to the grocers and 
 tobacconists than the paper manufacturer ; for his works, which 
 talk so much of fire and flame, commonly expire in their shops in 
 vapour and smoke.' 
 
 Extracts from the Character of a Virtuoso. 
 
 The virtuoso is one who has sold his estate in 
 land to purchase one in scallop, couch, and 
 cockle shells, and has abandoned the society 
 of men for that of insects, worms, grubs, 
 lizards, tortoises, beetles, and moths. His 
 study is like Noah's ark, the general rendez- 
 vous of all creatures in the universe, and the 
 greatest part of his movables are the remain- 
 ders of the deluge. His travels are not de- 
 signed as visits to the inhabitants of any place, 
 but to the pits, shores, and hills ; and from whence he fetches 
 not the treasure but the trumpery. He is ravished at finding an 
 uncommon shell or an odd-shaped stone, and is desperately ena- 
 moured at first sight of an unusual marked butterfly, which he 
 will hunt a whole day to be master of. He traffics to all places, 
 and has his correspondents in every part of the world. He pre- 
 serves carefully those creatures which other men industriously de- 
 
202 THA CKERA YANA . 
 
 stroy, and cultivates sedulously those plants which others root up 
 as weeds. His cash consists much in old coins, and he thinks 
 the face of Alexander in one of them worth more than all his 
 conquests.' 
 
 Character of a City Militiaman. 
 
 After describing the contests in Flanders 
 being re-fought by the newsmongers in 
 the coffee-houses, the sketch proceeds : 
 'Our greatest actions must be buf- 
 fooned in show as well as talk. Shall 
 Namur be taken and our heroes of the 
 city not show their prowess upon so 
 great an occasion? It must never be 
 said that the coffee-houses dared more 
 than Moorfields. No ; for the honour of London, out comes the 
 foreman of the shop, very formidable in buff and bandoleers, and 
 away he marches, with feather in cap, to the general rendezvous 
 in the Artillery Ground. There these terrible mimics of Mars 
 are to spend their fury in noise and smoke upon a Namur erected 
 for that purpose on a molehill, and by the help of guns and drums 
 out-stink and out-rattle Smithfield in all its bravery, and would 
 be too hard for the greatest man in all France, if they had him 
 but amongst them. Yet this is but skirmishing, the hot service 
 is in another place, when they engage the capons and quart pots ; 
 never was onset more vigorous, for they come to handy blows 
 immediately, and now is the real cutting and slashing, and tilting 
 without quarter : were the towns in Flanders all walled with beef, 
 and the French as good meat as capons, and dressed the same way, 
 the king need never beat his drums for sojdiers ; and all these 
 gallant fellows would come in voluntarily, the meanest of which 
 would be able to eat a marshal.' 
 
 These descriptions of character are concluded by contrasts 
 drawn between the virtues and vices of the respective sexes, and 
 the authoress remarks that if the masses are to be measured by 
 the instances of either Tullia, Claudia, or Messalina, by Sarda- 
 napalus, Nero, or Caligula, the human race will certainly be found 
 the vilest part of the creation. 
 
DEFENCE OF THE FEMALE SEX. 
 
 203 
 
 The essayist records that she has gained one experience by 
 her treatise : — 
 
 1 1 find when our hands are in 'tis as hard to stop them as our 
 tongues, and as difficult not to write as not to talk too much. I 
 have done wondering at those men that can write huge volumes 
 upon slender subjects, and shall hereafter admire their judgment 
 only who can confine their imaginations, and curb their wandering 
 fancies.' 
 
204 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 WORKS ON DEMONOLOGY AND MAGIC. 
 
 Among the books which 
 formed part of Thackeray's 
 library are one or two treat- 
 ing on the subject of the 
 ' Black Arts.' The most cu- 
 rious and valuable example, 
 H. Mengo's ' Flagellum Dse- 
 monum, 'appears to have been 
 purchased in Paris; in ad- 
 dition to the book-stamp 
 usually employed by the au- 
 thor of ' Vanity Fair,' there 
 is an autograph, and the re- 
 mark, ' a very rare and curi- 
 ous volume' in his own 
 hand- writing. As the work 
 - is seldom met with, we give 
 the title-pages of the two 
 
 volumes entire, for the benefit of those readers who may have a 
 
 taste for ' Diablerie' : — 
 
 FLAGELLUM D^EMONUM 
 
 EXORCISMOS, TERRIBILES, POTENTISSIMOS, ET EFFICACES. 
 
 REMEDIAQUE PROBATISSIMA, AC DOCTRINAM SINGULAREM IN MALIGNOS 
 
 SPIRITUS EXPELLENDOS, FACTURASQUE, ET MALESICIA FUGANDA 
 
 DE OBSESSIS CORPORIBUS COMPLECTENS, CUM SUIS BENE- 
 
 DICTIONIBUS, ET OMNIBUS REQUISITIS AD 
 
 EORUM EXPULSIONEM. 
 
 Accessit postremo Pars Secunda, qu<z Fustis Dcemonum inscribitur. 
 
 QUIBUS NOVI EXORC1SMI, ET ALIA NONNULLA, QU^E PRIUS 
 DESIDERABANTUR, SUPER ADDITA FUERUNT 
 
 AUCTORE R. P. F. HlERONYMO MENGO, 
 
 VITELLIANENSI, ORDINIS MINORUM REGULARIS OBSERVANTLE. 
 
 ANNO I727. 
 
FLAGELLUM DjEMONUM. 
 
 205 
 
 The fly-leaf is illustrated with the following animated design in 
 pencil, possibly drawn from a vivid recollection existing in the 
 artist's mind of a similar subject, by the magic etching-needle of 
 that fantastic creator of demons and imaginative devices, Jacques 
 Callot ; found in the ' Capricci,' dedicated to Lorenzo Medici. 
 
 We are unable, in the limits of this volume, to offer more than 
 a brief summary of the remarkable contents of this singular work. 
 The first volume (309 pages) contains three indexes, a ' dedica- 
 toria' to ' D.D. Lotharia a Metternich,' and a list of authors who 
 have been consulted in the composition of the book. 
 
 We are inclined to believe this list of authorities, on a subject 
 which presents a large field for exploration, will be of value to 
 
206 
 
 THA CKERA YA NA . 
 
 investigators, and not altogether without interest to the general 
 reader. Their names are arranged alphabetically : — 
 
 Alexander Papa Sanctus. Alexander de Ales Doctor. Alphon- 
 sus Castrensis. Ambrosius Doctor S. Athanansius Doctor S. 
 
 August, de Ancona. Bartholo- 
 maeus Sybilla. Beda Venerabilis. 
 Bernardus Abbas S. Bernardinus 
 de Bustis. Boetius Severinus. 
 Bonaventura Doctor S. Concilia 
 diversa. Dionysius Cartusianus. 
 Fulgentius Doctor S. Glossa or- 
 danaria. Gregorius Papa Doctor 
 Sanctus. Haymo Episcopus. 
 Henricus Arphius. Hieronymus 
 Doctor S. Hilarius Doctor S. 
 Hugo de Sancto Victore. Joa- 
 chim Abbas. Johannes Crysostomus S. Joannes Cassianus Abb. 
 Joann. Damascenus S. Johannes Gerson Doctor. Joannes 
 Scotus Doctor. Josephus de Bello Judaico. Isidorus Doctor S. 
 
 Leo Papa Doctor S. Ludovicus Blosius. Magister Sententiarum. 
 Magister Historiarum. Malleus Malesicarum. Michael Psellus. 
 Nicolaus de Lira Doct. Paulus Ghirlandus. Petrus Galatinus. 
 Richardus Mediavilla Doctor. Rupertus Abbas. Silvester Prie- 
 rius. Thomas Aquinas Doctor Sanctus. 
 
 Forty-five pages are devoted to ' Doctrina pulcherrima in 
 
FLAGELLUM DjEMONUM. 
 
 207 
 
 malignos Spiritus. ; One hundred and seventy- two pages are occu- 
 pied with ' Exorcismus I. ad VII.' An 'Exorcismus' consists of 
 various ' Oratio,' ' Adjuratio,' and * Conjuratio ; ' the latter, in 
 Exor. VI., graduating through the 'Conjuratio aeris — terrae — 
 aquae — ignis — omnium elementalium — Inferni — &c. Vol. I. con- 
 cludes with 'Remedia Efficacissima in 
 malignos spiritus/ and offers, besides 
 Psalms proper for the purpose, regular 
 physician's prescriptions — drugs and 
 their proportions — under the head of 
 ' Medicina pro Maleficiatis.' 
 
 The artist's pencil has made a humor- 
 ous marginal sketch in ' Exorcismus V.,' 
 opposite this ' Conjuratio.' ' Conjuro te 
 >J< daemon per ilium, cujus Nativitatem 
 Angelus Mariae Virgini annunciavit, qui- 
 que pro nobis peccatoribus descendit de caelis, &c.' 
 
 The title-page of Vol. II. we also give in full : — 
 
 FUSTIS DJEMONUM, 
 
 ADJURATIONES FORMIDABILES POTENTISSIMAS. ET EFFICACES 
 
 IN MALIGNOS SPIRITUS FUGANDOS DE OPPRESSIS 
 
 CORPORIBUS HTjMANIS. 
 
 EX SACR.E APOCALYPSIS FONTE VARIISQUE SANCTORUM PATRUM 
 AUCTORITATIBUS HAUSTAS COMPLECTENS. 
 
 Auctore R. P. F. Hieroximo Mengo, 
 
 VITELLIANENSI, ORDINIS MINORUM REGULARIS OBSERVANTI/E. 
 
 Opus sane ad maximam Exorcistarum commoditatem nunc in 
 lucem editum. 
 
208 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 LA MAGIE ET L'ASTROLOGIE/ 
 
 Par L. F. Alfred Maury. 
 
 La Magie et PAstrologie 
 dans PAntiquite et au 
 MoyenAge; ou,I±!tude sur 
 les Superstitions Pai'ennes 
 qui se sont perpetuees 
 jusqu'a nos jours.' This 
 work, in two parts, by 
 the author of ■ Les Pre- 
 miers Ages de la Nature ' 
 and 'Une Histoire des 
 Religions/ gives evidence 
 of widely-spread research. 
 To the curious in ' dark ' 
 literature, A. Maury's 
 compilation must form a vastly concise and interesting introduc- 
 tion to a subject which once absorbed a large proportion of the 
 erudition and ' fond ' wisdom of our ancestors. From its high 
 seat amidst kings and profound sages, cabalistic art has, in this 
 practical age, sunk so low that its exclusive privilege may be 
 considered the delectation and delusion of the most forlorn 
 ignorance. 
 
 It is a source of congratulation that magic and astrology in our 
 day rarely rise above the basement (for their modern patrons 
 inhabit the kitchen), unless they are admitted in the palpable 
 form of 'parlour necromancy,' degenerating into mere manual 
 dexterity and common-place conjuring tricks. 
 
 A. Maury's work traces- the progress of magic from its source 
 among uncivilised nations, and in the earliest ages, through the 
 history of the Chaldeans, the Persians, the Egyptians, the Greeks, 
 and the Romans. He exhibits the struggle of Christianity with 
 magic, until the greater power overcame vain superstitions. He 
 
MAGIC AND ASTROLOGY. 
 
 209 
 
 then follows its evil track through the middle ages, and illustrates 
 in the observances of astrology, an imitation of Pagan rites. 
 
 In the Second Part the author reviews the subject of super- 
 stitions attaching to dreams, and defines their employment as a 
 means of divination, from the earliest records down to a recent 
 
 period. He then describes the demoniac origin, once attri- 
 buted to mental and nervous derangements, and elucidates the 
 assistance contributed by the imagination to the deceptions of 
 so-called magic. He concludes by considering the production 
 of mental phenomena by the use Of narcotics, the destruction 
 of reason and of the intellectual faculties, and closes his summary 
 by treating of hypnotism and somnambulism. 
 
 p 
 
210 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 In the chapter describing the influence of magic on the 
 teachings of the Neoplatonic school of philosophy, we find the 
 arguments advanced in the paragraphs we ex- 
 tract, wittily and practically embodied in a little 
 sketch of an antique divinity, introduced with 
 modern attributes. 
 
 * . . . The new school of Plato imagined a 
 complete hierarchy of demons, with which they 
 combined a portion of the divinities of the an- 
 cient Greek religion, reconstructed in a newer 
 and more philosophical spirit. 
 
 ' In the doctrines expounded by the author 
 of the " Mysteres des Egyptiens," who had bor- 
 rowed most of his ideas from the Egyptian the- 
 ology, demons are represented as veritable divinities, who divide 
 the government of the world with the deities. 
 
 ' The inconsistent chronological confusion which prevailed at 
 that period frequently offers similar contradictions ; for the doc- 
 trines of antiquity, while taking their position in the new philo- 
 sophy, had not been submitted to the modifications necessary to 
 bring them into harmony with the later system. 
 
 ' . . . The severity directed by Church and State against 
 magicians and sorcerers was not solely inspired by the terrors 
 of demons or a dread of witchcraft. 
 
 ' . . . Although there existed in the rites of magic many 
 foolish ceremonials that were harmless and inoffensive, the per- 
 petuation of the observances of the ancient Polytheism were, 
 however, employed as a veil, beneath which existed practices that 
 were absolutely criminal, stamped with the most atrocious and 
 sanguinary superstitions. The preparation of poisons played a 
 considerable part in these observances, and witchcraft was not 
 entirely confined to mere influences on the mind. Those who 
 connected themselves with sorcery most frequently employed it 
 with a view of gratifying either personal vengeance or culpable 
 covetousness.' 
 
 In the chapter on ' Posses sio?i Dbnoniaque] devoted to the 
 demoniacal origin attributed to nervous and mental afflictions, we 
 find a quaint pencil-heading which precedes the extracts we have 
 made, to explain the matter it illustrates. 
 
MAGIC AND ASTROLOGY. 
 
 ' . . . The ancients no more succeeded in mastering the 
 natural character and physical origin of disease than they were 
 able to recognise the constancy of the phenomena of the uni- 
 verse. 
 
 ' All descriptions of sickness, especially epidemics and mental 
 or nervous affections, were particularly reputed of supernatural 
 agency ; the first on account of their unexpected approaches, and 
 their contagious and deadly effects ; the second on the grounds of 
 their mysterious origin, and the profound affections they bring 
 either to the mind, the muscular system, or the sensations. 
 
 'When an epidemic broke out they immediately concluded 
 that a divinity was abroad, sent forth to execute vengeance or to 
 
 r 2 
 
!I2 
 
 T HACKER A YANA. 
 
 inflict just corrections. They then employed their faculties in 
 searching for a motive that might have provoked his anger, and 
 
 .gr*^ 
 
 they strove to appease his wrath by sacri- 
 fices ; or they sought to avert the effects 
 of evil by ceremonies, by purifications, 
 and exorcisms. 
 
 1 Their legends record that the deities 
 of evil have been seen riding through the 
 air, scattering death and desolation far 
 and wide. 
 
 ' ... A passage in Minutius Felix 
 (Octav, c. 29, which confirms Saint Cyprien 
 ad Demetnan, p. 501, et Lactance, Inst. 
 Div. II. xv. : cf. Kopp, " Palaeographia Critica," t. iii. p. 75) in- 
 forms us that in order to constrain the demon to declare, through 
 the mouth of the person 
 supposed to be thus pos- 
 sessed, that he was driven 
 out, recourse was had to 
 blows, and to the employ- 
 ment of barbarous methods. 
 This will at once explain 
 the apparent successes of 
 certain exorcists, and the 
 ready compliance with which the devils responded to their con- 
 jurations. The signs by which the departure of the evil spirit 
 were recognised were naturally very varied. Pious legends make 
 
MAGIC AND ASTROLOGY. 
 
 213 
 
 frequent mention of demons that have been expelled, and have 
 been seen to proceed, with terrible cries, from the mouths of those 
 so possessed.' 
 
 The two priestly figures, which are found at the commence- 
 ment of this curt resume of Alfred Maury's work, might be readily 
 assumed to embody the characteristics of magic and astrology. 
 
 They are drawn on a fly-leaf in the original, and on the cor- 
 responding leaf at the end is pencilled the richly quaint concep- 
 tion, which appropriately concludes the summary of contents. 
 
214 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 MAGIC, WITCHCRAFT, ANIMAL MAGNETISM, 
 HYPNOTISM, AND ELECTRO BIOLOGY. 
 
 By James Braid. 1852. 
 
 Amicus Plato, amicus Socrates, sed magis arnica Veritas. 
 
 Mr. Braid has selected a 
 neat motto for his treatise, 
 for the matter contained 
 in it will hardly warrant 
 the assumption of a more 
 ambitious title. 
 
 Mr. Braid, of Burling- 
 ton House, Manchester, 
 a doctor by profession, is 
 a believer in and expo- 
 nent of hypnotism. A 
 great portion of his little 
 work reviews the criti- 
 cisms on' earlier editions, 
 or deals with statements 
 regarding Colquhoun's 
 • History of Magic.' Its 
 author, while rejecting the 
 doctrines known as ani- 
 mal mesmerism and mag- 
 netism, admits the effects 
 they are declared to produce ; but he refers such results to hyp- 
 notism—a state of induced sleep — into which a patient may be 
 thrown by artificial contrivance. 
 
 It is possible that the contents of this book would not prove 
 of much general interest excepting to amateurs of ' animal mag- 
 netism ; ' but we give one extract, which may prove of service to 
 those who do not happen to be already informed of the theory it 
 advances, which is one that every reader can practically test : — 
 
MAGIC, WITCHCRAFT, AND MAGNETISM. 215 
 
 ' In my work on hypnotism,' observes Mr. Braid, ' published 
 in 1843,. I explained how " tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy 
 sleep," might be procured, in 
 many instances, through a most 
 simple device, by the patient 
 himself. All that is required 
 for this purpose is simply to 
 place himself in a comfortable 
 posture in bed, and then to 
 close the eyelids, and turn up 
 the eyeballs gently, as if look- 
 ing at a distant object, such 
 as an imaginary star, situated 
 somewhat above and behind the forehead, giving the whole con- 
 centrated attention of the mind to the idea of maintaining a 
 steady view of the star, and breathing softly, as if in profound 
 attention, the mind at the same time yielding to the idea that 
 sleep will ensue, and to the tendency to somnolence which will 
 creep upon him whilst engaged in this act of fixed attention. Mr. 
 Walker's method of "procuring sleep at will," by desiring the 
 patient to maintain a fixed act of attention by imagining himself 
 watching his breath issuing slowly from his nostrils, after having 
 placed his body in a comfortable position in bed, which was first 
 published by Dr. Binns, is essentially the same as my own 
 method, &c. 
 
 Professor Gregory, in his ' Letters to a Candid Inquirer,' after 
 describ ng the induction of sleep effected by reading a class of 
 books of a dry character, remarks : \ But let these persons 
 (sufferers from a difficulty in getting off to sleep) try the experi- 
 ment of placing a small bright object, seen by the reflection of a 
 safe and distant light, in such a position that the eyes are strained 
 a little upwards or backwards, and at such a distance as to give a 
 tendency to squinting, and they will probably never again have 
 recourse to the venerable authors above alluded to. Sir David 
 Brewster, who, with more than youthful ardour, never fails to 
 investigate any curious fact connected with the eye, has not only 
 seen Mr. Braid operate, but has also himself often adopted this 
 method of inducing sleep, and compares it to the feeling we have 
 when, after severe and long-continued bodily exertion, we sit or 
 
216 
 
 THACKERAY AN A, 
 
 lie down and fall asleep, being overcome, in a most agreeable 
 manner, by the solicitations of Morpheus, to which, at such times, 
 we have a positive pleasure in yielding, however inappropriate the 
 scene of our slumbers.' 
 
 Among the contents are numerous instances of magnetism, 
 and anecdotes of experiments, which have been amusingly ' hit 
 
 off' in little marginal sketches. One of the best of these is an 
 illustration of the contagious dancing mania said to be excited by 
 the bite of the tarantula spider — ' against the effect of which 
 neither youth nor age afforded any protection, so that old men of 
 
 ninety threw away their crutches,' and the very sight of those so 
 affected was equally potent. These sketches are, however, so 
 small that we think it advisable to exclude them from our selec- 
 tion. The pantomimic mesmerism produced by the harlequin's 
 
MAGIC, WITCHCRAFT, AND MAGNETISM. 217 
 
 magic wand, and practically seconded by the sly slaps of the 
 clown, are happily given on the fly-leaf of the treatise ; and a 
 vastly original and startling result of animal magnetism records on 
 the last page the droller impressions of the artist-reader on the 
 subject, through the medium of his pencil. 
 
 Carried away under the influence of spirits 
 
218 
 
 T HACK ERA YA'NA. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 ENGLISH ESSAYISTS OF THE GEORGIAN ERA. 
 
 Early Essayists whose writings have furnished Thackeray with the accessories 
 of portions of his Novels and Lectures — Works from the Novelist's 
 Library, elucidating his course of reading for the preparation of his ' Lectures' 
 — 'Henry Esmond,' ' The Virginians, ' &c. — Characteristic passages from 
 the lucubrations of the Essayists of the Augustan Era illustrated with 
 original marginal sketches, suggested by the text, by Thackeray's hand — 
 ' The Tatler ' — Its history and influence — Reforms introduced by the purer 
 style of the Essayists — The Litei-ature of Queen Anne's Reign — Thackeray's 
 love for the writings of that period — His remarks on Addison and Steele ; the 
 ' Early Humorists ' and their contemporaries — His picture of their times — 
 Thackeray's gift of reproducing their masterly and simple style of composition ; 
 their irony, and playful humour — Extracts from notable essays ; illustrated 
 with original pencillings from the series of ' The Tatler,' 1709. 
 
 The commencement of the eighteenth cen- 
 tury has been christened the Augustan Era 
 of English literature, from the brilliant as- 
 sembly of writers, pre-eminent for their 
 wit, genius, and cultivation, who then en- 
 riched our literature with a perfectly original 
 school of humour. 
 
 The essayists, to whose accomplished 
 parts we are indebted for the ' Tatlers,' 
 ' Spectators,' ' Guardians,' ' Humorists,' 
 ' Worlds,' ' Connoisseurs,' ' Mirrors,' 
 ' Adventurers,' ' Observers,' ' Loungers,' 
 ' Lookers-on,' ' Ramblers,' and kindred papers, which picture the 
 many- coloured scenes of our society and literature, have conferred 
 a lasting benefit upon posterity by the sterling merit of their writings. 
 It has been justly said that these essays, by their intrinsic worth, 
 have outlived many revolutions of taste, and have attained unrivalled 
 
EARLY ENGLISH ESSAYISTS, 219 
 
 popularity and classic fame, while multitudes of their contempo- 
 raries, successors, and imitators have perished with the accidents 
 or caprices of fashion. 
 
 The general purpose of the essayists as laid down by Steele, who 
 may be considered foremost among the originators of the familiar 
 school of writing, ' was to expose the false arts of life, to pull off the 
 disguises of cunning, vanity, and affectation, and to recommend a 
 general simplicity in our dress, our discourse, and our behaviour.' 
 Bickerstaft's lucubrations were directed to good-humoured ex- 
 posures of those freaks and vagaries of life, ' too trivial for the 
 chastisement of the law and too fantastical for the cognisance of the 
 pulpit,' of those failings, according to Addison's summary of their 
 purpose in the ' Spectator ' (No. 34), thus harmonised by Pope : — ■ 
 
 Safe from the bar, the pulpit, and the throne, . 
 Yet touched and shamed by Ridicule alone. 
 
 The graceful philosophers, polished wits and playful satirists exerted 
 their abilities to supply ' those temporary demands and casual exi- 
 gencies, overlooked by graver writers and more bulky theorists,' to 
 bring, in the language of Addison, ' philosophy out of closets and 
 libraries, schools and colleges, to dwell in clubs and assemblies, 
 at tea-tables and in coffee-houses.' 
 
 1 The method of conveying cheap and easy knowledge began 
 among us in the civil wars, when it was much the interest of either 
 party to raise and fix the prejudices of the people.' It was in this 
 spirit that the oft-mentioned Mercuries, ' Mercurius Aulicus,' 
 ' Mercurius Rusticus,' and ' Mercurius Civicus ' first appeared. 
 
 A hint of the original plan of the ' Tatler ' may in some degree 
 be traced to Defoe's ' Review ; consisting of a Scandal Club, on 
 Questions of Theology, Morals, Politics, Trade, Language, Poetry, 
 &c.,' published about the year 1703. 
 
 ' The " Tatler," ' writes Dr. Chalmers, 'like many other ancient 
 superstructures, rose from small beginnings. It does not appear 
 that the author (Steele) foresaw to what perfection this method of 
 writing could be brought. By dividing each paper into compart- 
 ments, he appears to have consulted the ease with which an 
 author may say a little upon many subjects, who has neither 
 leisure nor inclination to enter deeply on a single topic. This, 
 however, did not proceed either from distrust in his abilities, or in 
 
220 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 the favour of the public ; for he at once addressed them with con- 
 fidence and familiarity ; but it is probable that he did not foresee 
 to what perfection the continued practice of writing will frequently 
 lead a man whose natural endowments are wit and eloquence, 
 superadded to a knowledge of the world, and a habit of observa- 
 tion.' 
 
 The first number of the ' Tatler' bore the motto, 
 
 Quicquid agunt homines — 
 
 nostri est farrago libelli. — Juv. Sat. I. 85, 86. 
 Whate'er men do, or say, or think, or dream, 
 Our motley paper seizes for its theme. 
 
 The original sheet appeared on Tuesday, April 12, 1709,* and 
 the days of its publication were fixed to be Tuesdays, Thursdays, 
 and Saturdays, ' In the selection of a name for the work, Steele 
 affords an early instance of delicate raillery, by informing us that 
 the name " Tatler " was invented in honour of the fair sex ; and 
 that in such, a character he might indulge with impunity the 
 desultory plan he first laid down, with a becoming imitation of the 
 tattle and gossip of the day.' The first four numbers were given 
 gratis, the price was then fixed at a penny, which was afterwards 
 doubled. 
 
 Steele, whose humour was most happily adapted to his task, 
 assumed as censor of manners the alias of Isaac Bickerstaff. 
 1 Throughout the whole work,' writes Beattie, ' the conjuror, the 
 politician, the man of humour, the critic ; the seriousness of the 
 moralist, and the mock dignity of the astrologer ; the vivacities 
 and infirmities peculiar to old age, are all so blended and contrasted 
 in the censor of Great Britain as to form a character equally com- 
 plex and natural, equally laughable and respectable,' and as the 
 editor declares, in his proper person, ' the attacks upon prevailing 
 and fashionable vices had been carried forward by Mr. Bickerstaff 
 with a freedom of spirit that would have lost its attraction and 
 efficacy, had it been pretended to by Mr. Steele.' 
 
 A scarce pamphlet, attributed to Gay, draws attention to the 
 
 * Wycherley, in a letter to Pope (May 17, 1709), writes, 'Hitherto your 
 "Miscellanies" have safely run the gauntlet through all the coffee-houses, 
 which are now entertained with a whimsical new newspaper called "The 
 Tatler," which I suppose you have seen.' 
 
EARLY ENGLISH ESSAYISTS. 221 
 
 high moral and philosophic purpose which was entertained origi- 
 nally. ' There was this difference between Steele, and all the rest 
 of the polite and gallant authors of the time : the latter endeavoured 
 to please the age by falling in with them, and encouraging them in 
 their fashionable vices and false notions of things. It would have 
 been a jest some time since for a man to have asserted that any- 
 thing witty could have been said in praise of a married state ; or 
 that devotion and virtue were any way necessary to the character 
 of a fine gentleman. Bickerstaff ventured to tell the town that 
 they were a parcel of fops, fools, and vain coquettes ; but in such a 
 manner as even pleased them, and made them more than half 
 inclined to believe that he spoke truth.' 
 
 The humorists of the Augustan era were, as the world knows, 
 peculiar objects of regard to the great writer of ' Roundabout 
 Essays' in the age of Queen Victoria. Novels, lectures, and 
 reviews alike prove the industry and affection with which Thackeray 
 conducted his researches amidst the veins of singular richness and 
 congenial material opened to him by the lives and writings of 
 these famous essayists, in such profusion that selection became a 
 point of real art. 
 
 Let us turn to Thackeray's own writings for his abundant 
 testimony to the terms on which he held Addison, Steele, and 
 the other humorists, and note the value he set on their writings : — 
 
 £ ... It is not for his reputation as the great author of 
 " Cato " and the " Campaign," or for his merits as Secretary of 
 State, or for his rank and high distinction as my Lady Warwick's 
 husband, or for his eminence as an examiner of political questions 
 on the Whig side, or a guardian of British liberties, that we admire 
 Joseph Addison. It is as a tatler of small talk and a spectator of 
 mankind that we cherish and love him, and owe as much pleasure 
 to him as to any human being that ever wrote. He came in that 
 artificial age, and began to speak with his noble natural voice. 
 He came, the gentle satirist, who hit no unfair blow ; the kind 
 judge, who castigated only in smiling. While Swift went about, 
 hanging and ruthless — a literary Jeffries — in Addison's kind court 
 only minor cases were tried ; only peccadilloes and small sins 
 against society; only a dangerous libertinism in tuckers and 
 hoops ; or a nuisance in the abuse of beaux' canes and snuff- 
 boxes. It may be a lady is tried for breaking the peace of our 
 
222 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 Sovereign lady Queen Anne, and ogling too dangerously from the 
 side-box ; or a templar for beating the watch, or breaking 
 Priscian's head; or a citizen's wife for caring too much for the 
 puppet-show, and too little for her husband and children : every 
 one of the little sinners brought before him is amusing, and he 
 dismisses each with the pleasantest penalties and the most charm- 
 ing words of admonition. 
 
 ' Addison wrote his papers as gaily as if he was going out for 
 a holiday. When Steele's " Tatler " first began his prattle, 
 Addison, then in Ireland, caught at his friend's notion, poured in 
 paper after paper, and contributed the stores of his mind, the 
 sweet fruits of his reading, the delightful gleanings of his daily 
 observation, with a wonderful profusion, and as it seemed an 
 almost endless fecundity. He was six-and-thirty years old ; full 
 and ripe. He had not worked crop after crop from his brain, 
 manuring hastily, subsoiling indifferently, cutting and sowing and 
 cutting again, like other luckless cultivators of letters. He had 
 not done much as yet ; a few Latin poems — graceful productions ; 
 a polite book of travels ; a dissertation on medals, not very deep ; 
 four acts of a tragedy, a great classical exercise; and the 
 " Campaign," a large prize poem that won an enormous prize. 
 But with his friend's discovery of the " Tatler," Addison's calling 
 was found, and the most delightful talker in the world began to 
 speak. He does not go very deep : let gentlemen of a profound 
 genius, critics accustomed to the plunge of the bathos, console 
 themselves by thinking that he couldn't go very deep. There are 
 no traces of suffering in his writing. He was so good, so honest, 
 so healthy, so cheerfully selfish, if I must use the word. There is 
 no deep sentiment. I doubt, until after his marriage, peihaps, 
 whether he ever lost his night's rest or his day's tranquillity about 
 any woman in his life : whereas poor Dick Steele had capacity 
 enough to melt, and to languish, and to sigh, and to cry his honest 
 old eyes out, for a dozen. His writings do not show insight into 
 or reverence for the love of women, which I take to be one of the 
 consequences of the other. He walks about the world watching 
 their pretty humours, fashions, follies, flirtations, rivalries; and 
 noting them with the most charming archness. He sees them in 
 public, in the theatre, or the assembly, or the puppet-show ; or at 
 the toy-shop, higgling for gloves and lace; or at the auction, 
 
ADDISON AND STEELE. 223 
 
 battling together over a blue porcelain dragon, or a darling mon- 
 ster in Japan; or at church, eyeing the width of their rivals' 
 hoops, or the breadth of their laces, as they sweep down the 
 aisles. Or he looks out of his window at the Garter in St. James's 
 Street, at Aurelia's coach, as she blazes to the drawing-room with 
 her coronet and six footmen ; and remembering that her father 
 was a Turkey merchant in the city, calculates how many sponges 
 went to purchase her earring, and how many drums of figs to build 
 her coach-box; or he demurely watches behind a tree in Spring 
 Garden as Saccharissa (whom he knows under her mask) trips out 
 of her chair to the alley where Sir Fopling is waiting. He sees 
 only the public life of women. Addison, was one of the most 
 resolute clubmen of his day. He passed many hours daily in 
 those haunts.' 
 
 It is not difficult to trace the results of Thackeray's reading 
 among his favourite writers, or watch its influence on his own 
 compositions. Nor did his regard for these sources of inspiration 
 pass the bounds of reasonable admiration ; he argues convincingly 
 of the authentic importance of his chosen authorities. 
 
 ' What do we look for in studying the history of a past age ? 
 Is it to learn the political transactions and characters of the lead- 
 ing public men ? Is it to make ourselves acquainted with the life 
 and being of the times ? . . . I say to the muse of history, " O 
 venerable daughter of Mnemosyne, I doubt every statement you 
 ever made since your ladyship was a muse ! For all your grave 
 airs and high pretensions, you are not a whit more trustworthy 
 than some of your lighter sisters, on whom your partisans look 
 down." ... I take up a volume of Dr. Smollett, or a volume of 
 the " Spectator," and say the fiction carries a greater amount of 
 truth in solution than the volume which purports to be all true. 
 Out of the fictitious book I get the expression of the life of the 
 time ; of the manners, of the movement, the dress, the pleasures, 
 the laughter, the ridicules of society — the old times live again, and 
 I travel in the old country of England. Can the heaviest historian 
 do more for me ? 
 
 ' As we read in these delightful volumes of the " Tatler " and 
 " Spectator," the past age returns, the England of our ancestors 
 is revivified. The May-pole rises in the Strand again in London ; 
 the churches are thronged with daily worshippers ; the beaux are 
 
224 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 gathering in the coffee-houses — the gentry are going to the draw- 
 ing-room — the ladies are thronging to the toy-shops — the chair- 
 men are jostling in the streets — the footmen are running with 
 links before the chariots, or fighting round the theatre doors. In 
 the country I see the young squire riding to Eton, with his servant 
 behind him, and Will Wimble, the friend of the family, to see him 
 safe. To make that journey from the squire's and back, Will is a 
 week on horseback. The coach takes five days between London 
 and Bath. The judges and the bar ride the circuit. If my 
 lady comes to town in her post-chariot, her people carry pistols to 
 fire a salute on Captain Macheath, if he should appear, and her 
 couriers ride a-head to prepare apartments for her at the great 
 caravanserais on the road ; Boniface receives her, under the 
 creaking sign of the Bell or the Ram, and he and his chamberlains 
 bow her up the great stair to the state apartments, whilst her 
 carriage rumbles into the court-yard, where the Exeter Fly is 
 housed that performs the journey in eight days, God willing, 
 having achieved its daily flight of twenty miles, and landed its 
 passengers for supper and sleep. The curate is taking his pipe in 
 the kitchen, where the captain's man — having hung up his 
 master's half pike — is at his bacon and eggs, bragging of Ramillies 
 and Malplaquet to the town's-folk, who have their club in the 
 chimney corner. The captain is ogling the chambermaid in the 
 wooden gallery, or bribing her to know who is the pretty young 
 mistress that has come in the coach. The pack-horses are in the 
 great stable, and the drivers and ostlers carousing in the tap. And 
 in Mrs. Landlady's bar, over a glass of strong waters, sits a gentle- 
 man of military appearance who travels with pistols, as all the rest 
 of the world does, and has a rattling grey mare in the stables 
 which will be saddled and away with its owner half-an hour before 
 the " Fly " sets out on its last day's flight. And some five miles 
 on the road, as the Exeter Fly comes jingling and creaking on- 
 wards, it will suddenly be brought to a halt by a gentleman on a 
 grey mare, with a black vizard on his face, who thrusts a long 
 pistol into the coach window, and bids the company to hand out 
 their purses. ... It must have been no small pleasure even to 
 sit in the great kitchen in those days, and see the tide of human 
 kind pass by. We arrive at places now, but we travel no more. 
 Addison talks jocularly of a difference of manner and costume 
 
STEELE'S 'TATLERS: 225 
 
 being quite perceivable at Staines, where there passed a young 
 fellow " with a very tolerable periwig," though to be sure his hat 
 was out of fashion, and had a Ramillies cock. I would have liked 
 to travel in those days (being of that class of travellers who are 
 proverbially pretty easy coram latronibus), and have seen my friend 
 with the grey mare and the black vizard. Alas ! there always 
 came a day in the life of that warrior when it was the fashion to 
 accompany him as he passed, in a carriage without springs, and a 
 clergyman jolting beside him, to a spot close by Cumberland 
 Gate and the Marble Arch, where a stone still records " Here 
 Tyburn Turnpike stood." 
 
 ' In 1709, when the publication of the "Tatler" began, our 
 great great grandfathers must have seized upon that new and 
 delightful paper with much such eagerness as lovers of light litera- 
 ture in a later day exhibited when the " Waverley Novels" 
 appeared. 
 
 1 The great charm of Steele's writing is its naturalness. He 
 wrote so quickly and carelessly that he was forced to make the 
 reader his confidant, and had not the time to deceive him. He 
 had a small share of book learning, but a vast acquaintance with 
 the world. He had known men and taverns. He had lived with 
 gownsmen, with troopers, with gentlemen ushers of the Court, 
 with men and women of fashion, with authors and wits, with the 
 inmates of the spunging houses, and with the frequenters of all 
 the clubs and coffee-houses in the town. He was liked in all 
 company because he liked it ; and you like to see his enjoyment 
 as you like to see the glee of a boxful of children at the panto- 
 mime. He was not one of those lonely ones of the earth whose 
 greatness obliged them to be solitary ; on the contrary, he admired, 
 I think, more than any man who ever wrote ; and full of hearty 
 applause and sympathy wins upon you by calling you to share his 
 delight and good humour. The laugh rings through the whole 
 house. He must have been invaluable at a tragedy, and have 
 cried as much as any tender young lady in the boxes. He has a 
 relish for beauty and goodness wherever he meets it. He admired 
 Shakespeare affectionately, and more than any man of his time ; 
 and, according to his generous expansive nature, called upon all 
 his company to like what he liked himself.' 
 
 From his minute and intelligent studies of the works of these 
 
 Q 
 
226 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 genial humorists Thackeray acquired a remarkable facility of 
 thinking, spontaneously acknowledged by all his contemporaries, 
 with the felicitous aptitude of the originals, and learned to express 
 his conceptions in language simple, lucid, and sparkling as the 
 outpourings from those pure fonts for which his eagerness may be 
 said to have been unquenched to the end of his career. 
 
 That artist-like local colouring which gives such scholarly value 
 to ' Henry Esmond,' to ' The Virginians,' to ' The Humorists of 
 the Eighteenth Century,' and which was no less manifest in the 
 work which engaged his thoughts when Death lightly touched the 
 novelist's hand, furnishes the evidence of Thackeray's familiarity 
 with, and command of the quaintest, wittiest, wisest, and pleasant 
 writings in our language. 
 
 It will be felt by readers who realise Thackeray in his familiar 
 association with the kindred early humorists, that the merry 
 passages his pencil has italicised by droll marginal sketches are, 
 with all their suggestive slightness, in no degree unworthy of the 
 conceits to which they give a new interest ; while in some cases, 
 with playful whimsicality, they present a reading entirely novel. 
 The fidelity of costume and appointments, even in this miniature 
 state, confirms the diligence and thought with which the author of 
 ' Henry Esmond ' pursued every detail which illustrated his 
 cherished period, and which might serve as a basis for its consistent 
 reconstruction, to carry his reader far back up the stream of time. 
 
 The necessity of compressing our selections from the com- 
 paratively exhaustless field of the humorous essayists within the 
 limits of this volume necessarily renders the paragraphs elucidated 
 by Thackeray's quaint etchings somewhat fragmental and abrupt, 
 while the miscellaneous nature of the topics thus indiscriminately 
 touched on may be best set forth according to the advertisement 
 with which Swift ushered in his memorable ' Number One.' 
 
 * All accounts of gallantry, pleasure, and entertainment shall 
 be under the article of White's Chocolate- house ; * poetry, under 
 that of Will's Coffee-house ' } \ learning, under the title of Gi'ecian \% 
 
 * White's Chocolate-house was then lower down St. James's Street, and 
 on the opposite side to its present site. 
 
 t Will's Coffee-house was on the north side of Russell Street, Covent 
 Garden, now No. 23 Great Russell Street. 
 
 t The ' Grecian ' was in Devereux Court, Strand. 
 
THE l TATLER: 227 
 
 foreign and domestic news, you will have from Saint James's 
 Coffee-house ; and what else I have to offer on any other subject 
 shall be dated from my own apartment.'* 
 
 1 1 once more desire my reader to consider, that as I cannot 
 keep an ingenious man to go daily to Will's under twopence 
 each day, merely for his charges ; to White's, under sixpence ; 
 nor to the Grecian, without allowing him some plain Spanish, to 
 be as able as others at the learned table ; and that a good 
 observer cannot speak with even Kidney (the waiter) at St. 
 James's without clean linen; I say, these considerations will, I 
 hope, make all persons willing to comply with my humble request 
 (when my gratis stock is exhausted) of a penny apiece ; espe- 
 cially since they are sure of some proper amusement, and that it 
 is impossible for me to want means to entertain them, having, 
 besides the force of my own parts, the power of divination, and 
 that I can, by casting a figure, tell you all that may happen before 
 it comes to pass.' 
 
 No. 5. The ' Tatler.' — April 21, 1709. 
 
 Who names that lost thing love without a tear, 
 Since so debauch'd by ill-bred customs here ? 
 To an exact perfection they have brought 
 The action love, the passion is forgot. 
 
 ' This was long ago a witty author's lamentation, but the evil 
 still continues ; and if a man of any delicacy were to attend the 
 discourses of the young fellows of this age, he would believe there 
 were none but the fallen to make the objects of passion. So true it 
 is what the" author of the above verses said, a little before his death, 
 of the modern pretenders to gallantry : " They set up for wits in this 
 age, by saying, when they are sober, what they of the last spoke 
 only when they were drunk." But Cupid is not only blind at 
 present, but dead drunk ; and he has lost all his faculties ; else 
 how should Celia be so long a maid, with that agreeable be- 
 haviour? Corinna, with that sprightly wit? Serbia, with that 
 heavenly voice? and Sacharissa, with all those excellences in 
 one person, frequent the park, the play, and murder the poor Tits 
 that drag her to public places, and not a man turn pale at her 
 
 * ' Shire Lane ' was also the heading of numerous papers. 
 Q2 
 
228 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 appearance ? But such is the fallen state of love, that if it were 
 not for Honest Cynthio, who is true to the cause, we should 
 hardly have a pattern left of the ancient worthies in that way ; 
 and indeed he has but very little encouragement to persevere. 
 Though Cynthio has wit, good sense, fortune, and his very being 
 depends upon her, the termagant for whom he sighs is in love 
 with a fellow who stares in the glass all the time he is with her, 
 and lets her plainly see she may possibly be his rival, but never- his 
 mistress. Yet Cynthio pleases himself with a vain imagination 
 that, with the language of his eyes, now he has found out who she 
 is, he shall conquer her, though her eyes are intent upon one who 
 looks from her, which is ordinary with the sex. 
 
 ' It is certainly a mistake in the ancients to draw the little gen- 
 tleman Love as a blind boy, for his real character is a little thief 
 that squints; for ask Mrs. Meddle, who is a 
 confidante or spy upon all the passions in town, 
 and she will tell you that the whole is a game of 
 cross purposes. The lover is generally pursuing 
 one who is in pursuit of another, and running 
 from one that desires to meet him. Nay, the 
 nature of this passion is so justly represented in 
 111 a squinting little thief (who is always in a double 
 action), that do but observe Clarissa next time 
 you see her, and you will find, when her eyes 
 have made their soft tour round the company she makes no 
 stay on him they say she is to marry, but rests two seconds 
 of a minute on Wildair, who neither looks nor thinks on her 
 or any woman else. However, Cynthio had a bow from her the 
 other day, upon which he is very much come to himself; and 
 I heard him send his man of an errand yesterday, without any 
 manner of hesitation ; a quarter of an hour after which he reckoned 
 twenty, remembered he was to sup with a friend, and went exactly 
 to his appointment. I sent to know how he did this morning, and 
 I find he. hath not forgotten that he spoke to me yesterday.' 
 
 No. 9. The 'Tatler.' — April 30, 1709. 
 
 Pastorella, a lively young lady of eighteen, was under the 
 charge of an aunt, who was anxious to keep her ward in safety, if 
 
the <tatler: 
 
 possible, from herself and her admirers. ' At the same time the 
 good lady knew, by long experience, that a gay inclination curbed 
 too rashly would but run to the greater excesses ; she therefore 
 made use of an ingenious expedient to avoid the anguish of an 
 admonition. You are to know, then, that Miss, with all her 
 flirting and ogling, had also a strong curiosity in her, and was the 
 greatest eaves-dropper breathing. Parisatis (for so her prudent 
 aunt is called) observed this humour, and retires one day to her 
 closet, into which she knew Pastorella would peep and listen to 
 know how she was employed. It happened accordingly; and the 
 young lady saw her good governante on her knees, and, after a 
 mental behaviour, break into these words : " As for 
 the dear child committed to my care, let her so- 
 briety of carriage and severity of behaviour be such 
 as may make that noble lord, who is taken with 
 her beauty, turn his designs to such as are honour- 
 able." Here Parisatis heard her niece nestle closer 
 to the key-hole. She then goes on : " Make her 
 the joyful mother of a numerous and wealthy off- 
 spring ; and let her carriage be such as may make 
 this noble youth expect the blessings of a happy 
 marriage, from the singularity of her life, in this 
 loose and censorious age." Miss, having heard enough, sneaks 
 off for fear of discovery, and immediately at her glass, alters the 
 setting of her head j then pulls up her tucker, and forms herself 
 into the exact manner of Lindamira; in a word, becomes a 
 sincere convert to everything that is commendable in a fine 
 young lady ; and two or three such matches as her aunt feigned 
 in her devotions are at this day in her choice. This is the history 
 and original cause of Pastorella's conversion from coquetry. 
 
 1 1 scarce remember a greater instance of forbearance in the 
 usual peevish way with which the aged treat the young than this, 
 except that of our famous Noy, whose good nature went so far as 
 to make him put off his admonitions to his son even until after his 
 death ; and did not give him his thoughts of him until he came to 
 read that memorable passage in his will : " All the rest of my estate," 
 says he, " I leave to my son Edward, to be squandered as he shall 
 think fit ; I leave it him for that purpose, and hope no better from 
 him." A generous disdain, and reflection how little he deserved 
 
230 
 
 THA CKERA VAN A. 
 
 from so excellent a father, reformed the young man, and made 
 Edward, from an arrant rake, become a fine gentleman.' 
 
 No. 23. The ' Tatler.'— June 2, 1709. 
 
 The - Tatler ' relates the instance of a lady who had governed 
 one husband by falling into fits when he opposed her will. 
 Death released this gentleman, and the lady consoled herself 
 quickly with a very agreeable successor, whom she determined to 
 manage by the same method. ' This man knew her little arts, and 
 resolved to break through all tenderness, and be absolute master 
 as soon as occasion offered. One day it happened that a dis- 
 course arose about furniture ; he was very glad of the occasion, 
 and fell into an invective against china, protesting that he would 
 never let five pounds more of his money be laid out that way as 
 long as he breathed. She immediately fainted — he starts up, as 
 
 zmazed, and calls' for help — the maids run up to the closet. He 
 chafes her face, bends her forward, and beats the palms of her 
 hands ; her convulsions increase, and down she tumbles on the 
 floor, where she lies quite dead, in spite of what the whole family, 
 from the nursery to the kitchen, could do for her relief. The kind 
 man doubles his care, helps the servants to throw water into her 
 face by full quarts ; and when the sinking part of the fit came 
 again, " Well, my dear," says he, " I applaud your action ; but 
 none of your artifices ; you are quite in other hands than those you 
 passed these pretty passions upon. I must take leave of you until 
 you are more sincere with me : farewell for ever." He was scarce 
 at the stair-head when she followed, and thanked him for her 
 cure, which was so absolute that she gave me this relation herself, 
 to be communicated for the benefit of all the voluntary invalids of 
 her sex.' 
 
THE < tatler: 
 
 231 
 
 No. 24. The ' Tatler.'—; June 4, 1709. 
 
 The ' Tatler ' is discoursing of ' pretty fellows,' and l very 
 pretty fellows/ and enlarging on the qualifications essential to fit 
 them for the characters. 
 
 ' Give me leave, then, to mention three, whom I do not doubt 
 but we shall see make considerable figures ; and these are such as 
 for their Bacchanalian performances must be admitted into this 
 order. They are three brothers, lately landed from Holland ; as 
 yet, indeed, they have not made their public entry, but lodge and 
 converse at Wapping. They have merited already, on the water- 
 side, particular titles : the first is called Hogshead ; the second, 
 Culverin; and the third, Musquet. This fraternity is preparing 
 for our end of the town, by their 
 ability in the exercises of Bacchus, 
 and measure their time and merit 
 by liquid weight and power of 
 drinking. Hogshead is a pret- 
 tier fellow than Culverin, by two 
 quarts ; and Culverin than Mus- 
 quet, by a full pint. It is to be 
 feared Hogshead is so often too 
 full, and Culverin overloaded, that Musquet will be the only lasting 
 very pretty fellow of the three.' 
 
 No. 28. The ' Tatler.'— June 14, 1709. 
 
 ' To the "Tatler." — Sir, — I desire the favour of you to decide 
 this question, whether calling a gentleman a smart fellow is an 
 
 affront or not ? A youth, entering a certain coffee-house, with his 
 cane tied to his button, wearing red-heeled shoes, I thought of 
 
232 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 your description, and could not forbear telling a friend of mine 
 next to me, " There enters a smart fellow." The gentleman 
 hearing it, had immediately a mind to pick a quarrel with me, and 
 desired satisfaction ; at which I was more puzzled than at the 
 other, remembering what mention your familiar makes of those 
 that had lost their lives on such occasions. The thing is referred 
 to your judgment ; and I expect you to be my second, since you 
 have been the cause of our quarrel. — I am, Sir, &c.' 
 
 ' Now what possible insinuation can there be, that it is a cause 
 of quarrel for a man to say he allows a gentleman really to be 
 what his tailor, his hosier, and his milliner have conspired to make 
 him ? I confess, if this person who appeals to me had said he was 
 "not a smart fellow," there had been cause for resentment.' 
 
 No. 34. The 'Tatler.' — -June 28, 1709. 
 
 Mr. Bickerstaff has been working certain wonderful effects by 
 prescribing his circumspedio?i-water^ which has cured Mrs. Spy of 
 rolling her eyes about in public places. Lady Petulant has made 
 use of it to cure her husband's jealousy, and Lady Gad has cured 
 a whole neighbourhood of detraction. 
 
 'The fame of these things/ continues the Censor-General, 
 1 added to my being an old fellow, makes me extremely acceptable 
 to the fair sex. You would hardly believe me when I tell you 
 there is not a man in town so much their delight as myself. They 
 make no more of visiting me than going to Madam Depingle's ; 
 there were two of them, namely, Dainia and Clidamira (I assure 
 you women of distinction), who came to see me this morning, in 
 their way to prayers ; and being in a very diverting humour (as 
 innocence always makes people cheerful), they would needs have 
 me, according to the distinction of pretty and very pretty fellows, 
 inform them if I thought either of them had a title to the very 
 pretty among those of their own sex ; and if I did, which was the 
 more deserving of the two ? 
 
 ' To put them to the trial, " Look ye," said I, " I must not rashly 
 give my judgment in matters of this importance ; pray let me see 
 you dance; I play upon the kit." They immediately fell back to 
 the lower end of the room (you may be sure they curtsied low 
 enough to me), and began. Never were two in the world so 
 
THE 'TATLER. 
 
 233 
 
 equally matched, and both scholars to my namesake Isaac* 
 Never was man in so dangerous a condition as myself, when they 
 began to expand their charms. " Oh ! ladies, ladies," cried I ; "not 
 half that air; you will fire the house ! " Both smiled, for, by-the-by, 
 there is no carrying a metaphor too far when a lady's charms are 
 spoken of. Somebody, I think, has called a fine woman dancing 
 
 " a brandished torch of beauty." These rivals move with such an 
 agreeable freedom that you would believe their gesture was the 
 necessary effect of the music, and not the product of skill and 
 practice. Now Clidamira came on with a crowd of graces, and 
 demanded my judgment with so sweet an air — and she had no 
 sooner carried it, but Dainia made her utterly forgot, by a gentle 
 sinking and a rigadoon step. The contest held a full half hour ; 
 and, I protest, I saw no manner of difference in their perfections 
 until they came up together and expected sentence. " Look ye, 
 ladies," said I, " I see no difference in the least in your perform- 
 ances; but you, Clidamira, seem to be so well satisfied that I 
 should determine for you, that I must give it to Dainia, who 
 stands with so much diffidence and fear, after showing an equal 
 merit to what she pretends to. Therefore, Clidamira, you are a 
 pretty, but, Dainia, you are a very pretty lady; for," said I, 
 " beauty loses its force if not accompanied with modesty. She 
 that hath an humble opinion of herself, will have everybody's 
 applause, because she does not expect it ; while the vain creature 
 loses approbation through too great a sense of deserving it." ' 
 
 * Mr. Isaac, a famous dancing master at that time, was a Frenchman and 
 Roman Catholic. 
 
234 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 No. 36. The ' Tatler.'— July 2, 1 709. 
 
 The ' Tatler ' inserts a letter on termagant wives and sporting 
 tastes : — 
 
 ' Epsom, June 28. 
 
 1 It is now almost three weeks since what you writ about hap- 
 pened in this place. The quarrel between my friends did not run 
 so high as I find your accounts have made it. You are to under- 
 stand that the persons concerned in this scene were Lady Autumn 
 and Lady Springly. Autumn is a person of good breeding, 
 formality, and a singular way practised in the last age ; and Lady 
 Springly, a modern impertinent of our sex, who affects as improper 
 a familiarity as the other does distance. These heroines have 
 married two brothers, both knights. Springly is the spouse of 
 the elder, who is a baronet, and Autumn, being a rich widow, has 
 taken the younger, and her purse endowed him with an equal for- 
 tune, and knighthood of the same order. This jumble of titles, 
 you need not doubt, has been an aching torment to Autumn, who 
 took place of the other on no pretence, but her carelessness and 
 disregard of distinction. The secret occasion of envy broiled 
 long in the breast of Autumn ; but no opportunity of contention 
 on that subject happening, kept all things quiet until the accident 
 of which you demand an account. 
 
 ' It was given out among all the gay people of this place, that 
 on the ninth instant several damsels, swift of foot, were to run for 
 a suit of head-cloaths at the Old Wells. Lady Autumn, on this 
 occasion, invited Springly to go with her in her coach to see the 
 race. When they came to the place, where the Governor of 
 Epsom and all his court of citizens were assembled, as well as a 
 crowd of people of all orders, a brisk young fellow addressed him- 
 self to the younger of the ladies, viz., Springly, and offers her his 
 services to conduct her into the music-room. Springly accepts 
 the compliment, and is led triumphantly through a bowing crowd, 
 while Autumn is left among the rabble, and has much ado to 
 get back into her coach; but she did it at last, and as it is 
 usual to see, by the horses, my lady's present disposition, she 
 orders John to whip furiously home to her husband ; where, when 
 she enters, down she sits, began to unpin her hood, and lament 
 her foolish fond heart to marry into a family where she was so 
 
THE 'TATLER: 235 
 
 little regarded. Lady Springly, an hour or two after, returns 
 from the Wells, and finds the whole company together. Down 
 she sat, and a profound silence ensued. You know a premedi- 
 tated quarrel usually begins and works up with the words some 
 people. The silence was broken by Lady Autumn, who began to 
 say, "There are some people who fancy, that if some people" — 
 Springly immediately takes her up, " There are some people who 
 fancy, if other people" — Autumn repartees, " People may give 
 themselves airs ; but other people, perhaps, who make less ado, 
 may be, perhaps, as agreeable as people who set themselves out 
 more." All the other people at the table sat mute, while these 
 two people, who were quarrelling, went on with the use of the 
 woidpeop/e, instancing the very accidents between them, as if they 
 kept only in distant hints. Therefore, says Autumn, reddening, 
 " There are some people will go abroad in other people's coaches, 
 and leave those with whom they went to shift for themselves ; and 
 if, perhaps, those people have married the younger brother, yet, 
 perhaps, he may be beholden to those people for what he is." 
 Springly smartly answers, " People may bring so much ill humour 
 into, a family, as people may repent their receiving their money," 
 and goes on—" Everybody is not considerable enough to give her 
 uneasiness." 
 
 ' Upon this Autumn comes up to her, and desired her to kiss 
 her, and never to see her again; which her sister refusing, my 
 lady gave her a box on the ear. Springly returns, " Ay, ay," said 
 she, " I knew well enough you meant me by your some people ; " 
 and gives her another on the other side. To it they went, with 
 most masculine fury; each husband ran in. The wives imme- 
 
 diately fell upon their husbands, and tore periwigs and cravats. 
 The company interposed; when (according to the slip-knot of 
 matrimony, which makes them return to one another when anyone 
 
236 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 puts in between) the ladies and their husbands fell upon all 
 the rest of the company; and, having beat all their friends and 
 relations out of the house, came to themselves time enough to 
 know there was no bearing the jest of the place after these adven- 
 tures, and therefore marched off the next day. It is said, the 
 governor has sent several joints of mutton, and has proposed 
 divers dishes, very exquisitely dressed, to bring them down again. 
 From his address and knowledge in roast and boiled, all our 
 hopes of the return of this good company depend. 
 ' I am, dear Jenny, 
 
 1 Your ready friend and servant, 
 
 ' Martha Tatler.' 
 
 No. 37. The 'Tatler/— -July 5, 1709. 
 
 The ' Tatler ; is discoursing of country squires, with fox- 
 hunting tastes, and how in their rough music of the field they 
 outdo the best Italian singers for noise and volume. One of 
 these worthies is described on a visit in genteel society in town. 
 ' Mr. Bellfrey being at a visit where I was, viz., at his cousin's 
 (Lady Dainty's), in Soho Square, was asked what entertainments 
 they had in the country. Now, Bellfrey is very ignorant, and 
 much a clown ; but confident withal : in a word, he struck up a 
 fox-chase; Lady Dainty's dog, Mr. Sippet, as she calls him, 
 started, jumped out of his lady's lap, and fell a barking. Bellfrey 
 went on, and called all the neighbouring parishes into the square. 
 Never was woman in such confusion as that delicate lady; but 
 there was no stopping her kinsman. A roomful of ladies fell into 
 the most violent laughter ; my lady looked as if she was shriek- 
 ing; Mr. Sippet, in the middle of the room, breaking his heart 
 with barking, but all of us unheard. As soon as Bellfrey became 
 
 silent, up gets my lady, and takes 
 him by the arm, to lead him off. 
 Bellfrey was in his boots. As she 
 was hurrying him away, his spurs 
 take hold of her petticoat; his 
 whip throws down a cabinet of 
 china : he cries, u What ! are your 
 crocks rotten ? are your petticoats ragged ? A man cannot walk 
 in your house for trincums." ' 
 
THE 'TATLER: 237 
 
 No. 38. The ' Tattler.'— -July 7, 1709. 
 
 The practice of duelling had been early discountenanced by 
 The ' Tatler.' An altercation after a stock-broking transaction 
 was settled in the fashion thus reported in its pages : — 
 
 1 . . . However, having sold the bear, and words arising about 
 the delivery, the most noble major, according to method, abused 
 the other with the titles of rogue, villain, bear-skin man, and the 
 like. Whereupon satisfaction was demanded and accepted, and 
 forth they marched to a most spacious room in 
 the sheriff's house, where, having due regard to 
 what you have lately published, yet not willing 
 to put up with affronts without satisfaction, they 
 stripped and in decent manner fought full fairly 
 with their wrathful hands. The combat lasted a 
 quarter of an hour ; in which time victory was 
 often doubtful, until the major, finding his adversary obstinate, 
 unwilling to give him further chastisement, with most shrill voice 
 cried out, "I am satisfied ! enough !" whereupon the combat ceased 
 and both were friends immediately.' 
 
 No. 41. The 'Tatler.'— /?//*> 14, 1709. 
 
 A battle fought in the very streets of London by the Volunteers 
 of 1709, from their head-quarters, the Artillery Ground, Moorgate, 
 is thus described by one of the Grub Street auxiliaries : — 
 
 ' Indeed, I am extremely concerned for the lieutenant-general, 
 who by his overthrow and defeat is made a deplorable instance of 
 the fortune of war, and the vicissitudes of human 
 affairs. He, alas ! has lost in Beech Lane and 
 Chiswell Street all the glory he lately gained in and 
 about Holborn and St. Giles's. The art of sub- 
 dividing first and dividing afterwards is new and 
 surprising ; and according to this method the troops 
 are disposed in King's Head Court and Red Lion 
 Market, nor is the conduct of these leaders less 
 Jp conspicuous in the choice of the ground or field 
 of battle. Happy was it that the greatest part of 
 the achievements of this day was to be performed near Grub 
 
238 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 Street, that there might not be wanting a sufficient number of 
 faithful historians who, being eye-witnesses of these wonders, should 
 impartially transmit them to posterity ! but then it can never be 
 enough regretted that we are left in the dark as to the name and 
 title of that extraordinary hero who commanded the divisions in 
 Paul's Alley ; especially because those divisions are justly styled 
 brave, and accordingly were to push the enemy along Bunhill 
 Row, and thereby occasion a general battle. But Pallas appeared, 
 in the form of a shower of rain, and prevented the slaughter and 
 desolation which were threatened by these extraordinary pre- 
 parations.' 
 
 No. 45. The * Tatler/— July 23, 1709. 
 
 Mr. Bickerstaff, having paid a visit to Oxford, has spent the 
 evening with some merry wits, and, after his custom, he relates the 
 adventures of the evening to furnish a paper for the ' Tatler ' : — 
 
 ' I am got hither safe, but never spent time with so little satis- 
 faction as this evening ; for, you must know, I was five hours with 
 three merry and two honest fellows. The former sang catches, 
 and the latter even died with laughing at the noise they made. 
 " Well," says Tom Bellfrey, " you scholars, Mr. Bickerstaff, are 
 the worst company in the world." " Ay," says his opposite, " you 
 
 are dull to-night ; prythee, 
 be merry." With that I 
 huzzaed, and took a jump 
 across the table, then came 
 clever upon my legs, and 
 fell a laughing. " Let Mr. 
 Bickerstaff alone," says one of the honest fellows ; " when he is 
 in a good humour, he is as good company as any man in England." 
 He had no sooner spoke, but I snatched his hat off his head, and 
 clapped it upon my own, and burst out a laughing again; upon 
 which we all fell a laughing for half an hour. One of the honest 
 fellows got behind me in the interim and hit me a sound slap on 
 the back ; upon which he got the laugh out of my hands ; and 
 it was such a twang on my shoulders, that I confess he was 
 much merrier than I. I was half angry, but resolved to keep 
 up the good humour of the company; and after hallooing as 
 
THE l TATLER: 239 
 
 loud as I could possibly, I drank off a bumper of claret that 
 made me stare again. " Nay," says one of the honest fellows, 
 " Mr. Isaac is in the right ; there is no conversation in this : 
 what signifies jumping or hitting one another on the back? let 
 us drink about." We did so from seven of the clock until eleven ; 
 *md now I am come hither, and, after the manner of the wise 
 Pythagoras, began to reflect upon the passages of the day. I re- 
 member nothing but that I am bruised to death ; and as it is my 
 way to write down all the good things I have heard in the last 
 conversation, to furnish my paper, I can from this only tell you 
 my sufferings and my bangs.' 
 
 No. 46. The ' Tatler.'— July 26, 1709. 
 
 Aurengezebe, a modern Eastern potentate, is described as 
 amusing his later years by playing the grand Turk to the Sultanas 
 of Little Britain. 
 
 ' There is,' proceeds the account, ' a street near Covent Garden 
 known by the name of Drury, which, before the days of Chris- 
 tianity, was purchased by the Queen of Paphos, and is the only 
 part of Great Britain where the tenure of vassalage is still in 
 being. . . . This seraglio is disposed into convenient alleys and 
 apartments, and every house, from the cellar to the garret, inha- 
 bited by nymphs of different orders. 
 
 1 Here it is that, when Aurengezebe thinks fit to give loose to 
 dalliance, the purveyors prepare the entertainment; and what 
 makes it more august is, that every person concerned in the inter- 
 lude has his set part, and the prince sends beforehand word what 
 he designs ^to say, and directs also the 
 very answer which shall be made to him. 
 ' The entertainment is introduced by 
 the matron of the temple ; whereon an 
 unhappy nymph, who is to be supposed 
 just escaped from the hands of a ravisher, 
 with her tresses dishevelled, runs into 
 the room with a dagger in her hand, and falls before the emperor. 
 
 1 " Pity, oh ! pity, whoever thou art, an unhappy virgin, whom 
 one of thy train has robbed of her innocence ; her innocence, 
 which was all her portion — or rather let me die like the memorable 
 
240 
 
 T HACK ERA YANA. 
 
 Lucretia ! " Upon which she stabs herself. The body is immedi- 
 ately examined, Lucretia recovers by a cup of right Nantz, and 
 the matron, who is her next relation, stops all process at law.' 
 
 Similar extraordinary entertainments continue the evening, 
 which concludes in a distribution of largesse by the fictitious 
 sultan. 
 
 No. 47. The * Tatler.'— July 28, 1709. 
 
 The ' Tatler ' describes an incident of Sir Taffety Trippet, a 
 fortune-hunter, whose follies, according to Mr. Bickerstaff, are too 
 gross to give diversion ; and whose vanity is 
 too stupid to let him be sensible that he is a 
 public offence. 
 
 ' It happened that, when he first set up for 
 a fortune-hunter, he chose Tunbridge for the 
 scene of action, where were at that time two 
 sisters upon the same design. The knight 
 believed, of course, the elder must be the 
 better prize ; and consequently makes all- 
 sail that way. People that want sense do 
 always in an egregious manner want mo- 
 desty, which made our hero triumph in 
 making his amour as public as was possible. 
 The adored lady was no less vain of his 
 public addresses. An attorney with one 
 cause is not half so restless as a woman with one lover. Where- 
 ever they met, they talked to each other aloud, chose each other 
 partner at balls, saluted at the most conspicuous part of the 
 service of the church, and practised, in honour of each other, all 
 the remarkable particularities which are usual for persons who 
 admire one another, and are contemptible to the rest of the world. 
 These two lovers seemed as much made for each other as Adam 
 and Eve, and all pronounced it a match of nature's own making ; 
 but the night before the nuptials, so universally approved, the 
 younger sister, envious of the good fortune even of her sister, who 
 had been present at most of the interviews, and had an equal taste 
 for the charm of a fop, as there are a set of women made for that 
 order of men ; the younger, I say, unable to see so rich a prize 
 
THE 'TATLER: 241 
 
 pass by her, discovered to Sir Taffety that a coquet air, much 
 tongue, and three suits was all the portion of his mistress. His 
 love vanished that moment ; himself and equipage the next 
 morning. 
 
 No. 52. The 'Tatter.' — Aug. 9, 1709. 
 'Delamira resigns her Fan.' 
 
 * When the beauteous Delamira had published her intention of 
 entering the bonds of matrimony, the matchless Virgulta, whose 
 charms had made no satires, thus besought her to confide the 
 secret of her triumphs : — 
 
 " ' Delamira ! you are now going into that state of life wherein 
 the use of your charms is wholly to be applied to the pleasing 
 only one man. That swimming air of your body, that jaunty 
 bearing of your head over one shoulder, and that inexpressible 
 beauty in your manner of playing your fan, must be lowered into 
 a more confined behaviour, to show that you would rather shun 
 than receive addresses for the future. Therefore, dear Delamira, 
 give me those excellences you leave off, and acquaint me with 
 your manner of charming ; for I take the liberty of our friendship 
 to say, that when I consider my own stature, mo- 
 tion, complexion, wit, or breeding, I cannot think 
 myself any way your inferior ; yet do I go through 
 crowds without wounding a man, and all my 
 acquaintance marry round me while I live a virgin 
 masked, and I think unregarded." 
 
 1 Delamira heard her with great attention, and, 
 with that dexterity which is natural to her, told 
 her that " all she had above the rest of her sex and contemporary 
 beauties was wholly owing to a fan (that was left her by her 
 mother, and had been long in the family), which whoever had in 
 possession and used with skill, should command the hearts of all 
 her beholders ; and since," said she, smiling, " I have no more to 
 do with extending my conquests or triumphs, I will make you a 
 present of this inestimable rarity." Virgulta made her expressions 
 of the highest gratitude for so uncommon a confidence in her, and 
 desired she would " show her what was peculiar in the manage- 
 ment of that utensil, which rendered it of such general force when 
 
 R 
 
242 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 she was mistress of it." Delamira replied, " You see, madam, 
 Cupid is the principal figure painted on it ; and the skill in play- 
 ing the fan is, in your several motions of it, to let him appear as 
 little as possible ; for honourable lovers fly all endeavours to 
 ensnare them, and your Cupid must hide his bow and arrow, or 
 he will never be sure of his game. You may observe," continued 
 she, " that in all public assemblies the sexes seem to separate 
 themselves, and draw up to attack each other with eye-shot : that 
 is the time when the fan, which is all the armour of a woman, is 
 of most use in our defence ; for our minds are construed by the 
 waving of that little instrument, and our thoughts appear in com- 
 posure or agitation according to the motion of it." ' 
 
 No. 57. The 'Tatter.' — Aug. 20, 1709. 
 
 The 'Tatler' transcribes from Bruyere an extract, which he 
 introduces as ' one of the most elegant pieces of raillery and 
 satire.' Bruyere describes the French as if speaking of a people 
 not yet discovered, in the air and style of a traveller : — 
 
 ' I have heard talk of a country where the old men are gallant, 
 polite, and civil ; the young men, on the contrary, stubborn, wild, 
 without either manners or civility. Amongst these people, he is 
 sober who is never drunk with anything but wine ; the too fre- 
 quent use of it having rendered it flat and insipid to them : they 
 endeavour by brandy, or other strong liquors, to quicken their 
 taste, already extinguished, and want nothing to complete their 
 debauches but to drink aqua-fortis. The women of that country 
 hasten the decay of their beauty by their artifices 
 to preserve it ; they paint their cheeks, eye-brows, 
 and shoulders, which they lay open, together with 
 their breasts, arms, and ears, as if they were 
 afraid to hide those places which they think will 
 please, and never think they show enough of them. 
 ■ The physiognomies of the people of that 
 country are not at all neat, but confused and em- 
 barrassed with a bundle of strange hair, which 
 they prefer before their natural ; with this they 
 weave something to cover their heads, which descends half way 
 down their bodies, hides their features, and hinders you from 
 
THE l TATLER: 243 
 
 knowing men by their faces. This nation has, besides this, their 
 god and their king. 
 
 'The grandees go every day, at a certain hour, to a temple 
 they call a church : at the upper end of that temple there stands 
 an altar consecrated to their god, where the priest celebrates some 
 mysteries which they call holy, sacred, and tremendous. The 
 great men make a vast circle at the foot of the altar, standing with 
 their backs to the priests and the holy mysteries, and their faces 
 erected towards their king, who is seen on his knees upon a 
 throne, and to whom they seem to direct the desires of their 
 hearts, and all their devotion. However, in this custom there is 
 to be remarked a sort of subordination; for the people appear 
 adoring their prince and their prince adoring God.' 
 
 No. 61. The ' Tatler.' — Aug. 30, 1709. 
 
 Mr. Bickerstaff is musing on the degeneracy of the fair, and on 
 the changes which beauty has undergone since his youth. 
 
 ; We have/ he argues, ' no such thing as a standard for good 
 breeding. I was the other day at my Lady Wealthy's, and asked 
 one of her daughters how she did. She answered, " She never 
 conversed with men." The same day I visited at my Lady 
 Plantwell's, and asked her daughter the same question. She 
 answers, "What is that to you, you old thief?" and gives me a 
 slap on the shoulders. . . . 
 
 ' I will not answer for it, but it may be that I (like other old 
 fellows) have a fondness for the fashions and manners which pre- 
 vailed when I was young and in 
 fashion myself. But certain it is 
 that the taste of youth and beauty 
 is very much lowered. The fine 
 women they show me now-a-days 
 are at best but pretty girls to me 
 who have seen Sacharissa, when all 
 the world repeated the poems she 
 inspired ; and Villaria (the Duchess 
 of Cleveland), when a youthful king was her subject. The things 
 you follow and make songs on now should be sent to knit, or sit 
 down to bobbins or bone-lace : they are indeed neat, and so are 
 
24+ THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 their sempstresses ; they are pretty, and so are their handmaids. 
 Bat that graceful motion, that awful mien, and that winning 
 attraction, which grew upon them from the thoughts and conversa- 
 tions they met with in my time, are now no more seen. They 
 tell me I am old : I am glad I am so, for I do not like your pre- 
 sent young ladies.' 
 
 No. 64. The < Tatler.'— Sept. 6, 1709. 
 
 t u *^# Lost, from the Cocoa-tree, in Pall 
 Mall, two Irish dogs, belonging to the pack of 
 London ; one a tall white wolf dog ; the other 
 a black nimble greyhound, not very sound, and 
 supposed to be gone to the Bath, by instinct, 
 for cure. The man of the inn from whence they 
 ran, being now there, is desired, if he meets 
 either of them, to tie them up. Several others 
 are lost about Tunbridge and Epsom, which, 
 whoever will maintain, may keep." ' 
 
 No. 67. The < Tatler.'— Sept. 13, 1709. 
 
 The ' Tatler ' proposes to work upon the penny-post, to estab- 
 lish a charitable society, from which there shall go every day 
 circular letters to all parts, within the bills of mortality, to tell 
 people of their faults in a friendly manner, whereby they may 
 know what the world thinks of them. An example follows, which 
 had been already sent, by way of experiment, without success : — 
 ' Madam, —Let me beg of you to take off the patches at the 
 lower end of your left cheek, and I will allow two more under 
 your left eye, which will contribute more to 
 the symmetry of your face; except you would 
 please to remove the two black atoms on your 
 ladyship's chin, and wear one large patch instead 
 of them. If so, you may properly enough retain 
 the three patches above mentioned. I am, &c.' 
 
 This I thought had all the civility and reason 
 in the world in it; but whether my letters are 
 intercepted, or whatever it' is, the lady patches as she used to do. 
 
THE 'tatler: 
 
 245 
 
 It is observed by all the charitable society, as an instruction in 
 their epistles, that they tell people of nothing but what is in their 
 power to mend. I shall give another instance of this way of 
 writing : two sisters in Essex Street are eternally gaping out of the 
 window, as if they knew not the value of time, or would call in 
 companions. Upon which I writ the following line : — 
 
 1 Dear Creatures, — On the receipt of this, shut your casements.' 
 
 But I went by yesterday, and found them still at the window. 
 What can a man do in this case, but go in and wrap himself up in 
 his own integrity, with satisfaction only in this melancholy truth, 
 that virtue is its own reward ; and that if no one is the better for 
 his admonitions, yet he is himself the more virtuous, in that he 
 gave those advices ? 
 
 No. 79. The 'Tatler.' — Oct. 11, 1709. 
 
 Mr. Bicker staff's sister Jenny is going to be married. The 
 ' Tatler ' tells the following anecdote, as a warning ' to be above 
 trifles' : — 
 
 ' This, dear Jenny, is the reason that the quarrel between Sir 
 Harry and his lady, which began about her squirrel, is irrecon- 
 cilable. Sir Harry was reading a grave author \ she runs into his 
 study, and, in a playing humour, claps the squirrel upon the folio : 
 he threw the animal, in 
 a rage, on the floor; she 
 snatches it up again, 
 calls Sir Harry a sour 
 pedant, without good j£J#\Ujr jf 
 nature or good man- J/7T \\\ ^^r\ 
 ners. This cast him ^^_V\> ^ L^ 
 into such a rage, that 
 he threw down the table before him, kicked the book round the 
 room, then recollected himself : " Lord, madam," said he, " why did 
 you run into such expressions ? I was," said he, " in the highest 
 delight with that author when you clapped your squirrel upon my 
 book ; " and, smiling, added upon recollection, " I have a great re- 
 spect for your favourite, and pray let us be all friends." My lady 
 was so far from accepting this apology, that she immediately con- 
 ceived a resolution to keep him under for ever, and, with a serious 
 
246 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 air, replied, "There is no regard to be had to what a man says who 
 can fall into so indecent a rage and an abject submission in the 
 same moment, for which I absolutely despise you." Upon which 
 she rushed out of the room. Sir Harry stayed some minutes 
 behind, to think and command himself; after which he followed 
 her into her bed-chamber, where she was prostrate upon the bed, 
 tearing her hair, and naming twenty coxcombs who would have 
 
 prr ^' t 
 
 r-r/WfT 
 
 used her otherwise. This provoked him to so high a degree that 
 he forbade nothing but beating her; and all the servants in the 
 family were at their several stations listening, whilst the best man 
 and woman, the best master and mistress defamed each other in a 
 way that is not to be repeated even at Billingsgate. You know 
 this ended in an immediate separation : she longs to return home, 
 but knows not how to do it ; and he invites her home every day. 
 Her husband requires no submission of her; but she thinks her 
 very return will argue she is to blame, which she is resolved to be 
 for ever, rather than acknowledge it/ 
 
THE 'tatler: 247 
 
 No. 86. The 'Tatter.' — Oct. 27, 1709. 
 
 ' When I came home last night, my servant delivered me the 
 following letter : — 
 
 ' " Sir, — I have orders from Sir Harry Quickset, of Stafford- 
 shire, Baronet, to acquaint you, that his honour, Sir Harry himself ; 
 Sir Giles Wheelbarrow, Knight ; Thomas Rent-free, Esquire, justice 
 of the quorum ; Andrew Windmill, Esquire ; and Mr. Nicolas 
 Doubt, of the Inner Temple, Sir Harry's grandson, will wait upon 
 you at the hour of nine to-morrow morning, being Tuesday, the 
 twenty-fifth of October, upon business which Sir Harry will impart 
 to you by word of mouth. I thought it proper to acquaint you 
 beforehand, so many persons of quality came, that you might not 
 be surprised therewith. Which concludes, though by many years' 
 absence since I saw you at Stafford, unknown, Sir, your most 
 humble servant, <« John Thrifty." 
 
 ' I received this note with less surprise than I believe Mr. 
 Thrifty imagined ; for I know the good company too well to feel 
 any palpitations at their approach : but I was in very great con- 
 cern how I could adjust the ceremonial, and demean myself to all 
 these great men, who perhaps had not seen anything above them- 
 selves for these twenty years last past. I am sure that is the case 
 of Sir Harry. Besides which, I was sensible that there was a great 
 point in adjusting my behaviour to the simple squire, so as to give 
 him satisfaction, and not disoblige the justice of the quorum. 
 
 ' The hour of nine was come this morning, and I had no 
 sooner set chairs, by the steward's letter, and fixed my tea- 
 equipage, but I heard a knock at my door, which was opened, but 
 no one entered ; after which followed a long silence, which was at 
 last broken by, " Sir, I beg your pardon \ I think I know better :" 
 
 and another voice, " Nay, good Sir Giles " I looked out 
 
 from my window, and saw the good company all with their hats 
 off, and arms spread, offering the door to each other. After many 
 offers, they entered with much solemnity, in the order Mr. Thrifty 
 was so kind as to name them to me. But they had now got to 
 my chamber-door, and I saw my old friend Sir Harry enter. I 
 met him with all the respect due to so reverend a vegetable ; for 
 you are to know that is my sense of a person who remains idle in 
 
248 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 the same place for half a century. I got him with great success 
 into his chair by the fire, without throwing down any of my cups. 
 The knight-bachelor told me, " he had a great respect for my 
 whole family, and would, with my leave, place himself next to Sir 
 Harry, at whose right hand he had sat at every quarter-sessions 
 these thirty years, unless he was sick." The steward in the rear 
 whispered the young templar, "That is true to my knowledge." 
 I had the misfortune, as they stood cheek by jole, to desire the 
 squire to sit down before the justice of the quorum, to the no 
 small satisfaction of the former, and the resentment of the latter. 
 But I saw my error too late, and got them as soon as I could into 
 their seats. "Well," said I, " gentlemen, after I have told you 
 how glad I am of this great honour, I am to desire you to drink a 
 dish of tea." They answered one and all, " that they never drank 
 tea of a morning." " Not drink tea of a morning," said I, staring 
 round me. Upon which the pert jackanapes, Nic Doubt, tipped 
 
 me the wink, and put out his tongue at his grandfather. Here 
 followed a profound silence, when the steward, in his boots and 
 whip, proposed, " that we should adjourn to some public house, 
 where everybody might call for what they pleased, and enter upon 
 the business." We all stood up in an instant, and Sir Harry filed 
 off from the left, very discreetly, countermarching behind the 
 chairs towards the door. After him Sir Giles, in the same manner. 
 The simple squire made a sudden start to follow; but the justice 
 of the quorum whipped between upon the stand of the stairs. A 
 maid, going up with coals, made us halt, and put us into such con- 
 fusion that we stood all in a heap, without any visible possibility of 
 recovering our order ; for the young jackanapes seemed to make a 
 jest of this matter, and had so contrived, by pressing in amongst 
 us, under pretence of making way, that his grandfather was got 
 into the middle, and he knew nobody was of quality to stir a step 
 
THE 'TATLER: 249 
 
 until Sir Harry moved first. We were fixed in this perplexity for 
 some time, until we heard a very loud noise in the street ; and Sir 
 Harry asking what it was, I, to make them move, said, " It was 
 fire." Upon this all ran down as fast as they could, without order 
 or ceremony, until we got into the street, where we drew up in 
 very good order, and filed down Sheer Lane; the impertinent 
 templar driving us before him as in a string, and pointing to his 
 acquaintance who passed by. When we came to Dick's coffee- 
 house we were at our old difficulty, and took up the street upon 
 the same ceremony. We proceeded through the entry, and were 
 so necessarily kept in order by the situation that we were now got 
 into the coffee-house itself; where, as soon as we arrived, we 
 repeated our civilities to each other : after which we marched up 
 to the high table, which has an ascent to it inclosed in the middle 
 of the room. The whole house was alarmed at this entry, made 
 up of persons of so much state and rusticity. Sir Harry called for 
 a mug of ale and " Dyer's Letter." The boy brought the ale in an 
 instant, but said, " they did not take in the letter." " No !" says 
 Sir Harry, " then take back your mug ; we are like indeed to have 
 good liquor at this house ! " Here the templar tipped me a 
 second wink, and, if I had not looked very grave upon him, I 
 found he was disposed to be very familiar with me. In short, I 
 observed, after a long pause, that the gentlemen did not care to 
 enter upon business until after their morning draught, for which 
 reason I called for a bottle of mum ; and finding that had no effect 
 upon them, I ordered a second, and a third ; after which Sir 
 Harry reached over to me, and told me in a low voice, " that 
 place was too public for business; but he would call upon me 
 again to-morrow morning at my own lodgings, and bring some 
 more friends with him." ' 
 
 No. 88. The ' Tatler.'— Nov. i, 1709. 
 
 The ' Tatler ' has been much surprised by the manoeuvres of a 
 
 studious neighbour. 
 
 ' From my own Apartment, October 31. 
 
 ' I was this morning awakened by a sudden shake of the 
 
 house ; and as soon as I had got a little out of my consternation, 
 
 I felt another, which was followed by two or three repetitions ol 
 
 the same convulsion. I got up as fast as possible, girt on my rapier, 
 
250 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 T 
 
 and snatched up my hat, when my landlady came up to me, and 
 told me, " that the gentlewoman of the next house begged me to 
 step thither, for that a lodger that she had taken in was run mad ; 
 and she desired my advice." I went immediately. Our neighbour 
 told us, " she had the day before let her second floor to a very 
 genteel youngish man, who told her he kept extraordinary good 
 hours, and was generally at home most part of the morning and 
 evening at study; but that this morning he had for an hour 
 together made this extravagant noise which 
 jj we then heard." I went up stairs with my 
 
 hand upon the hilt of my rapier, and ap- 
 proached this new lodger's door. I looked 
 in at the key-hole, and there I saw a well- 
 made man look with great attention on a book, 
 and on a sudden jump into the air so high, 
 that his head almost touched the ceiling. He 
 came down safe on his right foot, and again 
 flew up, alighting on his left ; then looked 
 again at his book, and, holding out his right 
 leg, put it into such a quivering motion, that 
 I thought that he would have shaken it off. 
 He used the left after the same manner, 
 when on a sudden, to my great surprise, he 
 stooped himself incredibly low, and turned 
 gently on his toes. After this circular motion, 
 he continued bent in that humble posture for 
 some time looking on his book. After this, 
 he recovered himself with a sudden spring, 
 and flew round the room in all the violence 
 and disorder imaginable, until he made a full 
 pause for want of breath. In this interim my 
 woman asked " what I thought ? " I whispered 
 " that I thought this learned person an enthu- 
 siast, who possibly had his education in the 
 Peripatetic way, which was a sect of philoso- 
 phers, who always studied when walking." 
 Observing him much out of breath, I thought 
 
 " " it the best time to master him if he were 
 
 disordered, and knocked at his door. I was surprised to find him 
 
THE 'TATLER: 251 
 
 open it, and say with great civility and good mien, " that he hoped 
 he had not disturbed us." I believed him in a lucid interval, and 
 desired " he would please to let me see his book." He did so, 
 smiling. I could not make anything of it, and, therefore, asked " in 
 what language it was writ ? " He said, " it was one he studied with 
 great application • but it was his profession to teach it, and could not 
 communicate his knowledge without a consideration." I answered 
 that I hoped he would hereafter keep his thoughts to himself, for 
 his meditations this morning had cost me three coffee dishes and a 
 clean pipe. He seemed concerned at that, and told me " he was a 
 dancing master, and had been reading a dance or two before he 
 went out, which had been written by one who taught at an 
 academy in France." He observed me at a stand, and informed 
 me, " that now articulate motions as well as sounds were expressed 
 by proper characters ; and that there is nothing so common as to 
 communicate a dance by a letter." I besought him hereafter to 
 meditate in a ground room, for that otherwise it would be impos- 
 sible for an artist of any other kind to live near him, and that I 
 was sure several of his thoughts this morning would have shaken 
 my spectacles off my nose, had I been myself at study.' 
 
 No. 91. The ' Tatter.' — Nov. 8, 1709. 
 
 One of the celebrated beauties of 1709 pays the 'Tatler' a 
 friendly visit to obtain his counsel on the choice of her future 
 husband, being perplexed between two suitors — between inclina- 
 tion on one hand and riches on the other. 
 
 ' From my own Apartment, November 7. 
 1 1 was very much surprised this evening with a visit from one 
 of the top Toasts of the town, who came privately in a chair, and 
 bolted into my room, while 
 I was reading a chapter of 
 Agrippa upon the occult 
 sciences ; but, as she en- 
 tered with all the air and 
 bloom that nature ever 
 bestowed on woman, I 
 threw down the conjurer 
 and met the charmer. I had no sooner placed her at my right 
 
252 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 hand by the fire, but she opened to me the reason of her visit. 
 " Mr. Bickerstaff," said the fine creature, "I have been your corre- 
 spondent some time, though I never saw you before ; I have writ 
 by the name of Maria. You have told me you are too far gone in 
 life to think of love. Therefore I am answered as to the passion 
 I spoke of; and," continued she, smiling, " I will not stay until you 
 grow young again, as you men never fail to do in your dotage; but am 
 come to consult you as to disposing of myself to another. My person 
 you see, my fortune is very considerable ; but I am at present 
 under much perplexity how to act in a great conjuncture. I have 
 two lovers, Crassus and Lorio. Crassus is prodigiously rich, but 
 has no one distinguishing quality. Lorio has travelled, is well 
 bred, pleasant in discourse, discreet in his conduct, agreeable in 
 his person ; and with all this, he has a competency of fortune 
 without superfluity. When I consider Lorio, my mind is filled 
 with an idea of the great satisfactions of a pleasant conversation. 
 When I think of Crassus, my equipage, numerous servants, gay 
 liveries, and various dresses, are opposed to the charms of his 
 rival. In a word, when I cast my eyes upon Lorio, I forget and 
 despise fortune ; when I behold Crassus, I think only of pleasing 
 my vanity, and enjoying an uncontrolled expense in all the- 
 pleasures of life, except love." ' 
 
 The ' Tatler ' naturally advised the lady that the man of her 
 affections, rather than the lover who could gratify her vanity with 
 outward show, would afford her the truest happiness, and coun- 
 selled her to keep her thoughts of happiness within the means of 
 her fortune, and not to measure it by comparison with the mere 
 riches of others. 
 
 No. 93. The ' Tatler.' — Nov. 12, 1709. 
 
 The 'Tatler,' from his eagerness to promote social reforms, has 
 succeeded in drawing upon himself numerous challenges from the 
 individuals who have considered themselves aggrieved by his 
 writings. 
 
 'From my own Apartment, November 11. 
 
 ' I have several hints and advertisements from unknown hands, 
 that some who are enemies to my labours design to demand the 
 fashionable way of satisfaction for the disturbance my lucubrations 
 
THE l TATLER. 
 
 253 
 
 have given them. I confess that as things now stand I do not 
 know how to deny such inviters, and am preparing myself 
 accordingly. I have bought pumps, and foils, and am every 
 morning practising in my chamber. My neighbour, the dancing- 
 master, has demanded of me, " why I take this liberty since I will 
 not allow it to him ? " but I answered, " his was an act of indif- 
 ferent nature, and mine of necessity." My late treatises against 
 duels have so far disobliged the fraternity of the noble science of 
 defence, that I can get none of them to show me so much as one 
 pass. I am, therefore, obliged to learn by book, and have 
 accordingly several volumes, wherein all the postures are exactly 
 delineated. I must confess I am shy of letting people see me at 
 this exercise, because of my flannel waistcoat, and my spectacles, 
 which I am forced to fix on the better to observe the posture of 
 the enemy. 
 
 'I have upon my chamber walls drawn at full length the 
 figures of all sorts of men, from eight feet to three feet two inches. 
 
 Within this height, I take it, that all the fighting men of Great 
 Britain are comprehended. But as I push, I make allowance 
 for my being of a lank and spare body, and have chalked out in 
 every figure my own dimensions ; for I scorn to rob any man of his 
 life by taking advantage of his breadth ; therefore, I press purely 
 in a line down from his nose, and take no more of him to assault 
 than he has of me ; for, to speak impartially, if a lean fellow 
 wounds a fat one in any part to the right or left, whether it be in 
 carte or in tierce, beyond the dimensions of the said lean fellow's 
 own breadth, I take it to be murder, and such a murder as is below 
 a gentleman to commit. • As I am spare, I am also very tall, and 
 behave myself with relation to that advantage with the same 
 punctilio, and I am ready to stoop or stand, according to the 
 statue of my adversary. 
 
254 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 1 1 must confess that I have had great success this morning, 
 and have hit every figure round the room in a mortal part, without 
 receiving the least hurt, except a little scratch by falling on my 
 face, in pushing at one at the lower end of my chamber ; but I 
 recovered so quick, and jumped so nimbly on my guard, that, if he 
 had been alive, he could not have hurt me. It is confessed I 
 have written against duels with some warmth ; but in all my dis- 
 courses I have not ever said that I knew how a gentleman could 
 avoid a duel if he were provoked to it ; and since that custom is 
 now become a law, I know nothing but the legislative power, with 
 new animadversions upon it, can put us in a capacity of denying 
 challenges, though we were afterwards hanged for it. But no more 
 of this at present. As things stand, I shall put up with no more 
 affronts ; and I shall be so far from taking ill words that I will not 
 take ill looks. I therefore warn all hot young fellows not to look 
 hereafter more terrible than their neighbours ; for, if they stare at 
 me with their hats cocked higher than other people, I will not bear 
 it. Nay, I give warning to all people in general to look kindly at 
 me ; for I will bear no frowns, even from ladies ; and if any 
 woman pretends to look scornfully at me, I shall demand satisfac- 
 tion of the next of kin of the masculine gender.' 
 
 No. 96. The 'Tatter.' — Nov. 19, 1709. 
 
 The 'Tatler,' in despair of effecting his object by discou- 
 raging certain acts of foppery, endeavours to carry out his 
 principle by an opposite course of treatment. 
 
 ' From my own Apartment, November 18. 
 1 When an engineer finds his guns have not had their intended 
 effect, he changes his batteries. I am forced at present to take 
 this method ; and instead of continuing to write against the singu- 
 larity some are guilty of in their habit and behaviour, I shall 
 henceforth desire them to persevere in it ; and not only so, but 
 shall take it as a favour of all the coxcombs in the town, if they 
 will set marks upon themselves, and by some particular in their 
 dress show to what class they belong. It would be very obliging 
 in all such persons, who feel in themselves that they are not of 
 sound understanding, to give the world notice of it, and spare 
 
THE 'tatler: 
 
 255 
 
 mankind the pains of finding them out. A cane upon the fifth 
 button shall from henceforth be the sign of a dapper; 
 red-heeled shoes and an hat hung upon one side of 
 the head shall signify a smart ; a good periwig made 
 into a twist, with a brisk cock, shall speak a mettled 
 fellow : and an upper lip covered with snuff, a coffee- 
 house statesman. But as it is required that all cox- 
 combs hang out their signs, it is, on the other hand, ex- 
 pected that men of real merit should avoid anything 
 particular in their dress, gait, or behaviour. For, as we 
 old men delight in proverbs, I cannot forbear bringing 
 out one on this occasion, that " good wine needs no bush." 
 
 ' I must not leave this subject without reflecting on several 
 persons I have lately met, who at a distance seem very terrible ; 
 but upon a stricter enquiry into their looks and features, appear as 
 meek and harmless as any of my neighbours. These are country 
 gentlemen, who of late years have taken up a humour of coming 
 to town in red coats, whom an arch wag of my acquaintance used 
 to describe very well by calling them " sheep in wolves' clothing." 
 I have often wondered that honest gentlemen, who are good 
 neighbours, and live quietly in their own possessions, should take 
 it into their heads to frighten the town after this unreasonable 
 manner. I shall think myself obliged, if they persist in so un- 
 natural a dress, notwithstanding any posts they may have in the 
 militia, to give away their red coats to any of the soldiery who 
 shall think fit to strip them, provided the said soldiers can make it 
 appear that they belong to a regiment where there is a deficiency 
 
 in the clothing. About two days ago I was walking in the park, 
 and accidentally met a rural esquire, clothed in all the types 
 above mentioned, with a carriage and behaviour made entirely out 
 
256 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 of his own head. He was of a bulk and stature larger than ordi- 
 nary, had a red coat, flung open to show a gay calamancho waist- 
 coat. His periwig fell in a very considerable bush upon each 
 shoulder. His arms naturally swung at an unreasonable distance 
 from his sides ; which, with the advantage of a cane that he bran- 
 dished in a great variety of irregular motions, made it unsafe for 
 any one to walk within several yards of him. In this manner he 
 took up the whole Mall, his spectators moving on each side of it, 
 whilst he cocked up his hat, and marched directly for Westmin- 
 ster. I cannot tell who this gentleman is, but for my comfort 
 may say, with the lover in Terence, who lost sight of a fine young 
 lady, " Wherever thou art, thou canst not be long concealed." ' 
 
 No. 103. The 'Tatler.' — Dec. 6, 1709. 
 
 These toys will once to serious mischiefs fall, 
 When he is laughed at, when he's jeer'd by all. 
 
 Creech (ab Hor., Ars. Poet. v. 452). 
 
 The ' Tatler,' pursuing his vocation as a censor of manners, is 
 presumed to have established a court, before which ail bearers of 
 canes, snuff-boxes, perfumed handkerchiefs, perspective glasses, 
 &c, are brought, that they may, upon showing proper cause, have 
 licenses granted for carrying the same ; but upon conviction that 
 these appendages of fashion are adopted merely out of frivolous 
 show, the articles thus exposed are ordered to become forfeited. 
 
 ' Having despatched this set of my petitioners, the bearers of 
 canes, there came in a well-dressed man, with a glass tube in one 
 hand, and his petition in the other. Upon his entering the room, 
 he threw back the right side of his wig, put forward his right leg, 
 and advancing the glass to his right eye, aimed it directly at me. 
 In the meanwhile, to make my observations also, I put on my 
 
THE 'TATLER: 257 
 
 spectacles; in which posture we surveyed each other for some 
 time. Upon the removal of our glasses, I desired him to read his 
 petition, which he did very promptly and easily ; though at the 
 same time it sets forth " that he could see nothing distinctly, and 
 was within very few degrees of being utterly blind," concluding 
 with a prayer, " that he might be permitted to strengthen his sight 
 by a glass." In answer to this, I told him " he might sometimes 
 extend it to his own destruction. As you are now," said I, " you 
 are out of the reach of beauty; the shafts of the finest eyes lose 
 their force before they can come at you ; you cannot distinguish a 
 Toast from an orange-wench ; you can see a whole circle of beauty 
 without any interruption from an impertinent face to discompose 
 you. In short, what are snares for others " — my petitioner would 
 hear no more, but told me very seriously, " Mr. BickerstafF, you 
 quite mistake your man ; it is the joy, the pleasure, the employ- 
 ment of my life to frequent public assemblies and gaze upon the 
 fair." In a word, 1 found his use of a glass was occasioned by no 
 other infirmity but his vanity, and was not so much designed to 
 make him see as to make him be seen and distinguished by 
 others. I therefore refused him a license for a perspective, but 
 allowed him a pair of spectacles, with full permission to use them 
 in any public assembly as he should think fit. He was followed 
 by so very few of this order of men, that I have reason to hope 
 that this sort of cheat is almost at an end. 
 
 ' Little follies in dress and behaviour lead to greater evils. 
 The bearing to be laughed at for such singularity teaches us 
 insensibly an impertinent fortitude, and enables us to bear public 
 censure for things that most substansiably deserve it. By this 
 means they open a gate to folly, and often render a man so ridi- 
 culous as to discredit his virtues and capacities, and unqualify him 
 from doing any good in the world. Besides, the giving in to un- 
 common habits of this nature, it is a want of that humble deference 
 which is due to mankind, and, what is worst of all, the certain 
 indication of some secret flaw in the mind of the person that 
 commits them. 
 
 ' When I was a young man, I remember a gentleman of great 
 integrity and worth was very remarkable for wearing a broad 
 belt and a hanger instead of a fashionable sword, though in 
 other points a very well-bred man. I suspected him at first sight 
 
258 
 
 THACKERA YANA. 
 
 to have something wrong in him, but was not able for a long time 
 to discover any collateral proofs of it. I watched him narrowly 
 lor six-and-thirty years, when at last, to the surprise of every- 
 
 body but myself, who had long expected to see the folly break 
 out, he married his own cook-maid.' 
 
 No. 108. The 'Tatler.' — Dec. 17, 1709. 
 
 Thus while the mute creation downward bend 
 Their sight, and to their earthly mother tend, 
 Man looks aloft, and with erected eyes 
 Beholds his own hereditary skies. — Dry den. 
 
 The 'Tatler,' for a little rational recreation, has visited the 
 theatre, hoping to enlarge his ideas; but even in 1709 we find 
 a passion for mere acrobatic exhibitions engaging and corrupt- 
 ing the popular taste. 
 
 1 While I was in suspense, expecting every moment to see 
 my old friend Mr. Betterton appear in all the majesty of distress, 
 to my unspeakable amazement there came up a monster with a 
 face between his feet, and as I was looking on he raised himself 
 on one leg in such a perpendicular posture that the other grew 
 in a direct line above his head. It afterwards twisted itself 
 into the motions and wreathings of several different animals, and, 
 
the i tatler: 
 
 259 
 
 after great variety of shapes and transformations, went 
 stage in the figure of a human creature. 
 The admiration, the applause, the satis- 
 faction of the audience, during this 
 strange entertainment, is not to be ex- 
 pressed. I was very much out of coun- 
 tenance for my dear countrymen, and 
 looked about with some apprehension, 
 for fear any foreigner should be present. 
 Is it possible, thought I, that human 
 nature can rejoice in its disgrace, and 
 take pleasure in seeing its own figure 
 turned to ridicule and distorted into 
 forms that raise horror and aversion ! ' 
 
 off the 
 
 No. 109. The ' Tatler.' — Dec. 20, 1709. 
 
 In this giddy, busy maze, 
 I lose the sunshine of my days. — Francis. 
 
 A fine lady has condescended to consult the ' Tatler ' on a 
 trifling matter ; the solemnity of her state — an admirable picture 
 of the equipage of a fine lady of that period — electrifies the phi- 
 losopher and amazes his simple neighbours. 
 
 ' Sheer Lane, December 19. 
 'There has not some years been such a tumult in our neigh 
 bourhood as this evening, about six. At the lower end of the 
 lane, the word was given that there was a great funeral coming by. 
 The next moment came forward, in a very hasty instead of a 
 solemn manner, a long train of lights, when at last a footman, in 
 very high youth and health, with all his force, ran through the 
 whole art of beating the door of the house next to me, and ended 
 his rattle with the true finishing rap. This did not only bring one 
 to the door at which he knocked, but to that of everyone in the 
 lane in an instant. Among the rest, my country-maid took the 
 alarm, and immediately running to me, told me " there was a fine, 
 fine lady, who had three men with burial torches making way 
 before her, carried by two men upon poles, with looking-glasses 
 each side of her, and one glass also before, she herself appearing 
 
26o 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 the prettiest that ever was." The girl was going on in her story, 
 when the lady was come to my door in her chair, having mistaken 
 the house. As soon as she entered I saw she was Mr. Isaac's 
 scholar, by her speaking air, and the becoming stop she made 
 when she began her apology. " You will be surprised, sir," 
 
 said she, " that I take this liberty, who am utterly a stranger to 
 you ; besides that, it may be thought an indecorum that I visit a 
 man." She made here a pretty hesitation, and held her fan to 
 her face. Then, as if recovering her resolution, she proceeded, 
 " But I think you have said, that men of your age are of no 
 sex ; therefore, I may be as free with you as with one of my 
 own." ' 
 
 The fine lady consults Mr. Bickerstaff on a trivial subject; 
 she then describes to him the honour he should esteem her visit ; 
 the number of calls she is compelled to make, out of custom or 
 ceremony, taking her miles round ; several acquaintances on her 
 visiting list having been punctually called on every week, and yet 
 never seen for more than a year. Then follows an account of a 
 visiting list for 1708 : — 
 
 Mrs. Court wood — Debtor. 
 
 To seventeen hundred and 
 four visits received . . 1704 
 
 Per contra — Creditor. 
 
 By eleven hundred and 
 
 nine paid .... 1 109 
 Due to balance . . . 595- 
 
 1704 
 
THE 'TATLER: 261 
 
 No. in. The 'Tatler.' — Dec. 24, 1709. 
 
 Oh ! mortal man, thou that art born in sin ! 
 
 The Bellmarfs Midnight Homily. 
 
 Mr. BickerstafF is meditating on mental infirmities ; after 
 examining the faults of others, he is disposed to philosophise on 
 his own bad propensities, and his cautiousness to keep them within 
 reasonable subjection. 
 
 ' I have somewhere either read or heard a very memorable 
 sentence, " that a man would be a most insupportable monster, 
 should he have the faults that are incident to his years, constitu- 
 tion, profession, family, religion, age, and country ; " and yet 
 every man is in danger of them all. For this reason, as I am a^ 
 old man, I take particular care to avoid being covetous, and tell- 
 ing long stories. As I am choleric, I forbear not only swearing, 
 but all interjections of fretting, as pugh ! or pish ! and the like. 
 As I am a lay-man, I resolve not to conceive an aversion for a 
 wise and good man, because his 
 coat is of a different colour from 
 mine. As I am descended of 
 the ancient family of the Bick- 
 erstaffs, I never call a man of 
 merit an upstart. As a Pro- 
 testant, I do not suffer my zeal 
 so far to transport me as to 
 name the Pope and the Devil 
 together. As I am fallen into 
 this degenerate age, I guard my- 
 self particularly against the folly 
 
 I have now been speaking of. As I am an Englishman, I am 
 very cautious not to hate a stranger, or despise a poor palatine/ 
 
 No. 116. The < Tatler.'— Jan. 5, 17 10. 
 
 The ' Tatler/ still maintaining his court for the examination of 
 frivolities in costume, is engaged in giving judgment on female 
 fashions. The hooped petticoat is the subject before his wor- 
 shipful board. A fair offender has been captured, and stripped of 
 her encumbrances until she is reduced to dimensions which will 
 
262 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 allow her to enter the house; the petticoat is then hung up to 
 the roof — its ample dimensions covering the entire court like a 
 canopy. The late wearer had the sense to confess that she ' should 
 be glad to see an example made of it, that she wore it for no 
 other reason but that she had a mind to look as big and burly as 
 other persons of her quality, and that she kept out of it as long as 
 she could and until she began to appear little in the eyes of her 
 acquaintance.' After hearing arguments concerning the encourage- 
 ment the wearing of these monstrous appendages offered to the 
 woollen manufacturers, to the rope and cord makers, and to the 
 whalebone fisheries of Greenland, the 'Tatler' pronounced his 
 decision that the expense thus entailed on fathers and husbands, 
 and the prejudice to the ladies themselves, ' who could never 
 expect to have any money in the pocket if they laid out so much 
 on the petticoat,' together with the fact that since the introduction 
 of these garments several persons of quality were in the habit of 
 cutting up their cast gowns to strengthen their stiffening, instead 
 of bestowing them as perquisites or in charity, detennined him to 
 seize the petticoat as a forfeiture, to be sent as a present to a 
 widow gentlewoman, who had five daughters, to be made into 
 petticoats for each, the remainder to be returned to be cut up into 
 stomachers and caps, facings for waistcoat sleeves, and other gar- 
 niture. He thus concludes : ' I consider woman as a beautiful, 
 romantic animal, that may be adorned with furs and feathers, 
 
 pearls and diamonds, ores and 
 silks. The lynx shall cast its 
 skin at her feet to make her a 
 tippet ; the peacock, parrot, and 
 swan shall pay contributions to 
 her muff; the sea shall be 
 searched for shells, and the 
 rocks for gems ; and every part 
 of nature furnish out its share 
 towards the embellishment of a 
 creature that is the most consummate work of it. All this I shall 
 indulge them in; but as for the -petticoat I have been speaking of, 
 I neither can nor will allow it.' 
 
THE 'TATLER: 263 
 
 No. 145. The 'Tatler.' — March 14,1710. 
 
 Nescio quis teneros oculus mihi fascinat agnos. — Virg. Ed. III. 103. 
 Ah ! what ill eyes bewitch my tender limbs ? 
 
 ' This paper was allotted for taking into consideration a late 
 request of two indulgent parents, touching the care of a young 
 daughter, whom they design to send to a boarding-school, or keep 
 at home, according to my determination ; but I am diverted from 
 that subject by letters which I have received from several ladies, 
 complaining of a certain sect of professed enemies to the repose 
 of the fair sex, called oglers. These are, it seems, gentlemen who 
 look with deep attention on one object at the playhouses, and are 
 ever staring all round them in churches. It is urged by my cor- 
 respondents, that they do all 
 that is possible to keep their 
 eyes off these insnarers ; but 
 that, by what power they 
 know not, both their diver- 
 sions and devotions are in- 
 terrupted by them in such a 
 manner as that they cannot 
 attend to either, without 
 
 stealing looks at the persons whose eyes are fixed upon them. By 
 this means, my petitioners say, they find themselves grow insen- 
 sibly less offended, and in time enamoured of these their enemies. 
 What is required of me on this occasion is, that as I love and 
 study to preserve the better part of mankind, the females, I would 
 give them some account of this dangerous way of assault ; against 
 which there is so little defence, that it lays ambush for the sight 
 itself, and makes them seeingly, knowingly, willingly, and forcibly 
 go on to their own captivity. The naturalists tell us that the 
 rattlesnake will fix himself under a tree where he sees a squirrel 
 playing; and when he has once got the exchange of a glance 
 from the pretty wanton, will give it such a sudden stroke on its 
 imagination, that though it may play from bough to bough, and 
 strive to avert its eyes from it for some time, yet it comes nearer 
 and nearer, by little intervals looking another way, until it drops 
 into the jaws of the animal, which it knew gazed at it for no other 
 
264 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 reason but to ruin it. I did not believe this piece of philosophy 
 until the night when I made my observations of the play of eyes at 
 the opera, where I then saw the same thing pass between an 
 ogler and a coquette.' 
 
 No. 146. The ' Tatter.'— March 16, 1710. 
 
 Intrust thy fortune to the Powers above; 
 Leave them to manage for thee, and to grant 
 What their unerring wisdom sees thee want : 
 In wisdom as in greatness they excel ; 
 Ah ! that we lov'd ourselves but half so well ! 
 We, blindly by our headstrong passions led, 
 Are hot for action, and desire to wed ; 
 Then wish for heirs, but to the gods alone 
 Our future offspring and our wives are known. 
 
 Juv. Sat. Dryden. 
 
 ' As I was sitting after dinner 
 in my elbow-chair, I took up 
 Homer, and dipped into that 
 famous speech of Achilles to 
 Priam,* in which he tells him 
 that Jupiter has by him two 
 great vessels, the one filled with 
 blessings, and the other with 
 misfortunes; out of which he 
 mingles a composition for every 
 man that comes into the world. 
 This passage so exceedingly pleased me, that, as I fell insensibly 
 into my afternoon's slumber, it wrought my imagination into the 
 following dream : — 
 
 Two urns by Jove's high throne have ever stood, 
 The source of evil one, and one of good ; 
 From thence the cup of mortal man he fills, 
 Blessings to those, to those distributes ills ; 
 To most he mingles both : the wretch decreed 
 To taste the bad, unmixed, is curst indeed; 
 Pursu'd by wrongs, by meagre famine driven, 
 He wanders, outcast both of earth and heaven. 
 
 Pope's Horn. II. XIV. Ver. 863. 
 
THE l TATLER: 265 
 
 'When Jupiter took into his hands the government of the 
 world, the several parts of nature with the presiding deities did 
 homage to him. One presented him with a mountain of winds, 
 another with a magazine of hail, and a third with a pile of thun- 
 derbolts. The Stars offered up their influences ; Ocean gave his 
 trident, Earth her fruits, and the Sun his seasons. 
 
 ' Among others the Destinies advanced with two great urns, 
 one of which was fixed on the right hand of Jove's throne, and the 
 other on the left. The first was filled with all the blessings, the 
 second with all the calamities, of human life. Jupiter, in the 
 beginning of his reign, poured forth plentifully from the right 
 hand; but as mankind, degenerating, became unworthy of his 
 blessings, he broached the other vessel, which filled the earth 
 with pain and poverty, battles and distempers, jealousy and false- 
 hood, intoxicating pleasures and untimely deaths. He finally, in 
 despair at the depravity of human nature, resolved to recall his 
 gifts and lay them in store until the world should be inhabited by 
 a more deserving race. 
 
 1 The three sisters of Destiny immediately repaired to the 
 earth in search of the several blessings which had been scattered 
 over it, but found great difficulties in their task. The first places 
 they resorted to, as the most likely of success, were cities, palaces, 
 and courts; but instead of meeting with what they looked for 
 here, they found nothing but envy, repining, uneasiness, and the 
 like bitter ingredients of the left-hand vessel ; whereas, to their 
 great surprise, they discovered content, cheerfulness, health, inno- 
 cence, and other the most substantial blessings of life, in cottages, 
 shades, and solitudes. In other places the blessings had been 
 converted into calamities, and misfortunes had become real 
 benefits, while in many cases the two had entered into alliance. In 
 their perplexity the Destinies were compelled to throw all the bless- 
 ings and calamities into one vessel, and leave them to Jupiter to 
 use his own discretion in their future distribution.' 
 
 No. 148. The 'Tatler.' — March 21, 17 10. 
 
 They ransack ev'ry element for choice 
 Of ev'ry fish and fowl ? at any price. 
 
 1 I may, perhaps, be thought extravagant in my notion ; but I 
 confess I am apt to impute the dishonours that sometimes happen 
 
266 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 in great families to the inflaming diet which is so much in fashion. 
 For this reason we see the florid complexion, the strong limb, and 
 the hale constitution are to be found among the meaner sort of 
 people, or in the wild gentry who have been educated among the 
 woods or mountains ; whereas many great families are insensibly 
 fallen off from the athletic constitution of their progenitors, and are 
 dwindled away into a pale, sickly, spindle-legged generation of 
 valetudinarians. 
 
 ' I look upon a French ragout to be as pernicious to the 
 stomach as a glass of spirits; and when I see a young lady 
 swallow all the instigatipns of high soups, seasoned sauces, and 
 forced meats, I have wondered at the despair or tedious sighing 
 of her lovers. 
 
 1 The rules among these false delicates are, to be as contra- 
 dictory as they can be to nature. They admit of nothing at their 
 
 tables in its natural form, or without some disguise. They are to 
 eat everything before it comes in season, and to leave it off as 
 soon as it is good to be eaten. 
 
 'I remember I was last summer invited to a friend's house, 
 who is a great admirer of the French cookery, and, as the phrase 
 is, " eats well." At our sitting down, I found the table covered 
 with a great variety of unknown dishes. I was mightily at a loss 
 to learn what they were, and therefore did not know where to help 
 myself. That which stood before me I took to be roasted porcu- 
 pine — however, I did not care for asking questions— and have since 
 been informed that it was only a larded turkey. I afterwards 
 passed my eye over several hashes, which I do not know the 
 
THE 'TATLER: 267 
 
 names of to this day ; and, hearing that they were delicacies, did 
 not think fit to meddle with them. Among other dainties, I saw 
 something like a pheasant, and therefore desired to be helped to a 
 wing of it ; but, to my great surprise, my friend told me it was a 
 rabbit, which is a sort of meat I never cared for. Even the 
 dessert was so pleasingly devised and ingeniously arranged that I 
 cared not to displace it. 
 
 ' As soon as this show was over, I took my leave, that I might 
 finish my dinner at my own house ; for as I in everything love 
 what is simple and natural, so particularly my food. Two plain 
 dishes, with two or three good-natured, cheerful, ingenuous 
 friends, would make me more pleased and vain than all that 
 pomp and luxury can bestow ; for it is my maxim that " he keeps 
 the greatest table who has the most valuable company at it." ' 
 
 No. 155. The * Tatler.' — April 17, 17 10. 
 
 When he had lost all business of his own, 
 He ran in quest of news through all the town. 
 
 1 There lived some years since, within my neighbourhood, a 
 very grave person, an upholsterer,* who seemed a man of more 
 than ordinary application to business. He was a very early riser, 
 and was often abroad two or three hours before any of his neigh- 
 bours. He had a particular carefulness in the knitting of his 
 brows, and a kind of impatience in all his motions, that plainly 
 discovered he was always intent upon matters of importance. 
 Upon my inquiry into his life and conversation, I found him to be 
 the greatest newsmonger in our quarter; that he rose before day 
 to read the "Postman;" and that he would take two or three 
 turns to the other end of the town before his neighbours were up, 
 to see if there were any Dutch mails come in. He had a wife and 
 several children; but was much more inquisitive to know what 
 passed in Poland than in his own family, and was in greater pain 
 and anxiety of mind for King Augustus's welfare than that of his 
 nearest relations. He looked extremely thin in a dearth of news, 
 and never enjoyed himself in a westerly wind. This indefatigable 
 
 * Arne of Covent Garden, the father of Dr. Thomas Arne, the musician, 
 composer, and dramatic writer, who died in 1778. 
 
268 
 
 T HACK ERA YANA. 
 
 kind of life was the ruin of his shop j for, about the time that his 
 favourite prince left the crown of Poland, he broke and disappeared. 
 ' This man and his affairs had been long out of my mind, until 
 about three days ago, as I was walking in St. James's Park, I 
 heard somebody at a distance hemming after me ; and who should 
 it be but my old neighbour the upholsterer ! I saw he 
 
 was 
 
 •MM 
 
 reduced to extreme poverty, by certain shabby superfluities in his 
 dress ; for, notwithstanding that it was a very sultry day for the 
 time of the year, he wore a loose great-coat and a muff, with a 
 long campaign wig out of curl ; to which he had added the orna- 
 ment of a pair of black garters buckled under the knee. Upon 
 his coming up to me, I was going to inquire into his present 
 circumstances ; but I was prevented by his asking me, with a 
 whisper, " whether the last letters brought any accounts that one 
 might rely upon from Bender." I told him, " None that I heard 
 of;" and asked him "whether he had yet married his eldest 
 daughter." He told me, "No; but pray," says he, u tell me sin- 
 cerely, what are your thoughts of the King of Sweden?" For, 
 though his wife and children were starving, I found his chief con- 
 cern at present was for this great monarch. I told him " that I 
 looked upon him as one of the first heroes of the age." " But 
 pray," says he, " do you think there is any truth in the story of his 
 wound?" And finding me surprised at the question, " Nay," says 
 he, "I only propose it to you." I answered "that I thought 
 there was no reason to doubt of it." " But why in the heel," says 
 he, " more than in any other part of the body ? " I Because," 
 said I, " the bullet chanced to light there." 
 
 1 We were now got to the upper end of the Mall, where were 
 three or four very odd fellows sitting together upon the bench. 
 
THE 'TATLER. 
 
 269 
 
 These I found were all of them politicians, who used to sun them- 
 selves in that place every day about dinner-time. Observing them 
 
 to be curiosities in their kind, and my friend's acquaintance, I sat 
 down among them. 
 
 * The chief politician of the bench was a great asserter of para- 
 doxes. He told us, with a seeming concern, "that, by some 
 news he had lately read from Muscovy, it appeared to him that 
 there was a storm gathering in the Black Sea, which might in time 
 do hurt to the naval forces of this nation." To this he added, 
 "that, for his part, he could not wish to see the Turk driven out 
 of Europe, which, he believed, could not but be prejudicial to our 
 woollen manufacture." 
 
 ' He backed his assertions with so many broken hints and 
 such a show of depth and wisdom, that we gave ourselves up to 
 his opinions. The discourse at length fell upon a point which 
 seldom escapes a knot of true-born Englishmen ; whether, in case 
 of a religious war, the Protestants would not be too strong for the 
 Papists. This we unanimously determined on the Protestant side.* 
 
 ' When we had fully discussed this point, my friend the uphol- 
 sterer began to exert himself upon the present negociations of 
 
 * One who sat on my right hand, and, as I found by his discourse, had 
 been in the West Indies, assured us ' that it would be a very easy matter for 
 the Protestants to beat the Pope at sea ; ' and added, ' that whenever such a 
 war does break out, it must turn to the good of the Leeward Isles. ' Upon 
 this, one who, as I afterwards found, was the geographer of the company, told 
 us for our comfort ' that there were vast tracts of lands about the pole, inha- 
 bited by neither Protestants nor Papists, and of greater extent than all the 
 Roman Catholic dominions in Europe.' 
 
270 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 peace \ in which he deposed princes, settled the bounds of king- 
 doms, and balanced the power of Europe, with great justice and 
 impartiality. 
 
 ' I at length took my leave of the company, and was going 
 away; but had not gone thirty yards before the upholsterer 
 hemmed again after me. Upon his advancing towards me with a 
 whisper, I expected to hear some secret piece of news, which he 
 had»not thought fit to communicate to the bench ; but, instead of 
 that, he desired me in my ear to lend him half-a-crown. In com- 
 passion to so needy a statesman, and to dissipate the confusion I 
 found he was in, I told him, " if he pleased, I would give him five 
 shillings, to receive five pounds of him when the great Turk was 
 driven out of Constantinople ; " which he very readily accepted, 
 but not before he had laid down to me the impossibility of such 
 an event, as the affairs of Europe now stand. 
 
 ' This paper I design for the peculiar benefit of those worthy 
 citizens who live more in a coffee-house than in their shops, and 
 whose thoughts are so taken up with foreign affairs that they 
 forget their customers.' 
 
 No. 163. The 'Tatler.' — April 25, 17 10. 
 
 Suffenus has no more wit than a mere clown, when he attempts to write 
 verses ; and yet he is never happier than when he is scribbling ; so much does 
 he admire himself and his compositions. And, indeed, this is the foible of 
 every one of us ; for there is no man living who is not a Suffenus in one thing 
 or other. — Catul. de Suffeno, xx. 14. 
 
 * I yesterday came hither about two hours before the company 
 generally make their appearance, with a design to read over all 
 the newspapers ; but, upon my sitting down, I was accosted by 
 Ned Softly, who saw me from a corner in the other end of the 
 room, where I found he had been writing something. "Mr. 
 Bickerstaff," says he, "I observe, by a late paper of yours, that 
 you and I are just of a humour ; for you must know, of all imper- 
 tinences, there is nothing which I so much hate as news. I never 
 read a gazette in my life ; and never trouble my head about our 
 armies, whether they win or lose, or in what part of the world they 
 lie encamped." Without giving me time to reply, he drew a 
 paper of verses out of his pocket, telling me "that he had some- 
 
the <tatler: 
 
 71 
 
 thing that would entertain me more agreeably ; and that he would 
 desire my judgment upon every line, for that we had time enough 
 before us until the company came in." 
 
 1 Finding myself unavoidably engaged in such a conversation, 
 I was resolved to turn my pain into a pleasure, and to divert 
 myself as well as I could with so very odd a fellow. " You must 
 understand," says Xed, " that the sonnet I am going to read to 
 you was written upon a lady, who showed me some verses of her 
 own making, and is, perhaps, the best poet of our age. But you 
 shall hear it." 
 
 1 Upon which he began to read as follows : — 
 
 TO MlRA, ON HER INCOMPARABLE POEMS. 
 
 When dress'd in laurel wreaths you shine, 
 
 And tune your soft melodious notes, 
 Yoii seem a sister of the Nine, 
 
 Or Phoebus' self in petticoats. 
 
 I fancy when your song you sing 
 
 (Your song you sing with so much art) 
 
 Your pen was pluck'd from Cupid's wing ; 
 For, ah ! it wounds me like a dart. 
 
 ' " Why," says I, " this is a little nosegay of conceits, a very 
 lump of salt. Every verse has something in it that piques ; and 
 then the dart in the last line is certainly as pretty a sting on the 
 tail of an epigram, for so I think you critics call it, as ever entered 
 into the thought of a poet." " Dear Mr. BickerstarT," says he, 
 shaking me by the hand, M everybody knows you to be a judge of 
 
272 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 these things; and to tell you truly, I read over Roscommon's 
 ' Translation of Horace's Art of Poetry ' three several times before 
 I sat down to write the sonnet which I have shown you. But 
 you shall hear it again, and pray observe every line of it ; for not 
 one of them shall pass without your approbation. My friend 
 Dick Easy," continued he, " assured me he would rather have 
 written that ' Ah /' than to have been the author of the '^Eneid.' 
 
 ' He indeed objected that I made Mira's pen like a quill in one 
 of the lines and like a dart in the other. " But as to that — oh ! 
 as to that," says I, " it is but supposing Cupid to be like a porcu- 
 pine, and his quills and darts will be the same thing." He was 
 going to embrace me for the hint ; but half-a-dozen critics coming 
 into the room, whose faces he did not like, he conveyed the 
 sonnet into his pocket, and whispered me in the ear, " he would 
 show it me again as soon as his man had written it over fair." 
 
 No. 178. The 'Tatter.' — May 30, 17 10. 
 
 ' When we look into the delightful history of the most inge- 
 nious Don Quixote of La Mahcha, and consider the exercises and 
 manner of life of that renowned gentleman, we cannot 
 but admire the exquisite genius and discerning spirit 
 of Michael Cervantes ; who has not only painted his 
 adventurer with great mastery in the conspicuous 
 parts of his story, which relate to love and honour, 
 but also intimated in his ordinary life, in his economy 
 and furniture, the infallible symptoms he gave of his 
 growing phrenzy, before he declared himself a knight- 
 errant. His hall was furnished with old lances, hal- 
 berds, and morions; his food, lentiles; his dress, 
 amorous. He slept moderately, rose early, and spent 
 his time in hunting. When by watchfulness and exercise he was 
 thus qualified for the hardships of his intended peregrinations, he 
 had nothing more to do but to fall hard to study; and, before he 
 should apply himself to the practical part, get into the methods of 
 making love and war by reading books of knighthood. As for 
 raising tender passions in him, Cervantes reports that he was won- 
 derfully delighted with a smooth, intricate sentence ; and when 
 they listened at his study-door, they could frequently hear him 
 
THE 'TATLER: 273 
 
 read aloud, " The reason of the unreasonableness, which against 
 my reason is wrought, doth so weaken my reason, as with all 
 reason I do justly complain of your beauty." Again he would 
 pause until he came to another charming sentence, and, with the 
 most pleasing accent imaginable, be loud at a new paragraph : 
 " The high heavens, which, with your divinity,- do fortify you 
 divinely with the stars, make you deserveress of the deserts that 
 your greatness deserves.'' With these and other such passages, 
 says my author, the poor gentleman grew distracted, and was 
 breaking his brains day and night to understand and unravel their 
 sense. 
 
 1 What I am now warning the people of is, that the newspapers 
 of this island are as pernicious to weak heads in England as ever 
 books of chivalry to Spain ; and therefore shall do all that in me 
 lies, with the utmost care and vigilance imaginable, to prevent these 
 growing evils.' 
 
 Mr. BickerstafT goes on to describe the private Bedlam he has 
 provided for such as are seized with these rabid political maladies. 
 
 No. 186. The ' Tatler.' — June 17, 1710. 
 
 Virtue alone ennobles human kind, 
 
 And power should on her glorious footsteps wait. 
 
 ' There is nothing more necessary to establish reputation than 
 to suspend the enjoyment of it. He that cannot bear the sense of 
 merit with silence, must of necessity destroy it; for fame being 
 the general mistress of mankind, whoever gives it to himself 
 insults all to whom he relates any circumstances to his own advan- 
 tage. He is considered as an open ravisher of that beauty for 
 whom all others pine in silence. But some minds are so incapable 
 of any temperance in this particular, that on every second in their 
 discourse you may observe an earnestness in their eyes which 
 shows they wait for your approbation ; and perhaps the next 
 instant cast an eye in a glass to see how they like themselves. 
 
 ' Walking the other day in a neighbouring inn of court, I saw a 
 more happy and more graceful orator than I ever before Had 
 heard or read of. A youth of about nineteen years of age was in 
 an Indian dressing-gown and laced cap, pleading a cause before 
 a glass. The young fellow had a very good air, and seemed to 
 
 T 
 
274 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 hold his brief in his hand rather to help his action, than that he 
 
 wanted notes for his further infor- 
 mation. When I first began to 
 observe him, I feared he would 
 soon be alarmed; but he was so 
 zealous for his client, and so favour- 
 ably received by the court, that he 
 went on with great fluency to in- 
 form the bench that he humbly 
 hoped they would not let the 
 merit of the cause suffer by the youth and inexperience of the 
 pleader; that in all things he submitted to their candour; and 
 modestly desired they would not conclude but that strength of 
 argument and force of reason may be consistent with grace of 
 action and comeliness of person. 
 
 ' To me (who see people every day in the midst of crowds, 
 whomsoever they seem to address, talk only to themselves and of 
 themselves) this orator was not so extravagant a man as perhaps 
 another would have thought him ; but I took part in his success, 
 and was very glad to find he had in his favour judgment and costs, 
 without any manner of opposition.' 
 
 No. 204. The 'Tatler.' — July 29, 1710. 
 
 He with rapture hears 
 
 A title tingling in his tender ears. 
 
 Francis's Horace, Sat. V. 32. 
 
 'Were distinctions used ac- 
 cording to the rules of reason 
 and sense, those additions 
 to men's names would be, 
 as they were first intended, 
 significant of their worth, and 
 not their persons; so that 
 in some cases it might be proper to say of a deceased am- 
 bassador, " The man is dead ; but his excellency will never die." It 
 is, methinks, very unjust to laugh at a Quaker, because he has taken 
 up a- resolution to treat you with a word the most expressive of 
 complaisance that can be thought of, and with an air of good- 
 
THE 'TATLER. 
 
 275 
 
 nature and charity calls you Friend. I say, it is very unjust to 
 rally him for this term to a stranger, when you yourself, in all your 
 phrases of distinction, confound phrases of honour into no use at all. 
 1 Tom Courtly, who is the pink of courtesy, is an instance of 
 how little moment an undistinguishing application of sounds of 
 honour are to those who understand themselves. Tom never fails 
 of paying his obeisance to every man he sees who has title or 
 office to make him conspicuous ; but his deference is wholly given 
 to outward considerations. I, who know him, can tell him within 
 half an acre how much land one man has more than another by 
 Tom's bow to him. Title is all he knows of honour, and civility, 
 of friendship ; for this reason, because he cares for no man living, 
 he is religiously strict in performing, what he calls, his respects to 
 you. To this end he is very learned in pedigree, and will abate 
 something in the ceremony of his approaches to a man, if he is in 
 any doubt about the bearing of his coat of arms. What is the 
 most pleasant of all his character is, that he acts with a sort of 
 integrity in these impertinences ; and though he would not do any 
 solid kindness, he is wonderfully just and careful not to wrong his 
 quality. But as integrity is very scarce in the world, I cannot 
 forbear having respect for the impertinent : it is some virtue to be 
 bound by anything. Tom and I are upon very good terms, for 
 the respect he has for the house of BickerstarT. Though one 
 cannot but laugh at his serious consideration of things so little 
 essential, one must have a value even for a frivolous good con- 
 science.' 
 
276 
 
 TH ACKER A YANA. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Thackeray's researches amongst the writings of the 
 early essayists — Continued. 
 
 Extracts of characteristic passages from the works of ' The Humourists, ' 
 from Thackeray's library, illustrated with original marginal sketches by the 
 author's hand — The Series of The 'Guardian,' 1713 — Introduction — 
 Steele's programme — Authors who contributed to the ' Guardian ' — Para- 
 graphs and Pencillings. 
 
 Introduction to the ' Guardian.' 
 
 The seventh volume of the ' Spectator,' 
 originally intended to be the last, was 
 concluded Dec. 6, 1712, and the first 
 paper of the ' Guardian ' made its ap- 
 pearance March 12, 17 13. This work 
 had been actually projected by Steele 
 before the conclusion of the ' Spec- 
 tator.' In a letter to Pope, dated 
 Nov. 12, i7i2,he thus announces his 
 intention : ' I desire you would let 
 me know whether you are at leisure or 
 not? I have a design which I shall 
 open in a month or two hence, with 
 the assistance of the few like yourself. If your thoughts are un- 
 engaged, I shall explain myself further.' 
 
 It appears that Steele undertook this work without any previous 
 concert with his illustrious colleague, and that he pursued it for 
 many weeks with vigour and assiduity, and with very little assistance 
 from his friends or from the letter-box. 
 
 The views of our essayists in the choice of a name have been 
 either to select one that did not pledge them to any particular 
 plan, or one that expressed humility, or promised little, and might 
 
THE 'GUARDIAN: 277 
 
 afterwards excite an agreeable surprise by its unexpected fertility. 
 Of the former class are the ' Spectator,' ' World,' ' Mirror;' of the 
 latter class are the ' Tatler,' ' Rambler,' ' Idler,' 'Adventurer,' &c. 
 The 'Connoisseur' is a name of some danger, because of great 
 promise ; and the 'Guardian' might perhaps have been liable to the 
 same objection, if 'Nestor Ironside' had not tempered the aus- 
 terity of the preceptor with the playfulness of the friend and com- 
 panion, and partaken of the amusements of his pupils while he 
 provided for their instruction. And with respect to his ' literary 
 speculations, as well as his merriment and burlesque,' we may 
 surely allow him some latitude, when we consider that the public 
 at large were put under his guardianship, and that the demand for 
 variety became consequently more extensive. The ' Guardian ' — 
 which was in effect a continuation of the ' Spectator ' under 
 another name — was published daily until Oct. 1, 17 13, No. 175, 
 when it was abruptly closed by Steele, in consequence of a quarrel 
 between him and Tonson, the bookseller. Pope informs us that 
 Steele stood engaged to his publisher in articles of penalty 
 for all the ' Guardians ; ' and by desisting two days, and 
 altering the title of the paper, was quit of the obligation. Steele 
 started the ' Englishman,' which was printed for Buckley, with a 
 view of carrying his politics into a new paper in which they might 
 be in place. Steele behaved vindictively to Tonson, and ruth- 
 lessly destroyed the original publisher's legitimate rights of pro- 
 prietorship in the joint enterprise by advertising the 'Englishman' 
 as the sequel of the ' Guardian.' 
 
 In his first paper he likewise declared that he had 'for 
 valuable considerations purchased the lion* (frequently alluded to 
 in the papers), desk, pen, ink, and paper, and all other goods of 
 Nestor Ironside, Esq., who had thought fit to write no more 
 himself.' 
 
 Whatever stormy circumstances, declares Dr. Chalmers, at- 
 tended the conclusion, it appears that Steele came prepared for 
 the commencement of the ' Guardian,' with more industry and 
 richer stores than usual. He wrote a great many papers in succes- 
 
 * The gilt lion's-head letter-box, used in the publication of the ' Guardian,' 
 and then placed in Button's coffee-house, was afterwards for many years at the 
 Shakespeare tavern, in Covent Garden. The master of this tavern becoming 
 insolvent, the lion's head was sold among his effects, Nov. 8, 1804, for ^17 10s. 
 
278 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 sion with very little assistance from his contemporaries. Addison, 
 for what reason is not very obvious, unless he was then looking to 
 higher employment, did not make his appearance until No. 67, 
 nor, with one exception, did he again contribute until No. 97, when 
 he proceeds without interruption for twenty-seven numbers, 
 during which time Steele's affairs are said to have been embar- 
 rassed. Steele's share amounts to seventy- one papers, written in 
 his happiest vein. Addison wrote fifty-one papers, and generally 
 with his accustomed excellence ; but it may perhaps be thought 
 that there is a greater proportion of serious matter, and more 
 frequent use made of the letter-box, than was usual with this 
 author. 
 
 The contributors to the ' Guardian ' were not numerous. The 
 first for quality and value was the celebrated Bishop of Cloyne, Dr. 
 George Berkeley, a man so uniformly amiable as to be ranked 
 among the first of human beings ; a writer sometimes so absurd 
 that it has been doubted whether it was possible he could be 
 serious in the principles he has laid down. His actions manifested 
 the warmest zeal for the interests of Christianity, while some of his 
 writings seemed intended to assist the cause of infidelity. The 
 respect of those who knew Dr. Berkeley, and his own excellent 
 character, have rescued his name from the imputations to which 
 his writings may have given occasion ; and to posterity he will be 
 deservedly handed down as an able champion of religion, although 
 infected with an incurable love of paradox, and somewhat tainted 
 with the pride of philosophy, which his better sense could not 
 restrain. 
 
 Dr. Berkeley's share in the * Guardian ' has been ascertained, 
 partly on the authority of his son, who claimed Nos. 3, 27, 35, 39, 
 49 ? 55? 62, 70, 77, and 126, and partly on that of the annotatcrs, 
 who added to these Nos. 83, 88, and 89. 
 
 It is asserted, on unquestionable authority, that Dr. Berkeley 
 had a guinea and a dinner with Steele for every paper he furnished. 
 This is the only circumstance that has come to light respecting 
 the payment received by the assistants in any of these works. In 
 the ' Spectator ' it is probable that Addison and Steele were joint 
 sharers or proprietors. In the case of the ' Guardian,' as already 
 noticed, there was a contract between Steele and Tonson, the 
 nature of which has not been clearly explained. 
 
THE 'GUARDIAN: 279 
 
 Pope's share of the * Guardian' can be traced with some degree 
 of certainty, and at least eight papers can be confidently assigned 
 to his pen, which entitle him to the very highest praise as an 
 essayist These are Nos. 4, n, 40, 61, 78, 91, 92, and 173. 
 
 No. 10. The 'Guardian.' — March 23, 1713. 
 
 Venit ad me ssepe clamitans 
 
 Vestitu nimhim indulges, nimium ineptus es, 
 Nimium ipse est durus praeter aequumque et bonum. 
 
 Ter. Adelph. 
 
 ' To the " Guardian:' 
 
 'Oxford, 1 7 12. 
 
 ' Sir, — I foresee that you will have many correspondents in this 
 place ; but as I have often observed, with grief of heart, that 
 scholars are wretchedly ignorant in the science I profess, I flatter 
 myself that my letter will gain a place in your papers. I have 
 made it my study, sir, in these seats of learning, to look into the 
 nature of dress, and am what they call an academical beau. I have 
 often lamented that I am obliged to wear a grave habit, since by 
 that means I have not an opportunity to introduce fashions 
 amongst our young gentlemen ; and so am forced, contrary to my 
 own inclinations, and the expectation of all who know me, to 
 appear in print. I have indeed met with some 
 success in the projects I have communicated to 
 some sparks with whom I am intimate, and I 
 cannot, without a secret triumph, confess that 
 the sleeves turned up with green velvet, which 
 now nourish throughout the university, sprung 
 originally from my invention. 
 
 'As it is necessary to have the head clear, as 
 well as the complexion, to be perfect in this part 
 of learning, I rarely mingle with the men (for I 
 abhor wine), but frequent the tea-tables of the 
 ladies. I know every part of their dress, and 
 can name all their things by their names. I 
 am consulted about every ornament they buy ; 
 and, I speak it without vanity, have a very pretty fancy to knots 
 
28o THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 and the like. Sometimes I take a needle and spot a piece of 
 muslin for pretty Patty Cross-stitch, who is my present favourite ; 
 which, she says, I do neatly enough ; or read one of your papers 
 and explain the motto, which they all like mightily. But then I 
 am a sort of petty tyrant among them, for I own I have my 
 humours. If anything be amiss, they are sure Mr. Sleek will find 
 fault ; if any hoity-toighty things make a fuss, they are sure to be 
 taken to pieces the next visit. I am the dread of poor Celia, whose 
 wrapping gown is not right India ; and am avoided by Thalestris 
 in her second-hand manteau, which several masters of arts think 
 very fine, whereas I discovered it had been scoured with half 
 an eye. 
 
 ' Though every man cannot fill his head with learning, it is in 
 anyone's power to wear a pretty periwig ; he who hath no knack 
 at writing sonnets, may however have a soft hand ; and he may 
 arch his eye-brows, who hath not strength of genius for the 
 mathematics. 
 
 'Simon Sleek.' 
 
 No. 22. The ' Guardian.' — April 6, 17 13. 
 
 My njext desire is, void care and strife, 
 To lead a soft, secure, inglorious life ; 
 A country cottage near a crystal flood, 
 A winding valley, and a lofty wood. 
 
 1 Pastoral poetry not only amuses the fancy most delightfully, 
 
 but it is likewise more indebted to it than any other sort whatever. 
 It transports us into a kind of fairy-land, where our ears are 
 
THE: 'GUARDIAN: 281 
 
 soothed with the melody of birds, bleating flocks and purling 
 streams ; our eyes are enchanted with flowery meadows, and 
 springing greens ; we are laid under cool shades, and entertained 
 with all the sweets and freshness of nature. It is a dream, it is a 
 vision, which may be real, and we believe that it is true. 
 
 ' Another characteristic of a shepherd is simplicity of manners, 
 or innocence. This is so obvious that it would be but repetition 
 to insist long upon it. I shall only remind the reader, that as the 
 pastoral life is supposed to be where nature is not much depraved, 
 sincerity and truth will generally run through it. Some slight 
 transgressions, for the sake of variety, may be admitted, which in 
 effect will only serve to set off the simplicity of it in general. I 
 cannot better illustrate this rule than by the following example of a 
 swain who found his mistress asleep : — 
 
 Once Delia slept, on easy moss reclined, 
 Her lovely limbs half bare, and rude the wind ; 
 I smooth'd her coats, and stole a silent kiss ; 
 Condemn me, shepherds, if I did amiss. 
 
 1 A third sign of a swain is, that something of religion, and even 
 superstition, is part of his character. For we find that those who 
 have lived easy lives in the country, and contemplate the works of 
 nature, live in the greatest awe of their author ; nor doth this 
 humour prevail less now than of old. Our peasants as sincerely 
 believe the tales of goblins and fairies as the heathens those of 
 fawns, nymphs, and satyrs. Hence we find the w T orks of Virgil 
 and Theocritus sprinkled with left-handed ravens, blasted oaks, 
 witchcrafts, evil eyes, and the like. And I observe with great 
 pleasure, that our English author of the pastorals I have quoted 
 hath practised this secret with admirable judgment.' 
 
 No. 29. The ' Guardian.' — April 14, 1713. 
 
 Ride si sapis Mart. Epig. 
 
 Laugh if you're wise. 
 
 ' In order to look into any person's temper I generally make my 
 first observation upon his laugh ; whether he is easily moved, and 
 w r hat are the passages which throw him into that agreeable kind of 
 convulsion. People are never so unguarded as when they are pleased ; 
 
282 THA CKERA TANA. 
 
 and laughter being a visible symptom of some inward satisfaction; 
 it is then if ever we may believe the face. It may be remarked in 
 general under this head, that the laugh of men of wit is, for the 
 most part, but a faint, constrained kind of half laugh, as such per- 
 sons are never without some diffidence about them ; but that of 
 fools is the most honest, natural, open laugh in the world. 
 
 ' As the playhouse affords us the most occasions of observing 
 upon the behaviour of the face, it may be useful (for the direction 
 of those who would be critics this way) to remark, that the virgin 
 ladies usually dispose themselves in front of the boxes ; the young 
 married women compose the second row ; while the rear is gene- 
 rally made up of mothers of long standing, undesigning maids, and 
 contented widows. Whoever will cast his eye upon them under 
 this view, during the representation of a play, will find me so far 
 in the right that a double entendre strikes the first row into an 
 affected gravity, or careless indolence ; the second will venture at 
 a smile ; but the third take the conceit entirely, and express their 
 mirth in a downright laugh. 
 
 ' When I descend to particulars, I find the reserved prude will 
 relapse into a smile at the extravagant freedoms of the coquette, 
 the coquette in her turn laughs at the starchness and awkward 
 affectation of the prude ; the man of letters is tickled with the 
 vanity and ignorance of the fop, and the fop confesses his ridicule 
 at the unpoliteness of the pedant. 
 
 ' I fancy we may range the several kinds of laughers under the 
 following heads : — 
 
 The Dimplers, The Laughers, 
 
 The Smilers, The Grinners, 
 
 The Horse-laughers. 
 
 ' The Dimple is practised to give a grace to the features, and is 
 frequently made a bait to entangle a gazing lover. This was 
 called by the ancients the Chian laugh. 
 
 1 The Smile is for the most part confined to the fair sex, and their. 
 
THE 'GUARDIAN: 283 
 
 male retinue. It expresses our satisfaction in a silent sort of ap- 
 probation, doth not too much disorder the features, and is practised 
 by lovers of the most delicate address. This tender motion of the 
 physiognomy the ancients called the Ionic laugh. 
 
 ' The Laugh among us is the common risus of the ancients. 
 
 ' The Grin, by writers of antiquity, is called the Syncrusian, and 
 was then, as it is at this time, made use of to display a beautiful 
 set of teeth. 
 
 ' The Horse-laugh, or the Sardonic, is made use of with great 
 success in all kinds of disputation. The proficients in this kind, 
 by a well-timed laugh, will baffle the most solid argument. This 
 upon all occasions supplies the want of reason, is always received 
 with great applause in coffee-house disputes ; and that side the 
 laugh joins with is generally observed to gain the better of his 
 antagonist. 
 
 ' The prude hath a wonderful esteem for the Chian laugh, or 
 Dimple ; she looks upon all the other kinds of laughter as excesses 
 of levity, and is never seen upon the most extravagant jests to dis- 
 order her countenance with the ruffle of a smile. Her lips are 
 composed with a primness peculiar to her character; all her 
 modesty seems collected into her face, and she but very rarely 
 takes the freedom to sink her cheek into a dimple. 
 
 ' The coquette is a proficient in laughter, and can run through 
 the w r hole exercise of the features. She subdues the formal lover 
 with the dimple, accosts the fop with the smile, joins with the wit 
 in the downright laugh ; to vary the air of her countenance fre- 
 quently rallies with the grin ; and when she has ridiculed her lover 
 quite out of his understanding, to complete his misfortune, strikes 
 him dumb with the horse-laugh.' 
 
 No. 34. The 'Guardian.' — April 20, 17 13. 
 
 Mores multorum vidit. — Hor. 
 
 He many men and many manners saw. 
 
 ' I happened to fall in with a circle of young ladies very lately, 
 at their afternoon tea, when the conversation ran upon fine gen- 
 tlemen. From the several characters that were given, and the 
 exceptions that were made, as this or that gentleman happened to 
 
284 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 be named, I found that a lady is not difficult to be pleased, and 
 that the town swarms with fine gentlemen. A nimble pair of 
 heels, a smooth complexion, a full-bottomed wig, a laced shirt, an 
 embroidered suit, a pair of fringed gloves, a hat and feather, alike, 
 one or all, ennoble a man, and raise him above the vulgar in 
 female imagination. 
 
 ' I could not forbear smiling at one of the prettiest and live- 
 liest of this gay assembly, who excepted to the gentility of Sir 
 William Hearty, because he wore a frieze coat, and breakfasted 
 upon toast and ale. I pretended to admire the fineness of her 
 taste, and to strike in with her in ridiculing those awkward healthy 
 gentlemen that seek to make nourishment the chief end of eating. 
 I gave her an account of an honest Yorkshire gentleman, who, 
 when I was a traveller, used to invite his ac- 
 quaintance at Paris to break their fast with him 
 upon cold roast beef and mum. There was, 
 I remember, a little French marquis, who was 
 often pleased to rally him unmercifully upon 
 beef and pudding, of which our countryman 
 would despatch a pound or two with great alacrity, while his anta- 
 gonist was picking at a mushroom or the haunch of a frog. I could 
 perceive the lady was pleased with what I said, and we parted very 
 good friends, by virtue of a maxim I always observe, never to con- 
 tradict or reason with a sprightly female. I went home, however, full 
 of a great many serious reflections upon what had passed; and though 
 in complaisance I disguised my sentiments, to keep up the good 
 humour of my fair companions, and to avoid being looked upon 
 as a testy old fellow ; yet, out of the good-will I bear the sex, and 
 to prevent for the future their being imposed upon by counterfeits, 
 I shall give them the distinguishing marks of a tme fine gentle- 
 man. 
 
 ' ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 ' For the Benefit of my Female Readers. 
 
 ' N.B. — The gilt chariot, the diamond ring, the gold snuff-box, 
 and brocade sword-knot are no essential parts of a fine gentleman ; 
 but may be used by him, provided he casts his eye upon them but 
 once a day.' 
 
THE 'GUARDIAN: 
 
 285 
 
 No. 44. The * Guard: an.' — May 1, 1713. 
 
 This path conducts us to the Elysian fields. 
 
 ' I have frequently observed in the walks belonging to all the 
 inns of courts, a set of old fellows who appear to be humourists, 
 and wrapped up in themselves. I am very glad to observe that 
 these sages of this peripatetic sect study tranquillity and indo- 
 lence of body and mind in the neighbourhood of so much con- 
 tention as is carried on among the students of Littleton. Now 
 these, who are the jest of such as take themselves, and the world 
 usually takes to be in prosperity, are the very persons whose hap- 
 piness, were it understood, would be looked upon with burning 
 envy. 
 
 6 I fell into the discovery of them in the following manner : 
 One day last summer, being particularly under the dominion of 
 the spleen, I resolved to soothe my melancholy in the company of 
 such, whose appearance promised a full return of any complaints I 
 
 could possibly utter. Living near Gray's Inn walks, I went 
 thither in search of the persons above described, and found some 
 of them seated upon a bench, where, as Milton sings — 
 The unpierced shade imbrown'd their noontide bow'r. 
 
 ' I squeezed in among them ; and they did not only receive 
 my moanings with singular humanity, but gave me all possible 
 encouragement to enlarge them. If the blackness of my spleen 
 raised an imaginary distemper of body, some one of them immedi- 
 ately sympathised with me. If I spake of any disappointment in my 
 fortune, another of them would abate my sorrowing by recounting 
 to me his own defeat upon the very same circumstances. If I 
 touched upon overlooked merit, .the whole assembly seemed to 
 condole with me very feelingly upon that particular. In short, I 
 could not make myself so calamitous in mind, body, or circum- 
 
286 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 stances, but some one of them was upon a level with me. When 
 I had wound up my discourse, and was ripe for their intended 
 raillery, at first they crowned my narration with several piteous 
 sighs and groans j but after a short pause, and a signal given for 
 the onset, they burst out into a most incomprehensible fit of 
 laughter. You may be sure I was notably out of countenance, 
 which gave occasion to a second explosion of the same mirth. 
 What troubled me most was, that their figure, age, and short 
 swords preserved them from any imputation of cowardice upon 
 refusal of battle, and their number from insult. I had now 
 no other way to be upon good terms with them, but desiring 
 I might be admitted into this fraternity. This was at first 
 vigorously opposed, it being objected to me that I affected 
 too much the appearance of a happy man to be received into a 
 society so proud of appearing the most afflicted. However, as I 
 only seemed to be what they really were, I am admitted, by way 
 of triumph, upon probation for a year ; and if within that time it 
 shall be possible for them to infuse any of their gaiety into me, I 
 can, at Monmouth Street, upon mighty easy terms, purchase the 
 robes necessary for my instalment into this order ; and when they 
 have made me as happy, shall be willing to appear as miserable, as 
 any of this assembly.' 
 
 No. 60. The ' Guardian.' — May 20, 1713. 
 
 Nihil legebat quod non excerperet. — Plin. 
 
 He picked something out of everything he read. 
 
 There is nothing in which men deceive 
 themselves more ridiculously than in point 
 of reading, and which, as it is constantly 
 practised under the notion of improvement, 
 has less advantage. 
 
 'When I was sent to Oxford, my 
 chiefest expense ran upon books, and my 
 only expense upon numbers \ so that you 
 may be sure I had what they call a choice 
 collection, sometimes buying by the pound, 
 sometimes by the dozen? at others by the hundred. 
 
THE 'GUARDIAN: 287 
 
 ' As I always held it necessary to read in public places, by way 
 of ostentation, but could not possibly travel with a library in my 
 pockets, I took the following method to gratify this errantry of 
 mine. I contrived a little pocket-book, each leaf of which was a 
 different author, so that my wandering was indulged and con- 
 cealed within the same enclosure. 
 
 ' This extravagant humour, which should seem to pronounce 
 me irrecoverable, had the contrary effect ; and my hand and eye 
 being thus confined to a single book, in a little time reconciled 
 me to the perusal of a single author. However, I chose such a 
 one as had as little connection as possible, turning to the Proverbs 
 of Solomon, where the best instructions are thrown together in the 
 most beautiful range imaginable, and where I found all that 
 variety which I had before sought in so many different authors, 
 and which was so necessary to beguile my attention. By these 
 proper degrees I have made so glorious a reformation in my 
 studies that I can keep company with Tully in his most extended 
 periods, and work through the continued narrations of the most 
 prolix historian. I now read nothing without making exact col- 
 lections, and shall shortly give the world an instance of this in the 
 publication of the following discourses. The first is a learned 
 controversy about the existence of griffins, in which I hope to con- 
 vince the world that notwithstanding such a mixed creature has 
 been allowed by iElian, Solinus, Mela, and Herodotus, that they 
 have been perfectly mistaken in the matter, and shall support my- 
 self by the authority of Albertus, Pliny, Aldrovandus, and Matthias 
 Michovius ; which two last have clearly argued that animal out of 
 the creation. 
 
 1 The second is a treatise of sternutation or sneezing, with the 
 original custom of saluting or blessing upon that motion ; as also 
 with a problem from Aristotle, showing why sneezing from noon 
 to night was innocent enough; from night to noon, extremely 
 unfortunate. 
 
 1 The third and most curious is my discourse upon the nature 
 of the lake Asphaltites, or the lake of Sodom ; being a very care- 
 ful inquiry, whether brickbats and iron will swim in that lake, and 
 feathers sink, as Pliny and Mandevil have averred. 
 
 1 The discussing these difficulties without perplexity or pre- 
 judice, the labour of collecting and collating matters of this 
 
288 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 nature, will, I hope, in a great measure atone for the idle hours I 
 have trifled away in matters of less importance.' 
 
 No. 77. The ' Guardian.' — June 9, 1713. 
 
 Certum voto pete finem. — Hor. Ep. 
 To wishes fix an end. — Creech. 
 
 ' The same weakness, or defect in the mind, from whence 
 pedantry takes its rise, does likewise give birth to avarice. Words 
 and money are both to be regarded as only marks of things ; and 
 as the knowledge of the one, so the possession of the other is of 
 no use, unless directed to a farther end. A mutual commerce 
 could not be carried on among men, if some common standard 
 had not been agreed upon, to which the value of all the various 
 productions of art and nature were reducible, and which might be 
 of the same use in the conveyance of property as words are in that 
 of ideas. Gold, by its beauty, scarceness, and durable nature, 
 
 seems designed by Providence to a purpose so excellent and 
 advantageous to mankind. Upon these considerations that metal 
 came first into esteem. But such who cannot see beyond what 
 is nearest in the pursuit, beholding mankind touched with an 
 affection for gold, and being ignorant of the true reason that 
 introduced this odd passion into human nature, imagine some 
 intrinsic worth in the metal to be the cause of it. Hence the 
 same men who, had they been turned towards learning, would 
 
THE 'GUARDIAN: 289 
 
 have employed themselves in laying up words in their memory, 
 are by a different application employed to as much purpose in 
 treasuring up gold in their coffers. They differ only in the object; 
 the principle on which they act, and the inward frame of mind, is 
 the same in the critic and the miser.' 
 
 No. 84. The 'Guardian.' — yunei*], 1713. 
 
 Non missura cutem nisi plena cruoris hirudo. — Hor. 
 Sticking like leeches, till they burst with blood. — Roscommon. 
 
 ' To Nestor Ironside, Esq. 
 
 1 Sir, — Presuming you may sometimes condescend to take cogni- 
 zance of small enormities, I lay one here before you without farther 
 apology. 
 
 ' There is a silly habit among many of our minor orators, who 
 display their eloquence in the several coffee-houses of this fair city, 
 to the no small annoyance of considerable numbers of her Ma- 
 jesty's spruce and loving subjects, and that is, a humour they have 
 got of twisting off your buttons. These in- 
 genious gentlemen are not able to advance 
 three words till they have got fast hold of one 
 of your buttons ; but as soon as they have 
 procured such an excellent handle for dis- 
 course, they will indeed proceed with great 
 elocution. I know not how well some may 
 have escaped ; but for my part, I have often 
 met with them to my cost ; having, I believe, 
 within these three years last past, been argued 
 out of several dozen ; insomuch that I have for some time or- 
 dered my tailor to bring me home with every suit a dozen at least 
 of spare ones, to supply the place of such as, from time to time, 
 are detached as a help to discourse, by the vehement gentlemen 
 before mentioned. In the coffee-houses here about the Temple, 
 you may harangue even among our dabblers in politics for about 
 two buttons a- day, and many times for less. I had yesterday the 
 good fortune to receive very considerable additions to my know- 
 ledge in state affairs ; and I find this morning that it has not stood 
 me in above a button. Besides the gentlemen before mentioned, 
 
 u 
 
2QO THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 there are others who are no less active in their harangues, but with 
 gentle services rather than robberies. These, while they are 
 improving your understanding, are at the same time setting off 
 your person : they will new plait and adjust your neckcloth. 
 
 ' I am of opinion that no orator or speaker in public or private 
 has any right to meddle with anybody's clothes but his own. I 
 indulge men in the liberty of playing with their own hats, fumbling 
 in their own pockets, settling their own periwigs, tossing or twisting 
 their heads, and all other gesticulations which may contribute to 
 their elocution, but pronounce it an infringement of the English 
 liberty, for a man to keep his neighbour's person in custody in 
 order to force a hearing ; and farther declare, that all assent 
 given by an auditor under such constraint is of itself void and of 
 no effect.' 
 
 No. 92. The 'Guardian.' — June 26, 1713. 
 
 Homunculi quanti sunt, cum recognito ! — Plautus. 
 Now I recollect, how considerable are these little men. 
 
 ' The most eminent persons of our club are, a little poet, a little 
 lover, a little politician, and a little hero. 
 
 ' Tom Tiptoe, a dapper little fellow, 
 is the most gallant lover of the age. He 
 is particularly nice in his habiliments ; 
 and to the end justice may be done in 
 that way, constantly employs the same 
 artist who makes attire for the neigh- 
 bouring princes, and ladies of quality. 
 The vivacity of his temper inclines him 
 sometimes to boast of the favours of 
 the fair. He was the other night ex- 
 cusing his absence from the club on account of an assignation with 
 a lady (and, as he had the vanity to tell us, a tall one too), but 
 one of the company, who was his confidant, assured us she was a 
 woman of humour, and consented she would permit him to kiss 
 her, but only on the condition that his toe must be tied to hers.' 
 
THE 'GUARDIAN! 291 
 
 No. too. The 'Guardian.' — July 6, 1713. 
 
 If snowy-white your neck, you still should wear 
 That, and the shoulder of the left arm, bare ; 
 Such sights ne'er fail to fire my am'rous heart, 
 And make me pant to kiss the naked part. — Congreve. 
 
 1 There is a certain female orna- 
 ment, by some called a tucker, and 
 by others the neckpiece, being a slip 
 of fine linen or muslin, that used to 
 run in a small kind of ruffle round 
 the uppermost verge of the women's 
 stays, and by that means covered a 
 great part of the shoulders and 
 bosom. Having thus given a defi- 
 nition, or rather description of the 
 
 tucker, I must take notice, that our ladies have of late thrown 
 aside this fig-leaf, and exposed in its primitive nakedness that 
 gentle swelling of the breast which it was used to conceal. 
 
 ' If we survey the pictures of our great-grandmothers in Queen 
 Elizabeth's time, we see them clothed down to the very wrists, and 
 up to the very chin. The hands and face were the only samples 
 they gave of their beautiful persons. The following age of females 
 made larger discoveries of their complexion. They first of all 
 tucked up their garments to the elbow ; and, notwithstanding the 
 tenderness of the sex, were content, for the information of man- 
 kind, to expose their arms to the coldness of the air, and injuries 
 of the weather. This artifice hath succeeded to their wishes, and 
 betrayed many to their arms, who might have escaped them had 
 they been still concealed. 
 
 1 About the same time, the ladies considering that the neck was 
 a very modest part in a human body, they freed it from those 
 yokes, I mean those monstrous linen ruffs in which the simpli- 
 city of their grandmothers had enclosed it. In proportion as the 
 age refined, the dress still sunk lower ; so that when we now say 
 a woman has a handsome neck, we reckon into it many of the ad- 
 jacent parts. The disuse of the tucker has still enlarged it, inso- 
 much that the neck of a fine woman at present takes in almost half 
 the body.' 
 
292 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 No, 114. The 'Guardian.' — yuly 22, 1713. 
 
 Take the hives, and fall to work upon the honeycombs ; the drones refuse, 
 the bees accept the proposal. 
 
 ' I think myself obliged to acquaint the 
 public that the lion's head, of which I ad- 
 vertised them about a fortnight ago, is now- 
 erected at Button's coffee-house, in Russell 
 Street, Covent Garden, where it opens its 
 mouth at all hours for the reception of such 
 intelligence as shall be thrown into it. It is 
 reckoned an excellent piece of workmanship, 
 and was designed by a great hand in imita- 
 tion of the antique Egyptian lion, the face of it being compounded 
 out of that of a lion and a wizard. The features are strong and 
 well furrowed. The whiskers are admired by all that have seen 
 them. It is planted on the western side of the coffee-house, 
 holding its paws under the chin upon a box, which contains 
 everything that he swallows. He is indeed a proper emblem of 
 knowledge and action, being all head and paws. 
 
 'I need not acquaint my readers that my lion, like a moth or 
 bookworm, feeds upon nothing but paper, and shall only beg of 
 them to diet him with wholesome and substantial food. I must 
 therefore desire that they will not gorge him either with nonsense 
 or obscenity ; and must likewise insist that his mouth must not be 
 denied with scandal, for I would not make use of him to revile the 
 human species, and satirise those who are his betters. I shall not 
 suffer him to worry any man's reputation ; nor indeed fall on any 
 person whatsoever, such only excepted as disgrace the name of 
 this generous animal, and under the title of lions contrive the ruin 
 of their fellow -subjects. Those who read the history of the Popes, 
 observe that the Leos have been the best and the Innocents the 
 worst of that species ; and I hope I shall not be thought to dero- 
 gate from my lion's character, by representing him as such a 
 peaceable, good-natured, well-designing beast.' 
 
THE 'GUARDIAN: 293 
 
 No. 129. The 'Guardian.' — Aug. 8, 1713. 
 
 And part with life, only to wound their foe. 
 
 'The "Guardian" prints the following genuine letters to en- 
 lighten readers on the cool and deliberate preparation men of honour 
 have beforetime made for murdering one another under the con- 
 venient pretences of duelling : — 
 
 ' " A Monsieur Sackville, — I that am in France hear how much 
 you attribute to yourself in this time, that I have given the world 
 
 leave to ring your praises If you call to memory, 
 
 whereas I gave you my hand last, I told you I reserved the heart 
 
 for a truer reconciliation. Be master of your own weapons and 
 time; the place wheresoever I will wait on you. By doing this you 
 shall shorten revenge, and clear the idle opinion the world hath of 
 both our worths. Ed. Bruce." 
 
 ' " A Monsieur le Baron de Kinloss, — As it shall be always far 
 from me to seek a quarrel, so will I always be ready to meet with 
 any that desire to make trial of my valour by so fair a course as 
 you require. A witness whereof yourself shall be, who within a 
 month shall receive a strict account of time, place, and weapon, 
 where you shall find me ready disposed to give you honourable 
 satisfaction by him that shall conduct you thither. In the mean- 
 time be as secret of the appointment as it seems you are desirous 
 of it. Ed. Sackville." 
 
 ' "Tergosa: August 10, 1613. 
 
 ' " A Monsieur le Baron de Kinloss, — I am ready at Tergosa, a 
 town in Zealand, to give you that satisfaction your sword can 
 tender you, accompanied with a worthy gentleman for my second, 
 in degree a knight ; and for your coming I will not limit you a 
 
294 
 
 THACKERA YANA. 
 
 peremptory day, but desire you to make a definite and speedy 
 repair, for your own honour, and fear of prevention, until which 
 time you shall find me there. Ed. Sackville." 
 
 ' " A Monsieur Sackville, — I have received your letter by your 
 man, and acknowledge you have dealt nobly with me ; and now I 
 come with all possible haste to meet you. Ed. Bruce.'" 
 
 No. 140. The 'Guardian/ — Aug. 21, 1713. 
 
 A sight might thaw old Priam's frozen age, 
 And warm e'en Nestor into amorous rage. 
 
 1 To Pope Clement VIII. Nestor Ironside, Greeting. 
 ' I have heard, with great satisfaction, that you have forbidden 
 your priests to confess any woman who appears before them 
 without a tucker ; in which you please me well. I do agree with 
 you that it is impossible for a good man to discharge his office 
 as he ought, who gives an ear to those alluring penitents that 
 discover their hearts and necks to him at the same time. I am 
 labouring, as much as in me lies, to stir up the same spirit of 
 modesty among the women of this island, and should be glad 
 we might assist one another in so good a work. In order to it, I 
 desire that you would send me over the length of a Roman lady's 
 neck, as it stood before your late prohibition. We have some 
 here who have necks of one, two, and three feet in length • some 
 
 that have necks which reach down 
 to their middles ; and, indeed, some 
 who may be said to be all neck, and 
 no body. I hope at the same time you 
 observe the stays of your female sub- 
 jects, that you have also an eye to 
 their petticoats, which rise in this 
 island daily. When the petticoat 
 reaches but to the knee, and the 
 stays fall to the fifth rib (which I 
 hear is to be the standard of each, 
 as it has been lately settled in a 
 junto of the sex), I will take care to 
 send you one of either sort, which I advertise you of beforehand, 
 that you may not compute the stature of our English women from 
 
THE 'GUARDIAN: 295 
 
 the length of their garments. In the meantime, I have desired 
 the master of a vessel, who tells me that he shall touch at Civita 
 Vecchia, to present you with a certain female machine, which I 
 believe will puzzle your infallibility to discover the use of it. Not 
 to keep you in suspense, it is what we call, in this country, a 
 hooped petticoat. I shall only beg of you to let me know whether 
 you find any garment of this nature among all the relics of your 
 female saints ; and, in particular, whether it was ever worn by any 
 of your twenty thousand virgin martyrs. 
 
 ' Yours, usque ad aras, 
 
 'Nestor Ironside.' 
 
 No. 153. The 'Guardian.' — Sept 5, 1713. 
 A mighty pomp, tho' made of little things. — Dryden, 
 
 1 If there be anything which makes human nature appear ridi- 
 culous to beings of superior faculties it must be pride. They 
 know so well the vanity of those imaginary perfections that swell 
 the heart of man, and of those little supernumerary advantages, 
 whether of birth, fortune, or title, which one man enjoys above 
 another, that it must certainly very much astonish, if it does not 
 very much divert them, when they see a mortal puffed up, and 
 valuing himself above his neighbours on any of these accounts, at 
 the same time that he is obnoxious to all the common calamities 
 of the species. 
 
 ' To set this thought in its true light, we will fancy, if you 
 please, that yonder molehill is inhabited by reasonable creatures, 
 and that every pismire (his shape and way of life only excepted) 
 is endowed with human passions. How should we smile to hear 
 one give us an account of the pedigrees, distinctions, and titles 
 that reign among them ! Observe how the whole swarm divide 
 and make way for the pismire that passes through them ! You 
 must understand he is an emmet of quality, and has better blood 
 in his veins than any pismire in the molehill. Do not you see 
 how sensible he is of it, how slow he marches forward, how the 
 whole rabble of ants keep their distance 1 Here you may observe 
 one placed upon a little eminence, and looking down on a long 
 row of labourers. He is the richest insect on this side the hillock ; 
 he has a walk of half a yard in length, and a quarter of an inch in 
 
296 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 breadth ; he keeps a hundred menial servants, and has at least 
 fifteen barleycorns in his granary. He is now chiding and beslaving 
 
 the emmet that stands before him, and who, for all that we can 
 discover, is as good an emmet as himself. 
 
 * But here comes an insect of figure ! Do not you take notice 
 of a little white straw that he carries in his mouth % That straw, 
 you must understand, he would not part with for the longest track 
 about the molehill ; did you but know what he has undergone to 
 purchase it. See how the ants of all qualities and conditions 
 swarm about him. Should this straw drop out of his mouth, you 
 would see all this numerous circle of attendants follow the next 
 that took it up, and leave the discarded insect, or run over his 
 back to come at his successor.' 
 
 No. 167. The 'Guardian/ — Sept. 22, 17 13. 
 
 Fata viam invenient. — Virg. 
 Fate the way will find. 
 
 1 The following story is translated from an Arabian manu- 
 script : — 
 
 ' " The name of Helim is still famous through all the Eastern 
 parts of the world. He was the Governor of the Black Palace, a 
 man of infinite wisdom, and chief of the physicians to Alnareschin, 
 the great King of Persia. 
 
 * " Alnareschin was the most dreadful tyrant that ever reigned 
 over that country. He was of a fearful, suspicious, and cruel nature, 
 having put to death, upon slight surmises, five-and-thirty of his 
 queens, and above twenty sons, whom he suspected of conspiring. 
 Being at length wearied with the exercise of so many cruelties, 
 and fearing the whole race of Caliphs would be extinguished, he 
 sent for Helim, the good physician, and confided his two remain- 
 ing sons, Ibrahim and Abdallah, then mere infants, to his charge, 
 requesting him to bring them up in virtuous retirement Helim 
 
THE 'GUARDIAN: 297 
 
 had an only child, a girl of noble soul, and a most beautiful person. 
 Abdallah, whose mind was of a more tender turn than that of 
 Ibrahim, grew by degrees so enamoured of her conversation that 
 he did not think he lived unless in the 'company of his beloved 
 Balsora. 
 
 ' " The fame of her beauty was so great that it came to the ears 
 of the king, who, pretending to visit the young princes, his sons, 
 demanded of Helim the sight of his fair daughter. The king was 
 so inflamed with her beauty and behaviour that he sent for Helim 
 the next morning, and told him it was now his design +0 recom- 
 pense him for all his faithful services, and that he intended to 
 make his daughter Queen of Persia. 
 
 1 " Helim, who remembered the fate of the former queens, and 
 who was also acquainted with the secret love of Abdallah, con- 
 trived to administer a sleeping draught to his daughter, and 
 announced to the king that the news of his intention had overcome 
 her. The king ordered that as he had designed to wed Balsora, 
 her body should be laid in the Black Palace among those of his 
 deceased queens. 
 
 1 " Abdallah soon fretted after his love, and Helim administered 
 a similar potion to his ward, and he was laid in the same tomb. 
 Helim, having charge of the Black Palace, awaited their revival, 
 and then secretly supplied them with sustenance, and finally con- 
 trived, by dressing them as spirits, to convey them away from this 
 sepulchre, and concealed them in a palace which had been 
 bestowed on him by the king in reward for his recovering him 
 from a dangerous illness. 
 
 ' " About ten years after their abode in this place the old king 
 died. The new king, Ibrahim, being one day out hunting, and 
 separated from his company, found himself, almost fainting with 
 heat and thirst, at the foot, of Mount Khacan, and, ascending the 
 hill, he arrived at H dim's house and requested refreshments. 
 Helim was, very luckily, there at that time, and after having set 
 before the king the choicest of wines and fruits, finding him 
 wonderfully pleased with so seasonable a treat, told him that the 
 best part of his entertainment was to come ; upon which he 
 opened to him the whole history, of what had passed. The king 
 was at once astonished and transported at so strange a relation, 
 and seeing his brother enter the room with Balsora in his hand, 
 
298 
 
 TH ACKER A YANA. 
 
 he leaped off from the sofa on which he sat, and cried out, ' Tis 
 he ! 'tis my Abdallah ! ' Having said this, he fell upon his neck 
 and wept. 
 
 ' " Ibrahim offered to divide his empire with his brother, but 
 finding the lovers preferred their retirement, he made them a 
 present of all the open country as far as they could see from the 
 top of Mount Khacan, which Abdallah continued to improve and 
 beautify until it became the most delicious spot of ground within 
 the empire, and it is, therefore, called the garden of Persia. 
 
 ' " Ibrahim, after a long and happy reign, died without children, 
 and was succeeded by Abdallah, the son of Abdallah and Balsora. 
 This was that King Abdallah who afterwards fixed the imperial 
 residence upon Mount Khacan, which continues at this time to 
 be the favourite palace of the Persian Empire." ' 
 
THE 'HUMOURIST. 299 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THACKERAY'S RESEARCHES AMONGST THE WRITINGS OF THE 
 
 early essayists — Continued. 
 
 Characteristic Passages from the Works of Humorous Writers of the ' Era of 
 the Georges,' from Thackeray's Library, illustrated with original Marginal 
 Sketches by the Author's hand — The 'Humourist,' 1724 — Extracts and 
 Pencillings. 
 
 THE 'HUMOURIST/ 
 
 BEING ESSAYS UPON SEVERAL SUBJECTS : ' DEDICATED TO THE MAN IN 
 
 THE MOON.' 
 
 London : 1724-5. 
 Of News-writers.* 
 
 Quo virtus tua te vocat, i pede fausto. — Hor. Ep. ii. 1. 2. 
 
 1 As to the filling the paper with trifles and things of no signifi- 
 cancy, the instances of it are obvious and numerous. The French 
 king's losing a rotten tooth, and the surgeon's fee thereupon j a 
 duke's taking physic, and a magistrate's swearing a small oath, and 
 a poor thief's ravishing a knapsack, have all, in their turns, fur- 
 nished out deep matter for wit and eloquence to these vigilant 
 
 * I have ever had a great respect for the most ingenious as well as most 
 populous society within the liberties, namely, the authors and carvers of news, 
 generous men ! who daily retail their histories and their parts by pennyworths, 
 and lodge high and study nightly for the instruction of such as have the Chris- 
 tian charity to lay out a few farthings for these their labours, which, like rain, 
 descend from the clouds for the benefit of the lower world. 
 
 My fellow authors are all men of martial spirits, and have an ungovernable 
 appetite for blood and mortality. As if they were the sextons of the camp, 
 and their papers the charnel-houses, they toll thousands daily to their long 
 horns ; a charitable office ! but they are paid for it. 
 
3oo 
 
 THACKERA YANA. 
 
 writers, who hawk for adventures. A man of quality cannot steal 
 out of town for a day or two, or return to it, without the attend- 
 ance of a coach and six horses, and a news-writer, who makes 
 the important secret the burden of his paper next day. I have 
 observed, that if a man be but great or rich, the most wretched 
 occasion entitles him to fill a long paragraph in print ; the cutting 
 of his corns for the purpose, or his playing at ombre, never fails to 
 merit publication. Now, if my most diligent brother-writers, who 
 are spies upon the actions and cabinets of the great, would go a 
 little farther, and tell us when his grace or his lordship broke his 
 
 custom by keeping his word, or said a witty thing, or did a gene- 
 rous one, we will freely own they tell us some news, and will thank 
 them for our pleasure and our surprise. 
 
 ' It is with concern, I see, that even the privacies of the poor 
 ladies cannot escape the eyes of these public searchers. How 
 many great ladies do they bring to bed every day of their lives ? 
 for poor madam no sooner begins to make faces, and utter the 
 least groan, but instantly an author stands with his pen in his 
 teeth, ready to hold her back, and to tell the town whether the 
 baby is boy or girl, before the midwife has pulled off her spec- 
 tacles, and described its nose. 1 
 
THE 'HUMOURIST: 301 
 
 Of a Country Entertainment. 
 
 1 1 am led by the regard which I bear to the ladies and the 
 Christmas holidays to divert my readers with the history of an 
 entertainment, where I made one at the house of a country 
 squire. 
 
 1 When I went in I found the dining-room full of ladies, to 
 whom I made a profound bow, and was repaid by a whole circle 
 of curtesies. While I was meditating, with my eyes fixed upon 
 the fire, what I had best say, I could hear one of them whisper to 
 another, "I believe he thinks we smoke tobacco;'' for, my reader 
 must know, I had omitted the country fashion, and not kissed one 
 of them. 
 
 ' At dinner we had many excuses from the lady of the house 
 for our i?idiffere?it fare, and she had as many declarations from us, 
 her guests, that all ?c>as very good. And the squire gave us the 
 
 history and extraction of every fowl that came to the table. He 
 assured us that his poultry had neither kindred nor allies any 
 where on this side of the channel. 
 
 1 As soon as we were risen from the table, our great parliament 
 of females presently resolved themselves into committees of twos 
 and threes all over the dining-room, and I perceived that every 
 party was engaged in talking scandal. 
 
 ' The ladies then went into one parlour to their tea, and we 
 men into another to our bottle, over which I was entertained with 
 many ingenious remarks on the price of barley, on dairies and the 
 sheepfold. But as the most engaging conversation is, when too 
 long, sometimes cloying, having smoked my pipe in due silence 
 and attention, I took a trip to the ladies, who had sent to know 
 whether I would drink some tea. When I made my entrance, 
 
3C2 
 
 TH ACKER A YANA. 
 
 the topic they were on was religion, in their statements about 
 which they were terribly divided, and debated with such agitation 
 and fervour, that I grew in pain for the china cups. 
 
 ' But they happily departed from this warm point, and unani- 
 mously fell backbiting their neighbours, which instantly qualified all 
 their heat and heartily reconciled them to one another, insomuch 
 that all the time the business of scandal was handling there was 
 not one dissenting voice to be heard in the whole assembly. 
 
 ' By this time the music was come, and happy was the woman 
 that could first wipe her mouth and be soonest upon her legs. In 
 the dance some moved very becomingly, but the majority made 
 such a rattle on the boards as quite drowned the music. This 
 made me call to mind your mettlesome horses, that dance on a 
 pavement to the music of their own heels. 
 
 ' We had among us the squire's eldest son, a batchelor and 
 captain of the militia. This honest gentleman, believing, as one 
 would imagine, that good humour and wit consisted in activity of 
 body and thickness of bone, was resolved to be very witty, that is 
 to say, very strong ; he therefore not only threw down most of the 
 women, and with abundance of wit hauled them round the room, 
 but gave us several farther proofs of the sprightliness of his genius, 
 by a great many leaps he made about a yard high, always remem- 
 bering to fall on somebody's toes. This ingenious fancy was 
 applauded by everyone, except the person who felt it, who never 
 happened to have complaisance enough to fall in with the general 
 laugh that was raised on that occasion. For my own part, who 
 am an occasional conformist to common custom, I was ashamed 
 
THE 'HUMOURIST.' 303 
 
 to be singular, so I even extended my mouth into a smile, and 
 put my face into a laughing posture too. His mother, observing 
 me to look pleased with her son's activity and gay deportment, 
 told me in my ear, " he was never worse company than I saw him." 
 To which I answered, "Ivow, mada?n, I believe you." y 
 
 Of the Spleen. 
 
 1 In constitutions where this humorous distemper prevails, it is 
 surprising how trifling a matter will inflame it. 
 
 ' I shall never forget an ingenious doctor of physick, who was so 
 jealous of the honour of his whiskers, which he was pleased to 
 christen " the emblems of his virility," that he resolutely made the 
 sun shine through every unhappy cat that ill-fate threw in his 
 
 way. He magnanimously professed that his spirit could not 
 brook it, that any cat in Christendom, noble or ignoble, should 
 rival the reputation of his upper lip. In every other respect our 
 physician was a well-bred person, and, which is as wonderful, 
 understood Latin. But we see the deepest learning is no charm 
 against the spleen.' 
 
 Of Ghosts. 
 
 ' All sorts of people, when they get together, will find something 
 to talk of. News, politics, and stocks comprise the conversation 
 of the busy and trading world. Rakes and men of pleasure fight 
 duels with men they never spoke to, and betray women they never 
 saw, and do twenty fine feats over their cups which they never do 
 anywhere else. And children, servants, and old women, and 
 others of the same size of understanding, please and terrify them- 
 selves and one another with spirits and goblins. In this case a 
 ghost is no more than a help to discourse. 
 
304 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 1 A late very pious but very credulous bishop was relating a 
 strange story of a demon, that haunted a girl in Lothbury, to a 
 company of gentlemen in the City, when one of them told his lord- 
 ship the following adventure : — 
 
 ' " As I was one night reading in bed, as my custom is, and all 
 my family were at rest, I heard a foot deliberately ascending the 
 stairs, and as it came nearer I heard something breathe. While I 
 was musing what it should be, three hollow knocks at my door 
 made me ask who was there, and instantly the door blew open." 
 " Ah ! sir, and pray what did you see ? " " My lord, I'll tell you. 
 A tall thin figure stood before me, with withered hair, and an 
 
 earthly aspect ; he was covered with a long sooty garment, that 
 descended to his ancles, and his waist was clasped close within a 
 broad leathern girdle. In one hand he held a black staff taller 
 than himself, and in the other a round body of pale light, which 
 shone feebly every way." "That's remarkable ! pray, sir, go on." 
 "It beckoned to me, and I followed it down stairs, and there it 
 pointed to the door, and then left me, and made a hideous noise 
 in the street." "This is really odd and surprising; but, pray now, 
 did it give you no notice what it might particularly seek or aim 
 at ? " " Yes, my lord, it was the watchman, who came to show 
 me that my servants had left all my doors open." ' 
 
THE 'HUMOURIST: 
 
 305 
 
 Of Keeping the Commandments. 
 
 ' I have been humbly of opinion for many years that the keeping 
 of the Ten Commandments was a matter not altogether unworthy 
 of our consideration and practice ; and though I am of the same 
 sentiments still, yet I dare hardly publish them, knowing that if I 
 am against the world, the world will be against me. I must not 
 affront modern politeness and the common mode. 
 
 1 Who would have the boldness to mention the first command- 
 ment to Matilda, when he has seen her curt'sying to herself in 
 the glass, and kissing her lap-dog, and worshipping these two 
 divine creatures from morning till night ? Nor is Matilda without 
 other deities ; she has several sets of china, a diamond necklace, 
 and a grey monkey ; and in spite of her parents and her reason, 
 she is guilty of will-worship to Dick Noodle. But this last is no 
 wonder at all, for Dick 
 wears fine brocade waist- 
 coats and the best Mechlin, 
 and no man of the age 
 picks his teeth with greater 
 elegance. 
 
 'And would it not be 
 equally bold and barbarous 
 to enslave a beau or a bully 
 with the tyranny of the 
 third commandment ? when 
 it's well known that these 
 worthy gentlemen and bro- 
 thers in understanding and 
 courage must either be dumb or damning themselves ; and, there- 
 fore, to stop their swearing would be to stop their breath, and gag 
 them to all eternity. Beau Wittol courts Arabella with great suc- 
 cess, and it is not doubted he will carry her, though he was never 
 heard to make any other speech or compliment to her than that 
 of " Demme, madam ! " after which he squeezes her hand, takes 
 snuff, and grins in her face with wonderful wit and gaiety. 
 Arabella smiles, and owns with her eyes her admiration of these 
 accomplishments of a. fine gentleman? 
 
 x 
 
3o6 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 Of Flattery. 
 
 * Flattery is the art of selling wind for a round sum of ready 
 mofiey. A sycophant blows up the mind of his unhappy patient 
 into a tympany, and then, like other physicians, receives a fee for 
 his poison. It is his business to instruct men to mistake them- 
 selves at a great expense ; to shut their eyes, and then pay for 
 being blind. Thus the end of excelling in any art or profession 
 is to have that excellence known and admired. 
 
 ' Sing-song Nero, an ancestor of Mr. Tom d'Urfey, would, pro- 
 bably, never have banished the sceptre and adopted the fiddle, but 
 that he found it much easier for his talents to scrape than to 
 govern. In this reign, he that had a musical ear, or could twist a 
 catgut, was made a man ; and the fiddlers ruled the Roman 
 
 empire by the singular merit of condescending to be viler thrum- 
 mers than the emperor himself. He who at that time could but 
 wonder greatly, and gape artfully at his Majesty's royal skill in 
 crowding, might be governor of a province, or Lord High 
 Treasurer, or what else he pleased. 
 
 'This imperial piper used to go the circuit, and call the 
 provinces together, to be refreshed with a tune upon the fiddle, 
 and if they had the policy to smother a laugh, and raise an 
 outrageous clap, their taxes were paid, and they had whatever they 
 asked ; and so miserably was this monarch and madman bewitched 
 by himself and his sycophants, with the character of a victorious 
 fiddler, that when he was abandoned by God and man, and, as an 
 enemy to mankind, sentenced to be whipped to death, he did not 
 
THE 'HUMOURIST 1 307 
 
 grieve so much for the loss of his empire as the loss of his fiddle. 
 When he had no mortal left to natter him, he nattered himself, 
 and his last words were, " Qualis Artifex pereo ! What a brave 
 scraper is lost in me ! " And then he buried a knife in his inside, 
 and made his death the best action of his life.' 
 
 Of Retirement. 
 
 1 To be absolute master of one's own time and actions is an 
 instance of liberty which is not found but in solitude. A man that 
 lives in a crowd is a slave, even though all that are about him fawn 
 upon him and give him the upper-hand. They call him master, or 
 
 lord, and treat him as such ; but as they hinder him from doing what 
 he otherwise would, the title and homage which they pay him is 
 flattery and contradiction* 
 
 ' I ever loved retirement, and detested crowds ; I would rather 
 pass an afternoon amongst a herd of deer, than half an hour at a 
 coronation ; and sooner eat a piece of apple-pie in a cottage, than 
 dine with a judge on the circuit. To lodge a night by myself in a 
 cave would not grieve me so much as living half a day in a fair. 
 It will look a little odd when I own that I have missed many a 
 good sennon for no other reason but that many others were to 
 
 * Nothing is so valuable as Time ; and he who comes undesired to help 
 to pass it away, might with the same civility and good sense give you to 
 understand that he is come, out of pure love to you, with a coach and six and 
 all bis family, to help you to pass away your estate. To have one's hours and 
 recesses at the mercy of visitants and intruders is arrant thraldom ; and though 
 I am an author, I farther declare I would rather pay a mere trifler half-a-crown 
 a time than be entertained with his visits and his compliments. 
 
 x 2 
 
308 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 hear it as well as myself. I have neither disliked the man, nor his 
 principles, nor his congregation, singly ; but altogether I could not 
 abide them. 
 
 ' I am, therefore, exceedingly happy in the solitude which I am 
 now enjoying. I frequently stand under a tree, and with great 
 humanity pity one half of the world, and with equal contempt 
 laugh at the other half. I shun the company of men, and seek that 
 of oxen, and sheep, and deer, and bushes ; and when I can hide 
 myself for the moiety of a day from the sight of every creature but 
 those that are dumb, I consider myself as monarch of all that I see or 
 tread upon, and fancy that Nature smiles and the sun shines for my 
 sake only. 
 
 ' My eyes at those seasons are the seat of pleasure, and I do 
 not interrupt their ranging by the impertinence of memory, or 
 solicitude of any kind. I neither look a day forward nor a day- 
 backward, but voluptuously enjoy the present moment. My mind 
 follows my senses, and refuses all images which these do not then 
 present' 
 
 Of Bubbles. 
 
 ' The world has often been ruled by men who were themselves 
 ruled by the worst qualities and most sordid views. The prince, 
 says a great French politician, governs the people, and interest governs 
 the prince. 
 
 1 Hence it comes to pass, that few men care how they rise in 
 the world, so they do but rise. They know that success expiates 
 all rogueries, and never misses reverence ; and that he who was 
 called villain or murderer in the race, is often christened saint or 
 hero at the goal. 
 
 ' The present possession of money or power is always a ready 
 patent for respect and submission. He that gets a hundred thou- 
 sand pounds by a bubble, that is, by selling a bag of wind to his 
 credulous countrymen, is a greater idol in every coffee-house in 
 town than he who is worth but ninety thousand, though acquired 
 by honest trading or ingenious arts, which profit mankind, and 
 bring credit to his country ; and thus every South Sea cub shall, 
 by the sole merit of his million, vie for respect and followers with 
 any lord in the land, though it should strangely happen, as it 
 
THE 'HUMOURIST: 309 
 
 sometimes does, that his lordship's virtues and parts ennoble his 
 title and quality. It matters not whether your father was a tinker, 
 and you, his worthy son, a broker or a sharper, provided you be 
 but a South Sea man. If you are but that, the whole earth is your 
 humble servant. 
 
 'At present, nothing further is necessary towards getting an 
 estate, that is, merit and respect, than a little money, much 
 roguery, and many lies. With what indignation have I beheld a 
 peer of the realm courting the good graces of a little haberdasher 
 with great cash, and begging a few shares in a bubble which the 
 honourable Goodman Bever had just then invented to cheat his 
 fellow-citizens. 
 
 ' But exalted boobies being below satire, I shall here only con- 
 sider a little the mischiefs brought upon the public by the projects 
 which bring them their wealth. It is melancholy to consider that 
 power follows property, when we consider at the same time into 
 what vile hands the property is fallen, and by what vile means, 
 even by bubbles and direct cheating. 
 
 ' Of our second-hand bubbles, I blame not one more than 
 another; their name shows 
 their nature. The "Great 
 Bubble" of all set them ^b^JT>/ 
 an example, and began 
 first. By it immense for- 
 tunes have been got to 
 
 particular men, most of ^m^-^ f / ^C%; *X-J 
 them obscure and un- 
 heard £>f ; happy for 
 
 their own characters, and for the nation's trade, if they had still 
 remained so. I hope our all is not yet at the mercy of sharpers, 
 ignorant, mercenary sharpers ; but I should be glad to see it 
 proved that it will not be so.' 
 
 Of Travels. 
 
 ' As every man is in his own opinion fit to come abroad in 
 print, so every occasion that can put him upon prating to mankind 
 is sufficient to put his pen running, provided he himself can hold 
 the principal character in his own book. 
 
3io 
 
 TH ACKER A YANA. 
 
 6 Of all the several classes of scribblers; there is none more silly 
 than your authors of Travels. There are several things common 
 to all these travellers, and yet peculiar to every particular traveller. 
 I have at this time in my hands a little manuscript, entitled 
 " Travels from Exeter to London, with proper observatiojis" By 
 the sagacity shown in the remarks, I take the author to be some 
 polite squire of Devon. In the following passages our traveller 
 records his observations in the great metropolis : — 
 
 1 " In this great city people are quite another thing than what 
 they are out of it ; insomuch, that he who will be very great with 
 you in the country, will scarce pull off his hat to you in London. 
 I once dined at Exeter with a couple of judges, and they talked to 
 me there, and drank my health, and we were very familiar 
 
 together. So when I saw them again passing through Westminster 
 Hall, I was glad of it with all my heart, and ran to them with a 
 broad smile, to ask them how they did, and to shake hands with 
 them ; but they looked at me so coldly and so proudly as you 
 cannot imagine, and did not seem to know me, at which I was 
 confounded, angry, and mad ; but I kept my mind to myself. 
 
 ' " At another time I was at the playhouse (which is a'rare place 
 for mirth, music, and dancing), and being in the pit, saw in one of 
 the boxes a member of Parliament of our county, with whom I 
 have been as great as hand and glove ; so being overjoyed to see 
 him, I called to him aloud by his name, and asked him how he 
 did ; but instead of saluting me again, or making any manner of 
 answer, he looked plaguy sour, and never opened his mouth, 
 though when he is in the country, he is as merry a grigg as any in 
 forty miles, and we have cracked many a bottle together/' ' 
 
THE 'HUMOURIST: 311 
 
 Of Education. 
 
 * People, put by their education into a narrow track of thinking, 
 are as much afraid of getting out of it as children of quitting their 
 leading-strings when first they learn to go. They are taught a 
 raging fondness for a parcel of names that are never explained to 
 them ; and an implacable fierceness against another set of 
 names that are never explained to them ; so they jog on in the 
 heavy steps of their forefathers, or in the wretched and narrow 
 paths of poor-spirited and ignorant pedagogues. They believe 
 they are certainly in the right, and therefore never take the pains 
 to find out that they are certainly in the wrong. 
 
 ' From this cause it comes to pass that many English gentlemen 
 are as much afraid of reading some English books as were the 
 poor blind Papists of reading books prohibited by their priests ; 
 which were, indeed, all books that had either religion or sense in 
 them. 
 
 ' How nicely are those men taught who are taught prejudice ! 
 A tincture of bigotry appears in all the actions of a bigot. He will 
 neither, with his good liking, eat or drink, or sleep or travel with 
 you, till he has received full conviction that you wash your hands 
 and pare your nails just as he does. 
 
 ' Here is a squire come down from London who is very rich, 
 and has bought a world of land in our county of Wilts ; the first 
 thing he did when he came among us was to declare that he would 
 have no dealings nor conversation with any Whig whatsoever, and, 
 to make his word good, having bespoke several beds and other 
 furniture to a considerable value of an upholsterer here, he returned 
 the whole upon the poor man's hands because his wife had a 
 brother who was a Presbyterian parson. 
 
 1 But this worthy and ingenious squire was very well served by 
 an officer of the army at a horse race here. They were drinking, 
 among other company, the King's health, at the door of a public- 
 house, on horseback ; the officer, when it came to his turn, drank 
 it to this Doughty Highflyer, who happened to be next to him, 
 upon which he made some difficulty at pledging it, suggesting that 
 public healths should not be proposed in mixed company. " You 
 
THACKERA VAN A. 
 
 would say," says the officer, " if you durst, that a High Church- 
 man would not have Iris Majesty's health proposed to him at all." 
 Upon this he swore he was a High Churchman, and was not 
 ashamed of it. " So I guessed," said the officer, " by your disloy- 
 alty." " But, Sir," says the officer, " even disloyalty to your prince 
 need not make you show your ill-breeding in company." The 
 squire chafed most violently at this, and urged, as a proof of his 
 good breeding, that he had been bred at Oxford. 
 "So I guessed," says the officer, "by your ignorance." 
 This nettled the squire to the height, and fired his 
 little soul at the expense of the outer case, for he 
 proceeded to give ill words, 
 and to call ill names ; but 
 the officer quickly taught 
 him, by the nose, to hold 
 his tongue, and ask par- 
 don. Thus it always fares 
 with the High Church in 
 fighting as it does in disputing, she is constantly beaten ; and 
 the courage and understanding of her passive sons tally with 
 each other.' 
 
 Of Women. 
 
 * Some of my fair correspondents have lately reproached me with 
 negligence and indifference to their sex. but if they could know 
 how vain I am of so obliging a reprimand, they would be sensible, 
 too, how little I deserved it. I am not so entirely a statue as to be 
 insensible of the power of beauty, nor so absolutely a woman's 
 creature as to be blind to their little weaknesses, their pretty 
 follies and impertinences. 
 
 ' It will be necessary to inform my readers that my landlady is 
 an eminent milliner, and a considerable dealer in Flanders lace. 
 She is one of those whom we call notable women ; she has run 
 through the rough and smooth of life, has a very good plain sense 
 of things, and knows the world, as far as she is concerned in it, 
 very well. I am very much entertained by her company ; her 
 discourse is sure to be seasoned with scandal, ancient and modern, 
 which, though the morals and gravity of my character do not 
 
THE 'HUMOURIST: 
 
 313 
 
 allow me to join in, yet, such is the infirmity of human nature, I 
 find it impossible to be heartily displeased with it as I ought. 
 
 ' If I come in at a time when the shop, which is commodiously 
 situated above stairs, is full of company, I usually place myself in 
 an obscure corner of it, and observe 
 what passes with secret satisfaction. Tis 
 pleasant to hear my landlady, by the 
 mere incessancy of tittle-tattle, persuade 
 her pretty customers out of all the un- 
 derstanding that they brought along with 
 them; and on the other side of the counter 
 to see the little bosoms pant with irreso- 
 lution, and swell at the view of trifles, which humour and custom 
 have taught them to call necessary and convenient. Hard by 
 perhaps stands a customer of inferior quality, a citizen's wife 
 suppose her, who is reduced to the hard necessity of regulating her 
 expenses by her husband's allowance, and is bursting with vexation 
 to know herself stinted to lace of but fifty shillings a yard ; whereas 
 if she could rise to three pounds, she might be mistress of a very 
 pretty head, and what she really thinks she need not be ashamed 
 to be seen in. But for want of this all goes wrong ; she hates her 
 superiors, despises her husband, neglects her children, and is 
 ashamed and weary of herself. 
 
 4 This seems ridiculous to my men readers, and it certainly is 
 so ; but are our follies and extravagances more reasonable ? 
 Or, rather, are they not infinitely more 
 dangerous and destructive? What vio- 
 lences do we not commit upon our con- 
 sciences for the mere gratification of our 
 avarice ? How much of the real ease and 
 happiness of life do we daily sacrifice to 
 the vanity of ambition ? Is it possible, 
 then, since even the greatest men are but a 
 bigger sort of children, to be seriously angry that women are no 
 more ? If in my old age I am struck with the harmony of a 
 rattle, or long to get astride on a hobby-horse ; if I love still to be 
 caressed and flattered, and am delighted with good words and 
 high titles, why should I be angry that my wife and daughters do 
 not play the philosopher, and have not more wit than myself? ' 
 
3H 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 Of Masquerades. 
 
 ' I must desire my reader, as he values his repose, not to let 
 his thoughts run upon anything loose or frightful for two hours at 
 least before he goes to bed. Titus Livius, the Roman historian, 
 is my usual entertainment, when I don't find myself disposed for 
 closer application. Happening to come home sooner than ordi- 
 nary two nights ago, I took it up, and read the 8th and following 
 chapters of his 39th book, where he gives us a large account of 
 some nocturnal assemblies lately set up at Rome ; I think he calls 
 them Bacchanals, and describes the ceremonies, rites of initiation, 
 and religious practices, together with their music, singing, shrieks, 
 
 and howlings. The men were dressed like satyrs, and raved like 
 persons distracted, with enthusiastic motions of the head and 
 violent distortions of the body. The ladies ran with their hair 
 about their ears, and burning torches in their hands ; some covered 
 with the skins of panthers, others with those of tigers, all attended 
 with drums and trumpets, while they themselves were the most 
 noisy. " To this diversion," says the historian, " were added the 
 pleasures of feasting and wine to draw the more in ; and when 
 wine, the night, and a mixed company of men and women, jumbled 
 together, had extinguished all sense of shame, there were extrava- 
 gances of all sorts committed ; each having that pleasure ready 
 prepared for him to which his nature was most inclined." 
 
 ' 'Tis with design I have referred my reader to the very place, 
 being resolved not to trouble him with any farther relation of these 
 midnight revellings, for fear I should draw him into the same mis- 
 
THE 'HUMOURIST. 
 
 315 
 
 fortune I unluckily fell under myself. The very idea of it makes 
 me tremble still, when I think of those monstrous habits, fantas- 
 tical gestures, hideous faces, and confused noises I had in my 
 sleep. Join to these the many assignations made for the next 
 night, the signs given for the present execution of former agree- 
 ments; and the various plots and contrivances I overheard, for 
 parting man and wife, and ruining whole families at once. These 
 frightful appearances put me into such uncommon agitations of 
 body, and I looked so ghastly at my first waking, that a friend of 
 mine, who came early in the morning to make me a visit, was 
 struck with such a terror at the sight of me, that he made to the 
 street door as fast as he could, where he had only time to bid one 
 of my servants run for a physician immediately, for he was sure I 
 was going mad.' 
 
 Of Sedition. 
 
 ' The multitude of papers is a com- 
 plaint so common in the introduc- 
 tion of every new one, that it would 
 be a shame to repeat it ; for my own 
 part, I am so far from repining at 
 this evil, that I sincerely wish there 
 were ten times the number. By this 
 means one may hope to see the 
 appetite for impertinence, defama- 
 tion, and treason (so prevalent in the 
 generality of readers) at last surfeit 
 itself, and my honoured brethren the 
 modern authors, be obliged to em- 
 ploy themselves in some more honest 
 manufacture than that of the Belles 
 Lettres. 
 
 ' 'Tis impossible for one who has 
 the least knowledge and regard for his country's interest to look 
 into a coffee-house without the greatest concern. Industry and 
 application are the true and genuine honour of a trading city ; 
 where these are everywhere visible all is well. Whenever I see 
 a false thirst for knowledge in my own countrymen, I am sorry 
 
3i6 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 they ever learnt to read. I would not be thought an enemy to 
 literature (being, indeed, a very learned person myself), but when 
 I observe a worthy trader, without any natural malice of his own, 
 sucking in the poison of popularity, and boiling with indignation 
 against an administration which the pamphleteer informs him is 
 very corrupt, I am grieved that ever Machiavel, Hobbes, Sidney, 
 Filmer, and the more illustrious moderns, including myself, ap- 
 peared in human nature. 
 
 ' Idleness is the parent of innumerable vices, and detraction is 
 generally the first, though not immediately the most mischievous 
 that is born of it. The mind of man is of such an ill make that it 
 relishes defamation much better than applause; so every writer 
 who makes his court to the multitude must sacrifice his superiors 
 to his patrons. 
 
 ' That there is a very great and indefeasible authority in the 
 people, or Commons of Great Britain, everyone allows. Power is 
 ever naturally and rightfully founded in those who have anything 
 
 to risk ; and this power delegated into the hands of Parliament, it 
 there becomes legally absolute, and the people are, by their very 
 constitution, obliged to a passive obedience. 
 
 ' Nothing is better known than this, nothing on all sides more 
 generally allowed, and one would imagine nothing could sooner 
 silence the clamour of little statesmen and politicians ; that jargon 
 of public-spiritedness, which wastes so much of the time of the busy 
 part of our countrymen. The misfortune is that though everyone 
 
THE 'humourist: 
 
 317 
 
 (who is not indeed crack-brained with the love of his country) will 
 own that the populace, by having delegated the right of inspecting 
 public affairs to others, have no authority to be troublesome about 
 it themselves, yet everyone excepts himself from the multitude, 
 and imagines that his own particular talent for public business 
 ought to exempt him from so severe a restraint. Hence arises the 
 great demand for newspapers and coffee. Happy is it for the 
 nation and for the Government that the distemper and the medi- 
 cine are found at the same place, and the blue-apron officer who 
 presents you with a newspaper, to heat the brain and disturb the 
 understanding, is ready the same moment to apply those com- 
 posing specificks, a dish and a pipe. Otherwise, what revolutions 
 and abdications might we not expect to see? I should not be 
 surprised to hear that a general officer in the trained-bands had 
 run stark staring mad out of a coffee-house at noon day, declared 
 for a Free Parliament, and proclaimed my Lord Mayor King of 
 England.' 
 
3 1 8 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 thackeray's researches amongst the writings of the early 
 essayists — Continued. 
 
 Characteristic Passages from the Works of 'The Humourists,' from Thacke- 
 ray's Library, illustrated by the Author's hand, with Marginal Sketches 
 suggested by the Text — The ' World,' 1753 — Introduction — Its Difference 
 from the Earlier Essays — Distinguished Authors who contributed to the 
 ' World ' — Paragraphs and Pencillings. 
 
 The ' World ' — writes Dr. Chalmers, in his historical and bio- 
 graphical preface to this series — differs from its predecessors in 
 the general plan, although the ultimate tendency is similar. We 
 have here no philosophy of morals, no indignant censure of the 
 grosser vices, no critical disquisitions, and, in general, scarcely 
 anything serious. Irony is the predominant feature. This caustic 
 species of wit is employed in the ' World ' to execute purposes 
 which other methods had failed to accomplish. 
 
 The authors of these essays affected to consider the follies of 
 their day as beneath their notice, and therefore tried what good 
 might be done by turning them into ridicule, under the mask of 
 defence or apology, and thus ingeniously demonstrated that every 
 defence of what is in itself absurd and wrong, must either partake 
 of the ridiculous, or be intolerable and repugnant to common 
 sense and reason. With such intentions, notwithstanding their 
 apparent good humour, they may, perhaps, in the apprehension 
 of many readers, appear more severe censors of the foibles of the 
 age than any who have gone before them. 
 
 The design, as professed in the first paper, was to ridicule, 
 with novelty and good humour, the fashions, foibles, vices, and 
 absurdities of that part of the human species which calls itself 
 1 The World;' and this the principal writers were enabled to 
 execute with facility, from the knowledge incidental to their rank 
 
THE < WORLD: 319 
 
 in life, the elevated sphere in which they moved, their intercourse 
 with a part of society not easily accessible to authors in general, 
 and the good sense which prevented them from being blinded by 
 the glare or enslaved by the authority of fashion. 
 
 The 'World' was projected by Edward Moore* — in conjunc- 
 tion with Robert Dodsley, the eminent publisher of Johnson's 
 1 Dictionary ' — who fixed upon the name ; and by defraying the 
 expense, and rewarding Moore, became, and for many years 
 continued to be, the sole proprietor of the work. 
 
 Edward Moore's abilities, his modest demeanour, inoffensive 
 manners, and moral conduct, recommended him to the men of 
 genius and learning of the age, and procured him the patronage 
 of Lord Lyttleton, who engaged his friends to assist him in the 
 way which a man not wholly dependent would certainly prefer. 
 Dodsley, the publisher, stipulated to pay Moore three guineas for 
 every paper of the ' World ' which he should write, or which might 
 be sent for publication and approved of. Lord Lyttleton, to render 
 this bargain effectual, and an easy source of emolument to his 
 frotege, solicited the assistance of such men as are not often 
 found willing to contribute the labours of the pen, men of high 
 rank in the state, and men of fame and fashion, who cheerfully 
 undertook to supply the paper, while Moore reaped the emolu- 
 ment, and perhaps for a time enjoyed the reputation of the whole. 
 But when it became known, as the information soon circulated in 
 whispers, that such men as the Earls of Chesterfield, Bath, and 
 Cork — that Horace Walpole, Richard Owen Cambridge, and 
 Soame Jenyns — besides other persons of both distinction and parts, 
 were leagued in a scheme of authorship to amuse the town, and 
 that the "* World J was the bow of Ulysses, in which it was ' the 
 fashion for men of rank and genius to try their strength,' we may 
 easily suppose that it would excite the curiosity of the public in an 
 uncommon degree. 
 
 The first paper was published January 24, 1753; it was 
 consequently contemporary with the ' Adventurer,' which began 
 November 7, 1752, but as the 'World 5 was published only once 
 
 * Author of ' Fables for the Female Sex ; ' he probably approached the 
 nearest of all Gay's imitators to the excellences of that poet. Moore also 
 wrote successfully for the stage. He was the author of the comedies of the 
 ' Foundling' and ' Gil Bias,' and of the famous tragedy of the ' Gamester.' 
 
3 2o THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 a week, it outlived the * Adventurer ' nearly two years, during 
 which time it ran its course also with the ' Connoisseur.' It was 
 of the same size and type, and at the same price with the ' Rambler ' 
 and ' Adventurer,' but the sale in numbers was superior to either. 
 In No. 3, Lord Chesterfield states that the number sold weekly 
 was two thousand, which number, he adds, ' exceeds the largest 
 that was ever printed, even of the "Spectator."' In No. 49, he 
 hints that i not above three thousand were sold.' The sale was 
 probably not regular, and would be greater on the days when 
 rumour announced his lordship as the writer. The usual number 
 printed was two thousand five hundred, as stated in a letter from 
 Moore to Dr. Warton. Notwithstanding the able assistance of his 
 right honourable friends, Moore wrote sixty-one of these papers, 
 and part of another. He excelled principally in assuming the 
 serious manner for the purposes of ridicule, or of raising idle 
 curiosity ; his irony is admirably concealed. However trite his 
 subject, he enlivens it by original turns of thought. 
 
 In the last paper, the conclusion of the work is made to depend 
 on a fictitious accident which is supposed to have happened to 
 the author and occasioned his death. When the papers were 
 collected in volumes, Moore superintended the publication, and 
 actually died while this last paper was in the press : a circum- 
 stance somewhat singular, when we look at the contents of it, and 
 which induces us to wish that death may be less frequently in- 
 cluded among the topics of wit. 
 
 It has been the general opinion, for the honour of rank, that 
 the papers written by men of that description in the ' World ' are 
 superior to those of Moore, or of his assistants of ' low degree.' 
 It may be conceded that among the contributories the first place 
 is due, in point of genius, taste, and elegance, to the pen of 
 Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield. 
 
 Lord Chesterfield's services to this paper were purely voluntary, 
 but a circumstance occurred to his first communication which had 
 nearly disinclined him to send a second. He sent his paper to the 
 publisher without any notice of its authorship ; it underwent a 
 casual inspection, and, from its length, was at least delayed, if 
 not positively rejected. Fortunately Lord Lyttleton saw it at 
 Dodsley's, and knew the hand. Moore then hastened to publish 
 the paper (No. 18), and thought proper to introduce it with an 
 
THE < WORLD: 321 
 
 apology for the delay, and a neat compliment to the wit and good 
 sense of his correspondent. 
 
 Chesterfield continued his papers occasionally, and wrote in 
 all twenty-three numbers, certainly equal, if not superior, in bril- 
 liancy of wit and novelty of thought, to the most popular produc- 
 tions of this kind. 
 
 A certain interest surrounds most of the authors who assisted 
 in the ' World,' and many of the papers were written under cir- 
 cumstances which increase the attraction of their contents. We 
 have not space to particularise special essays, or to enter upon the 
 biographical details which properly belong to our subject ; we must 
 restrict farther notice to a mere recapitulation of the contributors 
 and their pieces. Richard Owen Cambridge, the author of the 
 ' Scribleriad,' wrote in all twenty-one papers. Horace Walpole 
 was the author of nine papers in the ' World,' all of which excel in 
 keen satire, shrewd remark, easy and scholarly diction, and know- 
 ledge of mankind ; indeed, for sprightly humour these papers 
 probably excel all his own writings, and most of those of his 
 contemporaries. For five papers in this work of superior merit 
 we are indebted to Soame Jenyns, who held the office and rank 
 of one of the Lords Commissioners of the Board of Trade and 
 Plantations. James Tilson, Consul at Cadiz, furnished five papers 
 of considerable merit and novelty. Five papers, chiefly of the 
 more serious kind, were contributed by Edward Loveybond ; 
 ' The Tears of Old May-Day,' No. 82 of the ' World,' is esteemed 
 one of his best poetic compositions. 
 
 W. Whitehead, the Poet Laureate, wrote three papers, Nos. 12, 
 19, and 58. Nos. 79, 156, 202 were written by Richard Berenger, 
 Gentleman of the Horse to the King. Sir James Marriott, Judge 
 of the High Court of Admiralty, and Master of Trinity Hall, 
 Cambridge, wrote Nos. 117, 121, 199. 'The Adventures of the 
 Pumpkin Family,' zealous to defend their honour, given in 
 Nos. 47 and 63, were written by John, Earl of Cork and Orrery, 
 the amiable nobleman whom Johnson whimsically declared ' was 
 so generally civil, that nobody thanked him for it: The Earl of 
 Cork is also said to have contributed Nos. 161 and 185 ; he took 
 a more active part in the ' Connoisseur.' 
 
 To his son, Mr. Hamilton Boyle, who afterwards succeeded 
 
 y 
 
322 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 to the title, the ' World' was indebted for Nos. 60 and 170, two 
 papers drawn up with vivacity, humour, and elegance. 
 
 William Pulteney, Earl of Bath, to whom the second volume 
 of the ' Guardian ' was dedicated, contributed to the ' World/ in 
 his seventy-first year, No. 7, a lively paper on horse-racing and 
 the manners of Newmarket. 
 
 Three papers, Nos. 140, 147, and 204, specimens of easy and 
 natural humour, came from the pen of Sir David Dalrymple, better 
 known as Lord Hailes, one of the senators of the College of 
 Justice in Scotland ; in advanced life Lord Hailes contributed 
 several papers remarkable for vivacity and point to the ' Mirror.' 
 William Duncombe, a poetical and miscellaneous writer, was the 
 author of the allegory in No. 84 ; his son, the Rev. John Dun- 
 combe, of Canterbury, was the author of No. 36. The latter 
 gentleman appears in connection with the ' Connoisseur.' Nos. 
 38 and 74 were written by Mr. Parratt, the author of some poems 
 in Dodsley's collection. Nos. 78 and 86 are from the pen of the 
 Rev. Thomas Cole. 
 
 The remaining writers in the 'World' were single-paper men, 
 but some of them of considerable distinction in other departments 
 of literary and of public life. 
 
 No. 15 was written by the Rev. Francis Coventrye. No. 26 
 was the production of Dr, Thomas Warton, who was then contri- 
 buting to the 'Adventurer.' In No. ^2 criticism is treated with 
 considerable humour as a species of disease by the publisher, Robert 
 Dodsley, whose popularity extended to all ranks. 
 
 No. 37, like Lord Chesterfield's first contribution, was accorded 
 the honour of an extra half-sheet, rather than the excellences of 
 the letter should be curtailed. It is not only the longest, but is 
 considered one of the best papers in the collection. It was 
 written by Sir Charles Hunbury Williams, for some time the Eng- 
 lish Minister at the Courts of Berlin and St. Petersburgh. A 
 humorous letter on posts (No. 45) was from the pen of William 
 Hayward Roberts, afterwards Provost of Eton College, Chaplain 
 to the King, and Rector of Farnham Royal, Buckinghamshire. 
 One of the best papers for delicate irony to be found in the entire 
 series of humorous essayists, No. 8$, on the ' Manufactory of 
 Thunder and Lightning,' was written by Mr. William Whitaker, 
 a serjeant-at-law and a Welsh judge. 
 
THE 'WORLD: 323 
 
 Nos. 1 10 and 159 are attributed to John Gilbert Cooper, author 
 of the ' Life of Socrates/ and ' Letters on Taste.' Thomas 
 Mulso, a brother of Mrs. Chapone, is set down as the writer of 
 No. 31. He published, in 1768, ' Calistus, or the Man of Fashion,' 
 and ' Sophronius, or the Country Gentleman in Dialogues.' James 
 Ridley, author of the ' Tales of the Genii,' and of the ' Schemer,' 
 contributed No. 155. Mr. Gataker, a surgeon of eminence, was the 
 author of No. 184. Mr. Herring, rector of Great Mongeham, Kent, 
 wrote No. 122, on the ' Distresses of a Physician without Patronage.' 
 Mr. Moyle wrote No. 156, on 'False Honour,' and Mr. Burgess 
 No. 198, an excellent paper on the ' Difficulty of Getting Rid of 
 Oneself The 'Ode to Sculpture,' in No. 200, was written by 
 James Scott, D.D. Forty-one papers were written by persons 
 whose names were either unknown to the publisher, or who desired 
 to remain anonymous. 
 
 The ' World ' has been frequently reprinted, and will probably 
 always remain a favourite, for its materials, although sustained by 
 the most whimsical raillery, are not of a perishable kind. The 
 manners of fashionable life are not so mutable in their principles as 
 is commonly supposed, and those who practise them may at least 
 boast that they have stronger stamina than to yield to the attacks 
 of wit or morals. 
 
 No. 7. The 'World.' — Feb. 15, 1753. 
 
 ' Whoever is a frequenter of public assemblies, or joins in a 
 party of cards in private families, will give evidence to the truth of 
 this complaint. 
 
 ' How common is it with some people, at the conclusion of 
 every unsuccessful hand of cards, to burst forth into sallies of 
 fretful complaints of their own amazing ill-fortune and the con- 
 stant and invariable success of their antagonists ! They have such 
 excellent memories as to be able to recount every game they have 
 lost for six months successively, and yet are so extremely forgetful 
 at the same time as not to recollect a single game they have won. 
 Or if you put them in mind of any extraordinary success that you 
 have been witness to, they acknowledge it with reluctance, and 
 assure you, upon their honours, that in a whole twelvemonth's 
 play they never rose winners but that once. 
 
 y 2 
 
324 
 
 TH ACKER A YANA. 
 
 1 But if these growlers (a name which I shall always call men 
 of this class by) would only content themselves with giving re- 
 peated histories of their ill-fortunes, without 
 making invidious remarks on the success of 
 others, the evil would not be so great. 
 
 'Indeed, I am apt to impute it to their 
 fears, that they stop short of the grossest 
 affronts ; for I have seen in their faces such 
 rancour and inveteracy, that nothing but a 
 lively apprehension of consequences could 
 have restrained their tongues. 
 
 1 Happy would it be for the ladies if they 
 had the consequences to apprehend ; for, I 
 am sorry to say it, I have met with female, I 
 will not say growlers, the word is too harsh 
 for them ; let me call them fretters, who with 
 the prettiest faces and the liveliest wit ima- 
 ginable, have condescended to be the jest and the disturbance 
 of the whole company.' 
 
 No. 18. The ' World.'— May 3, 1753. 
 
 A worthy gentleman, who is suffering from the consequences 
 of treating his wife and daughter to a visit to Paris, is describing, 
 in a letter to Mr. FitzAdam, the follies into which the ladies of 
 his party were betrayed ' in order to fit themselves out to appear, 
 as the French say, honnetement? 
 
 ' In about three days,' writes the victim of these vagaries of 
 fashion, ' the several mechanics, who were charged with the care 
 of disguising my wife and daughter, brought home their respective 
 parts of the transformation. More than the whole morning was 
 employed in this operation, for we did not sit down to dinner till 
 near five o'clock. When my wife and daughter came at last into 
 the eating-room, where I had waited for them at least two hours, I 
 was so struck with their transformation that I could neither con- 
 ceal nor express my astonishment. " Now, my dear," said my 
 wife, "we can appear a little like Christians." "And strollers 
 too," replied I ; " for such have I seen at Southwark Fair. This 
 cannot surely be serious ! " " Very serious, depend upon it, my 
 
THE 'WORLD: 
 
 325 
 
 dear," said my wife ; " and pray, by the way, what may there be 
 ridiculous in it ? " 
 
 1 Addressing myself to my wife and daughter, I told them I 
 perceived that there was a painter now in Paris who coloured 
 much higher than Rigault, though he did not paint near so like ; 
 for that I could hardly have guessed them to be the pictures of 
 themselves. To this they both answered at once, that red was 
 not paint ; that no colour in the world was fard but white, of 
 which they protested they had none. 
 
 ' " But how do you like my pompon, papa ? " continued my 
 daughter ; " is it not a charming one ? I think it is prettier than 
 mamma's." " It may, child, for anything that I 
 know ; because I do not know what part of all 
 this frippery thy pompon is." " It is this, papa," 
 replied the girl, putting up her hand to her head, 
 and showing me in the middle of her hair a com- 
 plication of shreds and rags of velvets, feathers, 
 and ribands, stuck with false stones of a thou- 
 sand colours, and placed awry. 
 
 ' " But what hast thou done to thy hair, 
 child, and why is it blue ? Is that painted, too, 
 by the same eminent hand that coloured thy 
 cheeks ? " " Indeed, papa," answered the girl, 
 " as I told you before, there is no painting in 
 the case; but what gives my hair that bluish 
 cast is the grey powder, which has always that 
 effect on dark-coloured hair, and sets off the com- 
 plexion wonderfully." "Grey powder, child!" 
 said I, with some surprise; "grey hairs I knew 
 were venerable ; but till this moment I never 
 knew they were genteel." " Extremely so, with some com- 
 plexions," said my wife ; " but it does not suit with mine, and I 
 never use it." " You are much in the right, my dear," replied I, 
 " not to play with edge-tools. Leave it to the girl." This, which 
 perhaps was too hastily said, was not kindly taken ; my wife was 
 silent all dinner-time, and I vainly hoped ashamed. My daughter, 
 intoxicated with her dress, kept up the conversation with herself, till 
 the long wished-for moment of the opera came, which separated 
 us, and left me time to reflect upon the extravagances which I had 
 
326 THA CKERA VAN A. 
 
 already seen, and upon the still greater which I had but too much 
 reason to dread.' 
 
 No. 21. The ' World.' — May 24, 1753. 
 
 ' I am not so partial to the ladies, particularly the unmarried ones, 
 as to imagine them without fault ; on the contrary, I am going to 
 accuse them of a very great one, which if not put a stop to before 
 the warm weather ccmes in, no mortal can tell to what lengths it 
 may be carried. You have already hinted at this fault in the sex, 
 under the genteel appellation of moulting their dress. If necks, 
 shoulders, &c, have begun to shed their covering in winter, what a 
 general display of nature are we to expect this summer, when the 
 excuse of heat may be alleged in favour of such a display? I 
 called some time ago upon a friend of mine near St. James's, who, 
 upon my asking where his sister was, told me, " At her toilette, 
 undressing for the ridetto." That the expression may be intelli- 
 gible to every one of your readers, I beg leave to inform them that 
 
 it is the fashion for a lady to undress herself to go abroad, and to 
 dress only when she stays at home and sees no company. 
 
 ' It may be urged, perhaps, that the nakedness in fashion -is 
 intended only to be emblematical of the innocence of the present 
 generation of young ladies ; as we read of our first mother before 
 the fall, that she was naked and not ashamed-, but I cannot help 
 thinking that her daughters of these times should convince us that 
 they are entirely free from original sin, or else be ashamed of their 
 nakedness. 
 
THE 'WORLDJ 327 
 
 1 1 would ask any pretty miss about town y if she ever went a 
 second time to see the wax-work, or the lions, or even the dogs or 
 the monkeys, with the same delight as at first ? Certain it is that 
 the finest show in the world excites but little curiosity in those 
 who have seen it before. " That was a very fine picture," says 
 my lord, " but I had seen it befoj'e" " 'Twas a sweet song," says my 
 lady, " but I had heard it before." " A very fine poem/' says the 
 critic, "but I had read it before." Let every lady, therefore, take 
 care, that while she is displaying in public a bosom whiter than 
 snow, the men do not look as if they were saying, " Tis very 
 pretty, but we have seen it before" ' 
 
 No. 23. The 'World.' — June 7, 1753. 
 
 'A recent visit to Bedlam revived an opinion I have often 
 entertained, that the maddest people in the kingdom are not in but 
 out of Bedlam. I have frequently compared in my own mind the 
 actions of certain persons whom we daily meet with in the world 
 with those of Bedlam, who, properly speaking, may be said to be 
 out of it ; and I know of no difference between them, than that 
 the former are mad with their reason about them, and the latter so 
 from the misfortune of having lost it. But what is extraordinary 
 in this age, when, to its honour be it spoken, charity is become 
 fashionable, these unhappy wretches are suffered to run loose 
 about the town, raising riots in public assemblies, beating con- 
 stables, breaking lamps, damning parsons, affronting modesty, 
 disturbing families, and destroying their own fortunes and consti- 
 tutions j and all this without any provision being made for them, 
 or the least attempt being made to cure them of this madness in 
 their blood. 
 
 ' The miserable objects I am speaking of are divided into two 
 classes : the Men of Spirit about town, and the Bucks. The Men 
 of Spirit have some glimmerings of understanding, the Bucks 
 none ; the former are demoniacs, or people possessed ; the latter 
 are uniformly and incurably mad. Fcr the reception and confine- 
 ment of both these classes, I would humbly propose that two very 
 spacious buildings should be erected, the one called the hospital 
 for the Men of Spirit or demoniacs, and the other the hospital for 
 the Bucks or incurables. 
 
328 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 I That after such hospitals are built, proper officers appointed, 
 and doctors, surgeons, apothecaries, and mad nurses provided, all 
 young noblemen and others within the bills of mortality having 
 common sense, who shall be found offending against the rules 
 of decency, shall immediately be conducted to the hospital for 
 demoniacs, there to be exorcised, physicked, and disciplined into a 
 proper use of their senses ; and that full liberty be granted to all 
 
 persons whatsoever to visit, laugh at, and make 
 sport of these demoniacs, without let or molest- 
 ation from any of the keepers, according to the 
 present custom of Bedlam. To the Buck hos- 
 pital for incurables, I would have all such persons 
 conveyed that are mad through folly, ignorance, 
 or conceit ; therefore to be shut up for life, not 
 only to be prevented from doing mischief, but 
 from exposing in their own persons the weaknesses 
 and miseries of mankind. The incurables on 
 no pretence whatsoever are to be visited or 
 ridiculed ; as it would be altogether as inhuman 
 to insult the unhappy wretches who never were possessed of their 
 senses, as it is to make a jest of those who have unfortunately 
 lost them.' 
 
 No. 34. The 'World.' — Aug. 23, 1753. 
 
 I I am well aware that there are certain of my readers who have 
 no belief in witches ; but I am willing to hope they are only 
 those who either have not read, or else have forgot, the proceed- 
 ings against them published at large in the state trials. If there 
 is any man alive who can deny his assent to the positive and cir- 
 cumstantial evidence given against 
 them in these trials, I shall only 
 say that I pity most sincerely the 
 hardness of his heart. 
 
 ' What is it but witchcraft that 
 occasions that universal and un- 
 controllable rage for play, by 
 which the nobleman, the man of 
 fashion, the merchant and the tradesman, with their wives, sons, 
 and daughters, are running headlong to ruin? What is it but 
 
THE « WORLD: 329 
 
 witchcraft that conjures up that spirit of pride and passion for ex- 
 pense by which all classes of men, from his grace at Westminster to 
 the salesman at Wapping, are entailing beggary upon their old age, 
 and bequeathing their children to poverty and to the parish ? I 
 shall conclude by signifying my intention, one day or other, of 
 hiring a porter and sending him with a hammer and nails, and a 
 large quantity of horse-shoes, to certain houses in the purlieus of 
 St. James's. I believe it may not be amiss (as a charm against 
 play) if he had orders to fix a whole dozen of these horse- shoes 
 at the door of Whitis? 
 
 No. 37. The * World. '—Sept. 13, 1753. 
 
 On Toad-eating. 
 
 ' To Mr. FitzAdam. 
 
 1 Sir, — I am the widow of a merchant with whom I lived 
 happily and in affluence for many years. We had no children, 
 and when he died he left me all he had ; but his affairs were so 
 involved that the balance which I re- 
 ceived, after having gone through much 
 expense and trouble, was no more than 
 one thousand pounds. This sum I 
 placed in the hands of a friend of my 
 husband's, who was reckoned a good 
 man in the City, and who allowed me 
 an interest of four per cent, for my 
 
 capital ; and with this forty pounds a year I retired and boarded 
 in a village about a hundred miles from London. 
 
 ' There was a lady, an old lady, of great fortune in that neigh- 
 bourhood, who visited often at the house where I lodged ; she 
 pretended, after a short acquaintance, to take a great liking to me ; 
 she professed friendship for me, and at length persuaded me to 
 come and live with her. 
 
 ' One day, when her ladyship had treated me with uncommon 
 kindness for my having taken her part in a dispute with one of her 
 relations, I received a letter from London, to inform me that the 
 person in whose hands I had placed my fortune, and who till that 
 time had paid my interest money very exactly, was broke, and had 
 left the kingdom. 
 
33o THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 ' I handed the letter to her ladyship, who immediately read it 
 over with more attention than emotion. 
 
 ' Whenever Lady Mary spoke to me she had hitherto called 
 me Mrs. Truman \ but the very next morning at breakfast she left 
 out Mrs. ; and upon no greater provocation than breaking a tea- 
 cup, she made me thoroughly sensible of her superiority and my 
 dependence. " Lord, Truman ! you are so awkward ; pray be more 
 careful for the future, or we shall not live long together. Do you 
 think I can afford to have my china broken at this rate, and 
 maintain you into the bargain?" 
 
 ' From this moment I was obliged to drop the name and 
 character of friend, which I had hitherto maintained with a little 
 dignity, and to take up with that which the French call co??ifilaisante, 
 and the English humble companion. But it did not stop here ; for 
 in a week I was reduced to be as miserable a toad-eater as any 
 in Great Britain, which in the strictest sense of the word is a 
 servant ; except that the toad-eater has the honour of dining., 
 with my lady, and the misfortune of receiving no wages.' 
 
 No. 46. The 'World.' — Nov. 15, 1753. 
 
 ' A correspondent who is piqued at not being recognised by the 
 great people to whom he has been but recently presented, is very 
 
 unreasonable, for he cannot but have 
 observed at the playhouses and other 
 public places, from the number of 
 glasses used by people of fashion, 
 that they are naturally short-sighted. 
 ' It is from this visual defect that 
 a great man is apt to mistake fortune 
 for honour, a service of plate for a 
 good name, and his neighbour's wife for his own.' 
 
 No. 47. The 'World.' — Nov. 22, 1753. 
 
 ' To Mr. FitzAdam. 
 
 'Sir, — Dim-sighted as I am, my spectacles have assisted me 
 sufficiently to read your papers. As a recompense for the pleasure 
 I have received from them, I send you a family anecdote, which 
 
THE 'WORLD: 331 
 
 till now has never appeared in print. I am the grand-daughter of 
 Sir Josiah Pumpkin, of Pumpkin Hall, in South Wales. I was 
 educated at the hall-house of my own ancestors, under the care 
 and tuition of my honoured grandfather. It was the constant 
 custom of my grandfather, when he was tolerably free from the 
 gout, to summon his three grand-daughters to his bedside, and 
 amuse us with the most important transactions of his life. He 
 told us he hoped we would have children, to whom some of his 
 adventures might prove useful and instructive. 
 
 ' Sir Josiah was scarce nineteen years old when he was intro- 
 duced at the court of Charles the Second, by his uncle Sir Simon 
 Sparrowgrass, who was at that time Lancester herald-at-arms, and 
 in great favour at Whitehall. 
 
 ' As soon as he had kissed the King's hand, he was presented 
 to the Duke of York, and immediately afterwards to the ministers 
 and the mistresses. His fortune, which was considerable, and his 
 manners, which were elegant, made him so very acceptable in all 
 companies, that he had the honour to be plunged at once into 
 every polite pa:ty of wit, pleasure, and expense, that the courtiers 
 could possibly display. He danced with the ladies, he drank with 
 the gentlemen, he sang loyal catches, and broke bottles and glasses 
 in every tavern throughout London. But still he was by no means 
 a perfect fine gentleman. He had not fought a duel. He was 
 so extremely unfortunate as never to have had even the happiness 
 of a renco?itre. The want of opportunity, not of courage, had 
 occasioned this inglorious chasm in his character. He appeared, 
 not only to the whole court, but even in his own eye, an unworthy 
 and degenerate Pumpkin, till he had shown himself as expert in 
 opening a vein with a sword as any surgeon in England could be 
 with a lancet. Things remained in this unhappy situation till he 
 was near two-and-twenty years of age. 
 
 ' At length his better stars prevailed, and he received a most 
 egregious affront from Mr. Cucumber, one of the gentlemen-ushers 
 of the privy-chamber. Cucumber, who was in waiting at court, 
 spit inadvertently into the chimney, and as he stood next to Sir 
 Josiah Pumpkin, part of the spittle rested upon Sir Josiah's shoe. 
 It was then that the true Pumpkin honour arose in blushes upon 
 his cheeks. He turned upon his heel, went home immediately, 
 and sent Mr. Cucumber a challenge. Captain Daisy, a friend to 
 
332 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 each party, not only carried the challenge, but adjusted prelimi- 
 naries. The heroes were to fight in Moorfields, and to bring 
 fifteen seconds on a side. Punctuality is a strong instance of 
 valour upon these occasions ; the clock of St Paul's struck seven 
 
 just when the combatants were marking out their ground, and 
 each of the two-and-thirty gentlemen was adjusting himself into 
 a posture of defence against his adversary. • It happened to be the 
 hour for breakfast in the hospital of Bedlam. A small bell had 
 rung to summon the Bedlamites into the great gallery. The 
 keepers had already unlocked the cells, and were bringing forth 
 their mad folks, when the porter of Bedlam, Owen Macduffy, 
 standing at the iron gate, and beholding such a number of armed 
 men in the fields, immediately roared out, " Fire, murder, swords, 
 daggers, bloodshed ! " Owen's voice was always remarkably loud, 
 but his fears had rendered it still louder and more tremendous. 
 His words struck a panic into the keepers ; they lost all presence 
 of mind, they forgot their prisoners, and hastened most precipitately 
 down stairs to the scene of action. At the sight of the naked 
 swords their fears increased, and at once they stood open-mouthed 
 and motionless. Not so the lunatics ; freedom to madmen and 
 light to the blind are equally rapturous. Ralph Rogers, the tinker, 
 began the alarm. His brains had been turned with joy at the 
 Restoration, and the poor wretch imagined that this glorious set 
 of combatants were Roundheads and Fanatics, and accordingly 
 he cried out, " Liberty and property, my boys ! Down with the 
 Rump ! Cromwell and Ireton are come from hell to destroy us . 
 Come, my Cavalier lads, follow me, and let us knock out their 
 brains." The Bedlamites immediately obeyed, and with the tinker 
 at their head, leaped over the balusters of the staircase, and ran 
 wildly into the fields. In their way they picked up some staves 
 
the < world: 
 
 333 
 
 BEDLAM 
 
 X rl: 
 
 and cudgels, which the porters and the keepers had inadvertently 
 left behind, and, rushing forward with amazing fury, they forced 
 themselves outrageously into the midst of the combatants, and 
 in one unlucky moment disturbed all the de- 
 cency and order with which this most illustrious 
 duel had begun. 
 
 1 It seemed, according to my grandfather's 
 observation, a very untoward fate that two-and- 
 thirty gentlemen of courage, honour, fortune, 
 and quality should meet together in hopes of 
 killing each other with all that resolution and 
 politeness which belonged to their stations, and 
 should at once be routed, dispersed, and even 
 wounded by a set of madmen, without sword, 
 pistol, or any other more honourable weapon 
 than a cudgel. 
 
 1 The madmen were not only superior in 
 strength, but numbers. Sir Josiah Pumpkin and 
 Mr. Cucumber stood their ground as long as 
 possible, and they both endeavoured to make 
 the lunatics the sole object of their mutual 
 revenge; but the two friends were soon over- 
 powered, and, no person daring to come to their 
 assistance, each of them made as proper a re- 
 treat as the place and circumstances would 
 admit. 
 
 ' Many other gentlemen were knocked down 
 and trampled under foot. Some of them, whom 
 my grandfather's generosity would never name, 
 betook themselves to flight in a most inglorious 
 
334 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 manner. An earl's son was spied clinging submissively round the 
 feet of mad Pocklington, the tailor. A young baronet, although 
 
 naturally intrepid, was obliged to 
 conceal himself at the bottom of 
 Pippin Kate's apple-stall. A Shrop- 
 shire squire, of three thousand 
 pounds a year, was discovered, 
 chin deep and almost stifled, in 
 Fleet Ditch. Even Captain Daisy 
 himself was found in a milk-cellar, 
 with visible marks of fear and 
 consternation. Thus ended this 
 inauspicious day. But the madmen continued their outrages 
 many days after. It was near a week before they were all retaken 
 and chained to their cells, and during that interval of liberty they 
 committed many offensive pranks throughout the cities of London 
 and Westminster. 
 
 ' Such unforeseen disasters occasioned some prudent regula- 
 tions in the laws of honour. It was enacted from that time that 
 six combatants (three on a side) might be allowed and acknow- 
 ledged to contain such a quantity of blood in their veins as should 
 be sufficient to satisfy the highest affront that could be offered.' 
 
 No. 64. The 'World.' — March 21, 1754. 
 
 One of Mr. Fitz Adam's correspondents is describing a morn- 
 ing he spent in the library of Lord Finican, with which nobleman 
 he was invited to breakfast : — 
 
 * I now fell to the books with a good appetite, intending to 
 make a full meal; and while I was chewing upon a piece of 
 Tully's philosophical writings, my lord came in upon me. His 
 looks discovered great uneasiness, which I attributed to the 
 effects of the last night's diversions ; but good manners requiring 
 me to prefer his lordship's conversation to my own amusement, 
 I replaced his book, and by the sudden satisfaction in his coun- 
 tenance perceived that the cause of his perturbation was my hold- 
 ing open the book with a pinch of snuff in my fingers. He said 
 he was glad to see me, for he should not have known else what to 
 have done with himself. I returned the compliment by saying I 
 
THE 'WORLD: 
 
 335 
 
 thought he could not want entertainment amidst so choice a 
 collection of books. " Yes," replied he, " the collection is not 
 without elegance; but I read men only now, for I finished my 
 studies when I set out on my travels. You 
 are not the first who has admired my library; 
 and I am allowed to have as fine a taste in books 
 as any man in England." 
 
 ' Hereupon he showed me a Pastor-fido 
 bound in green and decorated with myrtle- 
 leaves. He the took down a volume of Tillot- 
 son, in a black binding, with the leaves as white 
 as a law-book, and gilt on the back with little 
 mitres and crosiers ; and lastly, Caesar's " Com- 
 
 #m a &?. 
 
 mentaries," clothed in red and gold, in imitation of the military 
 uniform of English officers/ 
 
 The literary gentleman finally elicits that his lordship's books 
 are simply selected for fashion and show, and that they are never 
 read, Lord Finican having long given up the study of books, and 
 merely collecting a library to establish the excellence of his taste. 
 
 No. 68. The ' World.'— April 18, 1754. 
 
 Mr. FitzAdam prints a letter received from a widow, describ- 
 ing the real facts of the injuries by which her husband had lost his 
 life in a duel : — 
 
 'Mr. Muzzy was very fat and extremely lethargic, and so 
 stupidly heavy that he fell asleep even in musical assemblies, and 
 snored in the playhouse, as loud, poor man ! as he used to snore 
 in bed. However, having received many taunts and reproaches, 
 he resolved to challenge his own cousin-german, Brigadier 
 Truncheon, of Soho Square. It seems the person challenged 
 
336 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 fixes upon the place and weapons. Truncheon, a deep-sighted 
 man, chose Primrose Hill for the field of battle, and swords for 
 the weapons of defence. To avoid suspicion and to prevent a 
 discovery, they were to walk together from Piccadilly, where we 
 then lived, to the summit of Primrose Hill. Truncheon's scheme 
 took effect. Mr. Muzzy was much fatigued and out of breath 
 with the walk. However, he drew his sword ; and, as he assured 
 me himself, began to attack his cousin with valour. The brigadier 
 went back ; Mr. Muzzy pursued ; but not having his adversary's 
 alacrity, he stopped a little to take breath. He stopped, alas ! 
 too long : his lethargy came on with more than usual violence ; he 
 first dozed as he stood upon his legs, and then beginning to nod 
 forwards, dropped by degrees upon his face in a most profound 
 sleep. 
 
 ' Truncheon, base man! took this opportunity to wound my 
 husband as he lay snoring on the ground ; and he had the cun- 
 ning to direct his stab in such a manner as to make it supposed 
 that Mr. Muzzy had fled, and in his flight had received a wound 
 
 _J^JMM^i 
 
 in the most ignominious part of his body. You will ask what 
 became of the seconds. They were both killed upon the spot ; 
 but being only two servants, the one a butler and the other a 
 cook, they were buried the same night ; and by the power of a 
 little money, properly applied, no further inquiry was made about 
 them. 
 
 ' Mr. Muzzy, wounded as he was, might probably have slept 
 upon that spot for many hours, had he not been awakened by the 
 cruel bites of a mastiff. My poor husband was thoroughly 
 awakened by the new hurt he had received ; and indeed it was 
 impossible to have slept while he was losing whole collops of the 
 fattest and most pulpy part of his flesh : so that he was brought 
 home to me much more wounded by the teeth of the mastiff than 
 
THE 'WORLD: 337 
 
 by the sword of his cousin Truncheon.' The wound eventually 
 mortified, Mr. Muzzy lost his life, and the writer became a 
 widow. 
 
 No. 82. The ' World.'— yuly 25, 1754. 
 
 'The Tears of Old May-day. 
 
 e Led by the jocund train of vernal hours, 
 
 And vernal airs, up rose the gentle May, 
 Blushing she rose and blushing rose the flowers 
 That spring spontaneous in her genial ray. 
 
 ' Her locks with Heaven's ambrosial dews were bright, 
 
 And am'rous Zephyrs flutter'd on her breast ; 
 With ev'ry shifting gleam of morning light 
 The colours shifted of her rainbow vest. 
 
 1 Imperial ensigns graced her smiling form, 
 A golden key and golden wand she bore ; 
 This charms to peace each sullen eastern storm, 
 And that unlocks the summer's copious store. 
 
 ' Vain hope, no more in choral bands unite 
 Her virgin vot'ries, and at early dawn, 
 Sacred to May and Love's mysterious rite, 
 
 Brush the light dewdrops * from the spangled lawn. 
 
 ' To her no more Augusta's f wealthy pride 
 
 Pours the full tribute of Potosi's mine ; 
 Nor fresh-blown garlands village maids provide, 
 A purer off' ring at her rustic shrine. 
 
 ' No more the May -pole's verdant height around, 
 
 To valour's games th - " adventurous youth advance ; 
 To merry bells and tabor's sprightlier sound 
 "Wake the loud carol and the sportive dance. ' 
 
 'I have hinted more than once that the present age (1754), 
 notwithstanding the vices and follies with which it abounds, has 
 the happiness of standing as high in my opinion as any age what- 
 soever. But it has always been the fashion to believe that from 
 the beginning of the world to the present day men have been 
 increasing in wickedness. 
 
 * Alluding to the country custom of gathering May-dew. 
 + The plate garlands of London. 
 Z 
 
338 
 
 THA CKERA YA NA . 
 
 ' 1 believe that all vices will be found to exist amongst us 
 much in the same degree as heretofore, forms only changing. 
 
 1 Our grandfathers used to get drunk with strong beer and port, 
 we get drunk with claret and champagne. They would lie abomi- 
 nably to conceal their peccadil- 
 loes; we lie as abominably in 
 boasting of ours. They stole 
 slily in at the back-door of a 
 
 bagnio; we march in boldly at 
 the front-door, and immediately 
 steal out slily at the back-door. 
 Our mothers were prudes; their 
 daughters coquettes. The first 
 dressed like modest women, and perhaps were wantons ; the last 
 dress like women of pleasure, and perhaps are virtuous. Those 
 treated without hanging out a sign ; these hang out a sign without 
 intending to treat. To be still more particular: the abuse of 
 power, the views of patriots, the flattery of dependents, and the 
 promises of great men are, I believe, pretty much the same now 
 as in former ages. Vices that we have no relish for, we part with 
 for those we like; giving up avarice for prodigality, hypocrisy 
 for profligacy, and looseness for play.' 
 
 No. 86. The 'World.' — Aug. 22, 1754. 
 
 A correspondent, after summing up the lessons he daily ex- 
 tracts from trees, flowers, insects, and the inmates of his garden, 
 continues : — 
 
 ' In short, there is such a close affinity 
 between a proper cultivation of a flower- 
 garden and a right discipline of the mind 
 that it is almost impossible for any thoughtful 
 
THE ' WORLD: 339 
 
 person, that has made any proficiency in the one, to avoid paying 
 a due attention to the other. That industry and care which are 
 so requisite to cleanse a garden from all sorts of weeds will natu- 
 rally suggest to him how much more expedient it would be to 
 exert the same diligence in eradicating all sorts of prejudices, 
 follies, and vices from the mind, where they will be sure to prevail, 
 without a great deal of care and correction, as common weeds 
 in a neglected piece of ground. 
 
 ' And as it requires more pains to extirpate some weeds than 
 others, according as they are more firmly fixed, more numerous, or 
 more naturalised to the soil ; so those faults will be found to be 
 most difficult to be suppressed which have been of the largest 
 growth and taken the deepest root, which are more predominant 
 in number and most congenial to the constitution.' 
 
 No. 92. The 'World.' — Oct. 3, 1754. 
 
 Mr. FitzAdam, defining the characters of Siphons and Soakers, 
 points to a theory that dropsy, of which so many of their order 
 perish, is a manifest judgment upon them, the wine they so much 
 loved being turned into water, and themselves drowned at last in 
 the element they so much abhorred. 
 
 'A rational and sober man, invited by the wit and gaiety of 
 good company, and hurried away by an uncommon flow of spirits, 
 may happen to drink 
 too much, and perhaps 
 accidentally to get drunk; 
 but then these sallies will 
 be short and not fre- 
 quent. Whereas the 
 soaker is an utter stranger to wit and mirth, and no friend to 
 either. His business is serious, and he applies himself seriously 
 to it; he steadily pursues the numbing, stupefying, and petri- 
 fying, not the animating and exhilarating qualities of the wine. 
 The more he drinks the duller he grows; his politics become 
 more obscure, and his narratives more tedious and less intelligible ; 
 till at last maudlin, he employs what little articu]ation he has left 
 in relating his doleful state to an insensible audience. 
 
 ' I am well aware that the numerous society of siphons (as I 
 
 z 2 
 
340 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 shall for the future typify the soakers, suction being equally the 
 only business of both) will say, like Sir Tunbelly, " What would 
 this fellow have us do?" To which I am at no loss for an 
 answer : " Do anything else." ' 
 
 No. ioo. The ' World.' — Nov. 28, 1754. 
 
 ' I heard the other day with great pleasure from my friend, 
 Mr. Dodsley, that Mr. Johnson's "English Dictionary," with a 
 grammar and history of our language, will be published this winter, 
 in two large volumes in foliQ. 
 
 ' Many people have imagined that so extensive a work would 
 have been best performed by a number of persons, who should 
 have taken their several departments of exa- 
 mining, fitting, winnowing, purifying, and 
 finally fixing our language by incorporating 
 their respective funds into one joint stock. 
 
 ' But whether this opinion be true or false, 
 I think the public in general, and the republic 
 of letters in particular, are greatly obliged 
 to Mr. Johnson for having undertaken and 
 executed so great and desirable a work. Per- 
 fection is not to be expected from man, but 
 if we are to judge by the various works of 
 Mr. Johnson already published, we have good 
 reason to believe that he will bring this as 
 near to perfection as any one man could do. 
 The plan of it, which he published some years ago, seems to 
 me to be a proof of it. Nothing can be more rationally imagined 
 or more accurately and elegantly expressed. I therefore recom- 
 mend the previous perusal of it to all those who intend to. buy the 
 dictionary, and who, I suppose, are all those who can afford it.' 
 
 No. 103. The ' World.' — Dec. 19, 1754. 
 
 Mr. FitzAdam relates an anecdote establishing the good breed- 
 ing of highwaymen of the upper class : — 
 
 ' An acquaintance of mine was robbed a few years ago, and 
 
THE < world: 
 
 341 
 
 very near shot through the head by the going off of a pistol of the 
 accomplished Mr. M'Lean, yet the whole affair was conducted 
 with the greatest good breeding on both 
 sides. The robber, who had only taken 
 a purse this way because he had that 
 morning been disappointed of marrying 
 a great fortune, no sooner returned to 
 his lodgings than he sent the gentle- 
 man two letters of excuses, which, 
 with less wit than the epistles of Vol- 
 taire, had infinitely more natural and easy politeness in the turn 
 of their expressions. In the postscript he appointed a meeting 
 at Tyburn, at twelve at night, where the gentleman might purchase 
 again any trifles he had lost ; and my friend has been blamed for 
 not accepting the rendezvous, as it seemed liable to be construed 
 by ill-natured people into a doubt of the honour of a man who had 
 given him all the satisfaction in his power for having unluckily 
 been near shooting him through the head.' 
 
 No. 112. The 'World.' — Feb. 20, 1755. 
 
 1 My cobbler is also a politician. He reads the first news- 
 papers he can get, desirous 
 to be informed of the state 
 of affairs in Europe, and of 
 the street robberies of Lon- 
 don. He has not, I pre- 
 sume, analysed the interests 
 of the respective countries of Europe, nor deeply considered those 
 of his own ; still less is he systematicall y informed of the politi- 
 cal duties of a citizen and subject. But his heart and his 
 habits supply these defects. He glows with zeal for the honour 
 and prosperity of old England ; he will fight for it if there be an 
 occasion, and drink to it perhaps a little too often and too much. 
 However, is it not to be wished that there were in this country six 
 millions of such honest and zealous, though uninformed, citizens ? 
 
 ' Our honest cobbler is thoroughly convinced, as his forefathers 
 were for many centuries, that one Englishman can beat three 
 Frenchmen ; and in that persuasion he would by no means 
 
342 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 decline the trial. Now, though in my own private opinion, 
 deducted from physical principles, I am apt to believe that one 
 Englishman could beat no more than two Frenchmen of equal 
 size with himself, I should, however, be unwilling to undeceive 
 him of that useful and sanguine error, which certainly made his 
 countrymen triumph in the fields of Poictiers and Crecy.' 
 
 No. 122. The 'World.' — May i, 1755. 
 
 ' As I was musing one morning, in a most disconsolate mood, 
 with my leg in my landlady's lap, while she darned one of my 
 
 stockings, it came into my head to collect from various books, 
 together with my own experience and observations, plain and 
 wholesome rules on the subject of diet, and then publish them in 
 a neat pocket volume ; for I was always well inclined to do good 
 to the world, however ungratefully it used me. I doubt, Mr. 
 FitzAdam, you will hardly forbear smiling to hear a man who was 
 almost starved talk gravely of compiling observations on diet. 
 The moment I finished my volume I ran to an eminent bookseller 
 near the Mansion House ; he was just set down to dinner. . . . 
 As soon as the cloth was taken away I produced my manuscript, 
 and the bookseller put on his spectacles ; but to my no small 
 mortification, after glancing an eye over the title page, he looked 
 steadfastly upon me for near a minute in a kind of amazement I 
 could not account for, and then broke out in the following manner : 
 — " My dear sir, you are come to the very worst place in the world 
 for the sale of such a performance as this — to think of expecting 
 the Court cf Aldermen's permission to preach upon the subject of 
 lean and fallozu abstinence between the Royal Exchange and 
 Temple Bar ! " ' 
 
THE 'WORLD: 
 
 343 
 
 No. 130. The * World.' — June 26, 1755. 
 
 Extracts from a letter written by c Priscilla Cross-stitch,' for her- 
 self and sisters, on the subject of the indelicacy of nankin breeches, 
 as indulged in by Patrick, their footman : — 
 
 1 We give him no livery, but allow him a handsome sum yearly 
 for clothes ; and, to say the truth, till within the last week he has 
 
 dressed with great propriety and decency, when all at once, to our 
 great confusion and distress, he has the assurance to appear at 
 the sideboard in a pair of filthy nankin breeches, and those made 
 to fit so extremely tight, that a less curious observer might have 
 mistaken them for no breeches at all. The shame and confusion 
 so visible in all our faces one would think would suggest to him 
 the odiousness of his dress ; but the fellow appears to have thrown 
 off every appearance of decency, for at tea-table before company, 
 as well as at meals, we are forced to endure him in this abominable 
 nankin, our modesty conflicting with nature, to efface the idea it 
 conveys.' 
 
 The ladies cannot well discharge a good servant for this indis- 
 cretion, their delicacy will not allow them to mention the dreadful 
 word, nor" venture on allusions to the objectionable part of the 
 apparel ; nor will they venture to entrust the task to their maids, 
 as it might draw them into puzzling explanations. The publication 
 of Priscilla's letter, with a warning to Patrick, and a general 
 decree against suggestive drapery, declaring it a capital offence, 
 is intended to relieve the ladies of their confusion. 
 
 No. 135. The 'World.' — July 31, 1755. 
 
 ' Hilarius is a downright country gentleman ; a bon vivant ; an 
 indefatigable sportsman. He can drink his gallon at a sitting, and 
 will tell you he was neither sick nor sorry in his life. Having 
 
344 
 
 TH ACKER A YANA. 
 
 an estate of above five thousand a year, his strong beer, ale, and 
 wine cellar are always well stored ; to either of which, as also 
 to his table, abounding in plenty of good victuals, ill-sorted and 
 ill-dressed, every voter and fox-hunter claims a kind of right. 
 He roars for the Church, which he never visits, and is eternally 
 cracking his coarse jests and talking obscenity to the parsons, 
 whom if he can make fuddled, and expose to contempt, it is the 
 highest pleasure he can enjoy. As for his lay friends, nothing is 
 
 more common with him than to set them and their servants dead 
 drunk on their horses, and should any of them be found half 
 smothered in a ditch the next morning, it affords him excellent 
 diversion for a twelvemonth after. No one is readier to club a 
 laugh with you, but he has no ear to the voice of distress or com- 
 plaint. Thus Hilarius, on the false credit of generosity and good 
 humour, swims triumphantly with the stream of applause without 
 one single virtue in his composition.' 
 
 No. 142. The 'World.'— Sept. 18, 1755. 
 
 Extract from the letter of a. lady, a lover of peace and quiet- 
 ness, on the sufferings produced by her connection with people 
 who are fond of noise. After describing the violence practised in 
 her own home, the writer continues : — 
 
 'At last I was sent to board with a distant relation, 
 who had been captain of a man-of-war, who had given up 
 his commission and retired into the country. Unfortunately for 
 poor me, the captain still retained a passion for firing a great gun, 
 and had mounted, on a little fortification that was thrown up 
 against the front of his house, eleven nine-pounders, which were 
 
THE 'WORLD. 
 
 345 
 
 constantly discharged ten or a dozen times over on the arrival of 
 visitors, and on all holidays and rejoicings. The noise of these 
 cannon was more terrible to me than all the rest, and would have 
 rendered my continuance there intolerable, if a young gentleman, 
 a relation of the captain's, had not held me by the heart-strings, 
 
 and softened by the most tender courtship in the world the 
 horrors of these firings.' 
 
 The unfortunate lady's married life was doomed, however, to 
 prove a union of noise and contention. 
 
 No. 150. The ' World.' —Nov. 13, 1755. 
 
 'Among the ancient Romans the great offices of state were all 
 elective, which obliged them to be very^observant of the shape of 
 the noses of those persons to whom they were to apply for votes. 
 Horace tells us that a sharp nose was an indication of satirical wit 
 and humour; for when speaking of his friend Virgil, though he 
 says, " At est bonus, ut melior non alius quisquam,' yet he allows 
 he was no joker, and not a fit match 
 at the sneer for those of his compan- 
 ions who had sharper noses than his 
 own. They also looked upon the short 
 noses, with a little inflection at the 
 end tending upwards, as a mark of 
 the owner's being addicted to jibing ; 
 for the same author, talking of Mecaenas, says that though he was 
 born of an ancient family, yet was he not apt to turn persons of 
 low birth into ridicule, which he expresses by saying that " he had 
 not a turn-up nose/' Martial, in .one of his epigrams, calls this 
 kind of nose the rhinocerotic nose, and says that everyone in his 
 time affected this kind of snout, as an indication of his being master 
 of the talent of humour. y 
 
346 
 
 THA CKERA YA NA . 
 
 ^-,, 
 
 No. — . The 'World.' — 1755. 
 
 ' You may have frequently observed upon the face of that useful 
 piece of machinery, a clock, the minute and hour hands, in their 
 revolution through the twelve 
 divisions of the day, to be not 
 only shifting continually from 
 one figure to another, but to 
 stand at times in a quite oppo- 
 site direction to their former 
 bearings, and to each other. 
 Now I conceive this to be 
 pretty much the case with that 
 complicated piece of mechanism, a modern female, or young woman 
 of fashion : for as such I was accustomed to consider that part of the 
 species as having no power to determine their own motions and ap- 
 pearances, but acted upon by the mode, and set to any point which 
 the party who took the lead, or (to speak more properly) its regulator 
 pleased. But it has so happened in the circumrotation of modes 
 and fashions, that the present set are not only moving on con- 
 tinually from one pretty fancy and conceit to another, 
 but have departed quite aside from their former 
 principles, dividing from each other in a circum- 
 stance wherein they were always accustomed to unite, 
 and uniting where there was ever wont to be a dis- 
 tinction or difference. . . . The pride now is to get 
 as far away as possible, not only from the vulgar, but from one 
 another, and that, too, as well in the first principles of dress as 
 in its subordinate decorations ; so that its fluctuating humour is 
 perpetually showing itself in some new and particular sort of cap, 
 flounce, knot, or tippet ; and every woman that you meet affects 
 independency and to set up for herself/ 
 
 No. 153. The 'World.' — Dec. 4, 1755. 
 
 The writer describes a country assembly, highly perfumed with 
 ' the smell of the stable over which it was built, the savour of the 
 neighbouring kitchen, the fumes of tallow candles, rum punch, and 
 tobacco dispersed over the house, and the balsamic effluvias from 
 
THE 'WORLD. 
 
 347 
 
 many sweet creatures who were dancing.' Everyone l is pleased 
 and desirous of pleasing,' with the exception of some fashionable 
 young men blocking up the door — ( whose faces I remember to 
 
 have seen about town, who would neither dance, drink tea, play 
 at cards, nor speak to anyone, except now and then in whispers 
 to a young lady, who sat in silence at the upper end of the room, 
 in a hat and negligee, with her back against the wall, her arms 
 akimbo, her legs thrust out, a sneer on her lips, a scowl on her 
 forehead, and an invincible assurance in her eyes. Their behaviour 
 affronted most of the company, yet obtained the desired effect : 
 for I overheard several of the country ladies say, " It was a pity 
 they were so proud ; for to be sure they were prodigious well-bred 
 people, and had an immense deal of wit ; " a mistake they could 
 never have fallen into had these patterns of politeness conde- 
 scended to have entered into any conversation.' 
 
 No. 163. The 'World.' — Feb. 12, 1756. 
 
 \ There was an ancient sect of philosophers, the disciples of 
 Pythagoras, who held that the souls of men and all other animals 
 existed in a state of perpetual transmigration, and that when by 
 death they were dislodged from one corporeal habitation, they 
 were immediately reinstated in another, happier or more miserable 
 according to their behaviour in the former. This doctrine has 
 always appeared to me to present a theory of retributory compen- 
 sation which is very acceptable. 
 
 ' Thus the tyrant, who by his power has oppressed his country 
 in the situation of a prince, in that of a slave may be compelled to 
 do it some service by his labour. The highwayman, who has stopped 
 
348 
 
 THACKERA YANA. 
 
 and plundered travellers, may expiate and assist them in the shape 
 of a post-horse ; and mighty conquerors, who have laid waste the 
 world by their swords, may be obliged, by a small alteration in 
 sex and situation, to contribute to its re-peopling. 
 
 1 For my own part, I verily believe this to be the case. I 
 make no doubt but Louis XIV. is now chained to an oar in 
 the galleys of France, and that Hernando Cortez is digging 
 gold in the mines of Peru or Mexico ; that Dick Turpin, the 
 highwayman, is several times a day spurred backwards and for- 
 wards between London and Epping, and that Lord * * * * 
 and Sir Harry * * * * are now roasting for a city feast. I ques- 
 tion not but that Alexander the Great and Julius Caesar have died 
 many times in child-bed since their appearance in those illustrious 
 
 and depopulating characters ; that 
 Charles XII. is at this instant a 
 curate's wife in some remote village 
 with a numerous and increasing 
 family ; and that Kouli-Khan is now 
 whipped from parish to parish in the 
 person of a big-bellied beggar-woman, 
 with two children in her arms and 
 three at her back.' 
 
 No. 164. The 'World.' — Feb. 19, 1756. 
 
 ' Mr. FitzAdam, — I am infested by a swarm of country cousins 
 that are come up to town for the winter, as they call it, a whole 
 family of them. They ferret me out from every place I go to, 
 and it is impossible to stand the ridicule of being seen in their 
 company. 
 
 ' At their first coming to town I was, in a manner, obliged to 
 gallant them to the play, where, having seated the mother with 
 much ado, I offered my hand to the eldest of my five young 
 cousins ; but as she was not dexterous enough to manage a great 
 hoop with one hand only, she refused my offer, and at the first 
 step fell along. It was with great difficulty I got her up again ; 
 but imagine, sir, my situation. I sat like a mope all the night, 
 not daring to look up for fear of catching the eyes of my acquaint- 
 ance, who would have laughed me out of countenance. 
 
the i world: 
 
 349 
 
 c My friends see how I am mortified at all public places, and it 
 is a standing jest with them, wherever they meet me, to put on the 
 appearance of the profoundest respect, and to ask, "Pray, sir, 
 how do your cousins do ?" This leads me to propose something 
 
 for the relief of all those whose country cousins, like mine, expect 
 they should introduce them into the world ; by which means we 
 shall avoid appearing in a very ridiculous light. I would therefore 
 set up a person who should be known by the name of Town 
 Usher. His business should be to attend closely all young ladies 
 who were never in town before, to teach them to walk into play- 
 houses without falling over the benches, to show them the tombs 
 and the lions, and the wax-work and the giant, and instruct them 
 how to wonder and shut their mouths at the same time, for I really 
 meet with so many gapers every day in the streets that I am 
 continually yawning all the way I walk.' 
 
 ^No. 169. The 'World.' — March 25, 1756. 
 
 '"Wanted a Curate at Beccles,in Suffolk. Inquire farther of 
 Mr. Strut, Cambridge and Yarmouth carrier, who inns at the Crown, 
 the end of Jesus Lane, Cambridge. 
 
 ' " N.B. — To be spoken with from Friday noon to Saturday 
 morning, nine o'clock." 
 
 1 1 have transcribed this from a newspaper, Mr. FitzAdam, 
 verbatim et literatim, and must confess I look upon it as a 
 curiosity. It would certainly be .entertaining to hear the conver- 
 sation between Mr. Strut, Cambridge and Yarmouth carrier, and 
 the curate who Offers himself. Doubtless Mr. Strut has his 
 
35° 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 orders to inquire into the young candidate's qualifications, and to 
 make his report to the advertising rector before he agrees upon 
 terms with him. But what principally deserves our observation is 
 the propriety of referring us to a person who traffics constantly to 
 
 that great mart of young divines, Cambridge, where the advertiser 
 might expect numbers to flock to the person he employed. It is 
 pleasant, too, to observe the " N.B." at the end of the advertise- 
 ment ; it carries with it an air of significance enough to intimidate 
 a young divine who might possibly have been so bold as to have 
 put himself on an equal footing with this negotiator, if he had not 
 known that he was only to be spoken with at stated hours.' 
 
 No. 176. The 'World.' — May 13, 1756. 
 
 ' Going to visit an old friend at his country seat last week, I 
 found him at backgammon with the vicar of the parish. My 
 friend received me with the heartiest welcome, and introduced the 
 
 doctor to my acquaintance. This gentleman, who seemed to be 
 about fifty, and of a florid and healthy constitution, surveyed me 
 
THE 'WORLD: 351 
 
 all over with great attention, and after a slight nod of the head, 
 sat himself down without opening his mouth. I was a little hurt 
 at the supercilious behaviour of this divine, which my friend 
 observing, told me very pleasantly that I was rather too old to be 
 entitled to the doctor's complaisance, for he seldom bestowed 
 it but upon the young and vigorous ; " but," says he, " you will 
 know him better soon, and may probably think it worth your 
 while to book him in the ' World, ' for you will find him altogether 
 as odd a character as he is a worthy one." The doctor made no 
 reply to this raillery, but continued some time with his eye fixed 
 upon me, and at last shaking his head, and turning to my friend, 
 asked if he would play out the other hit. My friend excused 
 himself from engaging any more that evening, and ordered a 
 bottle of wine, with pipes and tobacco, to be set on the table, 
 The vicar filled his pipe, and drank very cordially to my friend, 
 still eyeing me with a seeming dislike, and neither drinking my 
 health nor speaking a single word to me. As I had long accus- 
 tomed myself to drink nothing but water, I called for a bottle of 
 it, and drank glass for glass with him ■ which upon the doctor's 
 observing, he shook his head at my friend, and in a whisper, loud 
 enough for me to hear, said, " Poor man, it is all over with him, I 
 see." My friend smiled, and answered, in the same audible 
 whisper, " No, no, doctor, Mr. FitzAdam intends to live as long 
 as either of us." He then addressed himself to me on the occur- 
 rences of the town, and drew me into a very cheerful conversation, 
 which lasted till I withdrew to rest ; at which time the doctor 
 rose from his chair, drank a bumper to my health, and giving me 
 a hearty shake by the hand, told me I was a very jolly old gentle- 
 man, and that he wished to be better acquainted with me during 
 my stay in the country.' 
 
 No. 185. The 'World.'— July 15, 1756. 
 
 ' Mr. FitzAdam. 
 
 ' Sir, — My case is a little singular, and therefore I hope you 
 will let it appear in your paper. I should scarcely have attempted 
 to make such a request, had I not very strictly looked over all 
 the works of your predecessors, the " Tatlers," " Spectators," and 
 
352 
 
 TH ACKER A YANA. 
 
 " Guardians," without a possibility of finding a parallel to my un- 
 happy situation. 
 
 ' I am not henpecked \ I am not grimalkined '; I have no Mrs. 
 Freeman, with her Italian airs j but I have a wife more trouble- 
 some than all three by a certain ridiculous and 
 unnecessary devotion that she pays to her father, 
 amounting almost to idolatry. When I first 
 married her, from that specious kind of weak- 
 ness which meets with encouragement and ap- 
 plause only because it is called good-nature, I 
 permitted her to do whatever she pleased ; but 
 when I thought it requisite to pull in the rein, 
 I found that her having the bit in her teeth 
 rendered the strength of my curb of no manner of use to me. 
 Whenever I attempted to draw her in a little, she tossed up her 
 head, snorted, pranced, and gave herself such airs, that unless I 
 let her carry me where she pleased, my limbs if not my life were 
 in danger.' 
 
 No. 191. The ' World.' — Aug. 26, 1756. 
 
 1 Ever since the tax upon dogs was first reported to be in 
 agitation, I have been under the greatest alarm for the safety of 
 the whole race. 
 
 ' I thought it a little hard, indeed, that a man should be taxed 
 for having one creature in his house in which he might confide; 
 
 but when I heard that officers were to be appointed to knock out 
 the brains of all these honest domestics who should presume to 
 make their appearance in the streets without the passport of their 
 master's name about their necks, I became seriously concerned 
 for them. 
 
THE < world: 
 
 353 
 
 1 This enmity against dogs is pretended upon the apprehension 
 of their going mad ; but an easier remedy might be applied, by 
 abolishing the custom (with many others equally ingenious) of 
 stringing bottles and stones to their tails, by which means (and 
 in this one particular I must give up my clients) the unfortunate 
 sufferer becomes subject to the persecutions of his own species, 
 too apt to join the run against a brother in distress. 
 
 ' But great allowance should be -made for an animal who, in an 
 intimacy of nearly six thousand years with man, has learnt but one 
 of his bad qualities.' 
 
 No. 192. 
 'Mr. FitzAdam,- 
 
 The 'World.' — Sept. 2, 1756. 
 
 -Walking up St. James's Street the other 
 day, I was stopt by a very smart young female, who begged my 
 pardon for her boldness, and looking very innocently in my face, 
 asked me if I did not know her. The manner of her accosting 
 me and the extreme prettiness of her figure made me look at her 
 with attention; and I soon recollected that she had been a 
 servant-girl of my wife's, who had taken her from the country, and 
 
 after keeping her three years in her service, had dismissed her 
 about two months ago. "What, Nanny/' said I, "is it you? I 
 never saw anybody so fine in all my life ! " " Oh, sir," says she, 
 with the most innocent smile imaginable, bridling her head and 
 curt'sying down to the ground, " I ■ have been led astray since I 
 lived with my mistress." " Have you so, Mrs. Nanny?" said I; 
 " and pray, child, who is it that has led you astray ? " " Oh, 
 
 A A 
 
354 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 sir ! " says she, " one of the worthiest gentlemen in the world ; 
 and he has bought me a new negligee for every day in the week." 
 
 1 The girl pressed me to go and look at her lodgings, which 
 she assured me were hard by in Bury Street, and as fine as a 
 duchess's ; but I declined her offer, knowing that any arguments 
 of mine in favour of virtue and stuff gowns would avail but little 
 against pleasure and silk negligees. I therefore contented myself 
 with expressing my concern for the way of life she had entered 
 into, and bade her farewell. 
 
 ' Being a man inclined to speculate a little, as often as I think 
 of the finery of this girl, and the reason alleged for it, I cannot 
 help fancying, whenever I fall in company with a pretty woman, 
 dressed out beyond her visible circumstances, patched, painted, 
 and ornamented to the extent of the mode, that she is going to 
 make me her best curt'sy, and to tell me, " Oh, sir ! I have been 
 led astray since I kept good company." ' 
 
 No. 202. The 'World.' — Nov. n, 1756. 
 
 1 The trumpet sounds ; to war the troops advance, 
 Adorned and trim, like females to the dance ; 
 Proud of the summons, to display his might, 
 The gay Lothario dresses for the fight ; 
 Studious in all the splendour to appear, 
 Pride, pomp, and circumstanoe of glorious war ! 
 His well-turned limbs the dift'rent garbs infold, 
 Form'd with nice art, and glitt'ring all with gold; 
 Across his breast the silken sash is tied, 
 Behind the shoulder-knot displays its pride ; 
 Glitt'ring with lace, the hat adorns his head, 
 Grac'd and distinguish'd by the smart cockade : 
 Conspicuous badge ! which only heroes wear, 
 Ensign of war and fav'rite of the fair. 
 The graceful queue his braided tresses binds, 
 And ev'ry hair in its just rank confines. 
 Each taper leg the snowy gaiters deck, 
 And the bright gorget dandles from his neck. 
 Dress'd cap-a-pie, all lovely to the sight, 
 Stands the gay warrior, and expects the fight. 
 Rages the war ; fell slaughter stalks around : 
 And stretches thousands breathless on the ground. 
 Down sinks Lothario, sent by one dire blow, 
 A well-dress'd hero, to the shades below. 
 
THE 'WORLD: 355 
 
 Thus the young victim, pampered and elate, 
 
 To some resplendent fane is led in state, 
 
 With garlands crown'd, through shouting crowds proceeds, 
 
 And dress'd in fatal pomp, magnificently bleeds.' 
 
 No. 209. The 'World.' — Dec. 30, 1756. 
 ' The Last of Mr. FitzAdam: 
 
 c Before these lines can reach the press, that truly great and 
 amiable gentleman, Mr. FitzAdam, will, in all probability, be no 
 more. An event so sudden and unexpected, and in which the 
 public are so deeply interested, cannot fail to excite the curiosity 
 of every reader. I shall, therefore, relate it in the most concise 
 manner I am able. 
 
 ' The reader may iemember that in the first number of the 
 " World," and in several succeeding papers, the good old gentle- 
 man flattered himself that the profits of his labours would some 
 time or other enable him to make a genteel figure in the world, 
 and seat himself at last in his one-horse chair. The death of Mrs. 
 FitzAdam, which happened a few months since, as it relieved him 
 from the great expense of housekeeping, made him in a hurry to 
 set up his equipage ; and as the sale of his paper was even beyond 
 his expectations, I was one of the first of his friends that advised 
 him to purchase it. The equipage was accordingly bespoke and 
 sent home ; and as he had all along promised that his first visit in 
 it should be to me, I expected him last Tuesday at my country- 
 house at Hoxton. The poor gentleman was punctual to his 
 appointment ; and it was with great delight that I saw him from 
 my window driving up the road that leads to my house. Unfor- 
 tunately for him, his eye caught mine; and hoping (as I suppose) 
 to captivate me by his great skill in driving, he made two or 
 three flourishes with his whip, which so frightened the horse that 
 he ran furiously away with the carriage, dashed it against a post, 
 and threw the driver from his seat with a violence hardly to be 
 conceived. I screamed out to my maid, " Lord bless me ! " says 
 I, " Mr. FitzAdam is killed !" and away we ran to the spot where 
 he lay. At first I imagined that his head was off, but upon draw- 
 ing nearer I found it was his hat.! He breathed, indeed, which 
 gave me hopes that he was not quite dead ; 'but for signs of life, he 
 had positively none. 
 
 a a 2 
 
356 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 1 In this condition, with the help of some neighbours, we 
 brought him into the house, where a warm bed was quickly got 
 ready for him ; which, together with bleeding and other helps, 
 brought him by degrees to life and reason. He looked round 
 about him for some time, and at last, seeing and knowing me, 
 inquired after his chaise. I told him it was safe, though a good 
 deal damaged. "No matter, madam," he replied; "it has done 
 my business ; it has carried me a journey from this world to the 
 next. I shall have no use for it again. The ' World ' is now at 
 an end ! I thought it destined to last a longer period ; but the 
 decrees of fate are not to be resisted. It would have pleased me 
 to have written the last paper myself, but that task, madam, must 
 be yours ; and, however painful it may be to your modesty, I con- 
 jure you to undertake it. . . . My epitaph, if the public might be 
 so satisfied, I would have decent and concise. It would offend 
 my modesty if, after the name of FitzAdam, more were to be 
 added than these words : — 
 
 ' "He was the deepest Philosopher, 
 
 The wittiest Writer, 
 
 and 
 
 The greatest Man 
 
 Of this Age or Nation.'" 
 
THE 'CONNOISSEUR: 357 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 thackeray's familiarity with the writings of the 
 satirical essayists — Continued. 
 
 Characteristic Passages from the Compositions of the ' Early Humourists,' from 
 Thackeray's Library, illustrated by the Author's hand with original Marginal 
 Sketches suggested by the Text — The 'Connoisseur,' 1754 — Introduction 
 — Review of Contributors — Paragraphs and Pencillings. 
 
 Preface to the ' Connoisseur.' 
 
 The ' Connoisseur ' was undertaken by a brace of congenial 
 wits, George Colman the elder, well known as a humorist and 
 dramatic writer, and Bonnel Thornton, both of whom at the time 
 they obliged the public with this publication were very young men, 
 still pursuing their studies at Oxford University. They appear to 
 have entered into a partnership, of which the following account is 
 given in their last paper : — 'We have not only joined in the work 
 taken altogether,' says the writer of No. 140. ' but almost every 
 single paper is the product of both ; and, as we have laboured 
 equally in erecting the fabric, we cannot pretend that any one 
 particular -part is the sole workmanship of either. A hint ■ has 
 perhaps been started by one of us, improved by the other, and still 
 further heightened by a happy coalition of sentiment in both, as 
 fire is struck out by a mutual collision of flint and steel. 
 Sometimes, like Strada's lovers conversing with the sympathetic 
 needles, we have written papers together at fifty miles distance from 
 each other. The first rough draft or loose minutes of an essay 
 have often travelled in the stage-coach from town to country and 
 from country to town ; and we have frequently waited for the 
 postman (whom we expected to bring us the precious remainder of 
 a " Connoisseur " ) with the same anxiety we should wait for the half 
 of a bank note, without which the other half would be of no value' 
 
35* THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 Such, indeed, was the similarity of manner, that, after some 
 years, the survivor, George Colman, was unable to distinguish his 
 share from that of his colleague in the case of those papers which 
 were written conjointly. Neither had an individuality of style by 
 which conjecture might be assisted. The prose compositions of 
 both were of the light and easy kind, sometimes with a dramatic 
 turn, and sometimes with an air of parody or imitation ; and their 
 objects were generally the same, the existing follies and absurdities 
 of the day, which they chastised with ironical severity. 
 
 George Colman, by whom it is probable the * Connoisseur ' 
 was projected, was the son of Thomas Colman, British Resident 
 at the Court of the Grand Duke of Tuscany at Pisa, by a sister of 
 the Countess of Bath. He was born at Florence about the year 
 1733, and placed at a very early age at Westminster school, where 
 his talents soon became conspicuous, and where he contracted an 
 acquaintance with Lloyd, Churchill, Thornton, and others, who 
 were afterwards the reigning wits of the day, and unfortunately 
 only employed their genius on the perishable beings and events of 
 the passing hour. Colman was elected to Christ's Church in 1751, 
 and received the degree of M.A. in the month of March, 1758. 
 
 It was at that college he projected the ' Connoisseur/ which 
 was printed at Oxford by Jackson, and sent to London for publi- 
 cation ; it afforded the coadjutors a very desirable relaxation from 
 their classical studies, to which, however, Colman was particularly 
 attached, and which he continued to cultivate at a more advanced 
 period of life, his last publication being a translation of Horace's 
 'Art of Poetry.' 
 
 Bonnel Thornton, the colleague of George Colman in many 
 of his literary labours, was the son of an apothecary, and born in 
 Maiden Lane, London, in the year 1724. After the usual course 
 of education at Westminster School, he was elected to Christ's 
 Church, Oxford, in 1743. The first publication in which he was 
 concerned was \ The Student, or the Oxford Monthly Miscellany,' 
 afterwards altered to 'The Student, or Oxford and Cambridge 
 Monthly Miscellany.' This entertaining medley appeared in 
 monthly numbers, printed at Oxford, for Newbery, in St. Paul's 
 Churchyard. Smart was the principal conductor, but Thornton 
 and other writers of both Universities occasionally assisted. 
 
 Our author, in 1752, began a periodical work, entitled 'Have 
 
THE 'CONNOISSEUR: 359 
 
 at ye All, or the Drury Lane Journal/ in opposition to Fielding's 
 ' Covent Garden Journal.' It contains humorous remarks on 
 reigning follies, but indulges somewhat too freely in personal 
 ridicule. 
 
 Thornton took his degree of Master of Arts in April, 1750, 
 and, as his father wished him to make physic his profession, he, 
 took the degree of bachelor of that faculty, May 18, 1754 ; but his 
 bent, like that of Colman, was not to the severer studies, and they 
 about this time ' clubbed their wits ' in the ' Connoisseur.' 
 
 According to their concluding motto : — 
 
 Sure in the self-same mould their minds were cast, 
 Twins in affection, judgment, humour, taste. 
 
 The last number facetiously alludes to the persons and pursuits 
 of the joint projectors, by a sort of epigrammatic description of Mr. 
 Town. ' It has often been remarked that the reader is very 
 desirous of picking up some little particulars concerning the author 
 of the book he is perusing. To gratify this passion, many literary 
 anecdotes have been published, and an account of their life, 
 character, and behaviour has been prefixed to the works of our 
 most celebrated writers. Essayists are commonly expected to be 
 their own biographers ; and perhaps our readers may require some 
 farther intelligence concerning the authors of the ' Connoisseur.' 
 But, as they have all along appeared as a sort of Sosias in litera- 
 ture, they cannot now describe themselves anyothenvise than as one 
 and the same person ; and can only satisfy the curiosity of the 
 public, by giving a short account of that respectable personage Mr. 
 Town, considering him as of the plural, or rather, according to the 
 Grecians, of the dual number. 
 
 'Mr. Town is a fair* black, middle-sized, very short man. He 
 wears his own hair, and a periwig. He is about thirty years of 
 age, and not more than four-and-twenty. He is a student of the 
 law, and a Bachelor of Physic. He was bred at the University of 
 Oxford, where, having taken no less than three degrees, he looks 
 down upon many learned professors as his inferiors ; yet, having 
 been there but little longer than to take the first degree of Bachelor 
 of Arts, it has more than once happened that the Censor General 
 of all England has been reprimanded by the Censor of his college 
 
 * The characteristics printed in italics belong to George Colman. 
 
360 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 for neglecting to furnish the usual essay, or, in the collegiate 
 phrase, the theme of the week. 
 
 ' This joint description of ourselves will, we hope, satisfy the 
 reader without any further information. . . . We have all the 
 while gone on, as it were, hand in hand together ; and while we 
 are both employed in furnishing matter for the paper now before 
 us, we cannot help smiling at our thus making our exit together, 
 like the two kings of Brentford, smelling at one nosegay.' 
 
 Among the few occasional contributors who assisted the ori- 
 ginators of the ' Connoisseur,' the foremost was the Earl of Cork, 
 who has been noticed as a writer in the ' World.' His communi- 
 cations to the organ of Mr. Town were the greater part of Nos. 14 
 and 17, the letters signed 'Goliath English,' in No. 19, great part 
 of Nos. 33 and 40, and the letters signed 'Reginald Fitzworm,' 
 ' Michael Krawbridge,' ' Moses Orthodox/ and ' Thomas Vainall/ 
 in Nos. 102, 107, 113, and 129. Duncombe says of this noble- 
 man, that ' for humour, innocent humour, no one had a truer 
 taste or better talent.' The authors, in their last paper, acknow- 
 ledge the services of their elevated coadjutor in these words : — ' Our 
 earliest and most frequent correspondent distinguished his favours 
 by the signature " G. K.," and we are sorry that he will not allow 
 us to mention his name, since it would reflect as much credit on 
 our work as we are sure will redound to it from his contributions.' 
 The Rev. John Duncombe, who has also been noticed as one of 
 the writers in the ' World,' was a contributor to the ' Connoisseur.' 
 The concluding paper already quoted observes in reference to the 
 communications of this writer : — ' The next in priority of time is a 
 gentleman of Cambridge, who signed himself " A. B.," and we 
 cannot but regret that he withdrew his assistance, after having 
 obliged us with the best part of the letters in Nos. 46, 49, and 52, 
 and of the essays in Nos. 62 and 64.' 
 
 Of the remaining essayists concerned in this work, William 
 Cowper, the author of the ' Task,' is the only contributor whose 
 name has been recovered, and his assistance certainly sheds 
 an additional interest on the paper. In early life this gifted 
 poet is said to have formed an acquaintance with Colman 
 and his colleague ; and to this circumstance we owe the few 
 papers in the ' Connoisseur ' which can be positively ascribed to 
 his pen; No. 119, 'On Keeping a Secret;' No. 134, 'Letter 
 
THE 'CONNOISSEUR: 361 
 
 from Mr. Village on the State of Country Churches, their Clergy 
 and Congregations;' and No. 138, 'On Conversation.' Other 
 papers are inferentially attributed, on internal evidence, to the 
 same author; No. in, containing the character of the delicate 
 1 Billy Suckling,' and No. 119 are set down to him by Colman and 
 Thornton. Nos. 13, 23, 41, 76, 81, 105, and 139, although they 
 cannot be claimed with any degree of certainty for his authorship, 
 are presumably written by Mr. Village, the cousin of Mr. Town, 
 whose name is attached to No. 134, which is Cowper's beyond 
 question. 
 
 Robert Lloyd, a minor poet, whose misfortunes in life are in 
 some degree referred to the temptations held out by his convivial 
 literary associates, also contributed his lyric compositions to Mr. 
 Town's paper. He was referred to, at the close of the ' Connoisseur,' 
 as ' the friend, a member of Trinity College, Cambridge,' who wrote 
 the song in No. 72, and the verses in Nos. 67, 90, 125, and 135, 
 all of which pieces were afterwards reprinted with his other works 
 in the second edition of Johnson's poets. 
 
 ' There are still remaining,' concludes Mr^ Town, in his final 
 number, 'two correspondents, who must stand by themselves, as 
 they wrote to us, not in an assumed character, but in propria 
 persona. The first is no less a personage than Orator Henley, who 
 obliged us with that truly original letter printed in No. 37.* The 
 other, who favoured us with a letter no less original, No. 70, we 
 have reason to believe is a Methodist teacher, and a mechanic; 
 but we do not know either his name or his trade.' 
 
 * The orator's epistle is in reality couched in violent and opprobrious lan- 
 guage ; and No. 70 is equally abusive and uncomplimentary to Mr. Town. 
 The communications of both of the reverend gentlemen pertain to the bellicose 
 order, and threaten breaches of the peace. 
 
362 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 No. 7. The 'Connoisseur.' — March 14, 1754. 
 
 I loath'd the dinner, while before my face 
 The clown still paw'd you with a rude embrace; 
 But when ye toy'd and kiss'd without controul, 
 I turn'd, and screen'd my eyes behind the bowl. 
 
 ' To Mr. Town. 
 
 t Sir, — I shall make no apology for recommending to your 
 notice, as Censor General, a fault that is too common among 
 married people ; I mean the absurd trick of fondling before com- 
 pany. Love is, indeed, a very rare ingredient in modern wedlock ; 
 nor can the parties entertain too much affection for each other, 
 but an open display of it on all occasions renders them ridiculous. 
 
 ' A few days ago I was introduced to a young couple who 
 were but lately married, and are reckoned by all their acquaint- 
 
 ance to be exceedingly happy in each other. I had scarce 
 saluted the bride, when the husband caught her eagerly in his 
 arms and almost devoured her with kisses. When we were seated, 
 they took care to place themselves close to each other, and during 
 our conversation he was constantly fiddling with her fingers, 
 tapping her cheek, or playing with her hair. At dinner, they were 
 mutually employed in pressing each other to taste of every dish, 
 and the fond appellations of " My dear," " My love," &c, were 
 continually bandied across the table. Soon after the cloth was 
 removed, the lady made a motion to retire, but the husband 
 prevented the compliments of the rest of the company by saying, 
 " We should be unhappy without her." As the bottle went round, 
 he joined her health to every toast, and could not help now and 
 then rising from his chair to press her hand, and manifest the 
 
THE 'CONNOISSEUR: 363 
 
 warmth of his passion by the ardour of his caresses. This precious 
 fooling, though it highly entertained them, gave me great disgust ; 
 therefore, as my company might very well be spared, I took my 
 leave as soon as possible.' 
 
 No. 8. The ' Connoisseur.' — March 21, 1754. 
 
 In outward show so splendid and so vain, 
 'Tis but a gilded block without a brain. 
 
 ' I hope it will not be imputed to envy or malevolence that I 
 here remark on the sign hung out before the productions of Mr. 
 FitzAdam. When he gave his paper the title of the " World," I 
 suppose he meant to intimate his design of describing that part of 
 it who are known to account all other persons " Nobody," and 
 are therefore emphatically called the "World." If this was to 
 
 be pictured out in the head-piece, a lady at her toilette, a party 
 at whist, or the jovial member of the Dilettanti tapping the world 
 for champagne, had been the most natural and obvious hierogly- 
 phics. But when we see the portrait of a philosopher poring on 
 the globe, instead of observations on modern life, we might more 
 naturally expect a system of geography, or an attempt towards a 
 discovery of the longitude. 
 
 ' Yet, in spite of all these disadvantages, the love of pleasure, 
 and a few supernumerary guineas, draw the student from his 
 literary employment, and entice him to this theatre of noise and 
 hurry, this grand mart of luxury ; where, as long as his purse can 
 supply him, he may be as idle and debauched as he pleases. I 
 could not help smiling at a dialogue between two of these gentle- 
 men, which I overheard a few nights ago at the Bedford Coffee- 
 house. " Ha ! Jack," says one, accosting the other, " is it you ? 
 How long have you been in town ?" " Two hours." " How long 
 
364 THA CKERA YA NA. 
 
 do you stay?" "Ten guineas; if you'll come to Venable's after 
 the play is over, you'll find Tom Latin, Bob Classic, and two or 
 three more, who will be very glad to see you. What, you're in 
 town upon the sober plan at your father's? But hark ye, Frank, 
 if you'll call in, I'll tell your friend Harris to prepare for you. So 
 your servant ; for I'm going to meet the finest girl upon town in 
 the green-boxes." ' 
 
 No. 12. The 'Connoisseur.' — April 18, 1754. 
 
 ' Nor shall the four-legged culprit 'scape the law, 
 But at the bar hold up the guilty paw. 
 
 The editor has been turning over that part of Lord Bolingbroke's 
 works in which he argues that Moses made the animals account- 
 able for their actions, and to be treated as moral agents. 
 
 ' These reflections were continued afterwards in my sleep ; 
 when methought such proceedings w r ere common in our courts of 
 judicature. I imagined myself in a spacious hall like the Old 
 Bailey, where they were preparing to try several animals, who had 
 been guilty of offences against the laws of the land. 
 
 'The sessions soon opened, and the first prisoner that was 
 brought to the bar was a kog, who was prosecuted at the suit of 
 the Jews, on an indictment for burglary, in breaking into the syna- 
 gogue. As it was apprehended that religion might be affected by 
 this cause, and as the prosecution appeared to be malicious, the 
 hog, though the fact was plainly proved against him, to the great 
 joy of all true Christians, was allowed Benefit of Clergy. 
 
 ' An indictment was next brought against a cat for killing 
 a favourite canary-bird. This offender belonged to an old woman, 
 who was believed by the neighbourhood to be a 
 witch. The jury, therefore, were unanimous in 
 their opinion that she was the devil in that shape, 
 and brought her in guilty. Upon which the judge 
 formally pronounced sentence upon her, and, I re- 
 member, concluded with these words : — " You 
 must be carried to the place of execution, where 
 you are to be hanged by the neck nine times, 'till you are dead, 
 dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead ; and the fiddlers 
 have mercy upon your fiddle-strings." 
 
THE 'CONNOISSEUR: 3^5 
 
 * A parrot was next tried for scandalum magnahim. He was 
 accused by the chief magistrate of the city and the whole court of 
 aldennen for defaming them, as they passed along the street, on a 
 public festival, by singing, " Room for cuckolds, here comes a 
 great company ; room for cuckolds, here comes my Lord Mayor." 
 He had even the impudence to abuse the whole court, by calling 
 the jury rogues and rascals ; and frequently interrupted my lord 
 judge in summing up the evidence, by crying out, " You dog." 
 The court, however, was pleased to show mercy to him upon the 
 petition of his mistress, a strict Methodist ; who gave bail for his 
 good behaviour, and delivered him over to Mr. Whiteneld, who 
 undertook to make a thorough convert of him.' 
 
 No. 14. The 'Connoisseur.' — May 2, 1754. 
 * To Mr. Town. 
 ^gjjjjfl ' Sir, — I received last week a dinner-card 
 
 fcflfl|fflilll/f fr° m a friend, with an intimation that I 
 should meet some very agreeable ladies. At 
 my arrival I found that the company con- 
 sisted chiefly of females, who indeed did me 
 ^ the honour to rise, but quite disconcerted me 
 in paying my respects by whispering to each 
 other, and appearing to stifle a laugh. When 
 I was seated, the ladies grouped themselves up in a corner, and 
 entered on a private cabal, seemingly to discourse upon points of 
 great secrecy and importance, but of equal merriment and diver- 
 sion. 
 
 1 It was" a continued laugh and whisper from the beginning to 
 the end of dinner. A whole sentence was scarce ever spoken 
 aloud. Single words, indeed, now and then broke forth ; such as 
 odious, horrible, detestable, shocking, humbug. 
 
 ' This last new-coined expression, which is only to be found in 
 the nonsensical vocabulary, sounds absurd and disagreeable when- 
 ever it is pronounced ; but from the mouth of a lady it is " shock- 
 ing, detestable, horrible, and odious." 
 
 1 Thus the whole behaviour of these ladies is in direct contra- 
 diction to good manners. They laugh when they should cry, are 
 loud when they should be silent, and are silent when their con- 
 
366 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 versation is desirable. If a man in a select company was thus to 
 laugh or whisper me out of countenance, I should be apt to con- 
 strue it as an affront, and demand an explanation. As to the 
 ladies, I would desire them to reflect how much they would suffer 
 if their own weapons were turned against them, and the gentlemen 
 should attack them with the same arts of laughing and whispering. 
 But, however free they may be from our resentment, they are still 
 open to ill-natured suspicions. They do not consider what 
 strange constructions may be put on these laughs and whispers. 
 It were, indeed, of little consequence if we only imagined that 
 they were taking the reputations of their acquaintance to pieces, 
 or abusing the company around ; but when they indulge them- 
 selves in this behaviour, some, perhaps, may be led to conclude 
 that they are discoursing upon topics which they are ashamed to 
 speak of in a less private manner.' 
 
 No. 19. The 'Connoisseur.' — yune 6, 1754. 
 
 ' Poscentes vario multum diversa palato. — Hor. 
 ' How ill our different tastes agree ! 
 This will have beef, and that a fricassee ! 
 
 ' The taverns about the purlieus of Covent Garden are dedi- 
 cated to Venus as well as Ceres and Liber; and you may fre- 
 quently see the jolly messmates of both sexes go in and come out 
 in couples, like the clean and unclean beasts in Noah's ark. These 
 houses are equally indebted for their support to the cook and that 
 worthy personage whom they have dignified with the title of pro- 
 curer. These gentlemen contrive to play into each other's hands. 
 The first, by his high soups and rich sauces, prepares the way for 
 the occupation of the other; who, having reduced the patient by 
 a proper exercise of his art, returns him back again to go through 
 the same regimen as before. We may therefore suppose that the 
 culinary arts are no less studied here than at White's or Pontac's. 
 True geniuses in eating will continually strike out new improve- 
 ments ; but I dare say neither of the distinguished chiefs of these 
 clubs ever made up a more extraordinary dish than I once remem- 
 ber at the " Castle." Some bloods being in company with a cele- 
 brated fille de joie, one of them pulled off her shoe, and in excess 
 of gallantry filled it with champagne, and drank it off to her 
 
THE 'CONNOISSEUR: 367 
 
 health. In this delicious draught he was immediately pledged by 
 the rest, and then, to carry the compliment still further, he ordered 
 the shoe itself to be dressed and served up for supper. The cook 
 set himself seriously to work upon it ; he pulled the upper part 
 (which was of damask) into fine shreds, and tossed it up in a 
 ragout; minced the sole, cut the wooden heel into very thin 
 slices, fried them in batter, and placed them round the dish for 
 garnish. The company, you may be sure, testified their affection 
 for the lady by eating very heartily of this exquisite impromptu, ; 
 and as this transaction happened just after the French king had 
 taken a cobbler's daughter for his mistress, Tom Pierce (who has 
 the style as well as art of a French cook) in his bill politely called 
 it ; in honour of her name, De Soulier a la Murphy. 
 
 1 Taverns, Mr. Town, seem contrived for promoting of luxury, 
 while the humbler chop-houses are designed only to satisfy the 
 ordinary cravings of nature. Yet at these you may meet with a 
 variety of characters. At Dolly's and Horseman's you commonly 
 see the hearty lovers of beef-steak and gill ale ; and at Betty's, and 
 the chop-houses about the Inns of Court, a pretty maid is as 
 inviting as the provisions. In these common refectories you may 
 always find the Jemmy attorney's 
 clerk, the prim curate, the walking 
 physician, the captain upon half- 
 pay, the shabby valet de chambre 
 upon board wages, and the foreign 
 count or marquis in dishabille, who 
 has refused to dine with a duke or 
 an ambassador. At a little eating- 
 house in a dark alley behind the 
 'Change, I once saw a grave citizen, worth a plump, order a two- 
 penny mess of broth with a boiled chop in it ; and when it was 
 brought him, he scooped the crumb out of a halfpenny roll, and 
 soaked it in the porridge for his present meal; then carefully 
 placing the chop between the upper and under crust, he wrapt 
 it up in a checked handkerchief, and carried it off for the morrow's 
 repast.' 
 
368 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 No. 30. The 'Connoisseur.' — Aug. 22, 1754. 
 
 Thumps following thumps, and blows succeeding blows, 
 Swell the black eye and crush the bleeding nose ; 
 Beneath the pond'rous fist the jaw-bone cracks, 
 And the cheeks ring with their redoubled thwacks. 
 
 ' The amusement of boxing, I must confess, is more imme- 
 diately calculated for the vulgar, who can have no relish for the 
 more refined pleasures of whist and the 
 hazard table. Men of fashion have found 
 out a more genteel employment for their 
 hands in shuffling a pack of cards and 
 shaking the dice ; and, indeed, it will 
 I? appear, upon a strict review, that most of 
 our fashionable diversions are nothing else 
 but different branches of gaming. What lady would be able to 
 boast a rout at her house consisting of three or four hundred 
 persons, if they were not to be drawn together by the charms of 
 playing a rubber? and the prohibition of our jubilee masquerades 
 is hardly to be regretted, as they wanted the most essential part of 
 their entertainments — the E. O. table. To this polite spirit of 
 gaming, which has diffused itself through all the fashionable world, 
 is owing the vast encouragement that is given to the turf; and 
 horse races are esteemed only as they afford occasion for making 
 a bet. The same spirit likewise draws the knowing ones together 
 in a cockpit ; and cocks are rescued from the dunghill, and armed 
 with gaffles, to furnish a new species of gaming. For this reason, 
 among others, I cannot but regret the loss of our elegant amuse- 
 ments in Oxford Road and Tottenham Court. A great part of 
 the spectators used to be deeply interested in what was doing on 
 the stage, and were as earnest to make an advantage of the issue 
 of the battle as the champions themselves to draw the largest 
 sum from the box. The amphitheatre was at once a school for 
 boxing and gaming. Many thousands have depended upon a match ; 
 the odds have often risen at a black eye ; a large bet has been 
 occasioned by a " cross-buttock ; " and while the house has re- 
 sounded with the lusty bangs of the combatants, it has at the same 
 time echoed with the cries of " Five to one ! six to one ! ten to 
 one!"' 
 
THE 'CONNOISSEUR: 
 
 369 
 
 No. 34. The 'Connoisseur.' — Sept. 19, 1754. 
 
 Reprehendere coner, 
 Quae gravis ^Esopus, quae doctus Roscius egit. — Hor. 
 
 Whene'er he bellows, who but smiles at Quin, 
 And laughs when Garrick skips like harlequin ? 
 
 ' I have observed that the tragedians of the last age studied 
 fine speaking, in consequence of which all their action consisted 
 in little more than strutting with one leg before the other, and 
 waving one or both arms in a continual see-saw. Our present 
 actors have, perhaps, run into a contrary extreme ; their gestures 
 sometimes resemble those afflicted with St. Vitus's dance, their 
 whole frame appears to be convulsed, and I have seen a player in 
 the last act so miserably distressed that a deaf spectator would be 
 apt to imagine he was complaining of the colic or the toothache. 
 This has also given rise to that unnatural custom of throwing the 
 body into various strange attitudes. There is not a passion neces- 
 sary to be expressed but has produced dispositions of the limbs 
 not to be found in any of the paintings or sculptures of the best 
 masters. A graceful gesture and easy deportment is, indeed, 
 worthy the care of every per- 
 former ; but when I observe 
 him writhing his body into 
 more unnatural contortions 
 than a tumbler at Sadler's 
 Wells, I cannot help being 
 disgusted to see him "imi- 
 tate humanity so abomin- 
 ably." Our pantomime au- 
 thors have already begun to 
 reduce our comedies into grotesque scenes ; and, if this taste for 
 attitude should continue to be popular, I would recommend it to 
 those ingenious gentlemen to adapt our best tragedians to the 
 same use, and entertain us with the jealousy of Othello in dumb 
 show or the tricks of Harlequin Hamlet.' 
 
 B B 
 
370 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Thackeray's researches amongst the writings of the 
 early essayists — Continued. 
 
 Characteristic Passages from the Works of the ' Humourists,' from Thackeray's 
 Library ; illustrated by the Author's hand with Marginal Sketches sug- 
 gested by the Text— The 'Rambler,' 1749-50 — Introduction— Its Author, 
 Dr. Johnson — Paragraphs and Pencillings. 
 
 Preface to the * Rambler,' 
 
 When, says Dr. Chalmers, Dr. Johnson undertook to write this 
 justly celebrated paper, he had many difficulties to encounter. If 
 lamenting that, during the long period which had elapsed since 
 the conclusion of the writings of Addison, vice and folly had 
 begun to recover from depressing contempt, he wished again to 
 rectify public taste and manners — to ' give confidence to virtue 
 and ardour to truth ' — he knew that the popularity of these 
 writings had constituted them a precedent which his genius was 
 incapable of following, and from which it would be dangerous to 
 depart. In the character of an essayist he was, hitherto, unknown 
 to the public. He had written nothing by which a favourable 
 judgment could be formed of his success in a species of compo- 
 sition which seemed to require the ease, and vivacity, and humour 
 of polished life ; and he had probably often heard it repeated 
 that Addison and his colleagues had anticipated all the subjects 
 fit for popular essays ; that he might, indeed, aim at varying or 
 improving what had been said before, but could stand no chance 
 of being esteemed an original writer, or of striking the imagination 
 by new and unexpected reflections and incidents. He was like- 
 wise, perhaps, aware that he might be reckoned what he about 
 this time calls himself — ' a retired and uncourtly scholar,' unfit to 
 
THE 'RAMBLER: 371 
 
 describe, because precluded from the observation of, refined 
 society and manners. 
 
 But they who pride themselves on long and accurate know- 
 ledge of the world are not aware how little of that knowledge is 
 necessary in order to expose vice or detect absurdity ; nor can 
 they believe that evidence far short of ocular demonstration is 
 amply sufficient for the purposes of the wit and the novelist. Dr. 
 Johnson appeared in the character of a moral teacher, with powers 
 of mind beyond the common lot of man, and with a knowledge 
 of the inmost recesses of the human heart such as never was dis- 
 played with more elegance or stronger conviction. Though in 
 some respects a recluse, he had not been an inattentive observer 
 of human life ; and he was now of an age at which probably as 
 much is known as can be known, and at which the full vigour of 
 his faculties enabled him to divulge his experience and his obser- 
 vations with a certainty that they were neither immature nor fal- 
 lacious. He had studied, and he had noted the varieties of human 
 character ; and it is evident that the lesser improprieties of conduct 
 and errors of domestic life had often been the subjects of his 
 secret ridicule. 
 
 Previously to the commencement of the 'Rambler' he had 
 drawn the outlines of many essays, of which specimens may be 
 seen in the biographies of Sir John Hawkins and Bos well ; and it 
 is probable that the sentiments of all these papers had been 
 long floating in his mind. With such preparation he began the 
 1 Rambler,' without any communication with his friends or desire 
 of assistance. Whether he proposed the scheme himself does 
 not appear ; but he was fortunate in forming an engagement with 
 Mr. John- Payne, a bookseller in Paternoster Row (and afterwards 
 the chief accountant of the Bank of England), a man with whom 
 he lived many years in habits of friendship, and who, on the 
 present occasion, treated his author with liberality. He engaged 
 to pay two guineas for each paper, or four guineas per week, 
 which, at that time, must have been to Johnson a very consider- 
 able sum ; and he admitted him to a share of the future profits 
 of the work when it should be collected into volumes, which share 
 Johnson afterwards sold. It has been observed that objections 
 have been offered to the name ' Rambler.' Johnson's account to 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds forms, probably, as good an excuse as so 
 
 b b 2 
 
372 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 trifling a circumstance demands. ' What must be done, sir, will 
 be done. When I was to begin publishing that paper, I was at a 
 loss how to name it. I sat down at night upon my bedside, and 
 resolved that I would not go to sleep till I had fixed its title. 
 The "Rambler" seemed the best that occurred, and I took it' 
 The Italians have literally translated this name ' 77 Vagabondo! 
 
 The first paper was published on Tuesday, March 20, 1749-50, 
 and the work continued without the least interruption every Tues- 
 day and Saturday until Saturday, March 14, 1752, on which day it 
 closed. Each number was handsomely printed on a sheet and a 
 half of fine paper, at the price of twopence, and with great typo- 
 graphical accuracy, not above a dozen errors occurring in the 
 whole work — a circumstance the more remarkable, because the 
 copy was written in haste, as the time urged, and sent to the press 
 without being revised by the author. When we consider that, in 
 the whole progress of the work, the sum of assistance he received 
 scarcely amounted to five papers, we must wonder at the fertility 
 of a mind engaged during the same period on that stupendous 
 labour, the English Dictionary, and frequently distracted by 
 disease and anguish. Other essayists have had the choice of 
 their days, and their happy hours, for composition ; but Johnson 
 knew no remission, although he very probably would have been 
 glad of it, and yet continued to write with unabated vigour, al- 
 though even this disappointment might be supposed to have often 
 rendered him uneasy ; and his natural indolence — not the indo- 
 lence of will, but of constitution — would, in other men, have 
 palsied every effort. Towards the conclusion there is so little of 
 that ' falling off ' visible in some works of the same kind, that it 
 might probably have been extended much farther, had the en- 
 couragement of the public borne any proportion to its merits. 
 
 The assistance Johnson received was very trifling ; Richard- 
 son, the novelist, wrote No. 97. The four letters in No. 10 were 
 written by Miss Mulso, afterwards Mrs. Chapone, who also con- 
 tributed the story of ' Fidelia ' to the ' Adventurer,' a paper 
 conducted by Doctors Hawkesworth, Johnson, Thornton, and 
 Warton, which succeeded the ' Rambler.' No. 30 was written by 
 Miss Catharine Talbot, and Nos. 44 and 100 were written by 
 Mrs. Elizabeth Carter. 
 
 The ' Rambler ' made its way very slowly into the world. 
 
THE 'RAMBLER: 373 
 
 All scholars, all men of taste, saw its excellence at once, and 
 crowded round the author to solicit his friendship and relieve his 
 anxieties. It procured him a multitude of friends and admirers 
 among men distinguished for rank as well as genius, and it con- 
 stituted a perpetual apology for that rugged and uncourtly manner 
 which sometimes rendered his conversation formidable, and to 
 those who looked from the book to the man, presented a contrast 
 that would no doubt frequently excite amazement. 
 
 Still, it must be confessed, there were at first many prejudices 
 against the ' Rambler ' to be overcome. The style was new ; it 
 appeared harsh, involved, and perplexed ; it required more than a 
 transitory inspection to be understood ; it did not suit those who 
 run as they read, and who seldom return to a book if the hour it 
 helped to dissipate can be passed away in more active pleasures. 
 When reprinted in volumes, however, the sale gradually increased ; 
 it was recommended by the friends of religion and literature as a 
 book by which a man might learn to think ; and the author lived 
 to see ten large editions printed in England, beside those which 
 were clandestinely printed in other parts of the kingdom and in 
 America. Since Johnson's death the number of editions has been 
 multiplied. 
 
 Sir John Hawkins informs us that these essays hardly ever 
 underwent a revision before they were sent to the press, and adds : 
 ' The original manuscripts of the " Rambler " have passed through 
 my hands, and by the perusal of them I am warranted to say, as 
 was said of Shakespeare by the players of his time, that he fiever 
 blotted out a line, and I believe without the retort which Ben Jonson 
 made to them : " Would he had blotted out a thousand." ' 
 
 However, Dr. Johnson's desire to carry his essays, which he 
 regarded in some degree as his monument to posterity, as near 
 perfection as his labours could achieve induced him to devote 
 such attention to the preparation of the ' Ramblers ' for the 
 collected series that the alterations in the second and third 
 editions far exceed six thousand — a number which may perhaps 
 justify the use of the expression * re-wrote/ although it must not 
 be taken inks literal acceptation. 
 
 With respect to the plan of the ' Rambler,' Dr. Johnson may 
 surely be said to have executed what he intended : he has success- 
 fully attempted the propagation of truth, and boldly maintained 
 
374 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 the dignity of virtue. He has accumulated in this work a treasury 
 of moral science which will not be soon exhausted. He has 
 laboured to refine our language to grammatical purity, and to 
 clear it from colloquial barbarisms, licentious idioms, and ir- 
 regular combinations. Something he has certainly added to the 
 elegance of its construction, and something to the harmony of its 
 cadence. 
 
 Comparisons have been formed between the * Rambler ' and 
 its predecessors, or rather between the genius of Johnson and 
 Addison, but have generally ended in discovering a total want of 
 resemblance. As they were both original writers, they must be 
 tried, if .tried at all, by laws applicable to their respective attri- 
 butes. But neither had a predecessor. We find no humour like 
 Addison's, no energy and dignity like Johnson's. They had 
 nothing in common but moral excellence of character; they could 
 not have exchanged styles for an hour. Yet there is one respect 
 in which we must give Addison the preference — more general 
 utility. His writings would have been understood at any period ; 
 Johnson's ars more calculated for an improved and liberal educa- 
 tion. In both, however, what was peculiar was natural. The 
 earliest of Dr. Johnson's works confirm this ; from the moment he 
 could write at all he wrote in stately periods, and his conversation 
 from first to last abounded in the peculiarities of his composition. 
 
 Addison principally excelled in the observation of manners, 
 and in that exquisite ridicule he threw on the minute improprieties 
 of life. Johnson, although not ignorant. of life .or manners, could 
 not descend to familiarities with tuckers and commodes, with furs 
 and hoop-petticoats. A scholarly professor and a writer from 
 necessity, he loved to bring forward subjects so near and dear as 
 the disappointments of authors— the dangers and miseries of 
 literary eminence — anxieties of literature — contrariety of criti- 
 cism — ^miseries of patronage — value of fame — causes of the con- 
 tempt of the learned — prejudices and caprices of criticism — 
 vanity of an author's expectations — meanness of dedications — 
 necessity of literary courage, and all those other subjects which 
 relate to authors and their connection with the public. Sometimes 
 whole papers are devoted to vwhat may be termed the personal 
 concerns of men of literature, and incidental reflections are every- 
 where interspersed for the -instruction or caution of the same class. 
 
THE 'RAMBLER: 375 
 
 When he treats of common life and manners it has been 
 observed he gives to the lowest of his correspondents the same 
 style and lofty periods ; and it may also be noticed that the 
 ridicule he attempts is in some cases considerably heightened by 
 the very want of accommodation of character. Yet it must be 
 allowed that the levity and giddiness of coquettes and fine ladies 
 are expressed with great difficulty in the Johnsonian language. 
 It has been objected also that even the names of his ladies have 
 very little of the air of either court or city, as Zosima, Properantia, 
 etc. Every age seems to have its peculiar names of fiction. In 
 the 'Spectators/ 'Tatlers,' etc., the Damons and Phillises, the 
 Amintors and Claras, etc., were the representatives of every virtue 
 and folly. 
 
 These were succeeded by the Philamonts, Tenderillas, Timo- 
 leons, Seomanthes, Pantheas, Adrastas, and Bellimantes, names to 
 which Mrs. Heywood gave currency in her ' Female Spectator,' 
 and from which at no great distance of time Dr. Johnson appears 
 to have taken his Zephyrettas, Trypheruses, Nitellas, Misotheas, 
 Vagarios, and Flirtillas. 
 
 THE 'RAMBLER.' 
 
 By DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D. 
 vol 1., 1750. 
 
 'To the "Rambler." 
 
 1 Sir,— As you seem to have devoted your labours to virtue, I 
 cannot forbear to inform you of one species of cruelty with which 
 the life of a man of letters perhaps does not often make him 
 acquainted, and which, as it seems to produce no other advantage 
 to those that practise it than a short gratification of thoughtless 
 
376 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 vanity, may become less common when it has been once exposed 
 in its various forms, and in full magnitude. 
 
 ' I am the daughter of a country gentleman, whose family is 
 numerous, and whose state, not at first sufficient to supply us with 
 affluence, has been lately so impaired by an unsuccessful lawsuit, 
 that all the younger children are obliged to try such means as 
 
 their education affords them for procuring the necessaries of life. 
 Distress and curiosity concurred to bring me to London, where I 
 was received by a relation with the coldness which misfortune 
 generally finds. A week — a long week — I lived with my cousin 
 before the most vigilant inquiry could procure us the least hopes 
 of a place, in which time I was much better qualified to bear all 
 the vexations of servitude. The first two days she was content to 
 pity me, and only wished I had not been quite so well bred ; but 
 people must comply with their circumstances. This lenity, how- 
 
THE 'RAMBLER? 
 
 377 
 
 ever, was soon at an end, and for the remaining part of the week 
 I heard every hour of the pride of the family, the obstinacy of my 
 father, and of people better born than myself that were common 
 servants. 
 
 1 At last, on Saturday noon, she told me, with very visible 
 satisfaction, that Mrs. Bombasine, the great silk-mercer's lady, 
 wanted a maid, and a fine place it would be, for there would be 
 nothing to do but to clean my mistress's room, get up her linen, 
 dress the young ladies, wait at tea in the morning, taking care of a 
 little miss just come from nurse, and then sit down to my needle. 
 But madam was a woman of great spirit, and would not be con- 
 tradicted, and therefore I should take care, for good places are 
 not easily to be got. 
 
 ' With these cautions I waited on Madame Bombasine, of whom 
 the first sight gave me no ravishing ideas. She was two yards 
 round the waist, her voice was 
 at once loud and squeaking, 
 and her face brought to my 
 mind the picture of the full 
 moon. " Are you the young 
 woman," says she, " that are 
 come to offer yourself? It 
 is strange when people of 
 substance want a servant how 
 soon it is the town talk. But they know they shall have a bellyful 
 that live with me. Not like people that live at the other end of 
 the town, we dine at one o'clock. But I never take anybody 
 without a character ; what friends do you come of ? " I then told 
 her that my father was a gentleman, and that we had been unfor- 
 tunate. " A great misfortune indeed to come to me and have 
 three meals a day ! So your father was a gentleman, and you are 
 a gentlewoman, I suppose — such gentlewomen ! " " Madam, I 
 did not mean to claim any exemptions ; I only answered your 
 inquiry." " Such gentlewomen ! people should set up their 
 children to good trades, and keep them off the parish. Pray go 
 to the other end of the town ; there are gentlewomen, if they 
 would pay their debts ; I am sure we have lest enough by gentle- 
 women." Upon this her broad face grew broader with triumph, 
 and I was afraid she would have taken me for the pleasure of 
 
378 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 continuing her insult ; but happily the next word was, " Pray, Mrs. 
 Gentlewoman, troop downstairs." You may believe I obeyed her. 
 ' After numerous misadventures of the same description, it was 
 of no purpose that the refusal was declared by me never to be on 
 my side ; I was reasoning against interest and against stupidity ; 
 and therefore I comforted myself with the hope of succeeding 
 better in my next attempt, and went to Mrs. Courtly, a very fine 
 
 lady, who had routs at her 
 house, and saw the best com- 
 pany in town. 
 
 ' I had not waited two hours 
 before I was called up, and 
 found Mr. Courtly and his lady 
 at piquet in the height of good 
 humour. This I looked on as a favourable sign, and stood at the 
 lower end of the room, in expectation of the common questions. 
 At last Mr. Courtly called out, after a whisper, " Stand facing the 
 light, that one may see you." I changed my place, and blushed. 
 They frequently turned their eyes upon me, and seemed to dis- 
 cover many subjects of merriment, for at every look they whispered, 
 and laughed with the most violent agitations of delight. At last 
 Mr. Courtly cried out, " Is that colour your own, child? " " Yes," 
 said the lady, " if she has not robbed the kitchen hearth." It 
 was so happy a conceit that it renewed the storm of laughter, and 
 they threw down their cards in hopes of better sport. The lady 
 then called me to her, and began with affected gravity to inquire 
 what I could do. " But first turn about, and let us see your fine 
 shape ; well, what are you fit for, Mrs. Mum ? You would find 
 your tongue, I suppose, in the kitchen." " No, no," says Mrs. 
 Courtly, "the girl's a good girl yet, but I am afraid a brisk young 
 
 fellow, with fine tags on his shoulder " " Come, child, hold up 
 
 your head ; what? you have stole nothing." "Not yet," said the 
 lady ; " but she hopes to steal your heart quickly." Here was a 
 laugh of happiness and triumph, prolonged by the confusion 
 which I could no longer repress. At last the lady recollected 
 herself: " Stole ? no — but if I had her I should watch her • for 
 
 that downcast eye Why cannot you look people in the face ? " 
 
 " Steal ! " says her husband, " she would steal nothing but, 
 perhaps, a few ribbons before they were left off by my lady." 
 
THE 'RAMBLER: 379 
 
 "Sir," answered I, "why should you, by supposing me a thief, 
 insult one from whom you have received no injury ? " " Insult ! " 
 says the lady ; " are you come here to be a servant, you saucy 
 baggage, and talk of insulting ? What will this world come to if a 
 gentleman may not jest with a servant? Well, such servants ! 
 pray be gone, and see when you will have the honour to be so 
 insulted again. Servants insulted — a fine time ! Insulted ! Get 
 downstairs, you slut, or the footman shall insult you." ' 
 
 The ' Rambler. '—Vol. I. No. 18. 
 
 ' There is no observation more frequently made by such as 
 employ themselves in surveying the conduct of mankind than 
 that marriage, though the dictate of nature, and the institute of 
 Providence, is yet very often the cause of misery, and that those 
 who enter into that state can seldom forbear to express their 
 repentance, and their envy of those whom either chance or 
 caution hath withheld from it. 
 
 ' One of the first of my acquaintances that resolved to quit the 
 unsettled, thoughtless condition of a bachelor was Prudentius, a 
 man of slow parts, but not without knowledge or judgment in 
 things which he had leisure to consider gradually before he 
 determined them. This grave considerer found by deep medi- 
 tation that a man was no loser by marrying early, even though he 
 contented himself with a less fortune, »for estimating the exact 
 worth of annuities, he found that considering 
 the constant diminution of the value of life, 
 with the probable fall of the interest of 
 money, it Vas not worse to have ten 
 thousand pounds at the age of two-and- 
 twenty years than a much larger fortune at 
 thirty ; for many opportunities, says he, occur of improving money 
 which, if a man misses, he may not afterwards recover. 
 
 ' Full of these reflections, he threw his eyes about him, not in 
 search of beauty or elegance, dignity or understanding, but of a 
 woman with ten thousand pounds. Such a woman, in a wealthy 
 part of the kingdom, it was not difficult to find ; and by artful 
 management with her father — whose ambition was to make his 
 daughter a gentlewoman — my friend got her, as he boasted to us 
 
380 THA CKERA YANA . 
 
 in confidence two days after his marriage, for a settlement of 
 seventy-three pounds a year less than her fortune might have 
 claimed, and less than himself would have given if the fools had 
 been but wise enough to delay the bargain. 
 
 ' Thus at once delighted with the superiority of his parts and 
 the augmentation of his fortune, he carried Furia to his own house, 
 in which he never afterwards enjoyed one hour of happiness. 
 For Furia was a' wretch of mean intellects, violent passions, a 
 strong voice, and low education, without any sense of happiness 
 but that which consisted in eating, and counting money. Furia 
 was a scold. They agreed in the desire of wealth, but with this 
 difference : that Prudentius was for growing rich by gain, Furia by 
 parsimony. Prudentius would venture his money with chances 
 very much in his favour ; but Furia, very wisely observing that 
 what they had was, while they had it, their own, thought all traffic 
 too great a hazard, and was for putting it out at low interest upon 
 good security. Prudentius ventured, however, to insure a ship at 
 a very unreasonable price ; but happening to lose his money, was 
 so tormented with the clamours of his wife that he never durst 
 try a second experiment. He has now grovelled seven-and-forty 
 years under Furia's direction, who never once mentioned him, 
 since his bad luck, by any other name than that of the " usurer." ' 
 
 The ' Rambler.' — Vol. I. No. 24. 
 
 Nemo in sese tentat descendere. — Persius. 
 None, none descends into himself. — Dryden. 
 
 1 Among the precepts or aphorisms admitted by general con- 
 sent and inculcated by repetition, there is none more famous, 
 among the masters of ancient wisdom, than 
 that compendious lesson, Tvtidi aeavrov — Be 
 acquainted with thyself — ascribed by some to 
 an oracle, and others to Chilo of Lacedaemon. 
 'We might have had more satisfaction 
 concerning the original import of this cele- 
 brated sentence, if history had informed us 
 whether it was uttered as a general instruction to mankind, or as 
 a particular caution to some private inquirer ; whether it was applied 
 to seme single occasion, or laid down as the universal rule of life. 
 
THE 'RAMBLER: 381 
 
 'The great praise of Socrates is that he drew the wits of 
 Greece, by his instruction and example, from the vain pursuit of 
 natural philosophy to moral inquiries, and turned their thoughts 
 from stars and tides, and matter and motion, upon the various 
 modes of virtue and relations of life. 
 
 ' The great fault of men of learning is still that they offend 
 against this rule, and appear willing to study anything rather than 
 themselves ; for which reason they are often despised by those 
 with whom they imagine themselves above comparison. 
 
 ' Eupheues,* with great parts of extensive knowledge, has a 
 clouded aspect and ungracious form, yet it has been his ambition, 
 from his first entrance into life, to distinguish himself by parti- 
 cularities in his dress — to outvie beaus in embroidery, to import 
 new trimming, and to be foremost in the fashion. Eupheues has 
 turned on his exterior appearance that attention which would have 
 always produced esteem had it been fixed upon his mind ; and 
 though his virtues and abilities have preserved him from the con- 
 tempt which he has so diligently solicited, he has at least raised 
 one impediment to his reputation, since all can judge of his dress, 
 but few of his understanding, and many who discern that he is a 
 fop are unwilling to believe that he can be wise. 
 
 1 There is one instance in which the ladies are particularly un- 
 willing to observe the rule of Chilo. They are desirous to hide 
 from themselves the 
 advance of age, and 
 endeavour too fre- 
 quently to supply 
 the sprightliness and 
 bloom of youth by 
 artificial beautv and 
 forced vivacity. 
 
 ■ They hope to 
 inflame the heart by glances which have lost their fire, or melt 
 it by laughter which is no longer delicate ; they play over airs 
 which pleased at a time when they were expected only to please, 
 and forget that airs in time ought to give place to virtues. They 
 
 * Dr. Johnson seems here to point his homily from the instance of his friend 
 Goldsmith. This circumstance gives an individual interest to a slightly pon- 
 derous sketch. 
 
382 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 continue to trifle, because they could once trifle agreeably, till 
 those who shared their early pleasures are withdrawn to more 
 serious engagements, and are scarcely awakened from their dream 
 of perpetual youth by the scorn of those whom they endeavour to 
 rival.' 
 
 The 'Rambler.' — Vol. I. No. 34. 
 
 Non sine vano 
 Aurarum et silvae metu. — Hor. 
 
 Alarm'd with every rising gale, 
 
 In every wood, in every vale. — Elphinston. 
 
 The ' Rambler ' inserts a letter describing how the end of those 
 ladies whose chief ambition is to please is often missed by ab- 
 surd and injudicious endeavours to obtain distinction, and who 
 mistake cowardice for elegance, and imagine all delicacy consists 
 in refusing to be pleased. A country gentleman relates the cir- 
 cumstances of his visit to Anthea, a heiress, whose birth and 
 beauty render her a desirable match : — 
 
 ' Dinner was now over, and the company proposed that we 
 should pursue our original design of visiting the gardens. Anthea 
 declared that she could not imagine what pleasure we expected 
 from the sight of a few green trees and a little gravel, and two or 
 three pits of clear water ; that, for her part, she hated walking till 
 the cool of the evening, and thought it very likely to rain, and 
 again wished she had stayed at home. We then reconciled our- 
 selves to our disappointment, and began to talk on common 
 
 subjects, when Anthea told us 
 since we came to see the gar- 
 dens she would not hinder our 
 satisfaction. We all rose, and 
 walked through the enclosures 
 for some time with no other 
 trouble than the necessity of 
 watching lest a frog should hop across the way, which, Anthea told 
 us, would certainly kill her if she should happen to see him. 
 
 ' Frogs, as it fell out, there were none ; but when we were 
 within a furlong of the gardens Anthea saw some sheep, and heard 
 the wether clink his bell, which she was certain was not hung 
 upon him for nothing, and therefore no assurances nor entreaties 
 
THE 'RAMBLER: 383 
 
 should prevail upon her to go a step further ; she was sorry to dis- 
 appoint the company, but her life was dearer to her than ceremony. 
 ' We came back to the inn, and Anthea now discovered that 
 there was no time to be lost in returning, for the night would come 
 upon us and a thousand misfortunes might happen in the dark. 
 The horses were immediately harnessed, and Anthea, having 
 wondered what could seduce her to stay so long, was eager to set 
 out. But we had now a new scene of terror ; every man we saw 
 was a robber, and we were ordered sometimes to drive hard — lest 
 a traveller, whom we saw behind, should overtake us — and some- 
 times to stop, lest we should come up to him who was passing 
 before us. She alarmed many an honest man by begging him to 
 spare her life as he passed by the coach, and drew me into fifteen 
 quarrels with persons who increased her fright by kindly stopping 
 to inquire whether they could assist us. At last we came home, 
 and she told her company next day what a pleasant ride she had 
 been taking.' 
 
 The 'Rambler.'— Vol. I. No. 37. 
 
 Piping on their reeds the shepherds go, 
 Nor fear an ambush, nor suspect a foe. — Pope. 
 
 Canto quse solitus, si quando armenta vocabat, 
 
 Amphion Dircasus. — Virg. 
 Such strains I sing as once Amphion play'd, 
 When listening flocks the powerful call obeyed. — Elphinston. 
 
 ' The satisfaction received from pastoral writing not only begins 
 early, but lasts long ; we do not, as we advance into the intel- 
 
 lectual world, throw it away among other childish amusements and 
 pastimes, but willingly return to it any hour of indolence and re- 
 laxation. The images of true pastoral have always the power of 
 
384 THA CKERA YA NA . 
 
 exciting delight, because the works of nature, from which they are 
 drawn, have always the same order and beauty, and continue to 
 force themselves upon our thoughts, being at once obvious to the 
 most careless regard and more than adequate to the strongest 
 reason and severest contemplation. Our inclination to stillness 
 and tranquillity is seldom much lessened by long knowledge of 
 the busy and tumultuous part of the world. In childhood we turn 
 our thoughts to the country as to the origin of pleasure ; we recur 
 to it in old age as a part of rest, and, perhaps, with that secondary 
 and adventitious gladness which every man feels on reviewing 
 those places, or recollecting those occurrences, that contribute to 
 his youthful enjoyments, and bring him back to the prime of life, 
 when the world was gay with the bloom of novelty, when mirth 
 wantoned at his side, and hope sparkled before him.' 
 
 The ' Rambler.'— Vol. I. No. 55. 
 
 Now near to death that comes but slow, % 
 
 Now thou art stepping down below ; 
 
 Sport not among the blooming maids, 
 
 But think on ghosts and empty shades : 
 
 What suits with Phoebe in her bloom, 
 
 Grey Chloris, will not thee become ; 
 
 A bed is different from a tomb. — Creech. 
 
 Parthenia addresses a letter to the ' Rambler ' on the sub- 
 ject of the troubles she suffers from the frivolous desire which 
 her mother, a widow, has contracted to practise the follies of 
 youth, the pursuit of which she finds fettered by the presence of 
 Parthenia, whom she is inclined to regard not as her daughter, but 
 as a rival dangerous to the admiration which the elder lady would 
 confine to herself. 
 
 After a year of decent mourning had been devoted to deplor- 
 ing the loss of Parthenia's father — ' All the officiousness of kind- 
 ness and folly was busied to change the conduct of the widow. 
 She was at one time alarmed with censure, and at another fired 
 with praise. She was told of balls where others shone only 
 because she was absent, of new comedies to which all the town 
 was crowding, and of many ingenious ironies by which domestic 
 diligence was made contemptible. 
 
THE 'RAMBLER: 385 
 
 * It is difficult for virtue to stand alone against fear on one side 
 and pleasure on the other, especially when no actual crime is pro- 
 posed, and prudence itself can suggest many 
 reasons for relaxation and indulgence. My 
 mamma was at last persuaded to accompany 
 Mrs. Giddy to a play. She was received with a 
 boundless profusion of compliments, and at- 
 tended home by a very fine gentleman. Next 
 day she was, with less difficulty, prevailed on to 
 play at Mrs. Gravely's, and came home gay and 
 lively, for the distinctions that had been payed her awakened her 
 vanity, and good luck had kept her principles of frugality from 
 giving her disturbance. She now made her second entrance into 
 the world, and her friends were sufficiently industrious to prevent 
 any return to her former life ; every morning brought messages of 
 invitation, and every evening was passed in places of diversion, 
 from which she for some time complained that she had rather be 
 absent. In a short time she began to feel the happiness of acting 
 without control, of being unaccountable for her hours, her ex- 
 penses, and her company, and learned by degrees to drop an- 
 expression of contempt or pity at the mention of ladies whose 
 husbands were suspected of restraining their pleasures or their 
 play, and confessed that she loved to go and come as she pleased. 
 ' My mamma now began to discover that it was impossible to 
 educate children properly at home. Parents could not have them 
 always in their sight; the society of servants 
 was contagious; company produced boldness 
 and spirit; emulation excited industry; and a 
 large school was naturally the first step into the 
 open world. A thousand other reasons she 
 alleged, some of little force in themselves, but 
 so well seconded by pleasure, vanity, and idle- 
 ness, that they soon overcame all the remaining 
 principles of kindness and piety, and both I and 
 my brother were despatched to boarding-schools. 
 ' When I came home again, after sundry 
 vacations, and, with the usual childish alacrity, 
 was running to my mother's embrace, she stopped 
 me with exclamations at the suddenness and enormity of my 
 
 c c 
 
386 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 growth, having, she said, never seen anybody shoot up so much 
 at my age. 
 
 ' She was sure no other girls spread at that rate, and she hated 
 to have children look like women before their time. I was dis- 
 concerted, and retired without hearing anything more than " Nay, 
 if you are angry, Madam Steeple, you may walk off." 
 
 ' She had yet the pleasure of dressing me like a child, and I 
 know not when I should have been thought fit to change my 
 habit, had I not been rescued by a maiden aunt of my father, 
 who could not bear to see women in hanging-sleeves, and there- 
 fore presented me with brocade for a gown, for which I should 
 have thought myself under great obligations, had she not accom- 
 panied her favour with some hints that my mamma might now 
 consider her age, and give me her earrings, which she has shown 
 long enough in public places. 
 
 ' Thus I live in a state of continual persecution only because I 
 was born ten years too soon, and cannot stop the course of nature 
 or of time, but am unhappily a woman before my mother can 
 willingly cease to be a girl. I believe you would contribute to the 
 happiness of many families if by any arguments, or persuasions, 
 you could make mothers ashamed of rivalling their children ; if 
 you could show them that though they may refuse to grow wise 
 they must inevitably grow old, and that the proper solaces of age 
 are not music and compliments, but wisdom and devotion ; that 
 those who are so unwilling to quit the world will soon be driven 
 from it ; and that it is, therefore, their interest to retire while there 
 yet remain a few hours for nobler employments. — I am, etc., 
 
 ' Parthenia.' 
 
 The < Rambler.'— Vol. I. No. 56. 
 
 Valeat res ludicra, si me 
 Palma negata macrum, donata reducit opimum. — Hor. 
 Farewell the stage ; for humbly I disclaim 
 Such fond pursuits of pleasure or of fame, 
 If I must sink in shame, or swell with pride, 
 As the gay psalm is granted or denied. — Francis. 
 
 ' I am afraid that I may be taxed with insensibility by many of 
 my correspondents, who believe their contributions neglected. 
 And, 'indeed, when I sit before a pile of papers, of which each is 
 
the 'rambler: 
 
 387 
 
 the production of laborious study, and the offspring of a fond 
 parent, I, who know the passions of an author, cannot remember 
 how long they have been in my 
 boxes unregarded without ima- 
 gining to myself the various 
 changes of sorrow, impatience, 
 and resentment which the writers 
 must have felt in this tedious in- 
 terval. 
 
 ' These reflections are still more awakened when, upon perusal, 
 I find some of them calling for a place in the next paper, a place 
 which they have never yet obtained ; others writing in a style of 
 superiority and haughtiness as secure of deference and above 
 fear of criticism ; others humbly offering their weak assistance 
 with softness and submission, which they believe impossible to be 
 resisted ; some introducing their compositions with a menace of 
 the contempt he that refuses them will incur ; others applying 
 privately to the booksellers for their interest and solicitation ; every 
 one by different ways endeavouring to secure the bliss of publica- 
 tion. I cannot but consider myself placed in a very incommodious 
 situation, where I am forced to repress confidence which it is 
 pleasing to indulge, to repay civilities with appearances of neglect, 
 and so frequently to offend those by whom I was never offended.' 
 
 The ' Rambler.' — Vol. I. No. 59. 
 
 Strangulat inclusus dolor, atque exsestuat intus, 
 
 Cogitur et vires multiplicare suas. — Ovid. 
 
 In vain by secrecy we would assuage 
 
 Our cares ; conceal'd they gather tenfold rage.— Lewis. 
 
 ' It is common to distinguish men by the 
 names of animals which they are supposed 
 to resemble. Thus a hero is frequently 
 termed a lion, and a statesman a fox, an 
 extortioner gains the appellation of vul- 
 ture, and a fop the title of monkey. 
 There is also among the various anoma- 
 lies of character which a survey of the 
 world exhibits, a species of beings in human form which may be 
 
 properly marked out as the screech-owls of mankind. 
 
 c c 2 
 
388 THA CKERA YANA . 
 
 ' These screech-owls seem to be settled in an opinion that the 
 great business of life is to complain, and that they were born for 
 no other purpose than to disturb the happiness of others, to lessen 
 the little comforts and shorten the short pleasures of our condition, 
 by painful remembrances of tlie past, or melancholy prognostics of 
 the future ; their only care is to crush the rising hope, to damp 
 the kindling transport, and alloy the golden hours of gaiety with 
 the hateful dross of grief and suspicion. 
 
 ' I have known Suspirius, the screech-owl, fifty-eight years and 
 four months, and have never passed an hour with him in which he 
 has not made some attack upon my quiet. When we were first 
 acquainted, his great topic was the misery of youth without 
 riches ; and whenever we walked out together, he solaced me with 
 a long enumeration of pleasures, which, as they were beyond the 
 reach of my fortune, were without the verge of my desires, and 
 which I should never have considered as the objects of a wish, 
 had not his unreasonable representations placed them in my sight. 
 
 * Suspirius has, in his time, intercepted fifteen authors on their 
 way to the stage ; persuaded nine-and-thirty merchants to retire 
 from a prosperous trade for fear of bankruptcy; broke off a hundred 
 and thirteen matches by prognostications of unhappiness; and 
 enabled the small-pox to kill nineteen ladies by perpetual alarms 
 of the loss of beauty. 
 
 ' Whenever my evil stars bring us together he never fails to 
 represent to me the folly of my pursuits, and informs me we are 
 much older than when we began our acquaintance ; that the 
 infirmities of decrepitude are coming fast upon me ; that whatever 
 I now get I shall enjoy but a little time ; that fame is to a man 
 tottering on the edge of the grave of very little importance; and 
 that the time is at hand when I ought to look for no other plea- 
 sures than a good dinner and an easy chair.' 
 
THE 'RAMBLEkj 
 
 389 
 
 The 'Rambler.' — Vol. I. No. 6r. 
 
 Falsus honor juvat, et mendax infamia terreC, 
 Quern, nisi mendosum et mendacem ?—Hor. 
 False praise can charm, unreal shame control 
 Whom but a vicious or a sickly soul? — Francis. 
 
 Ruricola, who dwells m 
 the country, is writing 
 upon the airs which 
 those, whose pursuits 
 take them to .London, 
 assume on their return 
 to their more homely 
 associates; and he relates 
 in particular the preten- 
 sions of one Fi'olic, who 
 has endowed himself 
 with importance upon 
 the mysterious and self- 
 conferred reputation of 
 knowing town. 
 
 *My curiosity/ de- 
 clares Ruricola, * has 
 been most engaged by 
 the recital of his own adventures and achievements. I have 
 heard of the union of various characters in single persons, but 
 never met with such a constellation of great qualities as this man's 
 narrative affords. Whatever has distinguished the hero, whatever 
 has elevated the wit, whatever has endeared the lover, are all 
 concentrated in Mr. Frolic, whose life has, for seven years, been a 
 regular interchange of intrigues, dangers, and waggeries, and who 
 has distinguished himself in every character that can be feared, 
 envied, or admired. 
 
 ' 1 question whether all the officers in the royal navy can bring 
 together, from all their journals, a collection of so many wonderful 
 escapes as this man has known upon the Thames, on which he has 
 been a thousand times on the point of perishing, sometimes by 
 the teiTors of foolish women in the same boat, sometimes by his 
 own acknowledged imprudence in passing the river in the dark, 
 
39 o THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 and sometimes by shooting the bridge, under which he had 
 encountered mountainous waves and dreadful cataracts. 
 
 ' Not less has been his temerity by land, nor fewer his hazards. 
 He has reeled with giddiness on the top of the Monument ; he 
 lias crossed the street amidst the rush of coaches ; he has been 
 surrounded by robbers without number ; he has headed parties at 
 the play-house ; he has scaled the windows of every toast of what- 
 ever condition; he has been hunted for whole winters by his 
 rivals ; he has slept upon bulks; he has cut chairs; he has bilked 
 coachmen; he has rescued his friends from bailiffs, and has 
 
 knocked down the constable, has bullied the justice, and performed 
 many other exploits that have filled the town with wonder and 
 merriment. 
 
 1 But yet greater is the fame of his understanding than his 
 bravery, for he informs us that he is, in London, the established 
 arbitrator on .all points of honour, and the decisive judge of all 
 performances of genius ; that no musical performer is in reputa- 
 tion till the opinion, of Frolic has ratified his pretensions ; that the 
 theatres suspend their sentence till he begins to clap or hiss, in 
 which all are proud t to concur; that no public entertainment has 
 failed or succeeded but because he opposed or favoured it; that 
 all controversies at .the gaming- table. are referred to his determina- 
 tion ; that he adjusts the ceremonial at every assembly, and pre- 
 scribes every fashion. of pleasure or of dress. 
 
 ' With every man whose name occurs in the papers of the day 
 he is intimately acquainted, and that there are very few points 
 either on the state or army of which he has not more or less 
 influenced the disposal, while he has been very frequently con- 
 sulted both .upon peace and war.' 
 
 Ruricola concludes by inquiring whether Mr. Frolic is really 
 so well known in London as he pretends, or if he shall denounce 
 him as an impostor. 
 
THE 'RAMBLER: 
 
 391 
 
 The ' Rambler.'— Vol. II. No. 89. 
 
 Dulce est desipere in loco. 
 
 1 There is nothing more fatal to a man whose business is to 
 think than to have learned the art of regaling his mind with those 
 airy gratifications. Other vices 
 or follies are restrained by- 
 fear, reformed by admonition, 
 or rejected by conviction, 
 which the comparison of our 
 conduct with that of others 
 may in time produce. But 
 this invisible riot of the mind, 
 
 this secret prodigality of being, is secure from detection and fear- 
 less from reproach. The dreamer retires to his apartments, 
 shuts out the cares and interruptions of mankind, and abandons 
 himself to his own fancy; new worlds rise up before him, one 
 image is followed by another, and a long succession of delights 
 
392 
 
 THA CKERA YANA , 
 
 dances around him. He is at last called back to life by nature or 
 by custom, and enters peevish into society because he cannot 
 model it to his own will. He returns from his idle excursions 
 with the asperity, though not with the knowledge, of a student, 
 and hastens again to the same felicity with the eagerness of a man 
 bent upon the advancement of some favourite science. The in- 
 fatuation strengthens by degrees, and, like the poison of opiates, 
 weakens his powers without any external symptom of malignity.' 
 
 The ' Rambler/ — Vol. II. No. ioo. 
 
 ' It is hard upon poor creatures, be they ever so mean, to deny 
 them those enjoyments and liberties which are equally open for 
 all. Yet, if servants were taught to go to church 
 on Sunday, spend some part of it in reading, or 
 receiving instruction in a family way, and the rest 
 in mere friendly conversation, the poor wretches 
 would infallibly take it into their heads that they 
 were obliged to be sober, modest, diligent, and 
 faithful to their masters and mistresses.' 
 
 The * Rambler. 5 — Vol. II. No. 1 14. 
 
 When man's life is in debate, 
 The judge can ne'er too long deliberate. — Dryden. 
 
 1 The gibbet, indeed, certainly disables those who die 
 upon it from infesting the community; but their 
 death seems not to contribute more to the reform- 
 ation of their associates than any other method 
 of separation. A thief seldom passes much of his 
 time in recollection or anticipation, but from rob- 
 bery hastens to riot, and from riot to robbery ; nor, 
 when the grave closes upon his companion, has 
 any other care than to find another. 
 
 ' The frequency of capital punishments, there- 
 fore, rarely hinders the commission of a crime, but 
 naturally and commonly prevents its detection, and 
 is, if we proceed upon prudential principles, chiefly 
 for that reason to be avoided. Whatever may be 
 
THE 'RAMBLER: 393 
 
 urged by casuists or politicians, the greater part of mankind, as 
 they can never think that to pick the pocket and to pierce the 
 heart is equally criminal, will scarcely believe that two malefactors 
 so different in guilt can be justly doomed to the same punishment ; 
 nor is the necessity of submitting the conscience to human laws, 
 so plainly evinced, so clearly stated, or so generally allowed, but 
 that the pious, the tender, the just, will always scruple to concur 
 with the community in an act which their private judgment cannot 
 approve.' 
 
 The ' Rambler.' — Vol. II. No. 117. 
 
 'Tis sweet thy lab'ring steps to guide 
 To virtue's heights with wisdom well supplied, 
 From all the magazines of learning fortified ; 
 From thence to look below on human kind, 
 Bewilder'd in the maze of life and blind. — Dryden. 
 
 ' The conveniences described in these lines may perhaps all be 
 found in a well-chosen garret ; but surely they cannot be supposed 
 sufficiently important to have operated invariably upon different 
 climates, distant ages, and separate nations. 
 
 1 Another cause of the gaiety and sprightliness of the dwellers 
 in garrets is probably the increase of that vertiginous motion with 
 which we are carried round by the diurnal revolution of the earth. 
 The power of agitation upon the spirits is well known ; every man 
 has his heart lightened in a rapid vehicle, or on a galloping horse 
 and nothing is plainer than that he who towers to the fifth story is 
 whirled through more space by every circumrotation than another 
 that grovels upon the ground-floor. 
 
 ' If you imagine that I ascribe to air and motion effects which 
 they cannot produce, I desire you to consult your own memory, 
 and consider whether you have never known a man acquire repu- 
 
394 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 tation in his garret, which, when fortune or a patron had placed 
 him upon the first floor, he was unable to maintain; and who 
 never recovered his former vigour of understanding till he was 
 restored to his original situation. 
 
 ' That a garret will make every man a wit I am very far from 
 supposing. I know there are some who would continue block- 
 heads even on the summit of the Andes and on the peak of 
 TenerifTe. But let not any man be considered as unimprovable 
 till this potent remedy has been tried ; for perhaps he was formed 
 to be great only in a garret, as the joiner of Aretseus was rational 
 in no other place but his own shop.' 
 
 The 'Rambler.' — Vol. II. No. 124. 
 
 To range in silence through each healthful wood, 
 And muse what's worthy of the wise and good. 
 
 ' To those who leave the public places of resort in the full 
 bloom of reputation, and withdraw from admiration, courtship, 
 submission, and applause, a rural triumph can give nothing equi- 
 
 valent. The praise of ignorance and the subjection of weakness 
 are little regarded by beauties who have been accustomed to more 
 
the 'rambler: 395 
 
 important conquests and more valuable panegyrics. Nor, indeed, 
 should the powers which have made havoc in the theatres or 
 borne down rivalry in courts be degraded to a mean attack upon 
 the untravelled heir, or ignoble contest with the ruddy milkmaid. 5 
 
 The ' Rambler.'— Vol. III. No. 142. 
 
 1 Squire Bluster is descended from an ancient family. The 
 estate which his ancestors immemoriably possessed was much 
 augmented by Captain 
 
 Bluster, who served tfiUTi 
 
 under Drake in the 
 reign of Elizabeth ; and 
 the Blusters, who were 
 before only petty gen- 
 tlemen, have from that 
 time frequently repre- 
 sented the shire in par- 
 liament, being chosen 
 
 to present addresses and give laws at hunting-matches and 
 races. They were eminently hospitable and popular till the 
 father of this gentleman died of an election. His lady went to 
 the grave soon after him, and left their heir, then only ten years 
 old, to the care of his grandmother, who would not suffer him to 
 be controlled, because she could not bear to hear him cry ; and 
 never sent him to school, because she was not able to live without 
 his company. She taught him, however, very early to inspect the 
 steward's accounts, to dog the butler from the cellar, and catch 
 the servants at a junket ; so that he was at the age of eighteen a 
 complete master of all the lower arts of domestic policy, and had 
 often on the road detected combinations between the coachman 
 and the ostler. 
 
 ' Money, in whatever hands, will confer power. Distress will 
 fly to immediate refuge, without much consideration of remote 
 consequences. Bluster had, therefore, on coming of age, a 
 despotic authority in many families, whom he had assisted, on 
 pressing occasions, with larger sums than they can easily repay. 
 The only visits that he makes are to those houses of misfortune, 
 where he enters with the insolence of absolute command, enjoys 
 
396 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 the terrors of the family, exacts their obedience, riots at their 
 charge, and in the height of his joys insults the father with 
 menaces and the daughters with scurrilities. 
 
 'Such is the life of Squire Bluster; a man in whose power 
 fortune has liberally placed the means of happiness, but who has 
 defeated all her gifts of their end by the depravity of his mind. 
 He is wealthy without followers ; he is magnificent without wit- 
 nesses; he hath birth without alliance, and influence without 
 dignity. His neighbours scorn him as a brute; his dependants 
 dread him as an oppressor; and he has only the gloomy comfort 
 of reflecting that if he is hated he is likewise feared.' 
 
 The < Rambler.'— Vol. III. No. 153. 
 
 Turba Remi sequitur fortunam, ut semper, et odit 
 Damnatos. — Juv. 
 
 The fickle crowd with fortune comes and goes ; 
 Wealth still finds followers, and misfortune foes. 
 
 The writer, who had been adopted by a rich nabob lately 
 returned from the Indies, suddenly found himself deprived of the 
 fortune which it was anticipated would have fallen to his share ; 
 his patron having died without making a will in his protege's 
 favour, and thus a fine estate had gone to another branch of the 
 family. 
 
 * It was now my part,' writes the victim of this unexpected 
 adversity, ' to consider how I should repair the disappointment. 
 I could not but triumph in my long list of friends, which com- 
 posed almost every name that power or knowledge entitled to 
 eminence, and in the prospect of the innumerable roads to honour 
 and preferment which I had laid open to myself by the wise use 
 of temporary riches. I believed nothing necessary but that I 
 should continue that acquaintance to which I had been so readily 
 admitted, and which had hitherto been cultivated on both sides 
 with equal ardour. 
 
 ' Full of these expectations, I one morning ordered a chair, 
 with an intention to make my usual circle of morning visits. 
 Where I first stopped I saw two footmen lolling at the door, who 
 told me, without any change of posture or collection of counte- 
 nance, that their master was at home ; and suffered me to open 
 the inner door without assistance. I found my friend standing, 
 
THE 'RAMBLER. 
 
 397 
 
 and as I was tattling with my former freedom was formally 
 entreated to sit down, but did not stay to be favoured with any 
 further condescensions. 
 
 ' My next experiment was made at the levee of a statesman, 
 who received me with an embrace of tenderness, that he might 
 with more decency publish my change of fortune to the sycophants 
 about. After he had enjoyed the triumph of condolence he turned 
 to a wealthy stockjobber, and left me exposed to the scorn of those 
 who had lately courted my notice and solicited my interest. 
 
 ' I was then set down at the door of another, who upon my 
 entrance advised me with great solemnity to think of some settled 
 provision for life. I left him and hurried away to an old friend, 
 who professed himself unsusceptible of any impressions from 
 prosperity or misfortune, and begged that he might see me when 
 he was more at leisure. 
 
 * Of sixty-seven doors at which I knocked in the first week 
 after my appearance in a mourning dress I was denied admission 
 at forty- six ; was suffered at fourteen to wait in the outer room till 
 business was despatched ; at four was entertained with a few 
 questions about the weather ; at one heard the footman rated for 
 bringing my name ; and at two was informed, in the flow of casual 
 conversation, how much a man of rank degrades himself by mean 
 company. 
 
 1 Such, Mr. Rambler, is the power of wealth, that it commands 
 the ear of greatness and the eye of beauty ; gives spirit to the dull 
 and authority to the timorous, and leaves him from whom it 
 departs without virtue and without understanding, the sport of 
 caprice, the scorT of insolence, the slave of meanness, and the 
 pupil of ignorance.' 
 
398 
 
 TH ACKER A VAN A. 
 
 The ' Rambler.'— Vol. III. No. 170. 
 
 Misella sends her history to the ' Rambler ' as a caution to 
 others who may chance to rely on the fidelity of distant relatives. 
 Her father becoming burdened with a family larger than his means 
 could decently provide for, a wealthy relative had offered to take 
 the charge of one member, the writer, upon himself. 
 
 ' Without knowing for what purpose I was called to my great 
 cousin,' says the unhappy Misella, ' I endeavoured to recommend 
 myself by my best courtesy, sang him my prettiest song, told the 
 last story that I had read, and so much endeared myself by my 
 innocence that he declared his resolution to adopt me, and to 
 educate me with his own daughters. 
 
 ' My parents felt the common struggle at the thought of parting, 
 and some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon. They 
 
 considered, not without that false estimation of the value of wealth 
 which poverty long continued always produces, that I was raised 
 to higher rank than they could give me, and to hopes of more 
 ample fortune than they could bequeath. My mother sold some 
 of her ornaments to dress me in such a manner as might secure 
 me from contempt at my first arrival, and when she dismissed me 
 pressed me to her bosom with an embrace which I still feel. 
 
 ' My sister carried my finery, and seemed not much to regret 
 our separation ; my father conducted me to the stage-coach with a 
 sort of cheerful tenderness; and in a very short time I was 
 transported to splendid apartments and a luxurious table, and 
 grew familiar to show, noise, and gaiety. 
 
 ' In three years my mother died, having implored a blessing on 
 her family with her last breath. 
 
THE 'RAMBLER: 399 
 
 ' I had little opportunity to indulge a sorrow which there was 
 none to partake with me, and therefore soon ceased to reflect 
 much upon my loss. My father turned all his care upon his other 
 children, whom some fortunate adventures and unexpected legacies 
 enabled him, when he died four years after my mother, to leave 
 in a condition above their expectations. 
 
 'I should have shared the increase of his fortunes and had 
 once a portion assigned me in his will, but my cousin assuring him 
 that all care for me was needless, since he had resolved to place 
 me happily in the world, directed him to divide my part amongst 
 my sisters. 
 
 'Thus I was thrown upon dependence without resource. 
 Being now at an age in which young women are initiated into 
 company, I was no longer to be supported in my former character, 
 but at considerable expense ; so that partly lest appearance might 
 draw too many compliments and assiduities I was insensibly 
 degraded from my equality, and enjoyed few privileges above the 
 head servant but that of receiving no wages.' 
 
 The ' Rambler.'— Vol. III. No. 181. 
 
 Neu fluitem dubiae spe pendulus horse. — Hor. 
 
 Nor let me float in fortune's power, 
 Dependent on the future hour. — Francis. 
 
 * Sir, — As I have passed much of life in disgust and suspense, 
 and lost many opportunities of advantage by a passion which I 
 have reason to believe prevalent in different degrees over a great 
 part of mankind, I cannot but think myself well qualified to warn 
 those who are yet uncaptivated of the danger which they incur by 
 placing themselves within its influence. 
 
 ' In the course of even prosperity I was one day persuaded to 
 buy a ticket in the lottery. At last the day came, my ticket 
 appeared, and rewarded all my care and sagacity with a despicable 
 prize of fifty pounds. 
 
 'My friends, who honestly rejoiced upon my success, were 
 very coldly received ; I hid myself a fortnight in the country that 
 my chagrin might fume away without observation, and then, 
 returning to my shop, began to listen after another lottery. 
 
4oo 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 1 With the news of a lottery I was soon gratified, and, having 
 now found the vanity of conjecture and inefficacy of computation, 
 I resolved to take the prize by violence, and 
 therefore bought forty tickets, not omitting, 
 however, to divide them between the even and 
 the odd, that I might not miss the lucky class. 
 Many conclusions did I form, and many experi- 
 ments did I try to determine from which of 
 those tickets I might most reasonably expect 
 riches. At last, being unable to satisfy myself 
 by any modes of reasoning, I wrote the numbers 
 upon dice, and allotted five hours every day to 
 the amusement of throwing them in a garret ; 
 and examining the event by an exact register, 
 found, on the evening before the lottery was 
 drawn, that one of my numbers had turned up 
 five times more than any of the rest in three 
 hundred and thirty thousand throws. 
 ' This experiment was fallacious ; the first day presented the 
 ticket a detestable blank. The rest came out with different 
 fortune, and in conclusion I lost thirty pounds by this great 
 adventure. 
 
 1 The prize which had been suffered to slip from me filled me 
 with anguish, and, knowing that complaint would only expose me 
 to ridicule, I gave myself up silently to grief, and lost by degrees 
 my appetite and my rest.' 
 
 The 'Rambler.'— Vol. III. No. 187. 
 
 Love alters not for us his hard decrees, 
 Not though beneath the Thracian clime we freeze, 
 Or the mild bliss of temperate skies forego, 
 And in mid -winter tread Sithonian snow : — 
 Love conquers all. — -Dry dm. 
 
 'Anningait and Ajut, a Greenland History. 
 
 1 In one of the large caves to which the families of Greenland 
 retire together to pass the cold months, and which may be termed 
 their villages or cities, a youth and maid, who came from different 
 
THE 'RAMBLER: 40 r 
 
 parts of the'country, were so much distinguished for their beauty 
 that they were called by the rest of the inhabitants Anningait and 
 Ajut, from their supposed resemblance to their ancestors of the 
 same names who had been transformed of old into the sun and 
 moon. 
 
 'The elegance of Ajut's dress, and the judicious ; disposition of 
 her ornaments of coral and shells, had such an: effect upon 
 Anningait that he could no longer be restrained from a declaration 
 of his love.- He, therefore, composed a poem in her praise, in 
 which, among other heroic and tender sentiments, he protested 
 that "She was beautiful as the vernal willow, and fragrant as 
 thyme upon the mountains ; that her fingers were white as the 
 teeth of the morse, and her smile grateful as the dissolution of the 
 ice ; that he would pursue her though she should pass the snows 
 of the midland cliffs, or seek shelter in the caves of the eastern 
 cannibals ; that he would tear her from the embrace of the genius 
 of the rocks, snatch her from the paws of Amaroc, and rescue her 
 from the ravine of Hafgufa." 
 
 1 This ode being universally applauded, it was expected that 
 Ajut would soon yield to such fervour and accomplishments ; but 
 Ajut, with the natural haughtiness of beauty, expected all the forms 
 of courtship ; and before she would confess herself conquered 
 the sun returned, the ice broke, and the season of labour called all 
 to their employments. 
 
 ' It happened that a tempest drove the fish to a distant part of 
 the coast before Anningait had completed his store ; he therefore 
 entreated Ajut that she would at 
 last grant him her hand and ac- 
 company him to that part of the 
 country whither he was now 
 summoned of necessity. Ajut 
 thought him not yet entitled to 
 such condescension, but pro- 
 posed, as a trial of constancy, 
 that he should return at the end 
 of summer to the cavern where their acquaintance commenced, and 
 there expect the reward of his assiduities. But Anningait tried to 
 soften this resolution ; he feelingly represented the uncertainty of 
 existence and the dangers of the passage, and his loneliness when 
 
 D D 
 
402 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 distant from the object of his love. "Consider, Ajut," urged he, 
 " a few summer days, a few winter nights, and the life of man is 
 at an end. Night is the time of ease and festivity, of revels and 
 gaiety ; but what will be the flaming lamp, the delicious seal, or 
 the soft oil without the smile of Ajut ?" 
 
 ' The eloquence of Anningait was vain ; the maid continued 
 inexorable, and they parted with ardent promises to meet again 
 before the night of winter. Anningait, however discomposed by 
 the dilatory coyness of Ajut, was resolved to omit no tokens of 
 amorous respect, and therefore presented her at his departure with 
 the skins of seven white fawns, of five swans, and eleven seals, 
 with three marble lamps, ten vessels of seal-oil, and a large kettle 
 of brass which he had purchased from a ship at the price of half 
 a whale and two horns of sea-unicorns. 
 
 ' Ajut was so much affected by the fondness of her lover, or so 
 much overpowered by his munificence, that she followed him to 
 the seaside ; and, when she saw him enter the boat, wished aloud 
 that he might return with plenty of skins and oil, that neither the 
 mermaids might snatch him into the deeps, nor the spirits of the 
 rocks confine him in their caverns. 
 
 * Parted from each other, the lovers devoted themselves to the 
 remembrances of their affection ; Anningait devoted himself to 
 fishing and the chase with redoubled energy, that his stores for the 
 future might exceed the expectations of his bride ; and Ajut 
 mourned the absence of her betrothed with ceaseless fidelity. 
 She neglected the ornaments of her person, and, to avoid the 
 solicitations of her lover's rivals, withdrew herself into complete 
 seclusion. Thus passed the months of separation. At last Ajut 
 saw the great boat in which Anningait departed stealing slow and 
 heavy laden along the coast. She ran with all the impatience of 
 affection to catch her lover in her arms, and relate her constancy 
 and sufferings. When the company reached the land they in- 
 formed her that Anningait, after the fishery was ended, being 
 unable to support the slow passage of the vessel of carriage, had 
 set out before them in his fishing-boat, and they expected at their 
 arrival to have found him on shore. 
 
 ' Ajut, distracted at this intelligence, was about to fly into the 
 hills without knowing why, though she was now in the hands of 
 her parents, who forced her back to her own hut and endeavoured 
 
THE 'RAMBLER: 
 
 403 
 
 to comfort her j but when at last they retired to rest, Ajut went 
 down to the beach, where, finding a fishing-boat, she entered it 
 without hesitation, and telling those who wondered at her rashness 
 that she was going in search of Anningait, rowed away with great 
 swiftness and was seen no more. 
 
 ' The fate of these lovers gave occasion to various fictions and 
 conjectures. Some are of opinion that they were changed into 
 stars : others imagine that Anningait was seized in his passage by 
 
 the genius of the rocks, and that Ajut was transformed into 
 mermaid, and still continues to seek her lover in the deserts of 
 the sea. But the general persuasion is that they are both in that 
 part of the land of souls where the sun never sets, where oil is 
 always fresh, and provisions always warm. The virgins sometimes 
 throw a thimble and a needle into the bay from which the hapless 
 maid departed, and when a Greenlander would praise any couple 
 for virtuous affection he declares that they love like Anningait and 
 Ajut.' 
 
 The * Rambler.' — Vol. III. No. 191. 
 
 Cereus in vitium flecti, monitoribus asper. — Hor. 
 
 The youth 
 
 Yielding like wax, th' impressive folly bears; 
 
 Rough to reproof, and slow to future cares. — Francis. 
 
 4 Dear Mr. Rambler, — I have been four days confined to my 
 chamber by a cold, which has already kept me from three plays, 
 nine sales, five shows, and six card-tables, and put me seventeen 
 visits behind ; and the doctor tells my mamma that, if I fret and 
 
 d d 2 
 
404 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 cry, it will settle in my head, and I shall not be fit to be seen these 
 six weeks. But, dear Mr. Rambler, how can I help it ? At this 
 very time Melissa is dancing with the prettiest gentleman ; she 
 will breakfast with him to-morrow, and then run to two auctions, 
 and hear compliments, and have presents ; then she will be 
 dressed and visit, and get a ticket to the play, then go to cards, 
 and win, and come home with two flambeaus before her chair. 
 Dear Mr. Rambler, who can bear it ? 
 
 * # # ♦ # 
 
 1 1 am at a loss to guess for what purpose they relate such 
 tragic stories of the cruelty, perfidy, and artifices of men, who, if 
 they ever were so malicious and destructive, have certainly now 
 reformed their manners. I have not, since my entrance into the 
 world, found one who does not profess himself devoted to my 
 service, and ready to live or die as I shall command him. They 
 are so far from intending to hurt me that their only contention is, 
 who shall be allowed most closely to attend and most frequently 
 to treat me ; when different places of entertainment or schemes of 
 pleasure are mentioned, I can see the eyes sparkle and the cheeks 
 glow of him whose proposals obtain my approbation ; he then 
 leads me off in triumph, adores my condescension, and congratu- 
 lates himself that he has lived to the hour of felicity. Are these, 
 Mr. Rambler, creatures to be feared? and is it likely that any 
 injury will be done me by those who can enjoy life only while I 
 favour them with my presence ? 
 
 * As little reason can I yet find to suspect them of stratagems 
 and fraud. When I play at cards they never take advantage of 
 any mistakes, nor exact from me a rigorous observation of the 
 game. Even Mr. Shuffle, a grave gentleman, who has daughters 
 older than myself, plays with me so negligently that I am some- 
 times inclined to believe he loses his money by design ; and yet 
 he is so fond of play that he says he will one day take me to his 
 house in the country, that we may try by ourselves who can 
 conquer. I have not yet promised him, but when the town grows 
 a little empty I shall think upon it, for I want some trinkets, like 
 Letitia's, to my watch. I do not doubt my luck, but I must study 
 some means of amusing my relations. 
 
 ' For all these distinctions I find myself indebted to that beauty 
 which I was never suffered to hear praised, and of which, there- 
 
THE 'RAMBLER: 
 
 405 
 
 fore, I did not before know the full value. This concealment was 
 certainly an intentional fraud, for my aunts have eyes like other 
 people, and I am every day told that nothing but blindness can 
 escape the influence of my charms. Their whole account of that 
 world which they pretend to know so well has been only one 
 fiction entangled with another ; and though the modes of life oblige 
 me to continue some appearances of respect, I cannot think that 
 they who have been so clearly detected in ignorance or imposture 
 have any right to the esteem, veneration, or obedience of, 
 
 ' Sir, yours, 
 
 ' Bellaria.' 
 
406 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 The 'Rambler.' — Vol. III. No. 199. 
 
 Obscure, unprized, and dark the magnet lies, 
 Nor lures the search of avaricious eyes, 
 Nor binds the neck, nor sparkles in the hair, 
 Nor dignifies the great, nor decks the fair. 
 But search the wonders of the dusky stone, 
 And own all glories of the mine outdone, 
 Each grace of form, each ornament of state, 
 That decks the fair, or dignifies the great ! 
 
 'To the lt Rambler." 
 
 1 Sir, — The curiosity of the present race of philosophers having 
 been long exercised upon electricity has been lately transferred to 
 magnetism ; the qualities 
 of the loadstone have been 
 investigated, if not with 
 much advantage, yet with 
 great applause ; and as the 
 highest praise of art is to 
 imitate nature, I hope no 
 man will think the makers 
 of artificial magnets cele- 
 brated or reverenced above 
 their deserts. 
 
 ' I have for some time 
 employed myself in the 
 same practice, but with deeper knowledge and more extensive 
 views. While my contemporaries were touching needles -and 
 raising weights, or busying themselves with inclination and 
 variation, I have been examining those qualities of magnetism 
 which may be applied to the accommodation and happiness of 
 common life. I have left to inferior understandings the care of 
 conducting the sailor through the hazards of the ocean, and 
 reserved to myself the more difficult and illustrious province of 
 preserving the connubial compact from violation, and setting 
 mankind free for ever from the torments of fruitless vigilance ai\d 
 anxious suspicion. 
 
THE 'RAMBLER: % 407 
 
 'To defraud any man of his due praise is unworthy of a 
 philosopher. I shall therefore openly confess that I owe the first 
 hint of this inestimable secret to the Rabbi Abraham Ben Hannase, 
 who, in his treatise of precious stones, has left this account of the 
 magnet : " The calamita, or loadstone that attracts iron, produces 
 many bad fantasies in man. Women fly from this stone. If, 
 therefore, any husband be disturbed with jealousy, and fear lest 
 his wife converses with other men, let him lay this stone upon her 
 while she is asleep. If she be pure she will, when she wakes, 
 clasp her husband fondly in her arms ; but if she be guilty she will 
 fall out of bed, and run away." 
 
 ' With these hopes I shall, in a short time, offer for sale magnets 
 armed with a particular metallic composition, which concentrates 
 their virtue and determines their agency. 
 
 1 1 shall sell them of different sizes, and various degrees of 
 strength. I have some of a bulk proper to be hung at the bed's 
 head, as scarecrows, and some so small 
 that they may be easily concealed. 
 Some I have ground into oval forms, 
 to be hung at watches ; and some, for 
 the curious, I have set in wedding rings, 
 that ladies may never want an attest- 
 ation of their innocence. Some I can 
 produce so sluggish and inert that they 
 will not act before the third failure, 
 and others so vigorous and animated 
 that they exert their influence against 
 unlawful wishes, if they have been willingly and deliberately in- 
 dulged. As it is my practice honestly to tell my customers the 
 properties of my magnets I can judge by their choice of the deli- 
 cacy of their sentiments. Many have been contented to spare 
 cost by purchasing only the lowest degree of efficacy, and all have 
 started with terror from those which operate upon the thoughts. 
 One young lady only fitted on a ring of the strongest energy, and 
 declared that she scorned to separate her wishes from her acts, 
 or allow herself to think what she was forbidden to practise. 
 
 ' I am, etc., 
 
 ' Hermeticus.' 
 
4 o8 JHA CKERA YANA. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 thackeray's familiarity with the writings of the 
 satirical es say ists — Continued. 
 
 Characteristic Passages from the Works of ' Early Humourists,' from Thacke- 
 ray's Library, illustrated by the Author's hand with original Marginal 
 Sketches suggested by the Text— The 'Mirror,' Edinburgh, 1779-80 — 
 Introduction — The Society in which the 'Mirror' and 'Lounger' originated 
 — Notice of Contributors — Paragraphs and Pencillings. 
 
 Preface to the ' Mirror. 5 
 
 The circumstances which led to .the publication of the ' Mirror,' 
 by a certain society of friends in Edinburgh, are set forth in the 
 concluding paper of that work, No. no, which originally appeared 
 May 27, 1780. The dying speech of the Scotch essayist forms a 
 suitable introduction to the series. 
 
 Extremum concede laborem. — Virg. Ed. x. 1. 
 
 ' As, at the close of life, people confess the secrets and explain 
 the mysteries of their conduct, endeavour to do justice to those 
 with whom they have had dealings, and to die in peace with all 
 the world ; so in the concluding number of a periodical publica- 
 tion, it is usual to lay aside the assumed name, or fictitious 
 character, to ascribe the different papers to their true authors, and 
 to wind up the .whole with a modest appeal to the candour or 
 indulgence of the public. 
 
 ' In the, course. of these papers the author has not often ven- 
 tured to introduce himself, or to give an account of his own situa- 
 tion ; in this, therefore, which is to be the last, he has not much 
 to unravel on that score. From the narrowness of the place of its 
 appearance, the ' Mirror ' did not admit of much personification 
 of its editor ; the little disguise he has used has been rather to 
 
THE 'MIRROR: 
 
 409 
 
 conceal what he was than to give himself out for what he was 
 not. 
 
 ' The idea of publishing a periodical paper in Edinburgh took 
 its rise in a company of gentlemen whom particular circumstances' 
 
 of connection brought frequently together. Their discourse often 
 turned upon subjects of manners, of taste, and of literature. By 
 one of those accidental resolutions, of which the origin cannot 
 easily be traced, it was determined to put their thoughts into 
 
4 1 o THA CKERA YANA . 
 
 writing, and to read them for the entertainment of each other. 
 Their essays assumed the form, and soon after some one gave 
 them the name, of a periodical publication ; the writers of it were 
 naturally associated, and their meetings increased the importance 
 as well as the number of their productions. Cultivating letters in 
 the midst of business, composition was to them an amusement 
 only; that amusement was heightened by the audience which this 
 society afforded ; the idea of publication suggested itself as pro- 
 ductive of still higher entertainment. 
 
 ' It was not, however, without diffidence that such a resolution 
 was taken. From that and several other circumstances it was 
 thought proper to observe the strictest secrecy with regard to the 
 authors ; a purpose in which they have been so successful that, at 
 this very moment, the very publisher of the work knows only one 
 of their number, to whom the conduct of it was entrusted.' 
 
 The members of the society alluded to in the last number of 
 the ' Mirror' afterwards carried on the ' Lounger.' They were Mr. 
 R. Cullen, Mr. M'Leod Bannatyne, Mr. George Ogilvy, Mr. Alex. 
 Abercromby, and Mr. W. Craig, advocates, the last two of whom 
 were afterwards appointed Judges of the Court of Session in Scot- 
 land; Mr. George Home, one of the principal clerks of that 
 court ; and Mr. H. Mackenzie, of the Exchequer at Edinburgh. 
 
 Of these Mr. Ogilvy, though with abilities and genius abun- 
 dantly capable of the task, never contributed to the ' Mirror,' and 
 the society had to lament his death before the appearance of the 
 ' Lounger.' None of its members, Mr. Mackenzie excepted, 
 whose name is sufficiently know T n as an author, had ever before 
 been concerned in any publication. To Mr. Mackenzie, there- 
 fore, was entrusted the conducting the work, and he alone had 
 any communication with the editor, to whom the other members 
 of the society were altogether unknown. Secrecy was an object 
 of much importance to a work of this sort ; and during the publi- 
 cation of both these performances it was singularly well attained. 
 
 M. Mackenzie's papers were the most numerous. He is 
 stated to have been the author of Nos. 2, 5, 7, n, 12, 14, 16 (the 
 latter part of 17). 21, 23, 25, 30, 32, 34 (part of 35), 38, 40, 41, 
 42, 43, 44, 49, 53, 54 (part of 56), 61, 64, 72, 78, 80, 81, 84, the 
 poem in 85 (part of 89), 91, 92, 93 (part of 96), 99, 100, 101 
 (parts of 102, 103), 105, 107, 108, 109, and no. 
 
THE 'MIRROR. 
 
 411 
 
 The contributions of correspondents were of considerable 
 assistance to the success of the ' Mirror.' Of these Lord Hailes 
 was the most industrious; among other promoters we find the 
 names of Mr. Richardson, Professor of Humanity at Glasgow; 
 Mr. Frazer Tyler, Advocate and Professor of History in the 
 University of Edinburgh ; Mr. D. Hume, Professor of Scots Laws 
 at Edinburgh, nephew of the celebrated David Hume; D. Beattie; 
 Cosmo Gordon, Esq., one of the Barons of Exchequer in Scot- 
 land ; Mr. W. Strahan, of London, the King's printer ; Mr. Baron 
 Gordon, etc. 
 
412 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 THE 'MIRROR.' 
 
 A Periodical Paper Published at Edinburgh in the Years 
 1779 and 1780. 
 
 Veluti in speculo. 
 
 ' No child ever heard from its nurse the story of " Jack the 
 Giant Killer's Cap of Darkness" without envying the pleasures of 
 invisibility. 
 
 ' This power is, in some degree, possessed by the writer of an 
 anonymous paper. He can at least exercise it for a purpose for 
 which people would be most apt to use the privilege of being 
 invisible ; to wit, that of hearing what is said of himself. 
 
 ' A few hours after the publication of my first number, I sallied 
 forth, with all the advantages of invisibility, to hear an account of 
 myself and my paper. 
 
 ; A smart-looking young man, in green, said he "was sure it 
 would be very satirical; his companion, in scarlet, was equally 
 certain that it would be very stupid. But with this last prediction 
 I was not much offended, when I discovered that its author had 
 not read the first number, but only inquired of Mr. Creech where 
 it was published. 
 
 ' A plump round figure, near the fire, who had just put on his 
 spectacles to examine the paper, closed the debate by observing, 
 
 with a grave aspect, that as the 
 author was anonymous, it was 
 proper to be very cautious in 
 talking of the performance. After 
 glancing over the pages, he said 
 he could have wished they had 
 set apart a corner for intelligence 
 from America ; but, having taken 
 off his spectacles, wiped, and put them into their case, he said, 
 with a tone of discovery, he had found out the reason why there 
 was nothing of that sort in the "Mirror" — it was in order to save 
 the tax upon newspapers.' 
 
THE 'MIRROR: 
 
 413 
 
 The ' Mirror.'— Vol. I. No. 4. 
 
 Meliora pii docuere parentes. 
 
 The following is an extract from a letter, addressed by a parent 
 to the editor, on the evil consequences of sending youths to Paris 
 to finish their education : — 
 
 1 When the day of their return came, my girl, who had been 
 constantly on the look-out, ran to tell me she saw a postchaise 
 driving to the gate. But, judge of my astonishment when I saw 
 two pale, emaciated figures get out of the carriage, in their dress 
 and looks resembling monkeys rather than human creatures. What 
 was still worse, their manners were more displeasing than their 
 appearance. When my 
 daughter ran up, with 
 tears of joy in her eyes, 
 to embrace her brother, 
 he held her from him, 
 and burst into an immo- 
 derate fit of laughter at 
 something in her dress 
 that appeared to him ridiculous. He was joined in the laugh by 
 his younger brother, who was pleased, however, to say that the 
 girl was not ill-looking, and, when taught to put on her clothes, 
 and to use a little rouge, would be tolerable. 
 
 1 Mortified as I was at this impertinence, the partiality of a 
 parent led me to impute it, in a great measure, to the levity 
 of youth; and I still flattered myself that matters were not so 
 bad as they appeared to be. In these hopes I sat down to dinner. 
 But there the behaviour of the young gentlemen did not, by any 
 means, tend to lessen my chagrin. There was nothing at table 
 they could eat; they ran out in praise of French cookery, and 
 seemed even to be adepts in the science; they knew the com- 
 ponent ingredients of the most fashionable ragouts zii&fricandeaus, 
 and were acquainted with the names and characters of the most 
 celebrated practitioners of the art in Paris. 
 
 ' In short, it was found these unfortunate youths had. returned 
 
4H THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 ignorant of everything they ought to know, their minds corrupted, 
 their bodies debilitated, and their vanity and conceit making them 
 incapable of listening to reason or advice.' 
 
 The 'Mirror.' — Vol. I. No. 10. 
 
 Mr. Fleetwood, a man of excessive refinement and delicacy 
 of taste, is described as paying visits to his friends in the country. 
 But the pleasures which might possibly be derived from this 
 exercise are marred by his false sensibility. 
 
 ' Our next visit was to a gentleman of liberal education and 
 elegant manners, who, in the earlier part of his life, had been 
 much in the polite world. Here Mr. Fleetwood expected to find 
 pleasure and enjoyment sufficient to atone for his two previous 
 experiences, which were far from agreeable ; but here, too, he was 
 disappointed. 
 
 ' Mr. Selby, for that was our friend's name, had been several 
 years married. His family increasing, he had retired to the 
 country, and, renouncing the bustle of the world, had given him- 
 self up to domestic enjoyments; his time and attention, were 
 devoted chiefly to the care of his children. The pleasure which 
 he himself felt in humouring all their little fancies made him forget 
 how troublesome that indulgence might be to others. 
 
 * The first morning we were at his house, when Mr. Fleetwood 
 came into the parlour to breakfast, all the places at table were 
 
 occupied by the children ; 
 it was necessary that one 
 of them should be displaced 
 to make room for him ; 
 and, in the disturbance 
 which this occasioned, a 
 teacup was overturned, and 
 scalded the finger of Mr. 
 Selby's eldest daughter, a child about seven years old, whose 
 whimpering and complaining attracted the whole attention during 
 breakfast. That being over, the eldest boy came forward with a 
 book in his hand, and Mr. Selby asked Mr. Fleetwood to hear 
 him read his lesson. Mrs. Selby joined in the request, though 
 both looked as if they were rather conferring a favour on their 
 
THE 'MIRROR: 415 
 
 guest. The eldest had no sooner finished, than the youngest boy 
 presented himself; upon which his father observed that it would 
 be doing injustice to Will not to hear him as well as his elder 
 brother Jack, and in this way was my friend obliged to spend the 
 morning in performing the office of a schoolmaster to the children 
 in succession. 
 
 ' Mr. Fleetwood liked a game at whist, and promised himself 
 a party in the evening, free from interruption. Cards were accord- 
 ingly proposed, but Mrs. Selby observed that her little daughter, 
 ■who still complained of her scalded finger, needed amusement as 
 much as any of the company. In place of cards, Miss Harriet 
 insisted on the " game of the goose." Down to it we sat, and to 
 a stranger it would have been not unamusing to, see Mr. Fleet- 
 wood, with his sorrowful countenance, at the " royal and pleasant 
 game of the goose," with a child of seven years old. It is unne- 
 cessary to dwell longer on particulars. During all the time we 
 were at Mr. Selby's the delighted parents were indulging their 
 fondness, while Mr. Fleetwood was repining and fretting in secret.' 
 
 The 'Mirror/ — Vol. I. No. 117. 
 
 Inanit veteres statuas Damasippus emendo. — Hor. 
 
 A wife is writing to the ' Mirror' upon a new affliction which 
 has attacked her husband. He happened to receive a crooked 
 shilling in exchange for some of his goods (the husband was a 
 grocer), and a virtuoso informed him that it was a coin of Alexander 
 III., of great rarity and value, whereupon the good man became 
 seized with a passion for collecting curiosities. 
 
 ' His taste,' says the wife's letter, ' ranges from heaven above 
 to the earth beneath, and to the waters under the earth. Every 
 production of nature or of art, remarkable either for beauty or 
 deformity, but particularly if either scarce or old, is now the object 
 of my husband's avidity. The profits of our business, once con- 
 siderable, but now daily diminishing, are expended, not only on 
 coins, but on shells, lumps of different coloured stones, dried 
 butterflies, old pictures, ragged books, and worm-eaten parchments. 
 
 ' Our house, which it was once my highest pleasure to keep in 
 order, it would be now equally vain to attempt cleaning as the ark 
 
4i6 
 
 THACKERA YANA. 
 
 of Noah. The children's bed is supplied by an Indian canoe ; 
 and the poor little creatures sleep three of them in a hammock, 
 slung up to the roof between a stuffed crocodile and the skeleton of 
 a calf with two heads. Even the commodities of our shop have 
 been turned out to make room for trash and vermin. Kites, owls, 
 and bats are perched upon the top of our shelves ; and it was but 
 
 yesterday that, putting my hand, into a glass jar that used to 
 contain pickles, I laid hold of a large tarantula in place of a 
 mangoe. 
 
 ' In the bitterness of my soul, Mr. Mirror, I have been often 
 tempted to revenge myself on the objects of my husband's phrenzy, 
 by burning, smashing, and destroying them without mercy; but, 
 besides that such violent procedure might have effects too dreadful 
 upon a brain which, I fear, is already much unsettled, I could not 
 take such a course without being guilty of a fraud to our creditors, 
 several of whom will, I believe, sooner or later, find it their only 
 means of reimbursement to take back each man his own monsters.' 
 
 The 'Mirror.'— Vol. I. No. 25. 
 
 The * Mirror ' prints a letter upon the grievances 
 felt by the families of men of small fortunes when 
 associated with those enjoying great ones. 
 
 'You will remember, sir, my account of a visit 
 which my daughters paid to a great lady in our neigh- 
 bourhood, and of the effects which that visit had 
 upon them. I was beginning to hope that time, and 
 the sobriety of manners which home exhibited, would restore 
 
THE 'MIRROR: 
 
 4*7 
 
 them to their former situation, when, unfortunately, a circumstance 
 
 happened still more fatal to me than their expedition to . 
 
 This, sir, was the honour of a visit from the great lady in return. 
 
 ' I was just returning from the superintendence of my ploughs, 
 in a field I have lately enclosed, when I was met, on the green 
 before my door, by a gentleman (for such I took him to be) 
 mounted upon a very handsome gelding, who asked me, by the 
 appellation of honest friend, if this was not Mr. Homespun's ; and, 
 in the same breath, whether the ladies were at home. I told him 
 my name was Homespun, the house was mine, and my wife and 
 
 daughters were, I believed, within. Upon this, the young man, 
 pulling off his hat, and begging my pardon for calling me honest, 
 
 said he was despatched by Lady , with her compliments, to 
 
 Mrs. and Misses Homespun, and that, if convenient, she intended 
 
 herself the honour of dining with them, on her return from B 
 
 Park (the seat of another great and rich lady in our neighbour- 
 hood). 
 
 ' I confess, Mr. Mirror, I was struck somewhat of a heap with 
 the message ; and it would not, in all probability, have received 
 an immediate answer, had it not been overheard by my eldest 
 daughter, who had come to the window on the appearance of a 
 stranger. 
 
 * " Mr. Papillot," said she, immediately, " I rejoice to see you ; 
 
 E E 
 
41 8 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 I hope your lady and all the family are well." " Very much at 
 your service, ma'am," he replied, with a low bow ; " my lady sent 
 me before, with the offer of her best compliments, and that, if 
 convenient " — and so forth, repeating his words to me. " She 
 does us infinite honour," said my young madam ; " let her lady- 
 ship know how happy her visit will make us; but, in the mean- 
 time, Mr. Papillot, give your horse to one of the servants, and 
 come in and have a glass of something after your ride." " I am 
 afraid," answered he (pulling out his right-hand watch, for, would 
 you believe it, sir, the fellow had one in each fob), " I shall hardly 
 have time to meet my lady at the place she appointed me." On a 
 second invitation, however, he dismounted, and went into the 
 house, leaving his horse to the care of the servants; but the 
 servants, as my daughter very well knew, were all in the fields at 
 work ; so I, who have a liking for a good horse, and cannot bear 
 to see him neglected, had the honour of putting Mr. Papillot's 
 horse in the stable myself.' 
 
 The arrival of the distinguished party completely upset Mr. 
 Homespun's establishment, turned the heads of his entire family, 
 and annihilated the effect of all his good teachings. 
 
 The « Mirror. '— Vol. I. No. 50. 
 
 ' It was formerly one of those national boasts which are always 
 allowable, and sometimes useful, that the ladies of Scotland pos- 
 sessed a purity of conduct and delicacy of manners beyond that ot 
 most other countries. Free from the bad effects of overgrown 
 fortunes, and of the dissipated society of an overgrown capital, 
 their beauty was natural and their minds were uncorrupted. 
 
 'Formerly a London journey was attended with some difficulty 
 and danger, and posting thither was an achievement as masculine 
 as a fox-chase. Now the goodness of the roads and the conveni- 
 ence of the vehicles render it a matter of only a few days' mode- 
 rate exercise for a lady ; Facilis descensus Averni\ our wives and 
 daughters are carried thither to see the world, and we are not to 
 wonder if some of them bring back only that knowledge of it 
 which the most ignorant can acquire and the most forgetful retain. 
 That knowledge is communicated to a certain circle on their 
 return; the imitation is as rapid as it is easy; they emulate the 
 
THE 'MIRROR: 
 
 419 
 
 English, who before have copied the French; the dress, the 
 phrase, and the morale of Paris is transplanted first to London, 
 and thence to Edinburgh ; and even the sequestered regions of the 
 country are sometimes visited in this northern progress of politeness. 
 ' It will be said, perhaps, that there is often a levity of 
 behaviour without any criminality of conduct ; that the lady who 
 
 talks always loud, and sometimes- free,, goes much abroad, or 
 keeps a crowd of company at home, rattles in a public place with 
 a circle of young fellows, or flirts in a corner with a single one, 
 does all this without the smallest bad intention, merely as she 
 puts on a cap anfl sticks it with feathers because she has seen it 
 done by others whose rank and fashion entitle them to her imita- 
 tion.' 
 
 The < Mirror.'— Vol. II. No. 44. 
 Sit mihi fas audita loqui. 
 
 ' Passing the Exchange a few days ago,. I perceived a little 
 before me a short, plump-looking man, seeming to set his watch 
 by St. Giles's clock, which had just 
 then struck two. On observing him 
 more closely, I recognised Mr. 
 Blubber, with whom I had been ac- 
 quainted at the house of our mutual 
 friend Mr. Bearskin. 
 
 ' He recollected me, and, shaking 
 me cordially by the hand, told me 
 he was just returned safe from his 
 
 journey to the Highlands, and had been regulating his watch by 
 our town clock, as he found the sun did not go exactly in the 
 
 E E 2 
 
420 . THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 Highlands as it did in the Low country. He added, that if I 
 would come and eat a Welsh rabbit and drink a glass of punch 
 with him and his family that evening, at their lodgings hard by, 
 they would give me an account of their expedition. 
 
 1 When I went to their lodgings in the evening, I could not 
 help making one preliminary observation, that it was much too 
 early in the season for visiting the country to advantage ; but to 
 this Mr, Blubber had a very satisfactory answer: they were 
 resolved to complete their tour before the new tax upon post- 
 horses should be put in execution. 
 
 'The first place they visited after they left Edinburgh was 
 Carron, which Mr. Blubber seemed to prefer to any place he had 
 seen; but the ladies did not appear to have relished it much. 
 The mother said, " She was like to have fell into a fit at the noise 
 of the great bellows." Miss Blubber agreed that it was monstrous 
 frightful indeed. Miss Betsy had spoiled her petticoat in getting 
 in, and said it was a nasty place, not fit for genteel people, in her 
 opinion. Blubber put on his wisest face, and observed that 
 women did not know the use of them things. There was much 
 the same difference in their sentiments with regard to the Great 
 Canal. Mr. Blubber took out a piece of paper, on which he 
 had marked down the lockage duty received in a week there ; he 
 shook his head, however, and said he was sorry to find the shares 
 below par. 
 
 ' Taymouth seemed to strike the whole family. The number 
 and beauty of the temples were taken particular notice of; nor 
 was the trimness of the walks and hedges without commendation. 
 Miss Betsy Blubber declared herself charmed with the shady walk 
 by the side of the Tay, and remarked what an excellent fancy it 
 was to shut out the view of the river, so that you might hear the 
 stream without seeing it. Mr. Blubber, however, objected to the 
 vicinity of the hills, and Mrs. Blubber to that of the lake, which 
 she was sure must be extremely unwholesome. 
 
 ' But, however various were the remarks of the family on the 
 particulars of their journey in detail, I found they had perfectly 
 settled their respective opinions of travelling in general. The 
 ladies had formed their conclusion that it was monstrous pleasant, 
 and the gentleman his that it was monstrous dear.' 
 
THE 'MIRROR: 
 
 421 
 
 The ' Mirror.'— VoL II. No. 50. 
 
 A correspondent is addressing the ' Mirror ' on the ill effects 
 of listlessness, indolence, and an aversion to profitable exertion. 
 The writer describes his visit to a barrister without practice, who, 
 having been left a small competence, had relinquished his pro- 
 fession to engage in literary pursuits. 
 
 Mr. Mordant, the literary recluse, on his friend's arrival, was dis- 
 covered cultivating his kitchen garden. The visitor is conducted 
 through the grounds, which have been laid out in accordance 
 with the owner's taste. 
 
 ' Near a village, on our way homewards, we met a set of coun- 
 trymen engaged at cricket, and soon after a marriage company, 
 dancing the bride's dance upon the green. My friend^ with a 
 
 degree of gaiety and alacrity which I had never Before seen him 
 display, not only engaged himself, but compelled me likewise to 
 engage in the exercise of the one and the merriment of the other. 
 In a field before his door an old horse, blind at one eye, came up 
 to us at his call, and ate the remainder of the grains from his 
 hand from which he had previouslv fed a flock of tame pigeons. 
 
 ' Our conversation for that evening, relating chiefly to the 
 situation of our common friends, memory of former scenes-, and 
 other subjects as friends naturally converse about after a long 
 absence, afforded me little opportunity of gratifying my curiosity. 
 Next morning I arose at my wonted early hour, and stepping into 
 his study found it unoccupied. Upon examining a heap of 
 books and papers that lay confusedly mingled on the table and 
 the floor, I was surprised to find that by much the greater part of 
 them, instead of metaphysics and morals (the branches connected 
 with his scheme of writing), treated of Belles Lettres, or were cal- 
 
422 
 
 THACKERA YANA. 
 
 culated merely for amusement. There was, besides, a journal of 
 his occupations for several weeks, from which, as it affords a 
 picture of his situation, I transcribe a part : — 
 
 1 " Thursday, eleven at night. — Went to bed : ordered my servant 
 to wake me at six, resolving to be busy all next day. 
 
 1 " Friday morning. — Waked a .quarter before six ; fell asleep 
 a^ain, and did not wake till eight. 
 
 1 " Till nine read the first act of Voltaire's ' Mahomet] as it was 
 too late to begin serioits business. 
 
 ' " Ten. — Having swallowed a short breakfast, went out for a 
 moment in my slippers. The wind having left the east, am engaged 
 by the beauty of the day to continue ??iy walk. Find a situation by 
 the river where the sound of my flute produced a very singidar and 
 beautiful echo — make a stanza and a half by way of address to it — 
 
 visit the shepherd lying ill of a low fever^ find him somewhat better 
 (?nem.. — to send him some wine) — meet Jhe parson, and cannot avoid 
 asking Mm to di?mer — returning home find my reapers at work — 
 superintend them in. the absence of JoJui, whom I send to inform the 
 house of the parson's visit — read, in the meantime, part of Thom- 
 son's 'Seasons,' which I had with me— from one to six plagued with 
 the parson's news and stories — take up ' Mahomet ' to put me in 
 good humour; finish it, the time allotted for serious study being 
 elapsed — at eight, applied to for advice by a poor countryman, who 
 had been oppressed; cannot say as to the law ; give him some money — 
 walk out at simset to consider the causes of the pleasure arising from 
 it — at nine, sup, and sit till eleven hearing my nephew read, and 
 conversing with my mother, who was remarkably well and cheerful 
 — go to bed. 
 
 s " Saturday. — Some company arrived — to be filled up to-morrow " 
 
THE ' mirror: 4^3 
 
 — (for that and the two succeeding days there was no further entry 
 in the journal). 
 
 1 " Tuesday. — Waked at seven; but, the weather being rainy and 
 threatening to confine 7?ie all day, lay till nine — ten, breakfasted and 
 read the newspapers ; very dull and drowsy — eleven, day clears up, 
 and I resolve o?i a short ride to clear my head" 
 
 1 A few days' residence with him showed me that his life was in 
 reality, as it is here represented, a medley of feeble exertions, 
 indolent pleasures, secret benevolence, and broken resolutions. 
 Nor did he pretend to conceal from me that his activity was not 
 now so constant as it had been ; but he insisted that he still 
 
 could, when he thought proper, apply with his former vigour, and 
 flattered himself that these frequent deviations from his plan of 
 employment, which in reality were the fruit of indolence and 
 weakness, arose from reason and conviction. 
 
 ' " After all" said he to me one day, when I was endeavouring 
 to undeceive him, " after all, granting what you allege, if I be 
 happy, and really am so, what more could activity, fame, or pre- 
 ferment bestow upon me ? " 
 
 ' After a stay of some weeks I departed, convinced that his 
 malady was past a cure, and lamenting that so much real excellence 
 and ability should be thus in a great measure lost to the world, as 
 well as to their possessor, by the attendance of a single fault. 
 
424 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 The ' Mirror.'— Vol. II. No. 56. 
 
 The following letter is from a dweller in the country, an 
 ardent lover of retirement, who is enchanted with the simplicity of 
 life and incident to be encountered in a pastoral retreat : — 
 
 ' My dear Sir. — The moment I found myself disengaged from 
 business, you know I left the smoke and din of your blessed city, 
 and hurried away to pure skies and quiet at my cottage. 
 
 * You must have heard that our spring was singularly pleasant ; 
 but how pleasant it w T as you could not feel in your dusky atmo- 
 sphere. My sister remarked that it had a faint resemblance to the 
 
 spring of . Although I omit the year, you may believe that 
 
 several seasons have passed away since that animating era recol- 
 lected by my sister. " Alas ! my friend," said I, " seasons return, 
 but it is only to the young and the fortunate." A tear started in 
 her eye, yet she smiled and resumed her tranquillity. 
 
 ' We sauntered through the kitchen-garden, and admired the 
 rapid progress of vegetation. " Everything is very forward," said 
 my sister ; " we must begin to bottle gooseberries to-morrow." 
 " Very forward, indeed," answered I. " This reminds me of the 
 young ladies whom I have seen lately — they seem forward enough, 
 though a little out of season too." 
 
THE < MIRROR: 425 
 
 1 It was a poor witticism, but it lay in my way, and I took it 
 up. Next morning the gardener came to our breakfasting-parlour. 
 " Madam/' said he, " all the gooseberries are gone." " Gone ! " 
 cried my sister ; " and who could be so audacious ? Brother, you 
 are a justice of the peace ; do make out a warrant directly to search 
 for and apprehend. We have an agreeable neighbourhood, indeed ! 
 the insolence of the rabble of servants, of low-born, purse-proud 
 folks, is not to be endured." " The gooseberries are not away," 
 continued the gardener ; " they are lying in heaps under the 
 bushes j last night's fiost, and a hail-shower this morning, have 
 made the crop fail." " The crop fail ! " exclaimed my sister ; " and 
 where am I to get gooseberries for bottling?" "Come, come, 
 
 my dear," said I ; " they tell me that in Virginia pork has a 
 peculiar flavour from the peaches on which the hogs feed ; you 
 can let in the goslings to pick up the gooseberries, and I warrant 
 you that this unlooked-for food will give them a relish far beyond 
 that of any green geese of our neighbours at the castle." 
 "Brother," replied she, "you are a philosopher." I quickly 
 discovered that, while endeavouring to turn one misfortune into 
 jest, I recalled another to her remembrance, for it seems that, by 
 a series of domestic calamities, all her goslings had perished. 
 
 ' A very promising family of turkey chicks has at length 
 consoled her for the fate of the goslings, and on rummaging her 
 store-room she finds that she has more bottled gooseberries left of 
 last year than will suffice for the present occasions of our little 
 family. 
 
426 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 1 That people of sense should allow themselves to be affected 
 by the most trivial accident is ridiculous. There are, indeed, some 
 things which, though hardly real evils, cannot fail to vex the 
 wisest and discompose the equanimity of the most patient ; for 
 example, that fulsome court paid by the vulgar to rich upstarts, 
 and the daily slights to which decayed nobility is exposed/ 
 
 The 'Mirror.'— Vol. II. No. 68. 
 
 • One morning during my late visit to Mr. Umphraville (the 
 writer of the previous letter on life in the country), as that gentleman, 
 his sister, and I were sitting at breakfast, my old friend John came 
 in, and delivered a sealed card to his master. After putting on his 
 spectacles, and reading it with attention, " Ay," said Umphraville, 
 " this is one of your modern improvements. I remember the time 
 when one neighbour could have gone to dine with another without 
 any fuss or ceremony ; but now, forsooth, you must announce 
 your intention so many days before ; and by-and-by I suppose 
 the intercourse between two country gentlemen will be carried on 
 with the same stiffness of ceremonial that prevails among your 
 small German princes. Sister, you must prepare a feast on 
 Thursday. Colonel Plum says he intends to have the honour of 
 waiting on us." "Brother," replied Miss Umphraville, "you 
 know we don't deal in giving feasts ; but if Colonel Plum can 
 dine on a plain dinner, without his foreign dishes and French 
 sauces, I can prepare him a bit of good mutton, and a hearty 
 welcome." 
 
 ' On the day appointed, Colonel Plum arrived, and along with 
 him the gay, the sprightly Sir Bobby Button, who had posted 
 down to the country to enjoy two days' shooting at Colonel Plum's, 
 where he arrived just as that gentleman was setting out for Mr. 
 Umphraville' s. Sir Bobby, always easy, and who, in every society, 
 is the same, protested against the Colonel's putting off his visit, 
 and declared he would be happy to attend him. 
 
 'Though I had but little knowledge of Sir Bobby, I was 
 perfectly acquainted with his character ; but to Umphraville he 
 was altogether unknown, and I promised myself some amusement 
 from the contrast of two persons so opposite in sentiments, in 
 manners, and in opinions. 
 
THE < MIRROR: 427 
 
 1 When he was presented I observed Umphraville somewhat 
 shocked with his dress and figure, in both of which, it must be 
 confessed, he resembled a monkey of a larger size. Sir Bobby, 
 however, did not allow him much time to contemplate his external 
 appearance, for he immediately, without any preparation or 
 apology, began to attack the old gentleman on the bad taste of his 
 house, and of everything about it. " Why the devil," said he, 
 " don't you enlarge your windows, and cut down those damned 
 hedges and trees that spoil your lawn so miserably ? If you would 
 allow me, I would undertake, in a week's time, to give you a 
 clever place." To this Umphraville made no answer ; and indeed 
 the baronet was so fond of hearing himself talk, and chattered 
 away at such a rate, that he neither seemed to desire nor to expect 
 an answer. 
 
 ' On Miss Umphraville's coming in, he addressed himself to 
 her, and, after displaying his dress, and explaining some par- 
 ticulars with regard to it, he began to enter- 
 tain her with an account of the gallantries 
 in which he had been engaged the preceding 
 winter in London. He talked as if no 
 woman could resist his persuasive address 
 and elegant figure — as if London were one 
 great seraglio, and he himself the mighty 
 master of it.' 
 
 The* Mirror.'— VoL II. No. 74. 
 
 ' Dreams depend in part on the state of the air; that. which has 
 power over the passions may reasonably be presumed to have 
 power over the thoughts of men. Now, most people know by 
 experience how effectual, in producing joy and hope, are pure 
 skies and sunshine, and that a long continuance of dark weather 
 brings on solicitude and melancholy. This is particularly the case 
 with those persons whose nervous system has been weakened by 
 a sedentary life and much thinking ; and they, as I hinted formerly, 
 are most subject to troublesome dreams. If the external air can 
 affect the motions of so heavy a substance as mercury in the tube 
 of a barometer, we need not wonder that it should affect those 
 finer liquids that circulate through the human body. 
 
428 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 ' How often, too, do thoughts arise during the day which we 
 cannot account for, as uncommon, perhaps, and incongruous, as 
 those which compose our dreams ! Once, after riding thirty miles 
 in a very high wind, I remember to have passed a night of dreams 
 that were beyond description terrible ; insomuch that I at last 
 found it expedient to keep myself awake, that I might no more 
 
 \ \ 
 
 be tormented with them. Had I been superstitious, I should 
 have thought that some disaster was impending. But it occurred 
 to me that the tempestuous weather I had encountered the pre- 
 ceding day might be the occasion of all these horrors ; and I have 
 since, in some medical author, met with a remark to justify the 
 conjecture.' 
 
 The < Mirror.'— Vol. III. No. 79. 
 
 Of Pastoral Poetry. 
 
 * It may be doubted whether the representation of sentiments 
 belonging to the real inhabitants of the country, who are strangers 
 to all refinement, or those entertained by a person of an elegant 
 and cultivated mind, who from choice retires into the country 
 with a view of enjoying those pleasures which it affords, is calcu- 
 lated to produce a more interesting picture. If the former is 
 
THE ' mirror: 
 
 429 
 
 recommended by its naivete and simplicity, it may be expected 
 that the latter should have the preference in point of beauty and 
 variety. 
 
 ' The enlargement of the field of pastoral poetry would surely 
 be of advantage, considering how much the common topics of 
 that species of writing are already exhausted. We are become 
 weary of the ordinary sentiments of shepherds, which have been 
 
 so often repeated, and which have usually nothing but the variety 
 of expression to recommend them. The greater part of the pro- 
 ductions which have appeared under the name of pastorals are, 
 accordingly, so insipid as to have excited little attention; which 
 is the more remarkable because the subjects which they treat of 
 naturally interest the affections, and are easily painted in such 
 delusive colours as tend to soothe the imagination by romantic 
 dreams of happiness.' 
 
43o THA CKERA YA NA . 
 
 The ' Mirror.'— Vol. III. No. 84. 
 
 * To dispute the right of fashion to enlarge, to vary, or to 
 change the ideas, both of man and woman kind, were a want of 
 good breeding, of which the author of a periodical publication, 
 who throws himself, as it were, from day to day on the protection 
 of the polite world, cannot be supposed capable. 
 
 ' I pay, therefore, little regard to the observations of some 
 antiquated correspondents who pretend to set up what they call 
 the invariable notions of things against the opinions and practice 
 of people of condition. 
 
 ' I am afraid that Edinburgh (talking like a man who has 
 travelled) is but a sort of mimic metropolis, and cannot fairly 
 pretend to the same license of making a fool of itself as London 
 or Paris. The circle, therefore, taking them en gros, of our 
 fashionable people here, have seldom ventured on the same 
 beautiful irregularity in dress, in behaviour, or in manners that 
 is frequently practised by the leaders of ton in the capital of 
 France or England. 
 
 'With individuals the same rule of subordination is to be 
 observed, which, however, persons of extraordinary parts, of 
 genius above their condition, are sometimes apt to overlook. I 
 perceive, in the- pit of the play-house, some young men who have 
 got fuddled on punch, as noisy and as witty as the gentlemen in 
 the boxes, who have been drinking Burgundy \ and others, who 
 
 have come sober from the counter 
 or writing-desk, give almost as 
 little attention to the play as men 
 of 3,000/. a year. My old school 
 acquaintance, Jack Wou'd-be, 
 t'other morning had a neckcloth 
 as dirty as a lord's, and picked 
 his teeth after dinner, for a quarter 
 of an hour, by the assistance of 
 the little mirror in the lid of his 
 tooth-pick case. I take the first opportunity of giving him a 
 friendly hint, that this practice is elegant only in a man who 
 has made the tour of Europe.' 
 
THE 'MIRROR: 431 
 
 The ' Mirror.' — Vol. III. No. 12. 
 
 A?i Essay upon Figure- Makers. 
 
 * There is a species of animal, several of whom must have 
 fallen under the notice of everybody present, which it is difficult 
 to class either among the witty or the foolish, the clever or the 
 dull, the wise or the mad, who, of all others, have the greatest 
 propensity to figure-making. Nature seems to have made them 
 up in haste, and to have put the different ingredients, above 
 referred to, into their composition at random. Here there is 
 never wanting a junta of them of both sexes, who are liked or 
 hated, admired or despised, who make people laugh, or set them 
 asleep, according to the fashion of the time or the humour of the 
 audience, but who have always the satisfaction of talking them- 
 selves, or of being talked of by others. With us, indeed, a very 
 moderate degree of genius is sufficient for this purpose ; in small 
 societies folks are set agape by small circum- 
 stances. I have known a lady here contrive 
 to make a figure for half the winter on the 
 strength of a plume of feathers, or the trimming 
 of a petticoat ; and a gentleman make shift to 
 be thought a fine fellow, only by outdoing 
 everybody else in the thickness of his queue, 
 or the height of his foretop.' 
 
 The ' Mirror.'— Vol. III. No. 98. 
 
 A student of 'good parts' has accepted, for one year, the 
 post of resident tutor to a young gentleman with rich expecta- 
 tions. He writes to the ' Mirror,' describing the little progress he 
 can make in the advancement of his pupil's education, owing to the 
 frivolous interruptions which postpone serious application from 
 day to day. Study has been already set aside, on various pretexts, 
 for the first four days of the week. The close of his letter relates 
 how. he fared on the Friday and Saturday. 
 
 1 " You must know," says Mrs. Flint, the gentleman's mamma, 
 
432 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 at breakfast, "that I am assured that Jemmy is very like the 
 Count de Provence, the King of France's own brother. Now 
 
 Jemmy is sitting for his picture to 
 Martin, and I thought it would be 
 right to get the friseur, whom you 
 saw last night [he has just arrived 
 from Paris], to dress his hair like 
 the Count de Provence, that Mr. 
 Martin might make the resemblance 
 more complete. Jemmy has been 
 under his hands since seven o'clock. Oh, here he comes ! " 
 "Is it not charming?" exclaimed Miss Juliana. "I wish your 
 future bride could see you," added the happy mother. My pupil, 
 lost in the labyrinth of cross curls, seemed to look about for 
 
 himself. "What a powdered sheep's head have we got here?" 
 cried Captain Winterbottom. We all went to Mr. Martin's, to 
 assist him in drawing Jemmy's picture. On our return, Mrs. 
 Flint discovered that her son had got an inflammation in his right 
 eye by looking steadfastly on the painter. She ordered a poultice 
 
THE 'MIRROR: 433 
 
 of bread and milk, and put him to bed ; so there was no more 
 talk of " Omnibus in terris " for that evening. 
 
 ' My pupil came down to breakfast in a complete suit of 
 black, with weepers, and a long mourning- cravat. The Count de 
 Provence's curls were all demolished, and there remained not a 
 vestige of powder on his hair. " Bless me ! " cried I, " what is the 
 matter ?" " Oh, nothing," said Mrs. Flint ; "a relation of mine is 
 to be interred at twelve, and Jemmy has got a burial letter. We 
 ought to acknowledge our friends on such melancholy occasions. 
 I mean to send Jemmy with the coach and six ; it will teach him 
 how to behave himself in public places." 
 
 ' At dinner my pupil expressed a vehement desire to go to the 
 play. " There is to be ' Harlequin Highlander/ and the blowing 
 up of the St. Domingo man-of-war," said he j " it will be vastly 
 comical and curious." "Why, Jemmy," said Mrs. Flint, "since 
 this is Saturday, I suppose your tutor will have no objection ; but 
 be sure to put on your great coat, and to take a chair in coming 
 home." " I thought," said I, " that we might have made some pro- 
 gress at our books this evening." " Books on Saturday afternoon !" 
 cried the whole company; "it was never heard of." I yielded to 
 conviction ; for, indeed, it would have been very unreasonable to 
 have expected that he who had spent the whole week in idleness 
 should begin to apply himself to his studies on the evening of 
 Saturday.' 
 
 The < Mirror.'— Vol. III. No. 105. 
 
 The editor is enlarging on certain vanities and fashionable 
 absurdities which town people, when they rusticate for change of 
 air, cannot forbear importing with them. 
 
 ' In the first place, I would beg of those who migrate from the 
 City not to carry too much of the town with them into the country. 
 I will allow a lady to exhibit the newest-fashioned cut in her 
 riding-habit, or to astonish a country congregation with the height 
 of her head-dress ; and a gentleman, in like manner, to sport, as 
 they term it, a grotesque pattern of a waistcoat, or to set the 
 children agape by the enormous size of his buckles. These are 
 privileges to which gentlemen and ladies may be thought to have 
 entitled themselves by the expense and trouble of a winter's resi- 
 
 F F 
 
434 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 dence in the capital. But there is a provoking though a civil sort 
 of consequence such people are apt to assume in conversation 
 which, I think, goes beyond the just prerogative of 
 township, and is a very unfair en- 
 croachment on the natural rights of 
 their friends and relations in the 
 country. They should consider that 
 though there are certain subjects of 
 ton and fashion on which they may 
 pronounce ex cathedra (if I may be 
 allowed so pedantic a phrase) yet 
 that, even in the country, the senses 
 of hearing, seeing, tasting, and 
 smelling may be enjoyed to a cer- 
 tain extent, and that a person may like or dislike a 
 new song, a new lutestring, a French dish, or an Italian perfume, 
 though such person has been unfortunate enough to pass last 
 winter at a hundred miles' distance from the metropolis.' 
 
 The ' Mirror.'— Vol. III. No. 108. 
 
 The editor is recounting a deeply sentimental story, written 
 with all seriousness, in a style sufficiently burlesque and laughable. 
 It refers to the love of Sir Edward, an English gentleman, who, 
 while travelling in Piedmont, had met with an accidental fall from 
 his horse, and been carried to the residence of a small proprietor 
 named Venoni, for whose daughter the baronet immediately con- 
 ceived a tenderness, which was returned by the fair Louisa. 
 
 ' The disclosure of Sir Edward's passion was interrupted by the 
 untoward arrival of Louisa's parent, accompanied with one of 
 their neighbours, a coarse, vulgar, ignorant man, whose posses- 
 sions led her father to look upon him with favour. Venoni led 
 his daughter aside, told her he had brought her future husband, 
 and that he intended they should be married in a week at farthest. 
 
 ' Next morning Louisa was indisposed, and kept her chamber. 
 Sir Edward was now perfectly recovered. He was engaged to go 
 out with Venoni ; but before his departure he took up his violin, 
 and touched a few plaintive notes on it. They were heard by 
 Louisa. 
 
THE 'MIRROR. 
 
 435 
 
 ' In the evening she wandered forth to indulge her sorrows 
 alone. She had reached a sequestered spot, where some poplars 
 formed a thicket, on the banks of a little stream 
 that watered the valley. A nightingale was 
 perched on one of them, and had already begun 
 its accustomed song. Louisa sat down on a 
 withered stump, leaning her cheek upon her 
 hand. After a little while, the bird was scared 
 
 from its perch, and flitted from the thicket. Louisa rose from 
 the ground, and burst into tears. She turned — and beheld Sir 
 Edward. His countenance had much of its former languor ; and, 
 when he took her hand, he cast on the earth a melancholy look, 
 and seemed unable to speak his feelings. 
 
 1 Louisa was at last overcome. Her face was first pale as 
 death, then suddenly it was crossed with a crimson blush. "Oh, 
 Sir Edward!" she said. "What — what would you have me do ? " 
 He eagerly seized her hand, and led her reluctant to the carriage. 
 They entered it, and, driving off with furious speed, were soon out 
 of sight of those hills which pastured the flocks of the forsaken 
 Venoni.' 
 
436 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Thackeray as an Illustrator — Allusions to Caricature Drawing found through- 
 out his Writings— Skits on Fashion— Titmarsh on Artists, Men, and Clothes 
 — Sketches of the Fraser Periods-Jottings of the time of • Vanity Fair ' — Of 
 the ' English Humourists ' — ' Esmond,' and the Days of Queen Anne — ' The 
 Virginians,' and the Early Georges — Bohemianism in youth — Sketches of 
 Contemporary Habits and Manners — Imaginative Illustrations to Romances — 
 Skill in Ludicrous Parody — Burlesque of the ' Official Handbook of Court 
 State.' 
 
 Although Thackeray must go 
 down to posterity as an author, 
 and, of necessity, in that charac- 
 ter will hold his own as one of the 
 very greatest of English writers, 
 his earnest ambition sought oc- 
 cupation in the career of an art- 
 ist, and, as must be familiar to 
 our readers, the desire for this distinction retained its hold on 
 his spirit through life. 
 
 As a humorous designer we must accord him a position of emi- 
 nence, and the characteristic originality of his pencil certainly 
 entitles Thackeray to an honourable place in the front rank of 
 fanciful draughtsmen. 
 
 The illustrations which he supplied in profusion 
 for the embellishment of his own writings have a 
 certain happy harmony with the thread of the story, 
 which probably no other hand could have contri- 
 buted. In the field of design, especially of the 
 grotesque order, his imagination was singularly fer- 
 tile, and the little figures with which he loved to 
 appositely point the texts of his week-day sermons 
 and moralities strike forcibly by their ingenuity and 
 felicitous application. 
 
THACKERAY AS AN ILLUSTRATOR. 
 
 437 
 
 Allusions to caricature-drawing are frequent throughout his 
 works, and he delighted to bring the young art-amateur on his 
 scenes. 
 
 With pencil as with pen Thackeray had the power of carrying 
 the mind back to the days of the early essayists, and his recon- 
 structive skill is remarkable when he draws the picture of the 
 times in which his rich fancy and his taste for antiquarian com- 
 pleteness found the most delightful materials. 
 
438 
 
 TH ACKER A YANA. 
 
 Original Studies of Halberdiers of the Georgian Era 
 
THACKERAY AS AN ILLUSTRATOR. 
 
 439 
 
 We follow the artist's quaint vein of humour and realism from 
 the little sketches of chivalry — the heroes of knight-errantry, 
 Crusaders, Saracens, and the more romantic personages — which 
 amused him in his boyhood, 
 to his spirited studies illustra- 
 tive of the days when Dick 
 Steele's 'Tatler' was beginning 
 to be talked about as a paper 
 which contained a very un- 
 usual amount of entertain- 
 ment, from its whimsical com- 
 bination of sterling wit afid 
 truth to nature. Thackeray 
 was peculiarly at home in the 
 times of Queen Anne. We 
 find his pencil busy reproduc- 
 ing the figures of personages who moved in the world under the 
 
 early Georges, and the reign of the third George was as intimately 
 familiar to him, in all details of value, as if he had lived through 
 
44o 
 
 J HACK ERA VAN A. 
 
SKETCHES OF THE WATERLOO PERIOD. 441 
 
 the triumphs, struggles, and disasters in which his own writings 
 revive a stronger interest. We enjoy his researches through the 
 
 great eras of England's history, when Washington led the revolted 
 
 colonies to independence, when Pitt and 
 
 Toryism waged war in the Senate with Fox 
 
 and the friends of liberty, when the fever of 
 
 Revolution arose in France, and threatened 
 
 to infect our own land, and when the 'Cor- 
 
 sican' was driven down to the death. 
 
 Waterloo had a strong claim on Thack- 
 eray's interest; he is partial to alluding to 
 the critical point of our history, as all the 
 reading world well knows. 
 
 It must be conceded that the chief inci- 
 dent of ' Vanity Fair ' leads up to the great 
 battle. References to the famous field occur 
 in many portions of his gossip or travels, while 
 figures are borrowed from this event to carry 
 out the arguments of his novels and lesser essays under all sorts 
 of circumstances. 
 
442 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 Even in ' Philip/ which deals with a later period, we are 
 carried back to that stirring period. 
 
 ' That is Captain Gann, 
 the father of the lady who 
 keeps the house. I don't 
 know how he came by the 
 rank of captain, but he has 
 borne it so long and gal- 
 lantly that there is no use 
 in any longer questioning 
 the title. He does not 
 claim it, neither does he 
 deny it. But the wags who 
 call upon Mrs. Brandon can always, as the phrase is, " draw " her 
 father by speaking of Prussia, France, Waterloo, or battles in 
 
SAVTS ON FASHIONS. 
 
 443 
 
 general, until the Little Sister says, " Now, never mind about the 
 battle of Waterloo, papa. You've told them all about it. And 
 don't go on, Mr. Beans, don't, please, go on in that way." 
 
 ' Young Beans has already drawn " Captain Gann (assisted by 
 Shaw, the Life -Guardsman) killing twenty- four French cuirassiers at 
 Waterloo;" " Captain Gann defending Hougomont;" "Captain 
 Gann, called upon by Napoleon Buonaparte to lay down his arms, 
 saying, ' A captain of militia dies, but never surrenders ; ' " " The 
 Duke of Wellington pointing to the advancing Old Guard, and 
 saying, 'Up, Gann, and at them.'" And these sketches are so 
 droll that even the Little Sister, Gann's own daughter, can't help 
 laughing at them. 
 
 The costume affected by ' bucks,' when Thackeray was a 
 young man of fashion, comes down to us as preserved in his 
 sketches as something very modish and 
 singular, in which the taste and style 
 seem nearly as quaint and distant as 
 the knee breeches and square skirts of 
 the last century. 
 
 ' Titmarsh,' who had the courage 
 to dedicate the ' Paris Sketch-Book ' 
 to a generous French tailor, was him- 
 self an authority on dress; and, al- 
 though above all pretensions to 'fad- 
 dery and foppery,' was accustomed to 
 scrutinise closely not only men, but 
 the habits they wore. 
 
 Let us turn for confirmation to the 
 vigorous and whimsical articles on 
 ' Men and Coats,' which he penned 
 in his younger days. 
 
 ' A dressing-gown has great merits, 
 certainly, but is dangerous. A man 
 who wears it of mornings generally takes the liberty of going 
 without a neckcloth, or of not shaving, and is no better than a 
 driveller. Sometimes, to be sure, it is necessary, in self-defence, 
 not to shave, as a precaution against yourself, that is to say; 
 and I know no better means of insuring a man's remaining at 
 home than neglecting the use of the lather and razor for a week, 
 
444 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 and encouraging a crop of bristles. Painters are the only persons 
 who can decently appear in dressing-gowns \ but these are none 
 of your easy morning-gowns; they are commonly of splendid 
 stuff, and put on by the artist in order to render himself remark- 
 
 able and splendid -in the eyes of his sitter. Your loose-wadded 
 German Chlafrock, imported of late years into our country, is the 
 laziest, filthiest invention ; and I always augur as ill of a man 
 whom I see appearing at breakfast in one as of a woman who 
 comes down stairs in curl-papers. Look at the sneaking way 
 
MEN AND CLOTHES. 
 
 445 
 
 of a man caught in a dressing-gown, in loose bagging trowsers 
 most likely (for the man who has a dressing-gown has, two to 
 one, no braces), and in shuffling slippers ; see how he whisks his 
 dressing-gown over his legs, and looks ashamed and uneasy. His 
 lanky hair hangs over his blowsy, fat, unhealthy face ; his bristly, 
 dumpling-shaped double chin peers over a flaccid shirt-collar ; the 
 
 sleeves of the gown are in rags, and you see underneath a pair 
 of black wristbands, and the rim of a dingy flannel waistcoat. 
 
 ' If you want to understand an individual, look at him in the 
 daytime ; see him walking with his hat on. There is a great deal 
 in the build and wearing of hats, a great deal more than at first 
 sight meets the eye. I know a man who in a particular hat looked 
 
446 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 so extraordinarily like a man of property that no tradesman on 
 earth could refuse to give him credit. It was one of Andre's, and 
 cost a guinea and a half ready money ; but the person in question 
 was frightened at the enormous charge, and 
 afterwards purchased beavers in the City at the 
 cost of seventeen-and-sixpence. And what 
 was the consequence? He fell off in public 
 estimation, and very soon after he came out in 
 his City hat it began to be whispered abroad 
 that he was a ruined man. 
 
 * Actors of the lower sort affect very much 
 braiding and fur collars to their frock-coats ; and a very curious 
 and instructive sight it is to behold these passengers with pale, 
 wan faces, and hats cocked on one 
 side, in a sort of pseudo-military 
 trim. One sees many such saun- 
 tering under Drury Lane Colonnade, 
 or about Bow Street, with sickly 
 smiles on their faces. Poor fellows, 
 poor fellows ! how much of their 
 character is embroidered in that 
 seedy braiding of their coats. Near 
 five o'clock, in the neighbourhood 
 of Rupert Street and the Hay- 
 market, you may still occasionally 
 see the old, shabby, manly, gentle- 
 manly half- pay frock ; but the braid 
 is now getting scarce in London, 
 and your military man, with reason, 
 perhaps, dresses more like a civilian.' 
 There is a fine spirit of freedom 
 and independence of convention 
 which breathes through the early 
 writings to which we more particu- 
 larly refer, — those slashing downright 
 Bohemian papers which Titmarsh contributed to the magazines, 
 chiefly from the French capital, about the ' Paris Sketch-Book' 
 period. 
 
 In the ' Memorials of Gormandising,' for example, after 
 
BOHEMIAN PENCILLINGS. 
 
 447 
 
 describing a dinner at the old Rocher de Cancale, Mr. Titmarsh 
 remarks, with considerable spirit and frankness : ' When the claret 
 
 began to pall, you, forsooth, must gorge yourself with brandy-and- 
 water r and puff filthy cigars. 
 ' For shame ! Who ever 
 does? Does a gentleman 
 drink brandy - and - water ? 
 
 Does a man who mixes in 
 the society of the loveliest 
 half of humanity befoul him- 
 self by tobacco smoke ? Fie, 
 fie! avoid the practice. I indulge in it always myself, but that 
 is no reason why you, a strong man entering into the world, 
 should degrade yourself in such a way. No, no, my dear lad, 
 
448 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 never refuse an evening party, and avoid tobacco as you would 
 the upas plant.' 
 
 And again in 'Men and Coats.' ' If you 
 like smoking, why shouldn't you ? If you do 
 smell a little of tobacco, where's the harm ? 
 The smell is not pleasant, but it does not 
 kill anybody. If the lady of the house do not 
 like it, she is quite at liberty not to invite you 
 again. Et puis ? 
 
 ' Bah ! Of what age are you and I ? Have 
 we lived ? Have we seen men and cities ? 
 
 Have we their manners noted, and understood 
 
 their idiosyncrasy? Without a doubt! And* 
 
 what is the truth at which we have arrived ? This : that a pipe of 
 
 tobacco is many an hour in the day, and many a week in the 
 month, a thousand times better and more 
 agreeable society than the best Miss, the 
 loveliest Mrs., the most beautiful Ba- 
 roness, Countess, and what not. Go to 
 tea-parties those who will; talk fiddle- 
 faddle such as like ; many men there are 
 who do so, and are a little partial to 
 music, and know how to twist the leaf of 
 the song that Miss Jemima is singing 
 
 exactly at the right moment — very good. These are the enjoy- 
 
CONVENTIONALITIES. 
 
 449 
 
 ments of dress-coats ; but men — are they to be put off with such 
 fare for ever ? ' 
 
 In those days of Bohemian license there was a fine sterling ring 
 about Thackeray's outspoken sentiments. In his manly freedom 
 he cared little whether the slashing sentences gave offence or not. 
 
 Criticising the paintings in the Louvre in a paper on ' Men and 
 Pictures,' we find the young art-student riding an audacious tour- 
 nament against conventionalisms. He takes very candid excep- 
 tion to the practice of surrounding the heads of translated beings, 
 and particularly angels, with an invariable halo of gold leaf. 
 He happens to remember that stage tradition was always wont to 
 dress the gravedigger in 'Hamlet' in fifteen or sixteen waist- 
 coats, all of which are consecutively removed, and he presumes 
 this ancient usage is founded on some very early custom, 
 real or supposititious, to depart from which would savour ot 
 profane innovation, and on this circumstance he proceeds to 
 argue : — ' Now, suppose the legend ordered that every gravedigger 
 should be represented with a gold-leaf halo round his head, and 
 
 G G 
 
450 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 every angel with fifteen waistcoats, artists would have followed 
 serious art just as they do now, most probably, and looked with 
 scorn at the miserable creature who ventured to scoff at the waist- 
 coats. Ten to one but a certain newspaper would have called a 
 man flippant who did not respect the waistcoats, would have said 
 that he was irreverent for not worshipping the waistcoats. But 
 
 why talk of it ? The fact is, I have rather a desire to set up for a 
 martyr, like my neighbours in the literary trade ; it is not a little 
 comforting to undergo such persecutions courageously. " O So- 
 crate ! ye boirai la cigue avec toi !" as David said to Robespierre. 
 
THE SWEETS OF NOVEL-READING. 
 
 45 i 
 
 You, too, were accused of blasphemy in your time ; and the world 
 has been treating us poor literary gents in the same way ever 
 since. ' 
 
 Another favourite bent of Thackeray's humour was the illus- 
 tration of books of fiction. He confessed he longed to write a 
 story-book in which generations upon generations of schoolboys 
 should revel with delight, and which should be filled with the 
 most wonderful and mirthful pictures. 
 
 Princess and the Frog 
 
 ' Have you ever seen,' he writes in a c Roundabout paper,' ' a 
 score of white-bearded, white-robed warriors, or grave seniors of 
 the city, seated at the gate of Jaffa or Beyrout, and listening to the 
 story-teller reciting his marvels out of Antar or the Arabian 
 Nights ? I was once present when a young gentleman at table 
 
 gg 2 
 
452 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 put a tart away from him, and said to his neighbour, the Young 
 Son, with rather a fatuous air, " I never eat sweets ! " 
 ' " Not eat sweets ! and do you know why?" says T. 
 
 Frontispiece to Murray's Official Handbook of Church and State 
 
 1 " Because I am past that kind of thing," says the young 
 gentleman. 
 
 ' " Because you are a glutton and a sot ! " cries the elder (and 
 Juvenis winces a little). " All people who have natural, healthy 
 
 The Legislature and Officers of the Houses of Parliament 
 
 appetites love sweets ; all children, all women, all Eastern people, 
 whose tastes are not corrupted by gluttony and strong drink." 
 And a plateful of raspberries and cream disappeared before the 
 philosopher. 
 
SATIRICAL PARODIES.* 
 
 453 
 
 1 You take the allegory ? Novels are sweets. All people with 
 healthy literary appetites love them— almost all women ; a vast 
 number of clever and hard-headed men.' 
 
 The House of Commons 
 
 The facile character of Thackeray's pencil was remarkable ; the 
 numerous sketches he left, and which in all probability, from the 
 
 Reduction of the National 
 Debt.— Office, Old Jewry. 
 
 The Commissioners were 
 originally appointed under the 
 Statute of 26 Geo. III. c. i 
 In that year a more active 
 scheme was proposed for the 
 diminution of the National 
 Debt, by the appropriation of 
 one million per annum to the 
 Sinking Fund, and the mo- 
 neys devoted to this end were 
 vested in the Commissioners, 
 and placed under their man- 
 agement. 
 
 General Board of Health, 
 Parliament Street 
 
 Clerk of the Petty Bag. 
 Petty Bag Office, Rolls Yard 
 
 Groom in waiting. 
 
 The Lord Chamberlain's Department. 
 
 Office, Stable Yard, St. James's 
 
 Palace 
 
454 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 circumstances of their ownership, will never in our day gratify a 
 public who would appreciate their publication, attest his versatile 
 industry. No subject came amiss to his hand ; the most unsugges- 
 tive works were to him rich in opportunities for whimsical parody. 
 No one can say the number of books, papers, scraps, &c, to 
 which an intrinsic value has been contributed by the great 
 humourist's petichant for exercising his graphic fancy. 
 
455 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Thackeray as a Traveller — Journey in Youth from India to England — 
 Little Travels at Home — Sojourn in Germany — French Trips — Residence 
 in Paris — Studies in Rome — Sketches and Scrtbblings in Guide Books — 
 Little Tours and Wayside Studies — Brussels — Ghent and the Beguines — 
 Bruges — Croquis in Murray's 'Handbooks to the Continent' — Up the 
 Rhine — 'From Cornhill to Grand Cairo' — Tourneys to America — Switzerland 
 — ' A Leaf out of a Sketch Book' — The Grisons —Verona — 'Roundabout 
 Journeys ' — Belgium and Holland. 
 
 Another aspect in which it is 
 agreeable to contemplate Thack- 
 eray is that of a traveller, for in 
 this character he must have gone 
 over a considerable portion of 
 the more interesting parts of the 
 world. From India to England, 
 in his seventh year, with that 
 memorable call at St. Helena, 
 where the youngster caught 
 a furtive glimpse of the great 
 Napoleon in his solitary exile. 
 
 Little journeyings about Eng- 
 land between boyhood and 
 youth, then a stolen visit to Paris, 
 in a college vacation. Then the 
 residence at Weimar and Eber- 
 feld, with rovings about Ger- 
 many. Then to Paris to see the 
 world, to study men, manners, 
 and pictures ; half art-student, half pursuing the art of amusing 
 oneself. Then a more serious application to the earlier stages of 
 
 W. M. T. on his travels 
 
456 
 
 THA CKERA YA NA . 
 
 that somewhat lengthy road which every aspirant must plod who 
 would follow the artist's career. 
 
 Let us take up one of his travelling companions and pass a 
 
 day with the easy-working, comfortably provided, and satirically 
 
 observant young ' buck,' who found himself so 
 
 pleasantly at home in Louis Philippe's slightly 
 
 uncertain capital. 
 
 ' Planta's Paris' is not the most familiar of 
 travelling companions, its descriptions are not 
 altogether modern, but the glimpse it affords 
 us of the French capital is curious from the 
 circumstance that it registers the swiftness of 
 change in that Centre of Pleasure. It might 
 be an amusing study to reproduce from its 
 pages the attractions of Paris in 1827, the 
 date of the fifteenth edition of this work; 
 but the stout little square book possesses a 
 stronger interest, as it had the privilege of 
 belonging to Michael Angelo Titmarsh, and 
 in his pocket it probably tumbled and tossed 
 across the Channel. 
 It is rather difficult to connect Mr. Titmarsh with the stereo- 
 typed extracts of a guide-book, but the copy under consideration 
 was fortunately selected as a repository for the occasional sketches 
 suggested to the fancy of its proprietor. 
 
 In those ' flying stage ' days travellers booked their passage, 
 per coach, from the Spread Eagle, Piccadilly, to Paris. On this 
 service the journey from Calais to Paris 
 was performed by the ' Hirondelle ' in 
 thirty hours. It was in this manner Mr. 
 Pogson accomplished his eventful first 
 journey, in the society of the fascinating TlL^-£/ r 
 
 ' Baronne de Florval Delval/ as set forth 
 in the pages of Mr. Titmarsh's ' Paris 
 Sketch Book.' Mr. Titmarsh has probably 
 contributed the pencilling of the 'old if y 
 regime' personage in the margin during ^ 
 
 the progress to the capital. Travelling caps of every order were 
 assumed for comfort during the jolting on the road. 
 
 At Weimar 
 
PLANTA'S PARIS: 
 
 457 
 
 Mr. Titmarsh had become a partial resident in Paris. He 
 might have been seen mastering ihe contents of the Louvre, the 
 Beaux Arts, and the Luxembourg; 
 occasionally mounting an easel and 
 copying a picture. 
 
 Betweenvvhiles he is, we may rea- 
 sonably suppose, engaged on mate- 
 rials similar to his 'Paris Sketch 
 Book,' or transferring the thrilling 
 thoughts of Berangerinto verses which 
 preserve the vitality of that mighty 
 songster. Here the young author and 
 his fanciful double evidently com- 
 mence their daily promenade— we 
 may vainly sigh for the pleasure of 
 forming one of such a desirable party 
 — but in spirit, assisted by the sketches 
 which mark his progress, it is just 
 possible to follow the humourist. , 
 'Planta's Paris' is produced from 
 his pocket to receive rapid pencil ; 
 jottings, slight but graphic, as the 
 subjects present themselves. 
 
 First, the lolling ouvrier, common to Paris in all seasons and 
 under every government, slow and shuffling, a 
 lounger through succeeding regimes. 
 
 We recognise the reign of the ' Citizen King ' 
 in the person of one of his citizen soldiers, a 
 worthy National Guard, hurrying from commer- 
 , cial allurements to practise the military duties 
 of a patriot 
 
 At another time Mr. Titmarsh may refresh his pictorial tastes 
 by the inspection of M. Phillipon's latest onslaught on ' the poire: 
 
 Here we confront M. Aubert's renowned collection of political 
 cartoons in the Galerie Vero-Dodat, the head-quarters of that 
 irrepressible army of caricaturists whose satiric shafts kept the 
 stout Louis Philippe in a quiver of irritation, until he swept away 
 the liberty of the press. 
 
 Before us stands a stern dissentient from any expression assail- 
 
458 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 ing the inviolability of the absolute Sovereign, who cleverly mis- 
 
 named himself the 
 
 King of the Barricades. 3 
 
 A Citizen Soldier 
 
 The Army- 
 
 Here is a sketchy reminiscence of the Jar din Bullier, over 
 the water, close by the* Barrier d'Enfer. We may speculate this 
 
 recollection has been revived by 
 some flaring affiche posted on the 
 walls regarding a ' long night,' and 
 the admission of ' fancy costumes ' 
 at that traditional retreat. 
 
 We next get a peep into a cabaret, 
 while still in pursuit of the military 
 train, and here the artist regales us 
 
PARIS sketch-book: 
 
 459 
 
 with a spirited realisation of ' Mars surrendering to Bacchus/ in 
 a picture not unworthy of Hogarth. These gentlemen are content 
 to espouse the side which offers the best chance of enjoyment 
 
 — a phase not entirely extinct in the French army, and one that 
 has been relied on in recent instances. 
 
 These last drawings are executed with a pen, and cleverly 
 shaded in Indian ink. 
 
 Showers, sharp though short, are frequent enough in Paris. 
 Mr. Titmarsh, in the shelter of a 'Passage' — possibly the ' Pano- 
 
460 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 ramas' — seizes the opportunity of this enforced captivity to pro- 
 duce a flying sketch of the damp world out of doors. 
 
 Mr. Titmarsh has stepped for a moment into the shelter of a 
 church, for we here find a life-like picture of a priest bearing the 
 Elements. 
 
 The shower is over : the sun shines brighter than ever, and 
 Mr. Titmarsh is tempted to trudge over to the Luxembourg. After 
 a few practical criticisms on the paintings, he wanders into the 
 quaint gardens surrounding this palace of art. His active pencil 
 finds immediate employment on an ever-recurring group, for 
 wherever bonnes abound there may the soldiers be found. 
 
ROUND ABOUT PARIS. 
 
 461 
 
 
 These little sketches are full of familiar life. 
 
 The barriere is passed, and Mr. Titmarsh takes a stroll in the 
 
 environs. His pencil preserves for our amusement this record ol 
 his wanderings. 
 
4 6: 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 We may here allude to his kindly feeling for children, whose 
 romps so often employed his pen. Farther down the shady groves 
 the coco seller finds a customer in a mtlitaire, whose tastes are simple, 
 or whose means do not compass a more ambitious beverage. 
 
 Before he dines, Mr. Titmarsh returns to his lodgings (possibly 
 the very ones he occupied during the tragedy of Attwood's violent 
 end, described in the 'Gambler's Death'), to ' wash-in' a few 
 croquis in Indian ink ; and there, we may assume, he traces on a 
 
A STUDENT IN ROME. 
 
 463 
 
 loose scrap of paper the whimsical outline of ' An Eastern Tra- 
 veller.' 
 
 An Eastern Traveller 
 
 Anon Mr. Titmarsh plunges deeper into the art career; his 
 aspirations lead him to Rome ; there, amidst galleries, artists, 
 authors, models, canvases, and easels, he pursues his lively though 
 somewhat desultory course. Who could be more at home in the 
 head-quarters of the fine arts ? who more popular than this kind- 
 hearted, keen-witted young satirist ? a universal favourite, treasur- 
 ing, perhaps unconsciously, every phase of the mixed life he met 
 and led there. Again, as in Paris, a pure Bohemian through in- 
 clination, and yet fond of fine sights and society, with the entrte 
 at his disposal to every circle, refined or vagabond, of the com- 
 munism of a republic of art and letters. 
 
 Let us take Michael Angelo Titmarsh's own evidence respecting 
 his residence in Rome from his letter on ' Picture Gossip, 7 He has 
 
464 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 come back to England, where he is still among the palettes, the 
 studios, and the picture-galleries, and he is writing to a late fellow- 
 student in the imperial city. 
 
 A Neapolitan ' Snob 
 
 ' All illustrissimo signor, il mio signor colendissimo Augusto 
 Ha arve, pittore in Roma. — I am going to fulfil the promise, my 
 dear Augusto, uttered, with a faltering voice and streaming eyes, 
 
 Southern Italy 
 
 before I stepped into the jingling old courier's vehicle which was 
 to bear me from Rome to Florence. Can I forget that night — 
 that parting? Gaunter stood by so affected that, for the last 
 
A STUDENT IN ROME. 
 
 465 
 
 quarter of an hour, he did not swear once ; Flake's emotion ex- 
 hibited itself in audible sobs ; Jellyson said naught, but thrust a 
 bundle of Torlonia's four-baiocchi cigars into the hand of the 
 departing friend ; and you yourself were so deeply agitated by the 
 event that you took four glasses of absinthe to string up your 
 nerves for the fatal moment. Strange vision of past days ! — for 
 vision it seems to me now. And have I been in Rome really and 
 truly? Have I seen the great works of my Christian namesake 
 of the Buonarotti family, and the light arcades of the Vatican? 
 
 Have I seen the glorious Apollo, and that other divine fiddle- 
 player whom Raphael painted ? Yes ; and the English dandies 
 swaggering on the Pincian Hill! Yes; and have eaten wood- 
 cocks and drank Ovieto hard by the huge, broad-shouldered 
 Pantheon portico, in the comfortable parlours of the Falcone. 
 Do you recollect that speech I made at Bertini's, in proposing 
 the health of the Pope of Rome, on Christmas-day? Do you 
 remember it ? / don't. But his Holiness, no doubt, heard of the 
 
 H H 
 
466 
 
 THA CKERA YA NA . 
 
 oration, and was flattered by the compliment of the illustrious 
 English traveller.' 
 
 Southern Italy 
 
 Thackeray was no less at home in Belgium than we find him 
 in Germany, in Paris, and in Rome. 
 
 Guide Indispensable du Voyageur en Belgique 
 
WAYSIDE JOTTINGS. 
 
 46> 
 
 His books cany us where we will at pleasure. We can dot 
 about quaint Flanders with O'Dowd, Dobbin, and the English 
 
 Germania 
 
 A Family Jaunt 
 
 army, on that famous Waterloo campaign ; we can elect as our 
 travelling companion that eminent dandy, Arthur Pendennis, Esq. 
 
 On a Rhine Steamer 
 
 Mats de Cocagne 
 
 We can follow Clive Newcombe and quiet J. J. to the ' Congress of 
 Baden,' to Italy, and what not, or we can linger with ' Philip ' in 
 
 H H 2 
 
468 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 Paris. We can follow Titmarsh through all sorts of delightful 
 journeyings ; we are assured that promising young genius was 
 almost an institution in Paris. He has studied Belgium and so- 
 journed in Holland ; in 1843 he will allow us to trot over to 
 Ireland in his company, for a pleasant little jaunt ; in 1846 our 
 1 Fat Contributor ' will suffer us to make one in a pilgrimage from 
 Cornhill to Cairo ; in 1850 we may join the Kickleburys, on the 
 Rhine. As to Mr. Roundabout, we may go with him where we 
 list — to America, if we would accept a few grateful souvenirs of 
 the New World ; to Scotland, where our author's popularity was, 
 if possible, even stronger ; to Switzerland, Italy, Germany, back to 
 
 >^ 
 
 Roadside Sketches 
 
 Belgium and Holland, and through innumerable pleasant remi- 
 niscences of fair and quaint cities. 
 
 Let us light on Mr. Titmarsh making his wayside notes, in 
 ' Little Travels and Roadside Sketches.' He is exercising his 
 pencil in Brussels : — 
 
 ' Of ancient architectures in the place there is a fine old Port 
 de Halle, which has a tall, gloomy, Bastile look ; a most magni- 
 ficent town hall, that has been sketched a thousand times; and, 
 opposite it, a building that I think would be the very model for a 
 Conservative club-house in London. Oh, how charming it would 
 be to be a great painter, and give the character of the building 
 
TEA VELS IN BELGIUM. 
 
 469 
 
 and the numberless groups round about it ! The booths lighted 
 up by the sun, the market-women 
 in their gowns of brilliant hue — each 
 group having a character and telling 
 its little story — the troops of men 
 lolling in all sorts of admirable atti- 
 tudes of ease round the great lamp. 
 Half a dozen light-blue dragoons 
 are lounging . about, and peeping 
 over the artist as the drawing is 
 made, and the sky is more bright 
 and blue than one sees it in a hun- 
 dred years in London.' 
 
 Would you visit the chief sight 
 of Ghent, who could better act as your kindly guide, philosopher, 
 and friend than our author? 'The Be'guine College or village 
 is one of the most extraordinary sights that 
 all Europe can show. On the confines of 
 the town of Ghent you come upon an old- 
 fashioned brick gate, that seems as if it were 
 one of the old city barriers, but on passing it 
 one of the prettiest sights possible meets the 
 eye ; at the porter's lodge you see an old lady 
 in black-and-white hood occupied over her 
 book, before you is a red church with a tall 
 roof and fantastical Dutch pinnacles, and 
 all around it rows upon rows of small houses — the queerest, 
 neatest, nicest that ever were seen (a doll's house is hardly 
 smaller or prettier) — right and left, on each side of little alleys, 
 these little mansions rise ; they have a courtlet before them, in 
 which some green plants or hollyhocks are growing, and to each 
 house is a gate that has mostly a picture or queer carved ornament 
 upon or about it, and bears the name, not of the Beguine who 
 inhabits it, but of the saint to whom she may have devoted it — 
 the house of St. Stephen, the house of St. Donatus, the English 
 or Angel Convent, and so on. Old ladies in black are pacing in 
 the quiet alleys here and there, and drop the curtsey as he passes 
 them and takes off his hat. The old ladies kept up a quick, 
 cheerful clatter, as they paused to gossip at the gates of their little 
 
 Little Travels 
 
47o 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 domiciles, and with a great deal of artifice and lurking behind 
 walls, and looking at the church as if I intended to design that, I 
 managed to get a sketch of a couple of them. 
 
 ' One of the many convents in this little religious city seems to 
 be the specimen house which is shown to strangers ; for the guides 
 
 conduct you thither, and I saw in a book kept for the purpose the 
 names of innumerable Smiths and Joneses registered. 
 
 ' There was a bell ringing in the chapel hard by. " Hark ! " 
 said our guide ; " that is one of the sisters dying. Will you come 
 up and see the cells ? " 
 
 ' The cells, it need not be said, are the snuggest little nests in 
 the world, with serge-curtained beds and snowy linen, and saints 
 
THE B EQUINE CONVENT, GHENT 471 
 
 and martyrs pinned against the wall. " We may sit up till twelve 
 o'clock, if we like/' said the nun ; " but we have no fire and 
 candle, and so what's the use of sitting up ? When we have said 
 our prayers we are glad enough to go to sleep." 
 
 1 1 forget — although the good soul told us— how many times in 
 the day in public and private these devotions are made, but fancy 
 that the morning service in the chapel takes place at too early an 
 
 hour for most easy travellers. We did not fail to attend in the 
 evening, when likewise is a general muster of the seven hundred, 
 minus the absent and sick, and the sight is not a little curious and 
 striking to a stranger. 
 
 ' The chapel is a very big whitewashed place of worship, sup- 
 ported by half a dozen columns on either side, over each of which 
 stands the statue of an apostle, with his emblem of martyrdom. 
 Nobody was as yet at the distant altar, which was too far off to 
 see very distinctly, but I could perceive two statues over it, one of 
 
472 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 which (St. Lawrence, no doubt) was leaning upon a huge gilt 
 gridiron that the sun lighted up in a blaze — a painful but not a 
 romantic emblem of death. A couple of old ladies in white hoods 
 were tugging and swaying about at two bell-ropes that came down 
 into the middle of the church, and at least five hundred others in 
 white veils were seated all around us in mute contemplation until 
 the service began, looking very solemn, and white, and ghastly, 
 like an army of tombstones by moonlight. 
 
 ' The service commenced as the clock finished striking seven ; 
 the organ pealed out — a very cracked and old one — and presently 
 some weak, old voice from the choir overhead quavered out a 
 canticle ; which done, a thin, old voice of a priest, at the altar far 
 off (which had now become gloomy in the sunset), chanted feebly 
 another part of the service ; then the nuns warbled once more 
 overhead, and it was curious to hear, in the intervals of the most 
 
 lugubrious chants, how the organ went off with some extremely 
 cheerful military or profane air. At one time was a march, at 
 another a quick tune ; which ceasing, the old nuns began again, 
 and so sung until the service was ended ; and presently the old 
 ladies, rising from their chairs one by one, came in face of the 
 altar, where they knelt down and said a short prayer, then rising 
 unpinned their veils and folded them up all exactly in the same 
 folds and fashion,. and laid them square like napkins on their 
 heads, and tucked up their long black outer dresses and trudged 
 off to their convents. 
 
 1 The novices wear black veils, under one of which I saw a 
 young, sad, handsome face. It was the only thing in the estab- 
 
BRUGES. 
 
 473 
 
 lishment that was the least romantic or gloomy ; and, for the sake 
 of any reader of a sentimental turn, let us hope that the poor soul 
 has been crossed in love, and that over some soul-stirring tragedy 
 that black curtain has fallen.' 
 
 ' The change from vulgar Ghent, with its ugly women and 
 coarse bustle, to this quiet, old, half-deserted, cleanly Bruges was 
 very pleasant I have seen old men at Versailles with shabby 
 coats and pig-tails, sunning themselves on the benches in the walls. 
 They had seen better days to be sure, but they are gentlemen still. 
 And so we found, this morning, old dowager Bruges basking in 
 the pleasant autumn sun, and looking, if not prosperous, at least 
 cheerful and well-bred. It is the quaintest and prettiest of all the 
 
 A Wayside Sketcher 
 
 quaint and pretty towns I have seen. A painter might spend 
 months here, and wander from church to church, and admire old 
 towers and pinnacles, tall gables, bright canals, and pretty little 
 patches of green garden, and moss-grown wall, that reflect in the 
 clear, quiet water. Before the inn window is a garden, from which 
 in the early morning issues a most wonderful odour of stocks and 
 wall-flowers. Next comes a road with trees of an admirable 
 green. Numbers of little children are playing in the road (the 
 place is so clean that they may roll in it all day without soiling 
 their pinafores), and on the other side of the trees are little, old- 
 fashioned, dumpy, whitewashed, red- tiled houses. A poorer land- 
 scape to draw was never known, nor a pleasanter to see; the 
 children especially, who are inordinately fat and rosy. Let it 
 
474 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
WAYSIDE SKETCHES— BRUGES. 
 
 475 
 
 be remembered, too, that here we are out of the country of 
 
 ugly women. The expression of the face is 
 
 almost uniformly gentle and pleasing, and the 
 
 figures of the women, wrapped in long black 
 
 monk-like cloaks and hoods, very picturesque. 
 
 No wonder there are so many children. The 
 
 "Guide- Book" (omniscient Mr. Murray) says 
 
 there are fifteen thousand paupers in the town, 
 
 and we know how such multiply. How the deuce 
 
 do their children look so fat and rosy? By 
 
 eating dirt-pies, I suppose. I saw a couple 
 
 making a very nice savoury one, and another 
 
 employed in gravely sticking strips of stick be- 
 twixt the pebbles at the house door, and so 
 
 making herself a stately garden. The men 
 
 and women don't seem to have much more 
 
 to do. 
 
 1 Much delight and instruction have I had in the course of my 
 
 journey from my guide, philosopher, and friend, the author of 
 
 "Murray's Handbook." He has gathered together, indeed, a 
 
 store of information, and must, 
 to make his single volume, 
 have gutted many hundreds of 
 guide-books. How the con- 
 tinental cicerone must hate 
 him, whoever he is ! Every 
 English party \ saw had this 
 infallible red book in their 
 hands, and gained a vast deal 
 of historical and general in- 
 formation from it. Thus I 
 heard, in confidence, many re- 
 markable anecdotes of Charles 
 V., the Duke of Alva, Count 
 Egmont, all of which I had 
 before perceived, with much 
 
 satisfaction, not only in the " Handbook," but even in other 
 
 works.' 
 
 In 1852 Thackeray paid his first visit to America. The gene- 
 
476 THA CKERA YA NA . 
 
 rous reception accorded him throughout the States is sufficiently 
 notorious. Mr. W. B. Reed, who enjoyed, in Philadelphia, the 
 intimacy of the great novelist, has recorded how deeply sym- 
 pathetic was the feeling of our transatlantic cousins for this 
 sterling example of a thorough and honest English gentleman. 
 Among other tender remembrances of the kindly humourist, he 
 writes, hinting with delicate reserve at ' domestic sorrows and 
 anxieties too sacred to be paraded before the world ' : — 
 
 ' In our return journey to Philadelphia, Thackeray referred to 
 a friend whose wife had been deranged for many years, hopelessly 
 so ; and never shall I forget the look, and manner, and voice with 
 which he said to me, " It is an awful thing for her to continue so 
 to live. It is an awful thing for her so to die. But has it never 
 occurred to you, how awful a thing the recovery of lost reason 
 must be without the consciousness of the lapse of time? She 
 finds the lover of her youth a grey-haired old man, and her infants 
 young men and women. Is it not sad to think of this ? " As he 
 talked to me thus,- I thought of those oft-quoted lines of ten- 
 derness : — 
 
 Ah me ! how quick the days are flitting ; 
 
 I mind me of a time that's gone, 
 When here I'd sit, as now I'm sitting, 
 
 In this same place, but not alone. 
 A fair, young form was nestled near me, 
 
 A dear, dear face looked fondly up, 
 And sweetly spoke and smiled to cheer me - 
 
 There's no one now to share my cup ! 
 
 'Thackeray left us (the Philadelphians) in the winter of 1853, 
 and in the summer of the year was on the Continent with his 
 daughters. In the last chapter of " The N ewcomes," published 
 in 1855, he says : " Two years ago, walking with my children in 
 some pleasant fields near to Berne, in Switzerland, I strayed from 
 them into a little wood ; and, coming out of it, presently told 
 them how the story had been revealed to me somehow, which, for 
 three-and-twenty months, the reader has been pleased to follow." 
 It was on this Swiss tour that he wrote me a kindly characteristic 
 letter. On the back of this note is a pen-and-ink caricature, of 
 which he was not conscious when he began to write, as on turning 
 his paper over he alludes to " the rubbishing picture which he 
 
SWITZERLAND. 
 
 477 
 
 didn't see." The sketch is very spirited, and is evidently the 
 original of one of his illustrations to his grotesque fairy tale of 
 " The Rose and the Ring," written (so he told a member of 
 my family years afterwards) while he was watching and nursing 
 his children, who were ill during this vacation ramble.' 
 
 1 Three weeks of London,' he writes from Neufchatel, Switzer- 
 land, July 1853, ' were more than enough for me, and I feel as if I 
 had had enough of it and pleasure. Then I remained a month 
 with my parents ; then I brought my girls on a little pleasuring 
 tour. We spent ten days at Baden, when I set intrepidly to work 
 again ; and have been five days in Switzerland now, not bent on 
 going up mountains, but on taking things easily. How beautiful 
 it is ! How pleasant ! How great and affable, too, the landscape 
 is ! It's delightful to be in the midst of such scenes — the ideas 
 get generous reflections from them. I don't mean to say my 
 
478 J HA CKERA YANA. 
 
 thoughts grow mountainous and enormous, like the Alpine chain 
 yonder ; but, in fine, it is good to be in the presence of this noble 
 nature. It is keeping good company j keeping away mean 
 thoughts.' 
 
 In ' A Leaf out of a Sketch-Book ' we get another glimpse of 
 Thackeray's Swiss tour : — 
 
 ' I suppose other pen and pencil sketchers have the same feel- 
 ing. The sketch brings back not only the scenes, but the circum- 
 stances under which the scene was viewed. 
 
 ' Tarn over the page. You can't deny that this is a nice little 
 sketch of a quaint old town, with city towers, and an embattled 
 town gate, with a hundred peaked gables, and rickety balconies, 
 and gardens sweeping down to the river wall, with their toppling 
 ancient summer-houses, under which the river rushes ; the rushing 
 river, the talking river, that murmurs all day and brawls all night 
 over the stones. 
 
 ' At early morning and evening, under the terrace which you 
 see in the sketch — it is the Terrace of the Steinbock or Capricorn 
 
 Swiss Kine 
 
 Hotel — the cows ; and there, under the walnut-trees before the 
 tannery, is a fountain and pump, where the maids come in the 
 afternoon, and for some hours make a clatter as noisy as the river. 
 Mountains gird it around, clad in dark-green firs, with purple 
 shadows gushing over their sides, and glorious changes and grada- 
 tions of sunrise and setting. A more picturesque, quaint, kind, 
 quiet little town than this of Coire in the Grisons I have seldom 
 seen ; or a more comfortable little inn than this of the Stein- 
 bock or Capricorn, on the terrace of which we are standing. 
 But, quick, let us turn the page. To look at it makes one hor- 
 
LEAVES OUT OF SKETCH-BOOKS. 
 
 479 
 
 ribly melancholy. As we are on the inn terrace one of our party 
 lies ill in the hotel within. When will that doctor come ? Can 
 Ave trust to a Swiss doctor, in a remote little 
 town away at the confines of the railway 
 world? He is a good, sensible, compla- 
 cent doctor, laus Deo ; the people of the 
 
 hotel as kind, as attentive, as gentle, as 
 eager to oblige. But O ! the gloom of 
 those sunshiny days ! the sickening languor 
 and doubt which fill the heart as the hand 
 is making yonder sketch, and I think of 
 the invalid suffering within ! ' 
 
 In the ' Roundabout Papers ' we get another passing glance of 
 Italy :— 
 
 ' I saw that amphitheatre of Verona under the strange light of 
 a livid eclipse some years ago ; and I have been there in spirit for 
 these twenty lines past, under a vast gusty awning, 
 now with twenty thousand fellow- citizens looking on 
 from the benches, now in the circus itself, a grim 
 gladiator with sword and net, or a meek martyr — was 
 I ? — brought out to be gobbled up by the lions, or a 
 huge, shaggy, tawny lion myself, on whom the dogs 
 were going to be set. What a day of excitement 
 I had, to be sure ! But I must get away from Ve- 
 rona, or who knows how much farther the "Round- 
 about " Pegasus may carry me ? A Centurion 
 
 ' We were saying, my muse, before we dropped, and perched 
 on earth for a couple of sentences, that our unsaid words were in 
 some limbo or other, as real as those we have uttered ; so that the 
 thoughts which have passed through our brains are as actual as 
 
480 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 any to which our tongues and pens have given currency. For 
 instance, besides what is here hinted at, I have thought ever so 
 much more about Verona ; about an early Christian church I saw 
 there ; about a great dish of rice we had at the inn ; about ever so 
 many more details of that day's journey from Milan to Venice ; 
 
 On the Road 
 
 about Lake Garda, which lay on the way from Milan, and so forth. 
 I say what fine things we have thought of, haven't we, all of us ? 
 Ah, what a fine tragedy that was I thought of, and never wrote ! ' 
 
 Dolce far niente 
 
 The last journey chronicled by Thackeray was a merry little 
 ' Roundabout ' trip over the old Netherlands ground, in which he 
 indulged, without preparation, when overworked and suffering from 
 the anxieties of editing the ' Cornhill Magazine ; ' the journal is filled 
 in with the zest of a stolen excursion, and the writer mentions that 
 no one knew where he had gone ; that there was only one chance 
 of a letter finding him to curtail the freedom he had snatched, and 
 he goes to the post, and there, sure enough, is that summons back 
 to the c thorny cushion,' which abruptly cuts short the last recorded 
 holiday jaunt of Thackeray's life. 
 
A RUN TO HOLLAND. 481 
 
 1 1 was going pleasantly to remark about inns ; how I admire 
 and wonder at the information in Murray's "Handbooks" — 
 wonder how it is got, and admire the travellers who get it ! For 
 
 instance, you read : " iVmiens (please select your town), 60,000 
 inhabitants. Hotels, &c. — Lion d'Or, good and cheap. Le Lion 
 d'Argent, so so. Le Lion 
 Noir, bad, dirty, and dear." 
 Now say there are three tra- 
 vellers — three inn-inspectors, 
 who are sent forth by Mr. 
 Murray on a great commission, 
 and who stop at every inn in 
 the world. The eldest goes to 
 the Lion d'Or — capital house, 
 good table d'hote, excellent 
 wine, moderate charges. The 
 second commissioner tries the 
 Silver Lion — tolerable house, 
 bed, dinner, bill, and so forth. 
 But fancy commissioner No. _ 
 3 — the poor fag, doubtless, 
 and boots of the party. He has to go to the Lion Noir. 
 
 He 
 
 knows he is to have a bad dinner ; he eats it uncomplainingly. 
 
 1 1 
 
482 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 He is to have bad wine ; he swallows it, grinding his wretched 
 teeth, and aware that he will be unwell in consequence. He 
 knows that he is to have a dirty bed, and what he is to expect 
 there. He pops out the candle. He sinks into those dingy 
 sheets. He delivers over his body to the nightly tormentors, he 
 pays an exorbitant bill, and he writes down, " Lion Noir, bad, 
 dirty, dear." 
 
 1 Spoorweg. — Vast green flats, speckled by spotted cows, and 
 bound by a grey frontier of windmills ; shining canals stretching 
 through the green ; odours like those exhaled from 
 the Thames in the dog-days, and a fine pervading 
 smell of cheese ; little trim houses, with tall roofs, 
 and great windows of many panes; gazebos or 
 summer-houses, hanging over pea-green canals; 
 kind-looking, dumpling-faced farmers' women, 
 with laced caps and golden frontlets and earrings ; 
 about the houses and towns which we pass a great 
 air of comfort and neatness; a queer feeling of 
 Off to Market wonder that you can't understand what your fellow- 
 passengers are saying, the tone of whose voices and a certain com- 
 fortable dowdiness of dress are so like our own. 
 
 ' The Hague. — The prettiest little brick city, the pleasantest 
 little park to ride in, the neatest, comfortable people walking 
 
THE LAST 'ROUNDABOUT' JOURNEY. 
 
 483 
 
 about, the canals not unsweet, and busy and picturesque with old- 
 world life. Rows upon rows of houses, built with the neatest little 
 bricks, with windows fresh painted, and tall doors polished and 
 
 Unruly Travellers 
 
 carved to a nicety. What a pleasant, spacious garden our inn 
 has, all sparkling with autumn flowers and bedizened with statues ! 
 At the end is a row of trees and a summer-house, over the canal, 
 
 i^C^ 
 
 where you might go and smoke a pipe with Mynheer von Dunck, 
 and quite cheerfully catch the ague. 
 
 ' Amsterdam. — The first landing at Calais (or, I suppose, on 
 any foreign shore), the first sight of an Eastern city, the first view 
 
 112 
 
4«4 
 
 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 of Venice, and this of Amsterdam, are among the delightful shocks 
 which I have had as a traveller. Amsterdam is as good as Venice, 
 with a superadded humour and grotesqueness which gives the 
 sight-seer the most singular zest and pleasure. A run through 
 Pekin I could hardly fancy to be 
 more odd, strange, and yet familiar. 
 This rush, and crowd, and prodi- 
 gious vitality — this immense swarm 
 of life --these busy waters, crowd- 
 ing barges, swinging draw-bridges, 
 piled ancient gables, spacious mar- 
 kets teeming with people — that 
 ever- wonderful Jews' quarter — that 
 dear old world of painting and the 
 past, yet alive, and throbbing, and palpable — actual, and yet 
 passing before you swiftly and strangely as a dream ! Of the many 
 journeys of this " Roundabout " life, that drive through Amsterdam 
 is to be specially and gratefully remembered.' 
 
485 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Commencement of the ' Cornhill Magazine' — 'Roundabout Papers' — 'Lovel 
 the Widower ' — The ' Adventures of Philip on his Way through the W'orld ' — 
 Lectures on the ' Four Georges ' — Editorial Penalties — The ' Thorn in the 
 Cushion' — Harass from disappointed Contributors — Vexatious Correspond- 
 ents — Withdrawal from the arduous post of Editor — Building of Thackeray's 
 House in Kensington Palace Gardens — Christmas 1863 — Death of the 
 great Novelist — The unfinished Work — Circumstances of the Author's last 
 Illness. 
 
 The great event of the last few years of Thackeray's life was the 
 starting of the 'Cornhill Magazine,' the first number of which, 
 with the date of January i860, appeared shortly before Christ- 
 mas in the previous year. The great success which Charles 
 Dickens had met in conducting his weekly periodical perhaps 
 
 suggested,' to Messrs. Smith and Elder the project of their 
 new monthly magazine, with Thackeray for editor. But few 
 expected a design so bold and original as they found developed 
 by the appearance of Number I. The contents were by contri- 
 
486 THA CKERA YANA. 
 
 butors of first-rate excellence ; the quantity of matter in each was 
 equal to that given by the old-established magazines, published at 
 half-a-crown, while the price of the ' Cornhill,' as everyone knows, 
 was only a shilling. The editor's ideas on the subject of the new 
 periodical were explained by him some weeks before the com- 
 mencement in a characteristic letter to his friend, G. H. Lewes, 
 which was afterwards adopted as the vehicle of announcing the 
 design to the public. 
 
 ' I am not mistaken,' says this letter, ' in supposing that my 
 readers give me credit for experience and observation, for having 
 lived with educated people in many countries, and seen the world 
 in no small variety ; and, having heard me soliloquise with so 
 much kindness and favour, and say my own say about life and 
 men and women, they will not be unwilling to try me as conductor 
 of a concert, in which I trust many skilful performers will take 
 part. We hope for a large number of readers, and must seek in 
 the first place to amuse and interest them. Fortunately for some 
 folks, novels are as daily bread to others ; and fiction, of course, 
 must form a part, but only a part, of our entertain- 
 ment. We want, on the other hand, as much reality 
 as possible — discussion and narrative of events interest- 
 ing to the public, personal adventures and observation, 
 familiar reports of scientific discovery, description of 
 social institutions — quicquid agiint homines — a Great 
 Eastern, a battle in China, a race-course, a popular 
 preacher — there is hardly any subject we don't want to 
 hear about, from lettered and instructed men who are competent 
 to speak on it.' 
 
 The first number contained the commencement of that series 
 of ' Roundabout Papers ' in which we get so many interesting 
 glimpses of Thackeray's personal history and feelings, and also the 
 opening chapters of his story of ' Lovel the Widower.' The latter 
 was originally written in the form of a comedy, entitled The 'Wolf 
 and the Lamb,' and was intended to be performed during the manage- 
 ment of Wigan at the Olympic Theatre, but which, as a play, was 
 finally declined by the latter. Thackeray, we believe, acquiesced 
 in the unfavourable judgment of the practical manager upon the 
 
THE EDITORS CONTRIBUTIONS. 487 
 
 acting qualities of his comedy, and resolved to throw it into nar- 
 rative form, in the story with which his readers are now familiar. 
 This was not the first instance of his writing for the stage. If we 
 are not mistaken, the libretto of John Barnett's popular opera of 
 the ' Mountain Sylph,' produced nearly forty years since, was from 
 his pen. In the ' Cornhill ' also appeared his story of ' Philip on 
 his Way through the World.' The scenes in this are said to have 
 been founded in great part upon his own experiences ; and there 
 can be no doubt that the adventures of Philip Firmin represent, in 
 many respects, those of the Charterhouse boy who afterwards 
 became known to the world as the author of ' Vanity Fair.' But 
 in all such matters it is to be remembered that the writer of fiction 
 feels himself at liberty to deviate from the facts of his life in any 
 way which he finds necessary for the development of his story. 
 Certainly the odious stepfather of Philip must not be taken for 
 Thackeray's portrait of his own stepfather, towards whom he 
 always entertained feelings of respect and affection. We may also 
 remind our readers that the ' Lectures on the Four Georges ' first 
 appeared in print in this popular periodical. The sales reached 
 by the earlier numbers were enormous, and far beyond anything 
 ever attained by a monthly magazine ; even after the usual sub- 
 sidence which follows the flush of a great success, the circulation 
 had, we believe, settled at a point far exceeding the most sanguine 
 hopes of the projectors. 
 
 These fortunate results of the undertaking were, however, not 
 without serious drawbacks. The editor soon discovered that his 
 new position was in many respects an unenviable one. Friends 
 and acquaintances, not to speak of constant readers and ' regular 
 subscribers to your interesting magazine,' sent him bushels of manu- 
 scripts, amongst which it was rare indeed to find one that could be 
 accepted. Sensitive poets and poetesses took umbrage at refusals, 
 however kindly and delicately expressed. ' How can I go into 
 society with comfort ? ' asked the editor of a friend at this time. 
 1 1 dined the other day at 's, and at the table were four gen- 
 tlemen whose masterpieces of literary art I had been compelled 
 to decline with thanks.' Not six months had elapsed before he 
 began to complain of ' thorns ' in the editorial cushion. One lady 
 wrote to entreat that her article might be inserted, on the ground 
 
488 
 
 JHACKERA YANA. 
 
 that she had known better days, and had a sick and widowed 
 mother to maintain; others began with fine phrases about the 
 merits and eminent genius of the person they were addressing. 
 Some found fault with articles, and abused contributor and editor. 
 An Irishman threatened punishment for an implied libel in ' Lovel 
 the Widower' upon ballet-dancers, whom he declared to be 
 superior to the snarlings of dyspeptic libellers, or the spiteful 
 attacks and brutumfulmen of ephemeral authors. This gentleman 
 also informed the editor that theatrical managers were in the habic 
 of speaking good English, possibly better than ephemeral authors. 
 
 Falling foul of the skirts 
 
 1 Out of mere malignity,' exclaims the unfortunate editor, 'I sup- 
 pose there is no man who would like to make enemies. But here, 
 in this editorial business, you can't do otherwise; and a queer, 
 sad, strange, bitter thought it is that must cross the mind of 
 many a public man ! Do what I will, be innocent or spiteful, be 
 generous or cruel, there are A. and B. and C. and D. who will 
 hate me to the end of the chapter — to the chapter's end — to the 
 
« THORNS IN THE CUSHION." 489 
 
 finis of the page — when hater and envy, and fortune and disap- 
 pointment shall be over.' * 
 
 It was chiefly owing to these causes that Thackeray finally 
 determined to withdraw from the editorship of the magazine, 
 though continuing to contribute to it ancl to take an interest in 
 its progress. In an amusing address to contributors and cor- 
 respondents, dated March 18, 1862, he announces this determina- 
 tion : ' I believe/ he says, ' my own special readers will agree that 
 my books will not suffer when their author is released from the 
 daily task of reading, accepting, refusing, losing, and finding the 
 works of other people. To say " No" has often caused me a 
 morning's peace and a day's work. Oh, those hours of madness 
 spent in searching for Louisa's lost lines to her dead "Piping 
 Bullfinch/' or " Nhoj Senoj's " f mislaid essay ! I tell them for the 
 last time that the (late) editor will not be responsible for rejected 
 communications, and herewith send off the chair and the great 
 " Cornhill Magazine" tin box with its load of care.' In the same 
 address he announced that while the tale of ' Philip ' had been 
 passing through the press he had been preparing another, on 
 which he had worked at intervals for many years past, and which 
 he hoped to introduce in the following year. 
 
 In a pecuniary sense the ' Cornhill Magazine ' had undoubt- 
 edly proved a fortunate venture for its editor. It was during his 
 editorship that he removed from his house, No. 36 Onslow Square, 
 in which he had resided for some years, to the more congenial 
 neighbourhood of the Palace at Kensington, that 'Old Court 
 Suburb ' which Leigh Hunt has gossiped about so pleasantly. 
 Thackeray took upon a long lease a somewhat dilapidated man- 
 sion, on the west side of Kensington Palace Gardens. His inten- 
 tion was to repair and improve it, but he finally resolved to pull it 
 down and build another in its stead. The new house, a hand- 
 some, solid mansion of choice red brick with stone facings, was 
 built from a design drawn by himself; and in this house he con- 
 tinued to reside till the time of his death. ' It was,' says Hannay, 
 ' a dwelling worthy of one who really represented literature in the 
 
 * ' Roundabout Papers,' No. 5. 
 
 f The reader will discover the meaning of this by reversing the letters of 
 Nhoj Senoj's name. 
 
49° THA CKERA YA NA . 
 
 great world, and who, planting himself on his books, yet sustained 
 the character of his profession with all the dignity of a gentleman. 
 A friend who called on him there from Edinburgh, in the summer 
 of 1862, knowing of old his love of the Venusian, playfully 
 reminded him what Horace says of those who, regardless of their 
 sepulchre, employ themselves in building houses : — 
 
 Sepulchri 
 Immemor struis domos. 
 
 " Nay," said he, " I am memor sepulchri, for this house will always 
 let for so many hundreds (mentioning the sum) a year." ; We may 
 add, that Thackeray was always of opinion that, notwithstanding 
 the somewhat costly proceeding of pulling down and re-erecting, 
 he had achieved the rare result, for a private gentleman, of build- 
 ing for himself a house which, regarded as an investment of a por- 
 tion of his fortune, left no cause for regret. 
 
 Our narrative draws to a close. The announcement of the 
 death of Thackeray, coming so suddenly upon us in the very 
 midst of our great Christian festival of 1863, caused a shock which 
 will be long remembered. His hand had been missed in the last 
 two numbers of the ' Cornhill Magazine,' but only because he had 
 been engaged in laying the foundation of another of those con- 
 tinuous works of fiction which his readers so eagerly expected. In 
 the then current number of the ' Cornhill Magazine ' the cus- 
 tomary orange-coloured fly-leaf had announced that ' a new serial 
 story ' by him would be commenced early in the new year ; but 
 the promise had scarcely gone abroad when we learnt that the 
 hand which had penned its opening chapters, in the full prospect 
 of a happy ending, could never again add line or word to that 
 long range of writings which must always remain one of the best 
 evidences of the strength and beauty of our English speech. 
 
 On the Tuesday preceding he had followed to the grave his 
 relative, Lady Rodd, widow of Vice- Admiral Sir John Tremayne 
 Rodd, K.C.B., who was the daughter of Major James Rennell, 
 F.R.S., Surveyor-General of Bengal, by the daughter of the Rev. 
 Dr. Thackeray, Head Master of Harrow School. Only the day 
 before this, according to a newspaper account, he had been con- 
 gratulating himself on having finished four numbers of a new 
 novel; he had the manuscript in his pocket, and with a boyish 
 
DECEMBER 24, 1863. 491 
 
 frankness showed the last pages to a friend, asking him to read 
 them and see what he could make of them. When he had com- 
 pleted four numbers more he said he would subject himself to the 
 skill of a very clever surgeon, and be no more an invalid. Only 
 two days before he had been seen at his club in high spirits ; but 
 with all his high spirits, he did not seem well ; he complained of 
 illness ; but he was often ill, and he laughed off his present attack. 
 He said that he was about to undergo some treatment which 
 would work a perfect cure in his system, and so he made light of 
 his malady. He was suffering from two distinct complaints, one 
 of which had now wrought his death. More than a dozen years 
 before, while he was writing ' Pendennis,' the publication of that 
 work was stopped by his serious illness. He was brought to 
 death's door, and he was saved from death by Dr. Elliotson, to 
 whom, in gratitude, he dedicated the novel when he lived to finish 
 it. But ever since that ailment he had been subject every month 
 or six weeks to attacks of sickness, attended with violent retching. 
 He was congratulating himself, just before his death, on the failure 
 of his old enemy to return, and then he checked himself, as if he 
 ought not to be too sure of a release from his plague. On the 
 morning of Wednesday, December 23, the complaint returned, and 
 he was in great suffering all day.* He was no better in the even- 
 ing, and his valet, Charles Sargent, left him at eleven o'clock on 
 Wednesday night, Thackeray wishing him ' Good night ' as he 
 went out of the room. At nine o'clock on the following morning 
 the valet, entering his master's chamber as usual, found him lying 
 on his back quite still, with his arms spread over the coverlet ; but 
 he took no notice, as he was accustomed to see his master thus 
 after one of his severe attacks. He brought some coffee and 
 set it down beside the bed ; and it was only when he returned 
 after an interval, and found that the cup had not been tasted, that 
 a sudden alarm seized him, and he discovered that his master was 
 dead. About midnight Thackeray's mother, who slept overhead, 
 had heard him get up and walk about his room ; but she was not 
 alarmed, as this was a habit of her son when unwell. It is sup- 
 posed that he had, in fact, been seized at this time, and that the 
 
 * * Times ' newspaper, December 25, 1863. 
 
492 
 
 THACKERAYANA. 
 
 violence of the attack had brought on the effusion on the brain 
 which, as the post-mortem examination showed, was the immediate 
 cause of death. His medical attendants attributed his death to 
 effusion on the brain, and added that he had a very large brain, 
 weighing no less than 5 8 J- oz. Thus, in the full maturity of his 
 powers, died William Makepeace Thackeray, one of the closest 
 observers of human nature, the most kindly of English humorists ; 
 and his death has left a blank in our literature, which we, in the 
 present generation at least, are offered no prospect of seeing 
 filled up. 
 
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 CYCLOPEDIA OF COSTUME; or, A Dictionary 
 
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CHATTO &> WINDUS'S CATALOGUE. 7 
 
 , 1 ■ , . . . — ■ . ■■'■ ««» t<a » j * 
 
 "DON QUIXOTE" IN THE ORIGINAL SPANISH. 
 
 EL IN GEN 10 SO HIDALGO DON QUIJOTE 
 
 DE LA MANCHA. Nueva Edicion, corregida y revisada. Por 
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 EDGAR ALLAN FOE'S PROSE AND 
 
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 and Illustrations, cloth extra, js. 6d. 
 
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 EMANUEL on DIAMONDS & PRECIOUS 
 
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 ENGLISHMAN'S HOUSE, from a Cottage to a 
 
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8 CHATTO & WINDUS'S CATALOGUE. 
 
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 GENIAL SHOWMAN; or, Show Life in the 
 
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 GERMAN POPULAR STORIES. Collected by 
 
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 GIL BLAS IN SPANISH. 
 
 HISTORIA de GIL BLAS de SANTILLANA. 
 
 Por Le Sage. Traducida al Castellano por el Padre Isla. Nueva 
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CHATTO &* WINDUS'S CATALOGUE. 
 
 GOLDEN TREASURY OF THOUGHT. The 
 
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 GREA T CONDE ( THE), AND THE PERIOD 
 
 OF THE FRONDE : An Historical Sketch. By WALTER FlTZ- 
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 GREENWOOD'S (JAMES) WILDS OF LON- 
 
 DON . With a Full Account of the Natives : Being Descriptive 
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 GROSE'S DICTIONARY OF THE VULGAR 
 
 TONGUE. 1785. A genuine, unmutilated Reprint of the First 
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 HALL'S (MRS. S. C.) SKETCHES OF IRISH 
 
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 HA UNTED; or, Tales of the Weird and Wonderful. 
 
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 • ' Will be a great boon to authors and artists as well as amateurs Very 
 
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 " For all practical purposes the three handsome volumes comprising this edition are 
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 " Three very interesting volumes, important and valuable additions to the library. 
 
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 Art Journal. 
 
 HOGAR TH'S FIVE DA YS' FROLIC; or, Pere- 
 
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 B 2 
 
io CHATTO &* WINDUS'S CATALOGUE. 
 
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 HOGG'S JACOBITE RELICS of SCOTLAND: 
 
 Being the Songs, Airs, and Legends of the Adherents to the House 
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 Edition. 8vo, cloth, 28^. 
 
 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES' WORKS. 
 
 HOLMES' AUTOCRAT of the BREAKFAST 
 
 TABLE. An entirely New Edition of this Favourite Work. Royal 
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 HOLMES 1 PROFESSOR at the BREAKFAST 
 
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 Golden Library.) 
 
 HONE'S SCRAP-BOOKS: The Miscellaneous Writ- 
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 Book," and the " Year-Book : " being a Supplementary Volume to 
 those works. Now first collected, with Notes, Portraits, and 
 numerous Illustrations of curious and eccentric objects. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra. [Preparing. 
 
 HOOD'S WHIMS AND ODDITIES. Now issued 
 
 Complete, the Two Parts in One Volume, with all the Humorous 
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 Library.) 
 
 MR. HORNE'S EPIC. 
 
 ORION : An Epic Poem, in Three Books. By 
 
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 " ' Orion' will be admitted, by every man of genius, to be one of the noblest, if not 
 
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 HUNT'S (LEIGH) TALE FOR A CHIMNEY 
 
 CORNER, and other charming Essays. With Introduction by Ed- 
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CHATTO &* WINDUS'S CATALOGUE. 11 
 
 IRISH G UIDE.—HO W TO SPEND A MONTH 
 
 IN IRELAND. Being a Complete Guide to the Country, with an 
 Appendix containing information as to the Fares between the Princi- 
 pal Towns in England and Ireland, and as to Tourist Arrangements 
 for the Season. With a Map and 80 Illustrations. By Sir Cusack 
 P. Roney. A New Edition, Edited by Mrs. J. H. Riddell, 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, is. 6d. 
 
 JENNINGS' (HARGRAVE) ONE OF THE 
 
 THIRTY. With curious Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 
 1 ox. 6d. 
 
 JENNINGS' (HARGRAVE) THE ROSI- 
 
 CRUCIANS: THEIR RITES AND MYSTERIES. With 
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 Talismans of the Primeval Philosophers. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 
 with about 300 Illustrations, \os. 6d. 
 
 JERROLD' S (BLANCHARD) CENT PER 
 
 CENT. A Story written on a Bill Stamp. A New Edition,- 
 Fcap. 8vo., illustrated boards, is. 
 
 POSTHUMOUS WORK BY DOUGLAS JERROLD. 
 
 JERROLD'S (DOUGLAS) THE BARBER'S 
 
 CHAIR, and the Hedgehog Letters. Now first collected.. 
 Edited, with Introduction and Notes, by his Son, Blanchard 
 Jerrold. With beautiful Portrait, from his Bust, engraved by 
 W. H. Mote. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7 s. 6d. 
 
 " Douglas J errold's ' Barber's Chair ' and 'Hedgehog Letters ' are, perhaps, better 
 fitted than any other of his productions to give an idea of his amazing wit. The 
 ' Barber's Chair,' which is in a conversational form, may be presumed to give as near 
 an approach as is possible in print to the wit of Jerrold's conversation. . . . The 
 ' Hedgehog Letters,' too, are full of good things." — JSxamtner. 
 
 JERROLD'S (DOUGLAS) BROWNRIGG 
 
 PAPERS : The Actress at the Duke's ; Baron von Boots ; Chris- 
 topher Snubb ; the Tutor Fiend and his Three Pupils ; Papers of a 
 Gentleman at Arms, &c. By Douglas Jerrold. Edited by his 
 Son, Blanchard Jerrold, Post 8vo, illustrated boards, is. 
 
 JOE MILLER'S JESTS; The politest Repartees, 
 
 most elegant Bon-Mots, and most pleasing short Stories in the 
 English Language. London : printed by T. Read, 1739. A Facsimile 
 of the Original Edition. Svo, half-morocco, gs. 6d. 
 
 KALENDARS OF GWYNEDD. Compiled by 
 
 Edward Breese, F.S.A. With Notes by William Watkin 
 Edward Wynne, Esq., F.S.A. Demy 4to, cloth extra, 2&r. 
 
 LAMB'S (CHARLES) ESSAYS OF ELI A. 
 
 The Two Series, Complete in One Volume. Royal i6mo, paper 
 cover, is. ; cloth extra, is. 6d. 
 
CHATTO S* WINDVS'S CATALOGUE. 
 
 LAMB (MARY & CHARLES): Their Poems, 
 
 Letters, and Remains. Now first collected, with Reminiscences and 
 Notes, by W. Carew Hazlitt. With Hancock's Portrait, Fac- 
 similes, and numerous Illustrations of Lamb's Favourite Haunts. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, ioj. 6d. ; or Large-paper Copies (a 
 limited number only printed), 21s. 
 
 "A very pretty and interesting volume. It has many pictorial illustrations, which 
 
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 'first page of Elia on ' Roast Pig.' It is well got up, and has a good portrait of Elia. 
 
 There are also some letters and poems of Mary Lamb which are not easily accessible 
 
 -elsewhere." — Westminster Review. 
 
 " Must be consulted by all future biographers of the Lambs."— Daily News. 
 
 "Tells us a good deal that is interesting and something that is fairly new " — Graphic. 
 
 " Mr. Hazlitt's work is very important and valuable, and all lovers of Elia will thank 
 him for what he has done." — Sunday Times. 
 
 " Will be joyfully received by all Lambites."— Globe. 
 
 LEIGH'S (HENRY S.) CAROLS OF COCK- 
 
 AYNE: Vers de Societe descriptive of London Life. Third 
 Edition. With numerous Illustrations by Alfred Concanen. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, $s. 
 
 LIFE IN LONDON; or, The Day and Night 
 
 Scenes of Jerry Hawthorn and Corinthian Tom. WITH THE WHOLE 
 of Cruikshank's very droll Illustrations, in Colours, after 
 the Originals. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, ys. bd. 
 
 LINTON'S (Mrs. E.LYNN) TRUE HISTORY 
 
 of JOSHUA DA VIDSON, Christian and Communist. Sixth 
 Edition, with a New Preface. Small 8vo, cloth extra, 4s. 6d. 
 
 LITERARY SCRAPS. A Folio Scrap-Book of 
 
 340 columns, with guards, for the reception of Cuttings from News- 
 papers, Extracts, Miscellanea, &c. In folio, half-roan, ys. 6d. 
 
 LONGFELLOW'S PROSE WORKS, Complete, 
 
 including " Outre-Mer," " Hyperion," " Kavanagh," " Driftwood," 
 " On the Poets and Poetry of Europe," now first collected. Edited, 
 with an Introduction, by Richard Herne Shepherd. With Por- 
 trait and Illustrations, drawn by Valentine W. Bromley. 800 
 pages, crown 8vo, cloth gilt, ys. 6d. 
 
 *** This edition of Longfellow's Prose W?'i tings is by far the most com- 
 plete ever issued in this country. " Outre-Mer " contains two additional 
 chapters, restoi'ed from the first edition ; while " The Poets and Poetry of 
 Europe? and the little collection of Sketches entitled "Driftwood" are 
 now first introduced to the English public. 
 
 " The time has passed for criticising Longfellow ; but the appearance of an expen- 
 sively illustrated edition of his prose writings is sufficient proof of his continued popu- 
 larity on this side the Atlantic. The editor has taken some pains in collecting materials ; 
 for he has included in a chapter entitled ' Driftwood.' several of the poet's prefaces and 
 little-known miscellaneous writings: among them a charming gossip about 'Rural 
 Life in Sweden,' which originally preceded a collection of his early poems, published in 
 America (and in England, in 1850), under the title of ' Seaside and Fireside ; ' and some 
 scraps of 'Table-talk,' which we do not remember to have seen before. In its 
 cover of brightblue and gold this well-printed volume is very attractive." — Bookseller. 
 
CHATTO &* WINDUS'S CATALOGUE. 13 
 
 LITTLE LONDON DIRECTORY OF 1677. 
 
 The Oldest Printed List of the Merchants and Bankers of London. 
 Reprinted from the Rare Original, with an Introduction by JOHN 
 Camden Hotten. i6mo, binding after the original, 6s. 6d. 
 
 LOG OF THE WATER LILY, during Three 
 
 Cruises on the Rhine, Neckar, Main, Moselle, Danube, Saone, and 
 Rhone. By R. B. Mansfield, B.A. Illustrated by Alfred 
 Thompson, B.A. Fifth Edition, revised and considerably Enlarged. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, $s. 
 
 LOST BEAUTIES OF THE ENGLISH LAN- 
 
 GUAGE. An Appeal to Authors, Poets, Clergymen, and Public 
 Speakers. By Charles Mackay, LL.D. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 
 6s. 6d. 
 
 MAD RE NATURA versus THE MOLOCH OF 
 
 FASHION. A Social Essay. By Luke Limner. With 32 Illus- 
 trations by the Author. Fourth Edition, revised, corrected, and 
 enlarged. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, red edges, price is. 6d. 
 " Bravo, Luke Limner ! Girls should be made to learn it by heart, and act on its 
 precepts." — Fun. 
 
 "Agreeably written and amusingly illustrated. Common sense and erudition are 
 brought to bear on the subjects discussed in it." — Lancet. 
 
 " Luke Limner's amusing and instructive book is calculated to do not a little good." 
 — Echo. 
 
 MAGICIAN'S OWN BOOK. Ample Instructions 
 
 for Performances with Cups and Balls, Eggs, Hats, Handkerchiefs, 
 &c. All from Actual Experience. Edited by W. H. CREMER, of 
 Regent Street. Cloth extra, 200 Illustrations, 4s. 6d. 
 
 MAGNA CHARTA. An exact Facsimile of the 
 
 Original Document, with the Arms and Seals of the Barons elabo- 
 rately emblazoned in Gold and Colours, 5^. 
 
 A full Translation, with Notes, on a sheet, 6d. 
 
 MR. MARSTON'S POEMS. 
 
 SONG-TIDE, and other Poems. By Philip Bourke 
 
 Marston. Crown b'vo, cloth extra, 8s. 
 
 ALL IN ALL; Poems and Sonnets. By Philip 
 Bourke Marston. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, Ss. \Just ready. 
 
 MA YHE W'S LONDON CHARACTERS : Illus- 
 
 trations of the Humour, Pathos, and Peculiarities of London Life. 
 By Henry Mayhew, Author of " London Labour and the London 
 Poor," and other Writers. With nearly 100 graphic Illustrations by 
 W. S. Gilbert, and others. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 " Well fulfils the promise of its title. . . . The book is an eminently interesting 
 one, and will probably attract many readers." — Court Circular. 
 
H CHATTO & WINDUS'S CATALOGUE. 
 
 Author's Corrected Edition. 
 MARK TWAIN'S CHOICE WORKS. Revised 
 
 and Corrected by the Author. With a Life, a Portrait of the Author, 
 and numerous Illustrations. 700 pages, cloth gilt, js. 6d. 
 
 MARK TWAIN'S PLEASURE TRIP ON 
 
 THE CONTINENT OF EUROPE. With Frontispiece. 500 
 pages, illustrated boards, 2s. ; or, cloth extra, 2s. 6d. 
 
 MERRY CIRCLE, and How the Visitors were En- 
 
 tertained during Twelve Pleasant Evenings. A Book of New 
 Intellectual Games and Amusements. Edited by Clara Bellew. 
 Crown 8vo, numerous Illustrations, cloth extra, 4.S. 6d. 
 
 MONUMENTAL INSCRIPTIONS OF THE 
 
 WEST INDIES, from the Earliest Date, with Genealogical and 
 Historical Annotations, &c, from Original, Local, and other Sources. 
 Illustrative of the Histories and Genealogies of the Seventeenth 
 Century, the Calendars of State Papers, Peerages, and Baronetages. 
 With Engravings of the Arms of the principal Families. Chiefly 
 collected on the spot by the Author, Capt. J. H. Lawrence-Archer. 
 Demy 4to, cloth extra, 42^. [Nearly ready. 
 
 MUSES OF MA YFAIR : Vers de Societe of the 
 
 Nineteenth Century. Embracing the best Society-Verses of the most 
 important writers of the last 80 years, including Tennyson, 
 Browning, Swinburne, Rossetti, Jean Ingelow, Locker, 
 Ingoldsby, Hood, Lytton, C. S. C, Landor, Austin Dobson, 
 Henry S. Leigh, and very many others. Edited by H. Chol- 
 mondeley-Pennell, Author of " Puck on Pegasus." Beautifully 
 printed, cloth extra, gilt and gilt edges, uniform with "The Golden 
 Treasury of Thought," js. 6d. 
 
 MYSTERY OF THE GOOD OLD CAUSE; 
 
 Sarcastic Notices of those Members of the Long Parliament that 
 held Places, both Civil and Military, contrary to the Self-denying 
 Ordinance of April 3, 1645 ; with the Sums of Money and Lands 
 they divided among themselves. Small 4to, half-morocco, js. 6d. 
 
 NAPOLEON III, THE MAN OF HIS TIME ; 
 
 from Caricatures. Part I. The Story of the Life of 
 Napoleon III., as told by J. M. Haswell. Part II. The Same 
 Story, as told by the Popular Caricatures of the past Thirty-five 
 Years. Crown 8vo, with Coloured Frontispiece and over 100 Carica- 
 tures, 7s. 6d. 
 
 OLD SHEKARRY—THE FOREST AND 
 
 THE FIELD: Life and Adventure in Wild Africa. By the Old 
 ShekaRry. With Eight Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 
 gilt, 6s. 
 
 OLD SHEKARRY.— WRINKLES ; or, Hints to 
 
 Sportsmen and Travellers upon Dress, Equipment, Armament, and 
 Camp Life. By the Old Shekarry. A New Edition, with Illus- 
 trations. Small crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, 6s. 
 
CHATTO 6- WINDUS'S CATALOGUE. 15 
 
 OLD DRAMATISTS. 
 BEN JONSON'S WORKS. With Notes, Critical 
 
 and Explanatory, and a Biographical Memoir by William Gifford. 
 Edited by Lieut.-Col. Francis Cunningham. Complete in 3 vols., 
 crown 8vo, with Portrait. Cloth extra, gilt, 6s. each. 
 
 GEORGE CHAPMAN'S PLAYS, Complete, 
 
 from the Original Quartos, including those Plays in which he was 
 only partly concerned. Edited, with Notes, by Richard Herne 
 Shepherd. Crown 8vo, with Portrait Frontispiece. Cloth extra, 
 gilt, 6s. 
 
 GEORGE CHAPMAN'S POEMS and MINOR 
 
 TRANSLATIONS. Complete, including some Pieces now first 
 printed from the MS. in the Bodleian Library, Oxford. Edited, with 
 •Notes, by Richard Herne Shepherd. With an Introductory 
 Essay by Algernon Charles Swinburne. Crown 8vo, with 
 Frontispiece, cloth extra, 6s. [Just ready. 
 
 GEORGE CHAPMAN'S TRANSLATIONS 
 
 OF HOMER'S ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Edited by Richard 
 Herne Shepherd. In i vol., cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 6*. [Just ready. 
 
 CHRIS TOP HER MARL O WE'S WORKS : 
 
 Including his Translations. Edited, with Notes and Introduction, 
 by Lieut.-Col. F. Cunningham. Crown 8vo, with Portrait. Cloth 
 extra, gilt, 6s. 
 
 PHILIP MASSINGER'S PLAYS. From the 
 
 Text of Wm. Gifford. With the addition of the Tragedy of 
 "Believe as You List." Edited by Lieut.-Col. F. Cunningham. 
 Crown 8vo, with Portrait. Cloth extra, gilt, 6s. 
 
 MR. O'SHAUGHNESSY'S POEMS. 
 
 MUSIC AND MOONLIGHT: Poems and Songs. 
 
 By Arthur O'Shaughnessy, Author of "An Epic of Women." 
 Fcap. 8vo, cloth extra, js. 6d. 
 
 " It is difficult to say which is more exquisite, the technical perfection of structure 
 and melody, or the delicate pathos of thought. . . . Mr. O'Shaughnessy will en- 
 rich our literature with some of the very best songs written in our generation." — 
 Academy. 
 
 AN EPIC OF WOMEN, and other Poems. By 
 Arthur O'Shaughnessy. Illustrated by J. T. Nettleship. 
 Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. 
 
 LA YS OF FRANCE. (Founded on the " Lays of 
 Marie.") By Arthur O'Shaughnessy. Second Edition. Crown 
 8vo, cloth extra, icr. 6d. 
 
 OLD PROSE STORIES whence Tennyson's 
 
 "Idylls of the King "were taken. By B. M. RANKING. Royal 
 i6mo, paper cover, is.; cloth extra, is. 6d. 
 
16 CHATTO &•* WINDUS'S CATALOGUE. 
 
 ORIGINAL LISTS OF PERSONS OF 
 
 QUALITY: Emigrants; Religious Exiles; Political Rebels; 
 Serving Men Sold for a Term of Years ; Apprentices ; Children 
 Stolen ; Maidens Pressed ; and others who went from Great Britain 
 to the American Plantations, 1600- 1700. With their Ages, the 
 Localities where they formerly Lived in the Mother Country, Names 
 of the Ships in which they embarked, and other interesting par- 
 ticulars. From MSS. preserved in the State Paper Department of 
 Her Majesty's Public Record Office, England. Edited by JOHN 
 Camden Hotten. A very handsome volume, crown 4to, cloth 
 gilt, 700 pages, 38J. A few Large Paper copies have been printed, 
 price 60s. 
 
 OLD BOOKS— FACSIMILE REPRINTS. 
 
 D'URFEY'S ("TOM") WIT AND MIRTH; 
 
 or, Pills to Purge Melancholy : Being a Collection of the best 
 Merry Ballads and Songs, Old and New. Fitted to all Humours, 
 having each their proper Tune for either Voice or Instrument : most 
 of the Songs being new set. London : 1719. An exact and beautiful 
 reprint of this much-prized work, with the Music to the Songs, just 
 as in the rare original. In 6 vols., large fcap. 8vo, printed on antique 
 laid paper, and bound in antique boards, 63^. 
 
 ENGLISH ROGUE, described in the Life of 
 
 Meriton Latroon, and other Extravagants, comprehending the 
 most Eminent Cheats of both Sexes. By Richard Head and 
 Francis Kirkman. A facsimile reprint of the rare Original Edition 
 (1 665-1672). Frontispiece, Portraits of the Authors, and Fac- 
 similes of the 12 Copperplates. In Four Volumes, large 
 fcap. 8vo, printed on antique laid paper, and bound in antique 
 boards, 36,5-. ; or Large-Paper Copies, 6ar. 
 
 M US ARUM DELICIsE ; or, The Muses' Recrea- 
 tion, 1656 ; Wit Restor'd. 1658 ; and Wit's Recreations, 1640. The 
 whole compared with the originals ; with all the Wood Engravings, 
 Plates, Memoirs, and Notes. A New Edition, in 2 volumes, large 
 fcap. 8vo, printed on antique laid paper, and bound in antique 
 boards, 21s.; or, Large- Paper Copies, $$s. 
 
 RUMP (THE); or, An Exact Collection of the 
 
 choicest Poems and Songs relating to the late Times, and continued 
 by the most eminent Wits ; from Anno 1639 to 166 1. A Facsimile 
 Reprint of the rare Original Edition (London, 1662), with Frontis- 
 piece and engraved Title-page. In 2 vols., large fcap. 8vo, printed 
 on antique laid paper, and bound in antique boards, 17s. 6d.; or, 
 Large-paper Copies, 305-. 
 
 THE IRELAND FORGERIES. 
 
 CONFESSIONS of WILLIAM-HENRY IRE- 
 
 LAND. Containing the Particulars of his Fabrication of the 
 Shakspeare Manuscripts ; together with Anecdotes and Opinions 
 (hitherto unpublished) of many distinguished persons in the Literary, 
 Political, and Theatrical World. A facsimile reprint from the 
 original edition, with several additional facsimiles of handwriting. 
 Fcap. 8vo, printed on antique laid paper, and bound in antique 
 boards, ioj-. 6d. A few large paper copies, price 21s. 
 
CHATTO &> WINDUS'S CATALOGUE. 17 
 
 OUIDA'S NOVELS. (Uniform Edition). 
 
 Each Complete in One Volume. Crown 8vo, red cloth extra, price 5^. 
 
 FOLLE-FARINE. 
 IDALIA. 
 
 CHANDOS. 
 
 UNDER TWO FLAGS. 
 CECIL CASTLEMA/NE'S 
 GAGE. 
 
 TRICOTRIN: The Story of a 
 Waif and Stray. 
 
 PASCAREL. 
 
 STRATHMORE, or Wrought by 
 his Own Hand. 
 
 HELD IN BONDAGE, or 
 Granville de Vigne. 
 
 PUCK : His Vicissitudes, Adven- 
 tures, &=c. 
 
 A DOG OF FLANDERS, and 
 other Stories 
 
 TWO LITTLE WOODEN 
 SHOES. 
 
 PAROCHIAL HISTORY OF THE COUNTY 
 
 OF CORNWALL. Compiled from the best authorities, and cor- 
 rected and improved from actual survey. 4 vols. 4to, cloth extra, 
 63^.; or, separately, the first three volumes, i6>r. each; the fourth 
 volume, i&f. 
 
 PLAIN ENGLISH. By John Hollingshead, of 
 
 the Gaiety Theatre. [Neariy ready. 
 
 PRACTICAL ASSAYER; A Guide to Miners 
 
 and Explorers. By Oliver North. With Tables and Illustrative 
 Woodcuts. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, ys. 6d. 
 
 PRIVATE BOOK OF USEFUL ALLOYS 
 
 AND MEMORANDA FOR GOLDSMLTHS AND JEW- 
 ELLERS. By James E. Collins, C.E. Royal i6mo, 3^. 6d. 
 
 PUCK ON PEGASUS. By H. Cholmondeley- 
 
 Pennell. Profusely Illustrated by the late John Leech, H. K. 
 Browne, Sir Noel Paton, John Millais, John Tenniel, 
 Richard Doyle, Miss Ellen Edwards, and other Artists. A 
 New Edition (the Seventh), crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, price 
 $s. ; or gilt edges, 6s. 
 
 By the same Author. 
 
 MODERN BABYLON, and other Poems. Small 
 
 crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, 4s. 6d. 
 
 PUNIANA ; Thoughts Wise and Otherwise. By 
 
 the Hon. Hugh Rowley. Best Book of Riddles and Puns ever 
 formed. With nearly 100 exquisitely Fanciful Drawings. Contains 
 about 3000 of the best Riddles, and 10,000 most outrageous Puns, 
 and is one of the most Popular Books ever issued. New Edition, 
 small quarto, green and gold, 6^. 
 
 SECOND SERIES OF PUNIANA ; Containing 
 
 nearly 100 beautifully executed Drawings, and a splendid Collection 
 of Riddles and Puns, rivalling those in the First Volume. Small 
 4to, uniform with the First Series, cloth gilt, gilt edges, 6s. 
 
 [A early ready. 
 
i3 CHATTO &• WIND US 'S CATALOGUE. 
 
 Companion to " Cussans' Heraldry." 
 PURSUIVANT OF ARMS ; or, Heraldry founded 
 
 upon Facts. A Popu'ar Guide to the Science of Heraldry. By 
 J. R. Planche, Esq., F.S.A., Somerset Herald. To which are 
 added, Essays on the Badges of the Houses of Lancaster and 
 YORK. A New Edition, enlarged and revised by the Author, illus- 
 trated with Coloured Frontispiece, five full-page Plates, and about 
 200 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, beautifully bound in cloth, with 
 Emblematical Design, extra gilt, ys. 6d. 
 
 RABELAIS' WORKS. Faithfully translated from 
 
 the French, with variorum Notes, and numerous characteristic Illus- 
 trations by Gustave Dore. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 700 pages, 
 ys. 6d. 
 
 REMARKABLE TRIALS AND NOTORIOUS 
 
 CHARACTERS. From "Half-Hanged Smith," 1700, to Oxford, 
 who Shot at the Queen, 1840. By Captain L. BENSON. With 
 spirited full-page Engravings by Phiz. Crown 8vo,55o pages, ys. 6d. 
 
 REMINISCENCES OF THE LA TE THOMAS 
 
 ASSHETON SMITH, ESQ.; or, The Pursuits of an English 
 Country Gentleman. By Sir J. E. Eardley Wilmot, Bart. A 
 New and Revised Edition, with Steel-plate Portrait, and plain and 
 coloured Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, ys. 6d. 
 
 ROCHEFOUCA ULD'S REFLECTIONS AND 
 
 MORAL MAXIMS. With Introductory Essay by Sainte-Beuve, 
 and Explanatory Notes. Royal i6mo, elegantly printed, is. ; cloth 
 neat, Is.. 6d. 
 
 ROLL OF BATTLE ABBEY; or, A List of the 
 
 Principal Warriors who came from Normandy with William the 
 Conqueror, and Settled in this Country, A.D. 1066-7 ; with the Arms 
 of the Principal Barons emblazoned in Gold and Colours, $s. 
 
 ROLL of CAERLA VEROCK: the Oldest Heraldic 
 
 Roll ; including the Original Anglo-Norman Poem, and an English 
 Translation of the MS. in the British Museum. By Thomas 
 Wright, M.A. The Arms emblazoned in Gold and Colours. In 
 4to, very handsomely printed, extra gold cloth, 12s. 
 
 ROMAN CATHOLICS IN THE COUNTY 
 
 OF YORK IN 1604. Transcribed from the Original MS. in the 
 Bodleian Library, and Edited, with Genealogical Notes, by Edward 
 PEACOCK, F.S.A., Editor of " Army Lists of the Roundheads and 
 Cavaliers, 1642." Small 4to, handsomely printed and bound, 15^. 
 
 ROSS'S (CHAS. H.) STORY OF A HONEY- 
 
 MOON. A New Edition of this charmingly humorous book, with 
 numerous Illustrations by the Author. Fcap. 8vo, picture boards, 2s. 
 
 SCHOOL LIFE at WINCHESTER COLLEGE; 
 
 or, The Reminiscences of a Winchester Junior. By the Author 
 of "The Log of the Water Lily," and "The Water Lily on the 
 Danube." Second Edition, Revised, Coloured Plates, ys. 6d. 
 
CHATTO <Sr» WINDUS'S CATALOGUE. 19 
 
 SECRET OUT; or, One Thousand Tricks with 
 
 Cards, and other Recreations ; with Entertaining Experiments in 
 Drawing Room or " White Magic." By the Author of the " Magi- 
 cian's Own Book." Edited by W. H. Cremer, Jim., of Regent 
 Street. With 300 Engravings. Crown 8vo, cloth, 4s. 6d. 
 
 SHERIDAN'S (RICHARD BRINSLEY) COM- 
 PLETE WORKS, with Life and Anecdotes. Including his Dra- 
 matic Writings, printed from the Original Editions, his works in 
 Prose and Poetry, Translations, Speeches, Jokes, Puns, &c. ; with a 
 Collection of Sheridaniana. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, with 10 beautifully 
 executed Portraits and Scenes from his Plays, ys. 6d. 
 
 SHELLEY'S EARLY LIFE. From Original 
 
 Sources. With curious Incidents, Letters, and Writings, now First 
 Published or Collected. By Denis Florence Mac-Carthy. 
 Crown 8vo, with Illustrations, 440 pages, ys. 6d. 
 
 THE POCKET SHELLEY. 
 
 SHELLEY'S POETICAL WORKS. Now First 
 
 Reprinted from the Author's Original Editions. In Two Series, the 
 First containing " Queen Mab" and the Early Poems ; the Second, 
 " Laon and Cythna," " The Cenci," and Later Poems. Price of each 
 Series, royal i6mo, cloth extra, 2s. (Golden Library.) 
 
 ' ' This edition will contain everything that Shelley published in his lifetime, as he 
 first printed it, unmutilated and untampered with ; and everything of any value pub- 
 lished after his death, which he would have wished to have preserved. An appen- 
 dix will contain some prose pamphlets never before printed with Shelley's works." — 
 Extract fro?n Introduction. 
 
 The Third Series, completing the Work, will shoi'tly be ready. 
 
 SIGNBOARDS: Their History. With Anecdotes 
 
 of Famous Taverns and Remarkable Characters. By JACOB Lar- 
 wood and John Camden Hotten. Seventh Edition. Crown 
 8vo, cloth extra, with numerous Illustrations, 580 pp., ys. 6d. 
 
 " It is not fair on the part of a reviewer to pick out the plums of an author's book, 
 thus filching away his cream, and leaving little but skim-milk remaining ; but, even if 
 we were ever so maliciously inclined, we could not, in the present instance, pick out all 
 Messrs. Larwood and Hotten's plums, because the good things are so numerous as to 
 defy the most wholesale depredation." — The Times. 
 
 SLANG DICTIONARY: Etymological, Historical, 
 
 and Anecdotal. An Entirely New Edition, revised throughout, 
 and considerably Enlarged, containing upwards of a thousand more 
 words than the last edition. Crown 8vo, with Curious Illustrations, 
 cloth extra, 6s. 6d. 
 
 " In every way a great improvement on the edition of 1864. Its uses as a dictionary 
 of the very vulgar tongue do not require to be explained." — Notes and Queries. 
 
 " Compiled with most exacting care, and based on the best authorities." — Standard. 
 
 " In ' The Slang Dictionary ' we have not only a book that reflects credit upon the 
 philologist ; it is also a volume that will repay, at any time, a dip into its humorous 
 pages. " — Figaro. 
 
CHATTO &- JV/NDUS'S CATALOGUE. 
 
 MR. SWINBURNE'S WORKS. 
 
 BOTHWELL : A Tragedy. By Algernon Charles 
 
 Swinburne. Crown 8 vo, 12 s. 6d. Second Edition. [Now ready. 
 
 " Mr. Swinburne's most prejudiced critic cannot, we think, deny that Bothwell is a 
 poem of a very high character. Every line bears traces of power, individuality, and 
 vivid imagination. The versification, while characteristically supple and melodious, 
 also attains, in spite of some affectations, to a sustained strength and dignity of a re- 
 markable kind. Mr. Swinburne is not only a master of the music of language, but he 
 has that indescribable touch which discloses the true poet — the touch that lifts from off 
 the ground." — Saturday Review. 
 
 "A magnificent effort of genius. It is not too much to say that, should he never 
 write anything more, the poet has, by this work, firmly established his position, and 
 given us a poem upon which his fame may safely rest. The mechanism of the poem is 
 simply perfect ; it would be impossible to imagine more faultless or original blank 
 verse. The poet must henceforth rank amongst the first of British authors." — Graphic. 
 
 "In Both-well, Mr. Swinburne has undoubtedly produced a tragic poem after the 
 grand style of art, and one which for the subtle psychology, dramatic power, and grasp 
 of historic events evinced bv it, must be pronounced not only his masterpiece, but a 
 noble addition to our literature." — Examiner. 
 
 " Splendid pictures, subtle analyses of passion, and wonderful studies of character 
 will repay him who attains the end. In this huge volume are many fine and some 
 unsurpassable things." — Athemeum. 
 
 " The whole drama flames and rings with high passions and great deeds. The 
 imagination is splendid ; the style large and imperial ; the insight into character keen ; 
 the blank verse varied, sensitive, flexible, alive. Mr. Swinburne has once more proved 
 his right to occupy a seat among the lofty singers of our land." — Daily News. 
 
 " A really grand, statuesque dramatic work. . . . The reader will here find Mr. 
 Swinburne at his very best, if manliness, dignity, and fulness of style are superior to 
 mere pleasant singing and alliterative lyrics." — Standard. 
 
 " ' Bothwell ' shows us Mr. Swinburne at a point immeasurably superior to any that 
 he has yet achieved. It will confirm and increase the reputation which his daring 
 genius has already won. He has handled a difficult subject with a mastery of art 
 which is a true intellectual triumph." — Hour. 
 
 CHASTELARD : A Tragedy. Fcap. 8vo, ys. 
 POEMS AND BALLADS. Fcap. 8vo, 9 s. 
 AZOTES ON "POEMS AND BALLADS;' and 
 
 on the Reviews of them. Demy 8vo, is. 
 
 SONGS BEFORE SUN ELSE. Post 8vo, \os. 6d. 
 A TALANTA LN CAL YDON. Fcap. 8vo, 6s. 
 THE QUEEN MOTHER AND ROSAMOND. 
 
 Fcap. 8vo, $s. 
 
 A SONG OF ITAL Y. Fcap. 8vo, 3s. 6d. 
 
 ODE ON THE PROCLAMATION OF THE 
 
 FRENCH REPUBLIC. Demy 8vo, vs. 
 
 UNDER THE MICROSCOPE. Post 8vo, 2s. 6d. 
 WILLIAM BLAKE: A Critical Essay. With 
 
 Facsimile Paintings, Coloured by Hand, after the Drawings by 
 Blake and his Wife. Demy 8vo, i6j. 
 
CHATTO & WINDUS'S CATALOGUE. 21 
 
 A KEEPSAKE FOR SMOKERS. 
 
 SMOKER'S TEXTBOOK. By J.Hamer, F.R.S.L. 
 
 Exquisitely printed from " silver-faced " type, cloth, very neat, gilt 
 edges, is. 6d. 
 
 STOR Y OF THE L ON DON PARKS. By Jacob 
 
 Larwood. With numerous Illustrations, Coloured and Plain. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, 7s. 6d. 
 
 SUMMER CR UISING IN THE SO UTH SEAS. 
 
 By Charles Warren Stoddard. With Twenty-four Engravings, 
 drawn by Wallis Mackay. Cr. 8vo, cloth, extra gilt, 7s. 6d. 
 
 " His book is delightful reading, notwithstanding its frequent extravagances; and 
 in Mr. Wallis Mackay he has found a most congenial illustrator." — Bookseller. 
 
 "A remarkable book, which has a certain wild picturesqueness." — Standard. 
 
 " Idylls of the South Seas, by a Californian humourist. Poetical, amusing, delight- 
 ful." — Vanity Fair. 
 
 "The author's experiences are very amusingly related, and, in parts, with much 
 freshness and originality." — Judy. 
 
 " Mr. Stoddard is a humourist ; ' Summer Cruising ' has a good deal of undeniable 
 amusement. ' ' — Nation. 
 
 SYNTAX'S (DR.) THREE TOURS. With the 
 
 WHOLE OF ROWLANDSON'S VERY DROLL FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS, 
 
 in Colours, after the Original Drawings. Comprising the 
 well-known Tours— 1. In Search of the Picturesque. 2. In 
 Search of Consolation. 3. In Search of a Wife. The Three 
 Series Complete, with a Life of the Author by John Camden 
 Hotten. Medium 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, 7s. 6d. 
 
 TA YL OR 'S HIS TOR Y OF PL A YING CARDS. 
 
 With Sixty curious Illustrations, 550 pp., cloth extra, gilt, 7s. 6d. 
 THE THACKERAY SKETCH-BOOK. 
 
 THACKERA YANA. Notes and Anecdotes, illus- 
 trated by about Six Hundred Sketches by William Makepeace 
 Thackeray, depicting Humorous Incidents in his School-life, and 
 Favourite Characters in the books of his every-day reading. Demy 
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