THE THACKERAY CENTENARY.

Evening Star, Issue 14624, 21 July 1911, Page 5

THE THACKERAY CENTENARY.

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY {July 18, 1811— December 24, 1863.) THE MAN AND HIS WORKS. By Cham.es Wilsox, Parliamentary Librarian.) CHILDHOODS DAYS. Born at Calcutta on July 18. 1811. William Makepeace Thackeray was the only •on of Richmond Thackeray, a servant of "John Company." The Thackerays came of Yorksliire yeoman stock, the name ongmally being" written Threkwn, the first of the"Thaeke»v6. as the name now stands, living at Hampsthwalt". c„ pretty little village on the River Nidd, on the skirts of fl hat wae once tic; Forest ol Knarcsborough. The boy was but four years old when his father died, and when a lad of six was sent to England •<> ie educated. in company with hi? cuc-m, Richmond Shakespear, whose death, which took place some two years before his own. is recorded and deplored in one of 'The Rot'nd-about Papers.' The lads were in charge of an Indian servant, and thei. vessel touching at St. Helena, the futmo author ot 'The Second Funeral of Xnpoleon' got a peep at him whom, in those days, it wa-.s fashionable to eat! " Tie Corsicau Ogre. ' "Our ship touched at an island on the way home," he wrote, " where my black seivanl look me a long walk over reck.-; and liiik. until we reached a garden, where we saw a man walking. 'Tliat's he.' said the black man ; " that is Bonaparte'. He cat*» three sheep every day, and all the little children he can lay bands upon."" 11 is first school experiences were at Chiswick, and it u> more than possible that Mies Pinkerton's famous establishment, which Becky Sharp quitted with such unfeigned joy, was drawn from memories of some young ladies' seminary which the lad knew in that neighborhood". In 1621, the boy being now 10 years of age, his mother returned to England, and Thackeray made the acquaintance of the kindest ot stepfathers. Major Carmichael Smyth, who stood, in part at least, so Thuckeiay adnrtted, for the portrait of Colonel Newcome. The boy was now sent to the Charterhouse, where he remained six yeats. However kindly were his feelings in*after life for his old school, there is overwhelming evidence that he most eoidially hated it as a schoolboy. He was,, he says, an indolent boy. and a mutual dislike governed his relations with the head master, Dt R-arsell. In ' Pendennis' there is a portrait cf the Doctor, and by no means an amiable one. Thackeray" learnt no Creek, he tells us, and but little Latin. The scene in ' Pendennis ' wherein the hero cannot construe the Greek play despite the prompting of a friendly chum, was no doubt drawn from memoiy of a real siene. "Pendennis, sir," said the irate I pedagogue, "your idleness is incorrigible; and your stupidity is beyond example. You are a disgrace to your school, and* to | your family, and I have no doubt will i prove so. in alter life to your country," j etc.. etc. No doubt the timid, quiet, little Anglo-Indian lad was indolent. Dean Liu- i dell, who "sat next" to Thackeray at I lichocl, says: "He never attempted to learn the lesson, never exerted himself to \ grapple with the Horace. Wo spent our j time mostly in drawing, with such skill i as we could command. His handiwork was very superior to mine, and ir's taste for ■ comic scents at that time exhibited itself ■m burle-que ic-prescntation* of Shakespeare. I remember on:—Macbeth a., a. ■ butcher brandishing his blo.-.d-rceAing : knives, and Lady Macbeth ;:? ,i i;utehei''s ! wire clapping him on the ■sJmulJ-r to en- i courage him." This tariy taste for 'sketch- j ing remained with iuni throughout life, I but of fhis more num. The fact mav ! hero be noted that John Leech, who, with ! Liddcll and Tenable?, was a. school'chum j of Thackeray's, was almost as lazv as the I future novel:.-1, and. like the latter, was j passionately devoted to sketch-making. ! THACKERAY'S BROKEN NUSE. It wao at Charterhouse that Thackerav } sustained that disfigurement of his nose which undoubtedly detracted from the I effect of the bin? eyes, the tine open couu- I tenance. am! g-nc<\iljy ha-dseav. a] pear- I ance of the novelkt.' 1 tie bridge of his I rose was broken in a school fight with his I lifelong friend George v'crvibii..-. ! hacke- ' ray used to nm'a/ c;-ea; fu.; on; a the in- : jured organ. Nct.':irg gave him .-reater j amusement than to repeat- iS-:;e:l.is Jer- I rold'.» joke when iie had just .Hood cod- ' iather to ?omc friend's h.-v: "Lord.; Thack.:rav. i iionc v-m didn't,' present the • child with your t-.vu mug.' Dining out | one night at lio.-l„.i. <luring his American i lec:i:ring tour, ha made sour? statement ' toncerning .Sii William Temple and Stella. ' rnd. on being ask vi for (lis authciitv, an ; swored : " 1 iuni ct prove it : it is ap- i parent. like the broken ims.< on my nut*.' \ Lacy Dorothy XfV'L, in her readable " Re : collections." cenftsses to an awkward, blun- ' <ler shv once made whtm. dining with the i i!OVtdi.,t. she occupied a seat nest to Mr i Yen.-ib'cs. Noticing tiiat he ,;f-emed to be | M-eil acqujinted with the >. bief sht> j suddenly said 'o \"e:::ibics: "Can vou toll j me wiictiier trie rn.dformai.irn of Mr Tha-keray's nose ;> natural .;r t'le re>uit I •if ;i>i a .cident '!" To the lady's ;-:ti!pris'>, I her i ornnanion was greaTiy disturber!, but I at JeUirth replied ; "it was i;i an ;-Li-id r,- it at -. hj« cl." "After dinner," Lady Dorothy goi'u on r.o say, " I asked someone wiiat har;n tin.•!■.. could have been in my inquiry, and was told in return that Mr Wmi'do*; bad been t:i- b-y vrb» had broke- I'iiickeray's i;o;4c in ;; " flight." Venab'. . bv the way. has left it on record th it .. .lackcra.v was ■•;, tirelty. gentle, timid be v." As to '!'h:;che:ay's -:w.; n • -..jsioiK of hU ChaTteriiouse d ivs, yon ■ > -d tnem scat--1 eirrj hmahiy ir. ' !"?-.- N.-..-,.,.-,.- ~, • ; ltd m Drd and HV "at b:s b00t,.." :!S I ■ -nay have !iee:i at Char'.e: souse, the lad wh'a t..>!d his he "cnn-Mif: get Dr Rust-"!! to think" there wa.. ,;ny goo<l in 1-im w.-f sti;ri:vg up a wealth of .enervation wh-h'h was to_ he p.ut t.. I.riilian: in ni'iny interesting and always kind'v refer-<-::ies to "Grey Friars." 10-.-'is one

■which h;:s been much quoted : Under the great archu.iy uf the hos|.:tul you look at tin- rrnaiiu old square, with its blackened old tree.-* u.:ul uurden, surrounded by ancient houses .A the bulla • ■i the last century, now .-lumbering iike jwiisioueis in tiio sunshine—the old men creeping along in their black gowns tinder the ancient arches, whoso struggle of life is over, whoso hope, ami noise, ami bustle have sunk into that grey calm. . . . In their chapel, where aWeoible the boys of the school, and the fourscore * Id men of the hospital, the founders' tomb stands. There ha lies Fundator Xoster, in his ruff and gown, awaiting the great Examination Day. A plenty of candles lights up this chapel, and this scene of age and youth and early memories. How solemn the well-rernem-bered prayers are! How beautiful and decorous the rite; how noble the ancient words of the supplication which the priest utters, and to which generations of fresh children and troops of bygone ceniors have cried Amen '. 'VARSITY DAYS. But we must not tarry any longer at Charterhouse, which the *•'idle, shuffling, profligate boy," as Dr Russell, with great unfairness, was pleased to call him," left in 1818. His last tetter, written from icb-001, expressed delight at his coming release. "There are but 370 in the school," he writes; " I wish there were only 369." The next stage was a period of preparatory study at his stepfather's home at Larkbeare, near Ottery, St. Mary, in Devonshire, where Major" Smyth had' settled down as a gentleman farmer. There Thackeray stayed for some months in the interval between leaving Charterhouse and going up to Cambridge, his stepfather coaching him for his universiiy career. Ottery, St. Mary, has been identified as the Ciaverincr, St. Mary, of and iJbaro "k JittJo doubj-J

thjtt iha Chatteris and-Baymoutli, of the safcte uoval, have their originals in Exeter arid Sidmouth. Exactly how much of the autobiographical eleoent to be found in * Pendennis' is a matter I leave until we. roach th© publication, of that novel. Thackeray was barely 19 when ho entered at Trinity. Major Smith going tip to Cambridge with him, just as did rvkijoV Pendennis with Iris nephew, to see him duly installed in his chambers. At Cambridge the young man remained two years, and then came down without taking his degree. True, he was not "plucked," as was the scapegrace Pen, but he had gone tip in February instead of October, and, so Mr Lewis Melville points out in hie biography, " had either to meet men who had three months' advantage of him at the May examinations, or to wait for a whole year until the next examinations." It woe decided that he should adept this only other possibility, and he left the universily " iinpluoked " and degreoiess. As with the three famous Cambridge poets—Byron. Wordsworth, and Tennvbon —Alma Mater was able to confer no scholastic title or distinction on the future novelist. Space will not allow of an extended account of Thackeray's Cambridge career. He read classics and mathematics with Whewell, and attended lectures on political economy, but snont his time mainly in desultory reading—especially history—and it was probably at tins time

that he laid the foundation of his love for the writers of the 18th century in general, and m particular for Feilding's works. "My English would have been much better." lie said years after, "if 1 had read Feiiding before I was 10." He contributed laruely to 'Varsity periodicals, such as 'lite Snob ' and 'The Gowneman ' : he spoke frequently in the famous Union Society's debute*, and, best of all. made lasting friendships with such men ao Edward "Fitzgerald—" dear old Fitz." —of Omar Khayyam fame. Mo nekton Milnes (afterwards Lord Houghton), W. H. Thompson, 11. C. Trench. John Sterling. Alfred and' Charles Tennyson, James Spedding. John Allen, and William Brookfield. the Latter destin,xl to become one of his niw-.t intimate aiid faithful friends. One grtat benefit Thackeray derived from Cambrido. As La-dy JJitehie has pointed out, Cambridge fixed his social status. Though '" he was afterwards to consort with Bohemians and other strange acquaintances into which a man is forced by adversity, he was never a Bohemian, and was always faithful to the traditions of the clai-'s in which he was born and bred." As to Thackeray's powers of observation. how brilliantiv thev were emoloved at Cambridge ve can "all .ve for* ourselves whe-i ue reed certain chanters of ' Peri-dt-uiiis.' Those who wuuUl like to have ThiuT.eray Iti stdtand imprccsions of hit.; C";in:bri<l.ge life may find ihcm in the numerous extracts from the letters to bus . mother. at> given in lierrmui Merivale's 'Life' of the novelist iSeott's 'Great Writers ' Series).

FROM GERMANY TO GRUB STREET. I:i thc-a- t\.i\:i it was ihe correct thing n.i a '-hj'l- EorJisfiman of l\»kI hiith nu-'l lair fortune to suppU-uieut a. university career bv a little roiejen navel, and so in 1830 we find d'haekeiav settled down for

a. while at- the pleasant little German towr of Weimar if ho " Pumpernickel " of ' Vanitj Fair '). He worked hard at German translated German ballads into English. attended the Court receptions, danced .- great deal, and made love too. not a, little his flirtations being put to luerary use latej on, as may bo remembered when we read of his experiences with the blonde-haired Miss Lowe, who, with the aid of her fa the i and nance, swindled him ; with Dorothea, who taught the tall Kndander to waltz: and the fair sentimental Ottilia. At Weimar, too, he indulged in a little heroworship, purchased Schiller's sword, and was taken to rail upon the venerable Goethe. Of these happy days at Weimai Thackeray wrote at peat length k. Geoign Henry Lewes. His description oi Goethe arid fits surroundings is specially interesting. Returning to England be brgnn to study law, entering _at the Middle Temple in the autumn of 1831, and taking chambers' at No. 1 Hare Court. But the .study of deeds—be was reading with a well-known conveyancer proved uncongenial. Tie spent" much time in smoking pipes with "dear old fritz" and Tennyson, frequented tho theatres with John Kernble, and finally went off to Paris to study painting and French literature. Then camo .->. call ho could not resist, the call of journalism, and jsksa only 21, having come into the posses-

sion of his patrimony—£2o,ooo it has been faid to he, but Air Merivale says it never represented more than £SOO a year—ho pur chaser! and managed the 'National Standard ," a standard which, alas, was " hauled down." to use his own phrase, after it had floated but a few months. For the 'National Standard* he- wrote leader*, fci-eivrn correspondence, and drew innumerab'u sketches. Probably his fir&t experience in journalism was that of Mr Batchelot, in ' Lov.il the Widower.' At any rato it engulphed a ■ goodly portion of his fortnne, and unfortunately the pleasures of a voting gentleman's "lite about town" accounted for a. further dissipation of the paternal rupees. ''.Mr Dsueeacre" was drawn from life. " I have not suen that man,"-he told Sir Theodore Martin of a cam bier at Spa, "since he drove me down in his cabriolet to my bankers in the City. where I gold out my patrimony and banded it, over to him."' A second journalistic venture, n Radical paper, <iddly entitled, considering its politics, the ' Constitutional." in which his stepfather. Major Carmicbael Smvth. had iveri induced to invest, and for which Thackeray acted as Paris correspondent swallowed up a heavy sum. "i hackeray's. first experiences of Fleet street were apparently doomed to be unlucky. By 1837. when ha returned to London to write for Fraeer's and other magazines, to commence the li!e of .a journalistic free-lance, he was no better oft' than other adven-

I Hirers who nmk f.i- their bread. He oncetold Mrs Brookfield that he had been so hard up in Pans as to be glad io write for ' Galignam's Messenger ' for lOf a day, and when he finally insTalled himself m Great Coram street, then highly respectable, hut nowadays one of the dingiest and dirtiest streets in Bloomdvary, the outlook ahead was none too bright. To Great Coram -street he brought his newlv-wedded wife. Miiss Creauh Shawe. a lady of Doneraile. to v.fcoin in August. 1836. he had been married at the British Finhafisy in Paris. For a time th° newly-married pair had lived in apjrtments in the Rue Neuve des Augu.; ins. a street quite close to the Rue Ncuve the, Petifs Champs, where was situated the restaurant made famous in the •Ballad of Rouillobaisse.' THE SECOND STAGE—FROM "FREELANCING" TO FAME. TEN BUSY YEARS. With the Great Coram street residence commenced a period of 10 ycais; or so of unremitting literary labor. Poems, essays, sketches, hading articles, short slories, and novelettes —as we c>ay nowadays—■ poured from his pen in bewildering profusion. As f-tr back as 1852 he had written ' Elizabeth Brownrigge.' a grim burlesque of Lytton's ' Eugene Aram,' for • Era-ers Magazine,' and in Jauuaiy 1G35. he appears a-s one oi the famous group of " Fraserians" in Maclcse's well-known sketch. One of his ti;st. commissions in 1337 was a review of Carlyle's 'French Revolution " f-.>r ' The Time.-.' Carlyle was not too well pleased with the article, which dv.eit mainly on the supeili qualities ot" graphic (;re.seutation of the book. itf> living force, its wonderful hn■: t> in the midst of seeming disorder. His rather gmdgir.g

THE WRITING TABLE AND CHAIR Used by Thackeray in writing ' Vanity Fair.' ' Pendennis,' ' Heurv Esmond,' 'The Neuronics,' and " Tho Virginians.'

; ! remark on the review wsti: "The critic is j one Thackeray, a half-monstrous Cornish giant, kind of painter, Cambridge mai:. and Paris newspaper correspondent, who is j now writing for his life in London. . ■ His article is rather like him. and, 1 snpI pose. calculated to do the bock good." Put the grim old Sage of Chelsea. lived to know and love the " monstrous Cornish giant," and a few days after the novelist died wrote to Lord* Houghton : " Poor Thackeray' I saw him not ten days ago. . . . He had many fine qualities; no J gnilt or malice against any mortal; a big •, mass of a soul, bi:t not strong in proporI tion ; a beautiful vein of genius *iay ' M niggling ;:l;e.u! him. Peer Thackeray! ! Adieu ■ Adi?u !" Thackeray's best wo'tk • went, not- to -The Timet." lint to ' FraserV Magazine.' For ■ Frr.--erV ho wrote literary criticisms, he •■ did " the Royal AcaI demy, greatly enraging certain 'artiste—- | touchy l'oJk then, as now—by norne of his ! remarks ; he invented that amusing charackr "Charles Yelbv. plush, F.sq.'"'; he ■ wrote on ' GcnnandiHng,' on ' Men and Pictures,' on ' Men's Wives' ; ho described ■his "tiny travels" in London and Paris i and elsewhere. He wrote, too, for Bent- ; ley'rt ' Miscellany.' in which 'Oliver Twist' j til st appeared; for Col burn's "Xetr I Monthly Magazine/ for ' Aiusworth'ti Majj«u_

zine/ and for tli© yearly ifisnes of Cruickshank's 'Comic Almanac.' He bad half a dozen or more noms do phnne. He was Michael Angelo Titmarsh, Charles Yellowplush, and Major Gahagan ; ho was Mr Spec, George Savage Fitz-Boodle, and Lancelot Wagstaff, and I know not who else. Xow a-nd again, in the yeare between 1837 and 1847—the latter the year when his first "throe-decker," as Mr Kipling would say, appeared, he turned out something more important than a single-chapter magazine story. Macrone published ' The Paris Sketch Book' for him. In 1841 'The Great. Hoggarty Diamond' tan its course through ■pYaser's Magazine/ In the same periodic: 1 ! appeared 'Catherine, a Story/ signed 'lkey Solomone, Esq., Junr.' and "in 1844 Thackeray's first lone novel, 'The- Luck of Barry Lyndon, a Romance of the Last Century/ appeared in the fame periodical. Then, too, there was 'The Irish Sketch Book.' and that excellent, little hook 'From Comhiil to Grand Cairo.' " Titmarsh at Jerusalem will certainly bo an era in . Christianity/' wrote his good ; friend and faithful admirer Edward Fitzgerald:" How he got through all the work ho did—besides ' Fraser,' he was writing | for the 'Pictorial Times' and the 'Morn--1 ing Chronicle,' and had began to eontii- ! Bute regularly to 'Punch'—was to his | friends rpnte a mystery. Fitzgerald writes jin 1844: "Meanwhile old Thackeray laughs at all this" (the anger of hie friends I the painter?), "and goes on in his own way, writing hard for a dozen reviews and newspapers all the morning ; dining, drinking, and talking of a night; managing to preserve a fresh color and a perpetual flow of .spirits under a wear-and-tear of thinking and feeding that would have knocked up any other man I know two years age. at least." Ac yet, however, Thackeray had not reached the "big public."' lie had done some tine work. There is some genuine pathos in 'The Great Hoggarty Diamond,' and humor and to spare in 'The Fatal Boots.' 'Catherine,' too. was grimly clever. In 'Barry Lyndon' he reached bis hiahest- quality so'far. You may not like 'Barry Lyndon,' for the autobiography of "the Irish adventurer, gambler, and* irredeemable scoundrel does not always make nice reading. But in its way it'is just ;is much of a masterpiece of Feilding's 'Jonathan Wild,' which to some extent he had taken as a model. Barry himself was founded on a real personage—l have not space to give details —and perhaps Casanova's Memoirs had been found useful in. their pictures of the petty German courts, and of Continental rascaldom. But still, despite all these minor successes, Thackeray had not vet "made good," as the Americans say" with the "big public," wb'ch Dickens' had captured so many years previously and stil! held in willing bondage. Hie* first great success was to come, in with 'Vanity Fair.' Before referring to that masterpiece of English fiction, a few words now as to a very sad event in his career. j THE TRAGEDY OF THACKERAY'S ! MARRIAGE. He was passionately devoted to the "dear little woman" whom he had brought from Paris to Great Coram street, and who stood by him so loyally in his struggles for livelihood and fame. His inav'jiot have been a. very prudent marriage, as the world would judge it nowadays. Hut life was simpler and cheaper then, and though there was no great store of gold in the humble little menage in Great Coram street, there was a rich plenitude of love. Years afterwards, writing to a Mr Synge, Thackeray said : 1 married at your age with £4OO paid by a- newspaper which failed six month* afterwards, and always love to hear of a, young fellow testing his fortune bravely In that way. If I can see my way to help you, I will. Though my marriage w;is a wreck, as you know, I would do it over again, for. behold, Love is the crown and eompletition of all earthly good. A man who is afraid of his fortune never deserved one. I wish you the very best. The veay best and pleasantcet house I ever knew in my life had but £3OO to keep it up. Thackeray's married life commenced with every prospect of happiness. In 1840, however, the malady which was to separate wife from husband manifested itself but too plainly, and the poor lady, after bearing her husband three daughters, left him for ever, having to be placed under | restraint, her mental" balance having almost completely disappeared. Thackeray was greatly affected. 'The Shabby Gen-: t-e.ii i-iiory"'—of which only nina chapters had appeared in ' Fraser's Magazine'— was brought to a sudden conclusion without a, word of explanation, and it was only by the exorcise of a tremendous effort of 'self-control that 'The Great Hoggarty' Diamond ' was completed. This story, as lhackera-y himself has told us, "'was written at a time, when the writer was

in •which the flamboyance of stylo is so amusingly satirised. As for 'Phil Fogarty, a Tale of the Fighting Onetyonefcb, by Barry RoUickear,' it was bo good thast Lever declared, in all good humor, ithafc'he might "shut up chop, and henceforth changed the character of his novels. ' Vanity Fair' ran all through 1847 without attracting very decided attention, but in January, 1848, Abraham Hayward wrote a most enthusiastic criticism of the story in the 'Edinburgh Review.' Charlotte Bronte, too, in a, preface to the second edition of 'Jane Eyre' (in October, 1847), hailed Thackeray as the possessor of "an intellect profounder and more unique than hie contemporaries have yet recognised " ; "lie is the first social regenerator of hia day," and much more in a tone of equal eulogy. A mild Thackeray boom set in. 'All the world admires 'Vanity Fair,'" wrote honest. "Old Filz." "The author is courted by dukes and duchesees, and wits of both eexcp. I have seen hiin three or four times. He is just the same." Later on, Fitz began to think that success was somewhat spoiling his friend. "Thackeray is in such a great world that I ajn afraid of him ; he gets tired of me, and we are content to regard each other • from a distance." But against this we have the testimony of that Bohemian of Bohemians, Albert Smith, who -writes to George Hoddor : " Last night I met Thackeray at the Cyder Cellars" (a Bohemian report of the day), "and w© stayed there until 3 in the morning. He is a very jolly fellow, with no ' High Art' about him." Before' Vanity Fair' was finished Thackeray had become ;| personage and gained his proper place nt< one of the foremost men of the day. •'He was no longer," says Mr Melville,

■suffering under the severest personal gTief ami calamity"—''at a. time," as he tsays in oiio of hie letters. " when my heart was very soft and humble—lch habe auch viel ge.iiebt—(l also have much loved). It is interesting to know that the gentlespirited Amelia, of ' Vanity Fair,' owed something to Mrs Thackeray. Writing to Mva Brookfield, while- 'Vanity Fair' was in progress, Thackeray eays : " You know you are only a piece of Amelia: my mother is another half: my poor little wife "y est pour beauioup " (if there for much). Mrs Thackeray was of Irish birth (the daughter of a Colonel Matthew Saawo, of Doneraile. who, it is stated, had been military fiv.rota.ty to the Maxquiti of Weilesley in India)" and all hie life, Thackeray, though roundly and most unjustly abused by the " baser sort" of Irish, jourtiaU, had the most- kindly feeling towards iiitf wife'.- countrymen. There is a story whir.li telli how an old groom in Anthony T.oliope'.s stabler, once- paid to Thackeray : " I Lear yon ha vc written ibook upon Ireland. ai;ci are always makiug fun of the Irish: von don't, like n.-." "God help me:" uiul Thackeray, turning hit; head away as Jiis eyes filled with teare, "all tli-it 1 have loved he«t in the. world is Irish. "' I v;is as hapijy a-s the day was ion'.;- with her " ho told his cousin, Mr B:>oji> -field. Ail through his life, iil.l t-h rough hit* works, ti":e novelist never tailed to show how deeply ho appreciated a gcod woman. Did he not write, : Can;*, ih'i-j, O frienilly reader, court upon ih' v fidelity of an artless heart, or lei'ili'V or true, and reckon ajnojif the blcssh::;*s which Heaven hath bestowed on thee, the lovt* of faithful v-cmrn'' Purify thine cwn heart, and tiy to make it. worthy of theirs. All the piizes -.: iite are nothing compared to 1 liar one. Ail the rewards of wealth, pleasure, only vanity and disappointinert, grasped at greedily and foil slit, for fiercely. ar,d over and over again found worthless by the weary winnci*. Min Thackeray survived her famous- husband, passine.- a\v;iy in Jannaiy. 1894. at the ago of 75. She was interred in the same gr.iv,-? with her husband in Kensal j Green Cemetery. A word or two as to j the children of the union. The eldest j daughter, Anne Isabella (now Lady Kichmond Ritchie), Lived to become: a F.uccespfu) novelist, .-end is still living; the second daughter died in infancy. Th" third diinghtc.r, Harriet Marion, married Leslie. .'.Stephen, who succeeded her father ae editor of the ' Cornhill Magazine.' Both *.ke and her husband have paeseel away FAME AT LAST. The- lir.-t monthly part of 'Vanity Fair' was published in January, 1847. A& I write I have, before me orio of the once f;imi!iar yellow wrappers in which the monthly parts were clothed. Dickens's " green leaves " had for yeji.rs been memorable—La that same month the fourth number of ' Dombey and Son' mado its appearance^ —and Dickens's latest Christmas Book, 'The Battle of Life,' had been out about a month. 'Vanity Fair' was written in the house, in Young street, Kensington, whore Thackeray was now living/ Years nflerwarJs, when parsing this houso with J. T. Fields, hi? American publisher, Thackeray i.-. eaid t-> have exclaimed : "Go down on your knees, you rogue, lor hero 'Vanity Fair' was penned, and I will go down with you, for 1 have, a. high opinion of that little production myself/' At first the story caused no great sensation. Many of Thackeray's friends, indoed, much preferred his ' Burlesque Novels,' then appearing in 'Punch' under the jreneral title of • ' Punch's Prize Noveliste.' The«> brilliant- parodies woie. of course, the forefathers of similar productions by Bret Hart* and Frank Burrvwd. The best, poxhapii, is ' Codiiugsby,'

" dependent upon ' Fraser's Magazine' and ' Punch' for his livelihood : he stood forward as a great novelist, the equal of the groat humorist whom lie eo much admired." The great humorist was, of course, Dickens, to whom success had come so much earlier. I may here interpolate the old story, told by Thackeray himself, at the Royal Academy dinner in 1858, of how he had offered himself as successor to Seymour, who had committed suicide after doing the illustrations for the iirst one or two numbers of the ' Pickwick Papers': I can remember, when Mr Dickens was a very young man. and had commenced delighting the world with tome charming humorous works in covers which came out once a month, that thus young man wanted an artist to illustrate his writings, and I remember 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 Ktri table. (To bo continued.)