THE THACKERAY CENTENARY.

Evening Star, Issue 14625, 22 July 1911, Page 4

THE THACKERAY CENTENARY.

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY (July 18, 1811—December 24, 1863.) THE MAN AND HIS WOEKS. [By Chabi.es Wttsos, Parliamentary Librarian.) THACKERAY THE POET. THACKERAY'S BALLADS. Almost as strong a feature of his youthful affections as his love of sketching was his delight in the making of verses. And what were his yoiithi'td hobbies remained the favorite pastimes of manhood. As a mere child he. wrote " nonsense rhymes ' which would hive delighted Edward Lear or Lewis Carroll. He not only sketched real or imaginary nursery heroes and heroines, but, emulating the example of the immortal Silas W r egi, "dropped into verse" about them. Some of these amusing juvenilia have been piously preserved by Lady Ritchie. As. for example: "Little Miss Perkins Much loved pickled gherkins. And- went to the cupboard and stole some : But they gave her such pain, She ne'er ate them a>rain, She found them so shocking unwholesome. When at Charterhouse he parodied the thLn highly popular' Violets' of that sickly sentimental poet "L.E.L." (Letitia Landon). who, by the way, made a conquest of Dickens's" friend, the highly prosaic John Forster; and at Cambridge, most of his contributions to ' The Snob ' and ' The Gownsman' were in verse. Later on he wrote ballads, imitations of or translations from the French, and verses innumerable. Seldom did he write verse in other but lighter vein. He knew his limitations, and strictly observed them As he one-? said to Frederic Locket (af .rards Locker Lampson), the author of ' London Lyrics,' and the iathsr-in-law of Augustine Birrell. of ' Obiter Dicta' and political fame : " T have a sixpenny talent (or gift), and so have von; ours is small beer, but, you see, it is the right tap." And that it was a food, wholesome, sound beverage all who now 'Le Roi dYvetot," 'The Ballad of Bouillabaisse,' and the ever-memorable 'Old Mahogany Tree' will, I feel sure, most cheeriullv testify. Although a most devoted Tha-ckerayan, I confess 1 have not much "time for"—to use a hateful but useful American colloquialism—' The Chronicle of the Drum,' and 'The Legend of St. Sophia of Kioff' is a mere second-! sate variant of an Ingoldsby theme. But now deftly, and neatly, and gracefully does Thackeray give the lull savor of Beram;er in his translation of * Le Roi d'Yvetot'; but how simple, and honest, and telling is tho pathos of ' The Garret' : Let us be gono—the place is sad and strange— How far, far off, these happy times appear ; Ail that I have to live I'd gladly change For one such month as I have wasted here— To draw long dreams of beauty, love, and power From founts of hope that never trill outrun, And drink all life's quintessence in an hour, Give me the days when I was twentyone ! 'THE BALLAD OF BOUTLLEBALSSE.' The d.iys when Thackeray, if not exactly either having "vingt-et-un ans" or living in the "' Orenior" mad-; 1' famous by Boranger, was leading a semi-Bohemian life in Paris, were constantly recurring to him. How delightful his chronicling, in 'The Ballad of the Bouillehaisse.' the gustatory joys in which he took part at the dingy but cosy little restaurant in the Rue Xeuve des Petits Champs, where he first sampled the curious de'icacy, half soup, half stew, which is sujl the pride ot the Marseiliais. I cannot refrain join quoting two verses: This Boailkbai:-se a nnoie dish is— A sort of s-jup. or broth, or brew. Or hotchpotch of all sorts of fishes, That Greenwich never could out-do. t'lreen herbs, red pepper, mussels, saffron, S-iles. onions, garlic, reach, and dr.ee; Ail these yon c:it at Terre's tavern In thru "one dt-.h of Bouillobaisse. .-fere. too. is a note of st-mi-meLinehcly .aomory, so curiously present—;os I have

mentioned above —in eo much of' Thackeray'* work : Where are yon, old companions truety, Of early days met here to dine ? Come, waiter! quick, a flagon crusty— I'll pledge them in the good old wine. The kind old voices and old faces

My memory can quick retrace; Around the board they take their places. And eharc the wine and Bouillabaisse. "THE CANE-BOTTOM'D CHAIR." ' Th" Ballads of Policeman X' and ' Peg oi Limavaddy ' (tho latter reminiecent not a little of Lover) have their admirers, but to «e Thackeray's versicaj masterpiece mrwl ever be accounted the famous ' Cane bottom'd Chair,' with its suggestion of Bohemianjem, its pleasant lilt 1 , 0 and its homely, kindly philosophy. How well does it open :

In tattered old slippers that toaet at the bars, And a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars. Away from the world and its toils and its cares. I've a snug little kingdom up four flights of stair*. In s-ueh a retreat, no doubt, did George Warrington receive that, then immaculate dandy. Mr Arthur Pendennis. Fitting scene for friendly converse and interchange of wit and humor : Long, long through the honrs, and tho night, and the chimes, Here we talk of old books, and old friends, and old times, As we sit in a fcg made of rich Latakie, This chamber is pleasant to you, friend, and me. Af for the famous " cane-bottom'd chair," h-.-'e is its picture : But. of all the eh' ap treasures that garnish my ncet There's one that 1 love and I cherish the beet : For the finest of couches that's padded with hair. I never would change thee, my canobottom'd thair. j 'Tie a bandy-legged, high-shouldered, worm-eaten seat, With a creaking old back, and twisted old feat; " : But since the fair morning when Fanny sat there, I blees thee and love thee, old canebottom'd chair. j A poet in the hie first sense of the term j Thackeray may not have been, but ho en- I shrined wholesome, kindly thought* in j simply graceful language, and if he were j but a "mere rhymester." as some highly- j superior person, writing tho ether day in j a London paper ou Victorian verse, wrs j pleased to call him, all I can say is, would I that there were more of such rhymesters j with us to-day. I THE FULL TIDE OF SUCCESS, j •VANITY FAIR.' J To return to 'Vanity Fair,' never did! novel better display the versatility of an j author's talent. To discuss in detail its contents, or those of its successors, is i

beyond the scope of an ai-ticle snch as thLs. Well might Dickons say he would have to look out for his laurels, and 6et t owork to plan out that other great masterpiece, 'David Copperfieki.' A "novel without a hero," «t was entitled, but the lack of a hero may well be forgiven the story which enshrines the lives of those two so brilliantly contrasted heroines, the immortal Beckv Sharp and the gentle, over-trustful Amelia Sedley. The.e is not a weaklydrawn character in the book The pompous, purse-proud Osborne and his son, the conceited voting soldier; " poor old Dobbin"; Jos.' Sed'ley, the grizzling and amatory ex-C:dlector 'o f Boggley-wa'.lah ; the vulgar old miser Sir Pitt Crawley—the onlv character drawn " all from life" in the "book, so Thackeray was wont to declare ; the priggish younger Pitt Crawley, and hi-5 r-oapeiriaee brother Rawdon (whom, by the way," Charles Kingsdey once said he would have rather diawn than all his characters) ; the Marquis of Stcyne, the original of whom Mr Layard has recently proved could have been, none otner than the third Maiuuis of Heitford ("Gaunt House" is He'rtford Horse, in Manchester sqnarc) ; Mrs Peg?y O'Dowd ; Miss Pir.kerton, the school mistress: was ever such a rich collection of literary portraits? As for ;i * style, where is their a style to equal ;t—eo" confidently easy, so col'-jquial, and yet so distinguished? I'or dramatic power, take the famous sceno where Rs.rdon Crawley down Steyn, and the erring (was she really guilty?) wife cid-niri's her husband—'•strong, brave, vicioiicvs !'' Where is there in English, or any ether fiction, its superior? For humor. hr"> anyone better d the scenes at Queen'? Crawley, where Becky acts the d"mare little governess? For pathos, find me a passage to equal that with which closes the 52nd chapter—the Waterloo chapter, tho passage which rune :

Xo more firing was heard at Brussels —the pursuit, rolled miles away. Darkness came down on the fi>kl end the city: and Am lia wa,= praying for George, who was lying on his face, dtttd, with a bullet through his heart.

Xo. Thackeray had now indeed " found nimself." With 'Vanity Fair' came an end to hack work, to disappointment*, and stragglings. Thenceforward his was th? " primrose path," and right well had he earned the right to triad it.

'PENDENNIS.' ' Pendennis,' the first number of which appeared in November, 1848. may havr its longueurs—Tlnckeray himself admitted that in the later chapters the interest not a little—bnt after ' Varity Fair' is is my favorite, as it must be that )f all who have ever dabbled in journalism. It is largely autobiographical. Whether Thackeray, in that interval between Charterhouse and Cambridge, of which I have written above, ever made an ass of himself, as did poor Pen, is not recorded, but it is quite possible that he may have personally known a Miss Fotheringay, and as for " Costigan," read the Roundabout Paper' 'De Finibus.' and yon will eee how the bibulous old " Cos" originated. Pen's journalistic erpwiencos in the Temple were no doubt based on those of Thackeray in his earlier " freelancing" days, the "Coal Hole" the author knew full well, being a frequent pnt-on : Bungay and Bacon, the rival publishers, were drawn from living originals, so Thackeray told Mr J. T. Field. As for Major Pendennis and that delightful rascal Morgan the valet, Thackeray, who knew all sides of London life, had met, no dnubl:, their originals. The genial and simple Harry Foker was drawn, it is n-.-w ?.n open secret, from a Garrick Club acquaintance, a Mr Arcedeckne, whoso rather riotous humor used to get on the novelist's nerves. Of Arcedeckne it is related that when Thackeray asked him bis opinion of his first lecture on 'The En.dish Hrmorists,' he replied: "It is all right, Thack, my boy; but I tell you what, you want a piano!" 'Pendennis' may "drag" a little, but what a host of good characters it contains. Little Bows, the fiddler, who worshipped the Fotheringay from afar; and the sentimental French chef, Miraholant; and Blanche Amory, of " Mes T.'rmcs" fame, the 'Becky Sharp," as it ■■'■■■r.., of t'v novel: and George Warringtor: r,r>d "ptrr ' t-1 e flirting Fanny Boltoc '; and t'"- r:-:i?r stagy AHomount; and—l must nc; :• .get him—that jolly old philosor>hiral -idventurer, the Chevalier Strong—are all characters not easily forgotten. The selfish worldliness of Major I'endennis haa be«n condemned by the ■"oralists, but both here and in Pea the Younger Thackeray drew men as ha had -net and knew them, and, after all, there ere streaks of goodness in the Major, nd as for Pen, ne made Laura Bell an xcellent husband. In 'Pendennis,' as in 'Vanity Fair,' there were those who found i "cruel cynicism," but there is a true pathos in many a of both, and 1 for one feci no shame in making the ■nfession that I caunot read of the death : Helen Pendennis without a chokey feeing in my thioat. (To ba continued.)