Year: 1876

The first profession he proposed to
himself seems to have been that OF an
artist, and his first books, even after the
pen gained the day over the pencil, were
illustrated by himself. From art he nat
urally strayed into writing, working at
both together for many Of the best years
OF his life, writing for the papers like his
own Warrington, and forming that light
opinion OF the powers OF those who
did so, which he afterward embodied
in the talk OF his favorite character
ing that curious amalgamation OF
the two crafts which no one had done
more completely than himself-the lit
erature picture in words, the picture a
piece Of literary composition and he
had worked In this way for years with
out ever, coming to any particular sue
cess, when 'yanity Fair" suddenly
burst forth, convincing all fit critics
In u moment that here was a work of
genius. Without any further delay or
question he came at once to the very
highest rank, with but two rivals who
could keep level ground with him-the
fine imagination OF the late Lord Lyt-
ton, and the lower yet popular and
undeniable genius Of Dickens. or these
three Thackeray was the one who
carried himself most entirely into his
work. He had the variety, the change
ableness, the power Of rapid trans
formation which is to be found only
by turns humorous, contemptuous,
laughing philosopher, a cynic; yet with
u vein Of pathos infinitely touching and
true, which went to the hearts OF his
readers. The common place was not In
him. Whenever he looked at scene II
began to twinkle all over with lamps OF
meaning, CLEANS Of humor and fun
that lit up the landscape, and sudden
tears that fell before you knew, and,
before you knew, were dried by as sud
den laughter. He loved the paradoxes
Of nature too we'll, perhaps, to content
at least at the outset, the matter fact
reader; and he had u pleasure in show.
ing not only what lingerings Of tender
ness and good feeling there might be In
some disreputable sinner, but what fool,
ishness and pettiness mightdw In the
bOsOms OF good men.


This latter popularity made him often
misunderstood by those innocent critics
who are more fond OF abstract virtue In
a book than of the real weakness and
shadows Of humanity-or who. ut least
insist upon some one exhibition OF ar
authors faith In the ideal.


There il something unusually touch
ing In the publication at this especia
moment OF the book Of sketches repro
duced from the scraps and fragments
which Thackeray left behind him. It Il
not tho great author, the social philoso
pher and moralist, the famous writer o
novels, the cynic, as some men think
him, but domestic figure, all softened
mellowed and Illuminated by tender
lights Of love, which appear to us in this
volume with genial smile and playfu
looks, kindest. gentlest, most indul
gent Of men, my father" no other Il
tie thought OF. His children were move
ure at the publication OF book profess
ing to contain his drawings and callet
by his name, in which much eXtraneOu
matter was mixed up, and youthful
scribbles that did him no manner o
jsutice. After they had undertaken this
gentle revenge upon the intruders wht
attempted to eLplotter his memory, th'
work grew upon them, charming then
with a thousand soft recollections o
their own early days and his constan
tenderness. The consultations and ar
rangements, and anxious selection O
what was best, the oversight and care
required to make sure that the repro
duction was MS perfect as possible
charmed and interested beyond measure
the two whom he had left behind, and t.
whom he had been the most beloved
and playful companion a5 we'll as thu
kindest OF fathers. What talks
there were Of the past, what font
thoughts and natural tears, out OF which
time had taken the bitterness Alas
before the book came to the world there
was but one left to look over, with [
pang of renewed and added anguish, thu
records OF the old life, Of which sh'
alone remained the sole survivor Like
her father, though many. years younger
out Of her happiness and hopes, in thu
flush Of womanly maturity and domes
tic blessedness. Thackeray's yOunges
daughter, Mrs. Leslie Stephen. has beer
taken away like him, the abrupt mes
senger coming to her, also, like a THE
in the night. And now what the tw'
planned and guided to the verge OF pub
iication, the one puts silently forth int
the world. Amore touching monumen
OF the little group now severed, fathe
and daughters, just caught In their 90
mestic life by that side CLEAN OF fame
which reveals, without profaning tn
sanctity Of the now vacant home, coul'
not by possibility be given to the public


pAv rup CEHTEN<IAL