LORD ROSEBERY ON THACKERAY.

Dominion, Volume 4, Issue 1210, 19 August 1911, Page 9

LORD ROSEBERY ON THACKERAY.

- • i. good .'deal was said and written lasi month about Thackeray'in celebration of his centenary, but not enough to iexcuso the overlooking of a brilliant address by Lord Kosobery at the opening. of the, exhibition of Thackeray relics at the Char, terhonie. He said:— It is not .easy from tho din and unrest of a Coronation to bring ouriolves back "to th-a cool and quiet of a library, and contemplate tho figure nnd works of a man,of letters,'even if he be. a man of geniu>. Yet that is our business to-day; to bring back our minds to such a pereonagc, and to wander about a little museum of relics that may refresh our memories. Celebrations of this kind may become to somo extent vulgarised. They should- almost bo divided into classes, first, second, third, or the like, for wo live in tho ago'ofcentenaries. Two of • them overlap this year. , tliß'anniversaries of the two' great humorists who were among the chief glories of the reign 6f,'Yictoria, who'lived/into the times':-of middle-aged nieirof'tho-prescrit dnyvittfd" who have been the delight of three generations.' I'.mcan, of course, Dickens and Thackeray., Tb.ey, are already ranked among the immortals,, go: that. this ; first century is only an instalment" of their liyes. They ar.o.jwmWdjwM .th&gods, tltough it isf. profJalllcSfthaf fnl&f offiffsb of. time their liumour may 'evaporate pilose its savour,.and our descendants will examine it with critical curiosity to know what it was-that so delighted-their .ancestors, much as we read Scarron or Babclais. But their names irill survive, as representing two mighty inllucnces in tho civilised world. 'AN INTELLECTUAL AND PHYSICAL GIANT. Thackeray was born in India, a circumstance which'had some influence-'on one of-his .books,'and ou .his way home he- saw' the distant, form , , of -Napoleon. Then, though with, a name eminently' Etonian, he went to Charterhouse gathering impressions valuable, hut not always pleasant, and a permanent one of a fist which broke his nose. (Laughter.) He passed fitfully through. Trinity College, Cambridge, led a Bohemian lifo in Paris and in Germany, where he saw Goethe in the flesh, and ended that phase of: his life by lbsing his patrimony at tho gambling table, or in tho not less precarious hazard of a newspaper. This deplorable incident, which he may well have viewed with despair, was perhaps his salvation, as we have always entertained a suspicion.that an opulent Thackeray would havo produced Aio "Vanity Fair," for- he was naturally indolent— almost as indolent as Thomson—and sensitive—almost as sensitive as Keats—two great hindrances to , 'successful production. Finally he settled down and married happily, a brief happiness; and became a father, a lifelong ]oy. For his wife and children' he had to work. At the age of thirty-five he produc-ss his masterpiece, claims his scat on Olympus. Henceforth all is honour and success. He strays for a moment into polities, lured by tho strange fascination which has beguiled so many men of litcrarv fame and pow-er. But that is his only aberration. (Laughter.) , Ho enjoys some sixteen years of celebrity, and dies prematurely at the age of 'fifty-two. To judge by tho immense number of portraits .which appear to. exist of him he must have impressed his' contemporaries to a- singular degree. His.was indeed a.comniaudiiig figure, for ho was physically- as well as intellectually, a'giant, and artists have been emulous to portray that towering form surmounted by tire leohino head and illuminated by tho ' inseparable . spectacks which seemed to peer into the coro of tho human heart. "As.to his personality ono woutd surmise that he was rather beloved than popular—enthusiastically boloved by his children and friends, a little alarming to acquaintances. ... "VANITY FAIe!" . . •' Among his books there is 'ono that towers above the rest, for "Vanity Fair" appears'to many of us the most fulli and various novel in tho English language— .not tho most perfect, , that epithet belongs to "Tom Jones"; not faultless, for tho titular hero and hereiuo aro flavourless and insipid; but tho richest, tho most iuterestins. • tho most piquant. (Cheers.) He could live , by. it; had hn written nothing else, just as ll>f. Gaskcll could have lived by "Craiifortl," or Dickens by "Pickwick." When 1 a genius writes fnr his livelihood there.'must be inequality of "production. It" is the genius that writes for pleasure, as thn inspiration conies, as the humour strikes, like divine Miss Austen, or Gray tho pect. who maintains a serene level approaching perfection. Even the gigantic Sir Walter, labouring with a hundred pen-power to rear a castle or remove a mountain of debt, lias to produce /volumes, as it were, from hand to mouth, not always with success. When a man. however, produces a book like "Vanity Fair" he accomplishes much more than "the mero presentation of a supreme work. He gives the world a new standpoint, a new method,' new perceptions a new style. All that he may write, afterwards is only the 'development of this first'revelation. Ho s-cts u mark on his age- by his masterpiece; what ho liinv do afterwards is only to stamn and rnlj it in. The .attraction in "Vanity rair".is all to'vice; virtue sits gloomily in a irnrb of whitoy-brown. -.ord Stc-yne, Sir l'at-t" C'rnwley, the coarse lyriuit, Osborne, the incomparable Iteck'y herself— thpso are the indelible characters which loom largo in the book,' and obscure the limp Amelia and the shadowy Dobbin. Lady Jane, indeed, wi the virtuous Mde EC-ems 'preferable to either the vapid hpro (though a hern is disclaimed in tho iitie) ami the impalpable heroine. It is nlmo*t pathetic to note the total failure of Amelia and tho elaborate pains that Thackeray takes with her. He sweats blood to rn.iko her interesting and attractive, but in vain. And yet ••Thackeray with a few strokes has drawn one woman in this book who is virtuous, attractive, delightful—Lady Jano Sheepshanks, who married the younger Sir I'itt. Dobbin

is littlo better than Amelia. Hβ is always thin and crushed and insipid, except when ho quarrels with Amelia, and brings her to heel. Lot us leave this tiresome pair, admirable foils of tho brilliant kuaves and vivid fools who surround them. • ■

BLEMISHES AND MEIUTS. ■ Why dwell ou these blemishes? Their very heinousness proves the greatness of the book. No other, book could liavo borne lightly and gallantly such a dead weight. And when we turn to the other side, how are wo to end in recording its merits? The admirable figures, the ominous play of features in every page, tho dramatic. power, the sublime scorn which governs and inspires tho book aro all admirable. How true and stirring are tho chapters on Brussels, the city which "Vanitv Fair" and "Villcttc" liavo combined to illustrate. How dramatically they close., "The darkness came down on tho field.and city, , nud Amelia was praying for Glcoree,' who was lying on his faco dead with a bullet through Ins heart." How • dramatic, again, is the scene with Lord Steyne, where Bawdon knocks him down, aud Becky, in her shame- and terror, "admires her husband —strong, brave, and victorious. It was ouco my fortime, .forty-fivo years ago, to hear Mr. Disraeli talk about the various representations of Lord Hertford in fiction. He enumerated Lord Steyno in "Vanity Fair," Lord Gnloseton in "Pelham,"- tfld his own. Lord Monmouth in i ("Coningsbj , '" He obviously, as was natural, preferred the last.- (Laughter.) Lord Hertford's character, he .said, was more subtle and refined than lord Steyne's i Lord Jiomuouth was the better portrait. Wβ who do not. know Lord Hertford are not called upon to judge. Probably neither Disraeli nor Thackeray ever saw Lord Hertford,, which makes the difference which we- find in tho delineations less' difficult to understand. (Laughter.) But. if Thackeray-in "Vanity-Fair accentuates the criminal aud the vile, how nobly .hbatoues in' "The Kewcomes, Hera you have tragedy sublime, a good man 'struggling .with" adversity, overwhelmed by the black clouds of-life and emerging., triumphant, .borne to the heavens 'in air unspeakable glamour of pathos. , ''As he: had depicted in "Vanity Fair" vice,-clever, , brilliant, and, on the whole, sympathetic,", so. in "Tho iNewcomes" he displayed an heroic, simple, almost apostolic character of chivalrous honour .which attracts the affection, of every reaSOT, • and remains supreme through all the pains and tribnlations of life... In the great country dance of fiction, when the characters cross hands in the Elvsian fields let us hope that Colonel Xcwcomn will' have Becky Sharp as u partner to represent' Thackeray s moal consummate creations. . (Cheers.) _ Esmond" is a great effort, a wonderful revival, a triumphant masquerade, but to me the plot is simply repulsive. Ten-, dennis" is full of light aud full of character. "The Virginians" -a bright story on a new scene—is n0t,.1 think, sufficiently appreciated. "The Great Hojflritrtv ■ Diamond , ' is'a. special favourite of-sonic of us as a simple story, full of fun and sprightliness, nbt" overlaid with discussion's and moralising, containing mx. of tho most touching -passages that Inacky-. ray ever • wrote, wrung out ol lus own sorrows. ' "THE BOOK' OF SXOBS." It may also fairly be remarked that. "Vanity Fair" and its,kindred fictions , of tho first class do not represent the only department of letters in which Thackoray left a masterpiece. There are at least two others to which he contributed ■original work of the highest merit: I mean the collection of essays called rho Book of Snobs" and "Tho Rose and thnKim?. , " This'last, as , a mere expression of geums, seems to mo to come- next to "Vanity Fair." The estimate irony and extravagance of this unique piecs would perhaps not have attracted adequate notice had it not had an illustrious nanfo .upon its title-page; but with that name] we..realise that this is : another facet of: the big diamond, .mid then we can fjive' , ourselves .up to purs enjoyment. That" enjoyment is the same whether the reader bo seven. or seventy, ami- Kvoy.s from tho one-, age to" the' r dth'c'f; v; '''Tn'ere is seldom a week spent with the human race iu which oria}doc» n'off rub . up against''"He: , Bobk-V of-. Snobs." This is not to x imply that one's sweet converse is with snobs—(laughter)—but it is to. indicate 'that the universal touches of nature constantly-remind-one of that shrewd little volume. The fact is that '"Tho Book of Snobs" is ill-named. It is not a book of snobs, but a book of imposters. The characters for the most part aro not snobs at all, and the snobs are chiefly female. The word hns-a curious history, and I am not sure that Thackeray himself understood it. Originally meaning a shoemaker and then a townsman as agaiflst a gownsman, at; the University it is-now, superseded'by; the modern and superior synonym of "bounder." (Laughter.)' But Thackeray interpreted it as ono who .meanly admires mean things. ■ That is far too capacious a definition. A snob is ono who basely aims at or apes social superiority., However wo may differ as to the category, this at least cannot bo. denied, that Thackeray as an essayist, whether on snobs or other topics, ranks among our creates!. There is, perhaps, no Englishman who can Woavo wit and allusion, and sarcasm, and knowledge of human nature into a poignant but delighifiil whole so deftly as he. That is; another aspect of his various and powerful genius, another art in which he may claim the highest rank.

POETRY AND DRAWINGS. ...'. Thoro aro also two other aspects of Thackeray's genius which are apt to bo overlooked in the general splendour of his other work—l mean his poetry and hi-3 drawings. Now these have bbth a quality in common—they lack form, but what is wanting in grace is made up in character. (Cheers.) . Thackeray is not reckoned among the poets, and yet his yorse hns the inexplicable knack of leaving a strong impression; it is terse,-vig-orous, and original. His real ambition was to be an,artist, but his literary genius was too strong for his art. It could only adequately, express itself in literature, and his pencil has to bo satisfied with rude, untutored, but linrtiistakablo force. So strong is the inspiration that it ovor-rides art. No one will deny to Thackeray tho rare and.priceless gift of genius. Ho produced what many 'would call the greatest novel in our language; certainty, one would say, the first or second. ' His penetration, his humour, his imagination formed an immense combination of ciualities, and when ho choseto- touch the nofo his pathos rings true. His strength lay iii dealing with the. middle class, their foibles and ambitions; he loved, too, to dwell on Bohemia and its inhabitants, boasting that he had lived in Bohemia all his life. But the idea of titular rank drove him off his balance, tho sight of a coronet made him run amuck with a scourge, and the specimens which received the lash well deserved punishment, if they ever existed. (Laughtor.) He, himself, secretly sensitive as. a now-born child, could pick out all the tenderest places with a whip. And so with all these, priceless gifts ho bequeathed a range of works all brilliant and all interesting. It is difficult to name any writer of fiction who lias produced so much on so high a level of interest and power Ihoush he nrmwilrd nn doubt to a much smaller audience, than Dickens. But that war. natural, and inherent in .the work of the two men-it is no disparagement to Thackeray. If one .must critieiss nuo would say that his point of view was a little monotonous. One sometimes foelfi that ono knows what he is going to sav, or tint what he. is-snyin«t.hc has 'laid "morn than once before. Onn may also reiiret that he' lacks the realism of Defoe, that he delights tno much in beill" Ho showman and th* ttioinlisf, in bvn discourses on life and morals and in handing out his puppets for tho insnnctinn of tho audience, Inst they should be mistaken for real figures; all this to |.l lc . disivira"oni! , nt of the story it=«-lf. Every author "who is worth his. salt must be conscious' of I'is own .shortcomings; ho must always bo aware of inaileqiiiicy; he must sometimes feel that. if he wrote nil tho book over asain it would bo bolter done, ami even then ho may be \nm». THE TWO MESSAGES. ■' . But who are we that wp should crilieiso? Let us be grateful am! enjoy. Lot us ho grataful for tho imagination which inspires, and for the labour which completes, and embmlirs imagination. Let us unreservedly enjoy the wit. the romance, and tho pungent perception. Let us remomber with thankfulness th? writer who bar. given us many happy, hours constantly renewed, and who, if ho has not achieved an impossible perfection or pro diiccd a mass of virgin gold without dros?i has produced supremo and precious work. Lot us TeniL-mbcr. 100. tire simplicity and purity of his gospel. Let us never forget

th&t in his sinceresfc moods ho always inculcated charity in its largest sense,] that that was his deepest, innermost note; and that he was tho immortal enemy of imposture' and hypocrisy.in every form. "Ee-rasez I'infnme" was as. much his motto as it" was Voltaire's, but with him the infamous reptile to lie crushed was humbug., Thosa were his two' mes?a*cs—hatred of all that was false, charity human and divine; and though the first may sometimes have clouded over tho second, the last was strong, penetrating, and profound. "1 think, please Uod, my books are written by a God-loving man,.and tho morality—tho vanity of success and sr> forth, of all but love and goodness—is not that the teaching of Domini Nostri?" he wrote towards the end of his life, and wo join with him in thinking-that the better' his teachiuß ia known the loftier it will appear. He stands square to posterity as a great figure of rich genius and honest purpose, • a purpose occasionally obscured by tho force of .imagination, and the irresistible promptings of humour, weighing mankind in a gloomy .balance but-not without hope; and .bequeathing to us rich and various ■ treasures of literature, which may. well survive if anything' survives. (Cheers.)