CHAPTER VII.

'Elizabeth Brownrigge: a Tale,' 1832 -- 'Comic Magazine,' 1832-4

-- 'National Standard and Literary Representative,' 1833-4 --

'Flore et Zephyr, Ballet Mythologique,' 1836 -- 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 Notoriety -- His genial Admiration for 'Boz' --

Christmas Books and Dickens' 'Christmas Carol' -- Return to Paris

-- Execution of Fieschi and Lacénaire -- 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' -- Dedication to 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 Illustrations --

Interest excited in Titmarsh -- Foundation of 'Punch' --

Thackeray's Contributions -- His comic Designs -- 'The Fat

Contributor' -- 'Jeames's Diary.'

Before proceeding to the well-known productions from the pen of our

great novelist, which are familiar enough to all, it may interest the

reader to glance at his juvenile efforts in literature and art. It

will be found that we dwell more minutely upon the consideration of

these early sketches than is absolutely warranted by their importance

in comparison with his great works; but we are tempted to enlarge on

the papers which illustrate the outset of the author's career, under

the conviction that they are but little known to the majority of his

admirers.

We have already noticed Thackeray's characteristic hand in the pages

of 'The Snob,' where his native skill in parody was first evidenced in

print. We have incidentally cited the satirical force of his observant

powers at the age of twenty and during his residence in Germany;

though, it must be confessed, these early impressions may owe much of

their strength to the training he had gone through during the interval

between the time he actually spent in the scenes described, and the

period at which the sketches were first given to the public.

From the date of its establishment the columns of 'Fraser' abound in

sly satires directed against the school of fiction which then happened

to find favour with the romance-reading public. Ainsworth and Bulwer

had made daring experiments with new and startling materials for

exciting the imagination of their believers; and the encouragement

held out by the unequivocal success of the unwholesome order of novels

was sufficient to excite the wrath of those writers and critics who

strove to lead the popular taste back to healthier literature.

Thackeray's keen appreciation of the genuine humour of Fielding,

Scott, and similar authors, who founded the interest of their stories

on such sounder principles as were dictated by intelligent study of

human nature, and who mainly relied for their incidents on the

probable occurrences, the actions and passions, of actual life, was

sufficient to qualify him as a subtle opponent of the unnatural style;

and he appears to have early enlisted his pen on the side of the

Fraserians, who were, perhaps, the bitterest antagonists which the

apostles of these unlikely anomalies were fated to encounter in the

development of their novel theories.

In the August and September numbers of 'Fraser' for 1832 appeared the

forerunner of those burlesque romances for which Thackeray's name

became afterwards famous. The sketch was published when the budding

satirist was little over twenty-one years of age; and the just and

scarifying criticism which it contains is sufficiently remarkable in

so youthful a writer. But there is the strongest internal evidence

that the travestie of 'Elizabeth Brownrigge: a Tale,' proceeds from

the author who afterwards narrated the 'Story of Catharine;' who

interrupted the early chapters of 'Vanity Fair' to introduce certain

felicitous parodies; and who, in the pages of 'Punch,' produced the

irresistible series of 'Prize Novelists' which remain unsurpassed.

'Elizabeth Brownrigge' was dedicated to the author of 'Eugene Aram;'

and its writer described himself as a young man who had for a length

of time applied himself to literature, but had hitherto entirely

failed to derive any emolument from his exertions. His tragedies,

comedies, operas and farces, his novels, poems, and romances, had

already accumulated into an alarming pile of unacceptable and

unprofitable MSS. On examining the grounds of their refusal, he was

surprised to find one identical phrase occurring in every letter

rejecting his talented productions: the poems are all pronounced

'classical, pure in taste, and perfect in diction;' the novels are

acknowledged to be 'just in character, interesting in plot, pathetic,

unexceptionable in sentiment;' but unhappily they have all one glaring

defect in common--they are '_not of a popular description_.'

Enlightened by the reflection that those who write to live must write

to please, he determined to master the popular taste; the otherwise

faultless papers were put by until fashions should change in the

reading world; and his laundress was sent to the circulating library

for the last most popular novel--the author, disappointed but not

discouraged, being resolved to study its style and manner, investigate

the principles on which it was written, to imbibe its spirit, and to

compose his next new work as nearly as possible upon the same model.

The popular novel brought was 'Eugene Aram.'

From its pages the hitherto unsuccessful writer caught a complete

solution of the errors and defects of his former productions. From the

frequent perusal of older works of imagination, he had learned the

unfashionable practice of endeavouring so to weave the incidents of

his stories as to interest his readers in favour of virtue and to

increase their detestation of vice. By the study of 'Eugene Aram' he

was taught to mix vice and virtue up together in such an inextricable

confusion as to render it impossible that any preference should be

given to either, or that one, indeed, should be at all distinguishable

from the other.

'I am inclined,' continues the writer, in his dedication, 'to regard

the author of "Eugene Aram" as an original discoverer in the world of

literary enterprise, and to reverence him as the father of a new

_lusus naturæ_ school.' There is no other title by which his manner

could be so aptly designated. Being in search of a tender-hearted,

generous, sentimental, high-minded hero of romance, he turned to the

'Newgate Calendar,' and looked for him in the list of men who have cut

throats for money, among whom a person in possession of such qualities

could never have been met with at all.

'In "Elizabeth Brownrigge" it will be the author's sole ambition to

impart to his efforts some portion of the intense interest that

distinguishes the works of Mr. Bulwer, and to acquire the fame which

the skilful imitation of so great a master may hope to receive from

the generosity of an enlightened and delighted public. In taking his

subject from that walk of life to which "Eugene Aram" had directed his

attention, many motives conspired to fix the writer's choice on the

heroine of the ensuing tale: she is a classic personage--her name has

been already "linked to immortal verse" by the muse of Canning.

Besides, it is extraordinary that, as Mr. Bulwer had commenced a

tragedy under the title of "Eugene Aram," the dedicator had already

sketched a burletta with the title of "Elizabeth Brownrigge." In his

dramatic piece he had indeed been guilty of an egregious and

unpardonable error: he had attempted to excite the sympathies of his

audience in favour of the murdered apprentices; but the study of Mr.

Bulwer disabused him of so vulgar a prejudice, and, in the present

version of her case, all the interest of the reader and all the

pathetic powers of the author will be engaged on the side of the

murderess. He has taken a few slight liberties with the story, but

such alterations have the sanction of Bulwer's example and the

recommendation of his authority. As he has omitted any mention of the

wife of his Eugene, his imitator has not thought it necessary to

recall the reader's attention to the husband and sixteen children of

his Elizabeth. As the hero of "Eugene Aram" is endowed with more

learning and virtue than he possessed, and is converted from the usher

of a grammar school at Hayes into the solitary student of a lone and

romantic tower in a distant county; the author of "Elizabeth" presumed

to raise the situation of his heroine, and, instead of portraying her

as the wife of a saddler in Fleur-de-lis Court, and midwife of the

poor-house, he has represented her in his tale as a young gentlewoman

of independent fortune, a paragon of beauty, a severe and learned

moral philosopher, and the Lady Bountiful of the village of

Islington.'

The first book opens with a sample of the MS. Burletta: the contents

of chapter i. are sufficiently descriptive of the spirit of the

whole--_Islington: the Red Cabbage_ (so called from a very imperfect

representation of a red rose on its sign-board)--_Specimen of Lusus

Naturæ_--_Philosophers of the Porch_--_Who is she?_

According to a richly worked out principle of opposites, this droll

conception proceeds with incidents and even names taken directly from

the 'Newgate Calendar,' but rivalling 'Eugene Aram' itself in

magnificence of diction, absurdity of sentiment, and pomp of Greek

quotation. The trial scene and Elizabeth's speech in her own defence

abound in clever points--indeed, the humour of the whole composition

is original and striking; although the later burlesques from

presumably the same hand have made us familiar with similar features

brought to maturity.

During the intervals of his residence in London--for Paris may be

considered to have been almost his head-quarters at this

period--Thackeray had made the acquaintance of most of the brilliant

writers and rising artists of the day. It is certain that before he

became popularly known as a contributor to 'Fraser,' where his papers

contributed in no inconsiderable degree to the success of the

magazine, he was concerned in more than one literary venture. Between

1832 and 1834 appeared a small miscellany, the 'Comic Magazine,' now

tolerably obscure: in its duodecimo pages may be found the writings of

several authors whose names have since become famous. It was profusely

illustrated: the major part of the cuts, some of them of particular

excellence, were by the hand of the gifted and unfortunate Seymour. It

seems that Thackeray was to some extent interested in this

publication, to which he probably supplied both drawings and verses;

although, at this date, it is difficult to distinguish his individual

contributions, especially as they happen to be less characteristic

than the average of his works; the cuts, although full of fun, having

suffered from the necessity of reducing the cost of engraving, as the

expenses of the publication became onerous.

There existed in 1833 a critical journal, 'devoted to literature,

science, music, theatricals, and the fine arts,' rejoicing in the

slightly high-flown title of the 'National Standard:' it was one of

the early enterprises in the way of cheap publication, and, in spite

of its name, conscientiously aimed at supplying a want that has never

yet been adequately filled up--namely, the circulation of sterling

independent criticism. We are not informed how Thackeray first became

interested in this publication, but, from the hints thrown out in his

later writings, it seems that he was induced to become, in some part,

proprietor of the venture. In his sketch of 'Mr. Adolphus Simcoe,' who

is introduced into the pages of 'Punch' (1842) as a typical ex-owner

of a miscellany, the 'Lady's Lute,' which came to a disastrous end, we

are informed that, presuming a person of literary tastes should, from

some unfortunate combination of circumstances, conceive a passion to

become the editor of a magazine, to assemble about him 'the great

spirits of the age,' and to be able to communicate his own

contributions direct to the public, a paper is sure to be for

sale--'indeed, if a gentleman has a mind to part with his money, it is

very hard if he cannot find some periodical with a broom at its

mast-head.'

In the eighteenth number of the 'National Standard' (May 4) we

recognise Thackeray's pencil in a very fair cut of Louis

Philippe--quite in the style of his contributions to 'Punch' some ten

years later. The likeness is undoubtedly good and characteristic. _Le

roi des Français_ is straddling in an undignified attitude--the fair

lily of France is trodden under one of his clumsy feet; he wears an

ill-fitting plain citizen suit; one hand is in his pocket, 'counting

his money;' the other rests on his redoubtable umbrella, the favourite

target of satirists.

In his beaver he sports the tricolor badge, 'like an overgrown

pancake,' as the verses below declare. His face wears a truculent,

soured, dissatisfied twist; 'no huzzas greet his coming,' we are

informed.

'_He stands in París as you see him before ye,

Little more than_ a snob. _There's an end of the story._'

Number 19 of the journal opens with an address of decidedly

Titmarshian turn, which tells the story of the new state of things

pretty lucidly, and with a fine flush of spirits.

Under the heading of this 'National Standard' of ours there originally

appeared the following: 'Edited by F. W. N. Bayley,[6] Esq., the late

Editor and Originator of "The National Omnibus," the first of the

cheap Publications: assisted by the most eminent Literary Men of the

Day.'

'Now we have _changé tout cela_: no, not exactly _tout cela_, for we

still retain the assistance of a host of literary talent; but

Frederick William Naylor Bayley has gone. We have got free of the Old

Bailey and changed the governor. Let it not be imagined for a moment

that we talk in the slightest disparagement of our predecessor in

office; on the contrary, we shall always continue to think him a

clever fellow, and wish him all kinds of success in the war he is

carrying on against Baron Dimsdale. He apparently has exchanged the

pen for the sword.

'Having the fear of the fate of Sir John Cam Hobhouse before our eyes,

we give no pledges, expressed or understood, as to the career which it

is our intention to run. We intend to be as free as the air. The world

of books is all before us where to choose our course. Others boast

that they are perfectly independent of all considerations extraneous

to the sheet in which they write, but none we know of reduce that

boast to practice: we therefore boast not at all. We promise nothing,

and if our readers expect nothing more, they will assuredly not be

disappointed.'

A remarkably well-executed portrait of Braham, the singer, appears in

the number. The eminent vocalist's rotund figure is dressed in

stage-nautical fashion, with a tremendously striped shirt, rolling

collar, sailor's knot, no waistcoat, jacket and short trousers, hose,

and pumps with buckles; his somewhat coarse Israelitish _caput_ is hit

off with truth and spirit; over his head is a glory formed of a

jew's-harp encircled in bays; he is before a theatrical background. A

dealer in old clo', of the singer's nationality, crowned with triple

hats, and carrying the professional bag, is introduced beneath a

feudal castle. Below the portrait is a sonorous parody of one of

Wordsworth's sonnets, attributing to Braham the 'majesty and

loveliness' by which he originally captivated the world and the ears

of Sovereign Anne, in whose benign reign, according to a footnote,

this 'Lion of Judah' 'made his first appearance in England.' The

jew's-harp, circled with blooming wreath, is seen of verdant bays; and

thus are typified--

'_The pleasant music and the baize of green,

Whence issues out at eve Braham with front serene!_'

Certain picture criticisms in the same number bear evidence of the

hand afterwards well known in the galleries of paintings.

'_Fine Arts._--_Somerset House Exhibition._--(140) Portrait of His

Majesty King William IV. in the uniform of the Grenadier Guards, by D.

Wilkie. His Majesty stands in a dun fog, and wears a pair of dirty

boots; his cocked-hat is in his hand, and his crown is in a corner.

This large picture, in spite of the great name attached to it, seems

to us a failure; Mr. Wilkie has not at all succeeded in the attempt to

give an expression of intelligence to the physiognomy of our reverend

sovereign.'

In the following week this verdict is modified; it is stated that the

late critic has been dismissed as clearly incompetent for his office.

The picture, it is acknowledged, is a good work, and it was utterly

unreasonable to expect any painter could succeed in throwing an

intelligent expression into the royal countenance.

The writer also extravagantly praises the portrait of an alderman, on

the grounds that his address at Clapham, inscribed on a letter held in

the hand of the picture, is 'painted as natural as though it had been

written.'

To No. 20, Thackeray contributed a portrait of Baron Nathan

Rothschild, in which the satirist does not flatter the 'pillar of

change.' Some verses below the woodcut are not more complimentary to

'the first Baron Juif; by the grace of his pelf, not the King of the

Jews, but the Jew of the Kings. The taste of Plutus is censured, in

that he has selected as prime favourite 'a greasy-faced compound of

donkey and pig.' After propitiating the great financier in this

fashion, the satirist leaves his subject what he vainly wishes the

Baron would leave him--'a_lone_ in his glory!'

In an appreciative review of Sarah Austin's translation of Falk's

'Characteristics of Goethe' the readers of the 'National Standard' are

admitted to a glimpse of personal reminiscences: 'The fountain

opposite Goethe's house is not particularly picturesque, and the

people who frequent it are not remarkable for their beauty. But there

are beauties disclosed to the poetic eye which the common observer

will endeavour in vain to discover; and the philosopher can make

sermons on running brooks, such as the fountain at Weimar, which, we

confess, appeared to us a most ordinary waterspout.

'Appended to the work is a portrait of its hero, which, however, does

not bear the slightest resemblance to him.'

In No. 21 occurs the first (and last) of our 'London Characters'--the

sketch of an advertising medium of Chartism; a wretched,

terror-stricken boardsman of the dispersed 'National Convention;'

bearing the legends--'No Taxes,' 'Victory or Death,' and 'Britons, be

firm!' but his placards interfere with his escape from the police by

tripping up their bearer. It is worthy of note that this cut, with

slight alterations, appeared later in the 'Comic Magazine' already

mentioned.

In No. 22 Thackeray has produced a good _croquis_ of Manager Bunn, who

is displayed with his toupee and well-brushed, heavy-jowled

mutton-cutlet whiskers, with a wig-bag seen over the shoulder of his

court coat; an elaborately embroidered satin waistcoat; 'stuck to his

side a shining sword;' 'all in his velvet breeches,' silk stockings

and buckled shoes; just as, ten years later, the 'Punch' wags were

wont to picture the 'poet Alfred.' Handsome tall candlesticks are held

in either hand: these imposing dips are sparkling with the names of

Schrœder and Malibran respectively:

'_What gallant cavalier is seen

So dainty set before the queen,

Between a pair of candles?

Who looks as smiling and as bright,

As oily and as full of light,

As is the wax he handles._'

Another cut--the person of a corpulent but dejected Cupid, his fat

feet resting on conventional clouds, while his chubby wrists and

ankles are confined in heavy irons--forms the headpiece to some easy

lines: a burlesque poem entitled 'Love in Fetters, a Tottenham Court

Road Ditty,' showing how dangerous it is for a gentleman to fall in

love with an 'Officer's Daughter,' an 'Ower True Tale.' The narrator

describes his passion for a fair Israelite, to whom he has sent a

'letter full of love;' and he is roused out of his slumbers by a

mysterious stranger, who inquires if he is the writer. The gentleman

in bed admits the fact; says the visitor, 'an answer's sent.' But

alas! 'by a parchment slip he could discern that by him stood a

bailiff stern, fair Rosamunda's sire!' and the romantic victim

dolefully concludes:--

'_I served the daughter with verse and wit,

And the father served me with a writ;

So here in iron bars I sit

In quod securely stowed,

Being captivated by a she,

Whose papa captivated me;

All at the back

Of the Tabernac

In Tottenham Court Road._'

Besides the cuts mentioned is a burlesque group of chorus-singers from

'Zauberflöte,' produced when Manager Bunn was lessee of both Covent

Garden and Drury Lane Theatres.

Sir Peter Laurie is also favoured with a portrait, sketched from his

appearance on the civic chair: spectacles, gold chain, and all

complete, surrounded with a wreath of full-blown laurels. Some punning

verses to 'Sir Peter' are inscribed with the likeness.

After this Thackeray seems to have gone back to Paris, from whence he

writes, as 'Foreign Correspondent,' in June of the same year, sending

a drawing of a brace of figures characteristic of the new and old

_régimes_.

'The costume of Jeune France is as extraordinary as its literature. I

have sent a specimen, which I discovered the other day in the

Tuileries. It had just been reading the "Tribune," and was leaning

poetically against a tree: it had on a red neckcloth and a black

flowing mane; a stick or club, intended for ornament as well as use;

and a pair of large though innocent spurs, which had never injured

anything except the pantaloons of the individual who wore them. Near

it was sitting an old gentleman, in knee-breeches and a cocked-hat,

who is generally to be seen of a sunny day in the Tuileries, reading

his Crébillon or his prayer-book: a living illustration of times

past--a strange contrast with times present!'

A week later arrives a review of the dramatic pieces then performing

at the Paris Theatres, with a sketch of Ligier in the character of

Richard in 'Les Enfants d'Édouard;' a wonderful stagey figure, not

unlike some of the theatrical souvenirs in the early part of this

volume. The sinister monarch wears the traditional ermine-bound cloak,

with a fierce feather in his hat; he sports trunks (on the left knee

is the order of the garter) and pointed shoes; his right hand grasps a

dagger; his lank locks are turned over his ears, giving his face a

sufficiently ruffianly character, which is intensified by a scowling

eye, and a set mouth in Kean's best manner.

The young artist also paid a visit to some savages, the 'Charruas,'

South American Indians, who were then lionising in Paris. The

correspondent sends his readers a translation of an extravagant

article of the flowery order, written by Jules Janin, under the

inspiration of having been to see the noble aborigines, concerning

whom the English journalist romantically adds, 'They play cards all

day, laugh, eat raw beef, and drink all they can get.'

In the July following it was determined by the French ministry to

throw a sop to popularity by crowning the column in the Place Vendôme

with the new statue of Napoleon--the very figure which has since known

such vicissitudes. Their Paris correspondent sent the 'National

Standard' a sketch of the figure of the Emperor; and in the same

number occurs a spirited article, describing the first interview of

the statue with his gallant countrymen.

'The Little Corporal, in his habit of war, puts his bronze glass to

his bronze eye, and after some usual preliminaries, proceeds to

address _la grande nation_: "I thank you for having placed me in a

situation so safe, so commanding, and so salubrious: from this

elevation I can look on most parts of your city. I see the churches

empty, the prisons crowded, the gambling-houses overflowing. Who, with

such sights before him as these, gentlemen, and you, would not be

proud of the name of Frenchmen?" (Great cheers.) "I apprehend that the

fat man with the umbrella, whom I see walking in the gardens of the

Tuileries, is the present proprietor. May I ask what he has done to

deserve such a reward from you? Does he found his claim on his own

merits, or on those of his father?" (A tremendous row in the crowd;

the police proceed to _empoigner_ several hundred individuals.) "Go

your ways" (said the statue, who was what is vulgarly called a dab at

an _impromptu_), "go your ways, happy Frenchmen! You have fought, you

have struggled, you have conquered: for whom? for the fat man with the

umbrella!"' The Emperor, in continuation of his speech, observes: 'I

perceive by your silence that his words carry conviction;' when he

stops to make the discovery that there is not a single person left in

the Place Vendôme, his entire audience having been carried off by the

police.

Later on, the journal seems to languish; the portraits still occur at

intervals. Mr. Crockford, of gaming reputation, was flattered with a

cut of his effigy, just about the time a paper-raid was raised against

the 'play-hells' in the sweeping columns of 'Fraser;' 'Crock' is

complimented with some lines, 'more free than welcome,' alluding to

'his eye of a whiting, and mouth of a cod,' and referring to his old

trade of fishmonger; the lines, which are signed L. E. U., add, 'he

now sticks to poultry, to pigeons, and rooks.'

'_Yet he still makes a cast, and not seldom a haul,

Still angles for flats, and still nets what he can,

And shows, every night, 'mid his shoal great and small,

The trick how a gudgeon is made of a man._'

It is presumable that the Paris correspondent did not abandon his

paper; he sends more cuts, and foreign letters from all parts, full of

the most interesting private intelligence; and notably one from

'Constantinople,' supplying an imaginative gossiping exposure of all

the complicated intrigues discernible to those who may be behind the

scenes at the Porte; and last, but by no means least, he sends them

one of the capital stories which he afterwards reprinted, with fresh

illustrations, in the 'Paris Sketch Book,'--even the 'Devil's Wager,'

with a strikingly original sketch of Sir Rollo in his desperate

travels to redeem his soul, borne through the clouds with, for greater

security, the tail of Mercurius unpleasantly curled round the

apoplectic throttle of his deceased highness the late Count of

Chauchigny, &c. &c. The moral of this veracious tale was promised 'in

several successive numbers;' but the wonderful story and its excellent

illustration, superior we fancy to those in the collected series, were

ineffectual to establish the success of the 'National Standard,' on

which they were partially thrown away.

A flourishing and facetious leader, in the thirty-sixth number, placed

the circulation at the astonishing figures of 84,715; and particularly

advertised that the price, in spite of the unprecedented arrangements

that had been perfected for rendering their paper the leading feature

of the age, would continue 'only twopence.' A few numbers later it was

confessed that the journal would henceforth appear at threepence, as

it was found impossible to successfully carry out all their great

programme of improvements at a lesser price. Thackeray's contributions

after this are either missing, or his spirits were possibly dashed by

the pecuniary responsibilities of the undertaking. After a time the

'National Standard' was forced to haul down its colours: it lasted

from January 5, 1833, to February 1, 1834, when it not improbably left

a neat train of liabilities for at least one of its contributaries to

discharge. It is certain that its failure entailed disagreeable

consequences.

We all remember that Mr. Adolphus Simcoe's little fortune went down in

the 'Lady's Lute,' while its versatile proprietor completed his misery

in Her Majesty's Asylum of the Fleet.

Still fresher must it be in the minds of Thackeray's readers, that the

narrator of 'Lovel the Widower,' in the character of Mr. Batchelor,

relates how, having these same literary aspirations, and a certain

command of ready money withal, he too was persuaded that to be part

proprietor of a periodical was rather a fine thing. It may not be

forgotten that in his first venture, coming to London, blushing with

his college experiences, he had emulated the bargain of Moses

Primrose, and the memorable gross of spectacles in shagreen cases. A

college acquaintance, with a smooth tongue, and sleek, sanctified

exterior, and a queer bill-discounter (no one indeed but our old

friends, the Rev. C. Honeyman, M.A., and Mr. Sherrick, wine-merchant,

&c., to whom we were early introduced in the 'Newcomes'), had somehow

got hold of that neat literary paper the 'Museum,' of which eligible

property this innocent gentleman became the purchaser.

The failure of the 'National Standard and Literary Representative'

seems for a time to have damped Thackeray's enthusiasm so far as fresh

adventures on his own account were concerned; but in the March of 1836

his first attempt at independent authorship appeared simultaneously in

London and Paris.

'This publication,' it was observed in the 'North British Review,'

shortly after the humourist's death, 'at the time when he still hoped

to make his bread by art, is, like indeed everything he either said or

did, perfectly characteristic;' and it has been so utterly forgotten

that we are encouraged to describe the plates _seriatim_. We may add

that it was published in Paris by Ritter and Goupil, and by Mitchell

in London; though it is now so scarce that we were unsuccessful in

tracing a copy in the Catalogue of the British Museum.

It is a small folio, in a tinted wrapper, and consists of nine

subjects in all, which are printed on India paper. Like all

Thackeray's satires, his fun is directed to a purpose; and by the very

realism of his pencil he successfully turns to ridicule one of his pet

aversions--the dancing man, so frequently assailed in his writings.

The series bears the title of 'Flore et Zephyr, Ballet Mythologique,

par Théophile Wagstaff,' and is dedicated to Flora, who herself

figures in place of her name upon the cover. In a rose-bedizened stage

bower, where the foliage is evidently cut out by the stage-carpenter,

stands the exquisite _première danseuse_, looking as ancient,

self-satisfied, and repulsive as some of these heroines occasionally

appear. She is all alone in the centre of the stage, but the old faded

smirk and the eyelids modestly drooped express her consciousness that

she is the object of attraction to a full house. Her fascinating smile

is tempered with the air of bashful modesty, conveyed by crossing her

bony and sinewy arms and large hands upon her lean chest; her throat

is particularly camel-like, and the muscles are unmistakably

prominent; her nose is long, and has a pendulous droop, which divides,

by its shadow, her ample semicircular mouth, and gives an effect of

sentimental absurdity; a blonde wreath of ample dimensions and

indefinite design surrounds her raven locks; a few straggling hairs

are in places plastered on her forehead in unpremeditated love-locks;

her dress, of simple uncreased muslin, stands out like a white tulip,

and is carelessly girt by a wreath of flowers. Beneath the skirts

appear her professional legs, arranged of course in an attitude

perfectly at variance with nature or grace, the heels touching, and

the long white feet pointing to precisely opposite poles of the

compass. In maiden meditation, she is sighing for her Zephyr before

some thousand eyes, the focus of all the double-barrelled lorgnettes

in the theatre.

In the following plate, _La Danse fait ses offrandes sur l'autel de

l'Harmonie_, the faithful Zephyr has come to rejoin his Flora; and the

happy pair trip down the footlights, set smiles on their faces, with

gracious gestures of salutation, to propitiate the unseen but

perfectly understood 'house.' As to the Altar of Harmony, their backs

are turned on the supposed object of their offerings--represented by a

pile of musical instruments mounted on a pillar, and topped by a

laurel-wreathed fiddle, the expression of which ('the face of a

fiddle') wears a dreary resemblance to a dolefully-long human

countenance. Zephyr is as remarkable as his fair companion: his face

is, if possible, more faded, his smile more set and weary; you feel

that his perpetual grin is the grimmest sight in the world, and that

no effort of his livid face could express a natural smile. He too

sports a huge pair of impossibly arched eyebrows, beneath which the

heavy lids droop with a worn-out look which is certainly unaffected.

His wig, you recognise, is no part of himself, although much of his

expression is conferred by it: it is a tremendous erection, of

obviously artificial construction, and sufficiently portentous to make

its _début_ alone. This gentleman's nose is large and pear-shaped; his

mouth and lips large and coarse; and his Hebrew descent is

sufficiently characterised. He is clad in a simple tunic; his naked

arms are strongly developed and ugly; his legs are large, and the

muscles stand out with the prominence observable in members of his

profession: his shoulders, of course, are tipped with gauzy wings.

The third plate, _Jeux innocens de Zéphyr et Flore_, introduces us to

the altar of Cupid--a sweet little deity in plaster, who is drawing

his stringless bow, and aiming an imaginary arrow (the shaft is

wanting) at the tripping and artless Flora, who, with outstretched

hands, is guarding her tender bosom; meanwhile it is only

pantomimically she is conscious of Cupid's aims; her eyes are riveted

on the audience. Zephyr is ogling up behind the altar, his frightful

smile more set than ever, his wig more independent of himself, his

graces more fantastic; he is advancing, with one foot pointed about a

yard or so in advance of its fellow, anxious to bind the fair sharer

in these simple diversions in a wreath of stage-flowers.

In the next plate _Flora is deploring the absence of her Zephyr_, who

has left her an opportunity to execute a _pas seul_. We are presented

with the back of the engaging _coryphée_: she is balanced on one foot;

the left is raised at an angle of considerably over forty-five

degrees--a touching and perfectly natural method of expressing her

disconsolate situation.

In this drawing we are favoured with a view of the front of the

'house;' the faces of the men in the orchestra are treated

expressively. One musician's eye is peculiarly roguish, while another

performer is endeavouring to combine business with pleasure; to play

his flageolet, follow his score, and yet not lose sight of the

deploring one.

Zephyr's turn for individual display occurs in the next plate. _Dans

un pas seul il exprime son extrême désespoir_; and accordingly,

without in any degree altering the cast of the mask of a face he

wears, he proceeds to express the intensity of his desolation, by

convincing the audience of the strength and activity of his lower

members, in a succession of horizontal bounds which give him the

aspect of a flying man. In the corner of the picture a Cupid--a

plump-faced little boy, decked out as Cupid--and his elder sister (the

likeness between the pair is evidently intentional) are opening their

eyes and mouths with stupid astonishment at Zephyr's grief-inspired

agility.

Fresh actresses arrive on the scene.

Zephyr has struck a stage attitude expressing the unconsolable state

of his affections; his legs crossed, and one arm resting on the now

vacant pedestal. _Triste et abattu, les séductions des Nymphes le

tentent en vain._ The ladies of the ballet flit vainly around him, his

eyes are cast down; even the fascinations which are held out by a

clumsy theatrical lyre, held in a melting _pose_ by one fair creature

reposing on one knee, are insufficient to tempt him to forget the

charms of the absent.

Such fidelity can be only recompensed by the '_Reconciliation of Flora

and Zephyr_,' which is displayed in the succeeding plate. The

triumphant Zephyr, his smile, if possible, expressing less meaning

than usual, is now kneeling; his arms are folded, and his head is

supported at an angle by a rigid throat--for he has a weight to

sustain. The faithful Flora has bounded into his arms; and, in the

picture, the last triumphant tableau is before the audience. One foot

of the _danseuse_ lightly rests on Zephyr's outstretched thigh, the

other is on a level with her shoulder; her arms are gracefully clasped

around her companion, to preserve her balance, and her head and throat

are also at a studied angle, for the sake of the equilibrium of the

group. On this rapturous scene of fidelity rewarded with boundless

happiness the curtain descends; but we have not seen the last of the

performers.

In, presumably, the Green Room we witness '_The Retreat of Flora_.'

The fair creature, who is in every way decidedly French, is there with

her mother and two admirers: Zephyr, of course, does not figure in

this category. The two latter pictures of the series are in

Thackeray's most forcible style; and indeed, for truth,

expressiveness, and character, compare quite favourably with Hogarth's

finer satires. One lover is a young dandy of the period: his

intellectual capacities are conspicuously absent; it may be said he

has neither forehead nor chin. He is sitting imbecilely astride his

chair, vacantly leaning his elbows on the back, and gazing at nothing

in particular; he is probably a trifle vexed at Flora's indifference,

or is jealous of his elder rival. The smiles and leers of Flora's

mamma are thrown away at present: the old lady is no less painted, and

is possibly more artificially made up than her daughter; her eyebrows

owe much to art, her cheeks are evidently high in colour, her faded

smirks and glittering eyes are by no means inviting, and a band of

velvet across her forehead suggests a suspicion of 'false fronts;' her

bonnet is of the gaudiest, a very pinnacle of bows, ribands, and

artificial flowers. This venerable creature is heavily cloaked, and

carries a huge muff, having evidently walked to the theatre to rejoin

her fair darling, who is standing on the hearth-rug, her toes still

attitudinising; she is slightly wrapped in a shawl, ready for her

_fiacre_. The gentleman on whom Flora is smiling, and evidently at

something just a little wicked, is a big, burly, coarse,

self-satisfied, elderly man, whose hands are in the pockets of his

awkward straddling trousers: his face is a study of downright

unflinching grinning baseness; he is probably doing a good business

on the Bourse, and his wife and family are no doubt at home in their

beds.

The last plate, '_Les Délassements de Zéphyr_,' is perhaps the most

refreshing to contemplate; for in it we see labour rejoicing over

those little comforts which are its reward. Poor old Zephyr, who is

after all a very homely, estimable, and hard-worked personage, who

probably gives lessons, drills the _ballet_ all day, and capers

without intermission till midnight all the year round, is resting his

arm on the chimney-piece, whereon his attitude is still a set _pose_:

the preposterous wig is in the hands of the _perruquier_, a nobly

curled barber, who, as he brushes the monstrous _toupée_, is

complacently admiring what _he_ evidently considers a triumph of art.

Zephyr, we can now realise, is of no particular age, or race; he

retains his jaded old sprightliness as he favours his capacious nose

with a copious pinch of snuff, supplied to that organ from the ball of

his thumb, with much apparent gratification. The gentleman who is

offering this hero the courtesy of his huge snuff-box is a jolly,

jaunty-looking person enough, a compound of splendour and shabbiness;

probably himself attached to one of the theatres as low comedian. His

jowl beams with good temper, and is ensconced in a pair of huge gills

and a voluminous neckcloth; his hat and waistcoat are showy of their

kind; his greatcoat has evidently suffered by wear, though still an

imposing and comfortable garment. The impression of his respectability

becomes fainter below; his trousers and boots are evidently out of

shape and unequivocally seedy, and his old umbrella is a study of

itself. An innocent-faced chubby pot-boy, with a smile of recognition

for the visitor, is holding, on a tray from the nearest tavern, a

foaming pot of porter for Zephyr after his saltatory exertions, and a

glass of brandy-and-water to revive his friend, who has come in from

the cold.

These drawings, which are certainly equal to anything Thackeray has

produced, have been drawn on stone by Edward Morton, son of 'Speed the

Plough,' who has, if anything, contributed to their excellence: they

are remarkably well-executed examples of lithography, and are

delineated with that delicate strength, truth, and thoughtful effect

for which the works of this able but little-known artist are always to

be praised. Each plate bears the monogram WT, which, with the M

added, afterwards became tolerably familiar to the world.

It is worthy of remark that in this, as always, Thackeray ridicules

the ugly and the absurd without departing from truth, or trenching on

impropriety. The quality he praised highest in Cruikshank and

Leech--that of never raising a blush or offending modesty--is perhaps

most remarkable in himself, in treating a subject like _Flora and

Zephyr_, where a young artist, and especially one whose training had

been in Paris, might be tempted to imply a certain freedom of manners.

'The effect of looking over these _juvenilia_, these shafts from a

mighty bow, is good, is moral; you are sorry for the hard-wrought

slaves; perhaps a little contemptuous towards the idle people who go

to see them.'

Thackeray had scarcely attained the age of three-and-twenty when the

young literary art-student in Paris was recognised as an established

contributor to 'Fraser,' worthy to take a permanent place among the

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 difficulties, 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.[7]

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 connected with literature

in "Pendennis"--Captain Shandon, the ferocious Bludyer, stout old Tom

Serjeant, and so forth. Magazines 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 who 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.'[8]

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 'Frasers Magazine' for January

1835--a picture which must have been drawn at some period in the

previous year. This outline cartoon represents a banquet at the house

of the publisher, Mr. 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, tells us that 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 Galt, Fraser the

publisher, having on his right, Crofton Croker, Lockhart, Theodore

Hook, Sir David Brewster, Thomas Carlyle, Sir Egerton Brydges, Rev. G.

R. Gleig, Mahony, Edward Irving, and others, numbering twenty-seven

in all--of whom, in 1859, eight only were living.

[Illustration]

This celebrated cartoon of the Fraserians appears to place Thackeray's

connection with the magazine before 1835; but we have not succeeded in

tracing any contribution from his hand earlier than November 1837.

Certainly, the afterwards well-used _noms de plume_ of Michael Angelo

Titmarsh, Fitzboodle, Charles 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 explaining the origin of

that assumed character of a footman in which the author of the

'Yellowplush Papers' and 'Jeames's Diary' afterwards took delight. A

little volume had been published 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 instructor 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 deportment. 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

patronage. 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 monarch. In the

enforced retirement of his less prosperous days, the ex-woollendraper's

literary design had time to develop itself, and in the year 1837 'My

Book; or, The Anatomy of Conduct, by John Henry Skelton,' was finally

given to the world.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Inspector of Anatomy]

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 Anny-goats,' 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 germ 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 requested by the editor to

extend his comments upon society and books, and in January 1838 the

'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 portraits in the

same magazine, a manner which afterwards became habitual to him.

[Illustration: The rejected one]

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. 'I can 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; 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 referred to was the

'Pickwick Papers,' which was commenced 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 characteristics 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 presents a curious contrast to

the career of his fellow-novelist. Hard as Thackeray subsequently

worked in contributing to 'Fraser,' in co-operating with others on

daily newspapers, in writing for 'Cruikshank's Comic Almanack,' for

the 'Times' and the 'Examiner,' 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 newspapers; 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, 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 its own field.

Thackeray was in Paris in March 1836, at the time of the execution of

Fieschi and Lacénaire, upon which subject he wrote some remarks in one

of his anonymous papers which it is interesting to compare with the

more advanced views in favour of the 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 Lacénaire, though he made unsuccessful attempts

to be present at both events.

The day for Fieschi's death was purposely kept secret; and he was

executed at a remote quarter of the town. But the scene on the morning

when his execution 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 Elysées, where were many others bent upon the

same errand. They passed by the Concert of Musard, then held in the

Rue St. Honoré; 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 Frenchmen 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 Barrière d'Enfer.

As they crossed the river, and entered the Rue d'Enfer, crowds of

students, black workmen, and more drunken devils from carnival balls,

were filling it; and on the grand place there were thousands of these

assembled, looking out for Fieschi and his _cortége_. They waited, but

no throat-cutting that morning; no august spectacle of satisfied

justice; and the eager spectators were obliged to return, disappointed

of the expected breakfast of blood.

[Illustration: Somewhat sanguinary]

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 Lacénaire 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 tous,

Messieurs et Dames; voyez ici le sang du monstre Lacénaire et de son

compagnon le traître Avril_;' and straightway all the other gamins

screamed out the words in chorus, and took hands and danced round the

little puddle.

[Illustration]

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_l._, in shares of 10_l._

each. The Major, as chief proprietor, became chairman of the new

company; Laman Blanchard was appointed editor, Douglas Jerrold the

dramatic 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, shortening of duration

of parliaments, equality of civil rights and religious 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 September 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 _soupçon_ of

philosophical reflection, were the utmost that the readers of

newspapers in those days demanded of the useful individual who kept

watch in the capital of civilisation for events of interest.

Generally, 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 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 circulation. 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 circumstances 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 happened 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 application 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 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 'Elizabeth,'

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 illustrator. We are

told that he contributed some papers to the 'Times' during the late

Mr. Barnes's editorship--an article on '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 and that

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 Almanack' for 1839, and

since included in the 'Miscellanies;' 'Catherine, by Ikey Solomons,

jun.,' a long continuous story, founded on the crime of Catherine

Hayes, 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 he 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 continued 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, 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 explanation 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.'[9]

It was in 1840 that Thackeray contributed to the 'Westminster' 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 paper. 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 friend as something far

greater, a man endowed with that rarest of all faculties, the power to

create, is inspired by a generous enthusiasm which lends a life and

spirit to the paper not often found in a critical review. This long

paper, signed with the Greek letter Theta, is little known, but

Thackeray 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 galleries could be

indulged in without remorse, had gone. The _res angusta 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, occasionally referred to as a foolish

commercial speculation on which he had ventured in his youth--had

absorbed the whole of his patrimony. 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

inconvenient 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, from a stranger and a tailor, seems to me so

astonishing, that you must pardon me for thus making your

virtue public, and acquainting 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.'

[Illustration: General Bonaparte]

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 Dickens'

publications; but the second edition was probably only one of those

conventional fictions with which the spirits of young authors are

sustained. Though containing 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 quoting

its title, the author good-humouredly remarked, in a parenthesis, that

some copies, he believed, might still be found unsold at the

publisher'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, edited and

illustrated by Mr. Michael Angelo Titmarsh,' and an independent

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 Almanack;' 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 humourist's happiest caricature vein.

In December 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

Hôtel 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, chiefly 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 publication, a book entitled

'Dinner Reminiscences, or the Young Gourmandiser'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, and delight millions of unborn readers. There is more

truth and nature in one of these papers than in all ----'s novels put

together.' 'Thackeray (adds Carlyle), always a close friend of the

Sterling House, will observe that this is dated 1841, not 1851, 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 Conservative Club, where at this time he

occupied chambers. The first part appeared in 'Fraser' for January

1844, 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;' 'Pictorial 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 '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 Belgium about the period when it is

dated (2nd September, 1843); and the ballad describes a real accident

which befell 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 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 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 remittance, 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 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

countenance. 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 farewell to his host without

any exposure, takes the diligence, and is restored to his home that

evening. Such are the humorous exaggerations 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.'

[Illustration: Memorials of gourmandising]

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, 1845, with the title of 'Notes of a Journey from

Cornhill to Grand Cairo by way 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 the

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 preserved 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 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 connection 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

documentary character, in good preservation, he offers at a low figure

to amateurs.'

[Illustration: The Major]

The foundation in 1841 of a weekly periodical, serving as a vehicle

for the circulation of the lighter papers of humourists, had

unquestionably an important influence in the development of his

talents and fame. From an early date he was connected with '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 enquire 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.'

FOOTNOTES:

[6] Both the 'new and old Bayleys' are treated to a roasting in the

_Comic Magazine_; and we get an earlier glimpse of these worthies, for

whom the young writer evidently entertained but scanty respect, in

_Fraser_ for 1831, where, in the November number, Oliver Yorke is

supposed to hold a levee, at which the prominent celebrities are

presented to Regina's editor on various pretences--'Old Bayley, on

being sent to France,' and 'Young Bayley, after Four Years in the West

Indies,' on his arrival to present a copy of the 'Songs of Almack's.'

This young gentleman came over to the 'London World' in a 'National

Omnibus:' his appearance excited some curiosity.

[7] He had certainly seen Sydney Smith. A quaint half-caricature

outline sketch of the latter was contributed by 'Titmarsh' to

_Fraser's Magazine_, at an early period of his connection with that

journal.

[8] _Edinburgh Evening Courant_, Jan. 5, 1864.

[9] _Miscellanies_, vol. iv. p. 324.