OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
A Collection of Thackeray's Letters (1847 to 1855. Smith & Elder).—It must have cost Mrs. Brookfield a good deal of mental anxiety before she decided upon giving publicity to this correspondence. But she has undoubtedly done well and wisely, as everybody interested in the personal Thackeray, outside and away from his works, will gratefully acknowledge. Thackeray was always fond of alluding to himself as the Showman with the puppets, or portraying himself as taking off the cap-and-bells when, from behind the grinning mask, peep out the sad eyes and the rueful countenance. Now in these Letters we are sometimes admitted behind the scenes, as, for instance, when he is just going to work; but, as a rule, we see him in his leisure, out for a holiday, amusing himself and others, and enjoying himself like an overgrown schoolboy full of fun and frolic, not a bit of a cynic, and there are no sad eyes and rueful countenance when the mask is off. The peculiar charm of these Letters is that they are so evidently private; there is nothing of the poseur about them. They were never intended to be addressed urbi et orbi.
One favourite style of amusing himself in writing he had, which, by the way, rather calls to mind the way Mr. Peter Magnus had of amusing his friends, and that was mis-spelling, and spelling in Cockney fashion. How he must have revelled in writing Jeames's Diary! The burlesque element of humour was irrepressible in Thackeray, and found vent through pen and pencil. Nearly all his sketches, with remarkable exceptions, are, more or less, grotesque. Many of his Vignettes, with which he illustrated his novels, cannot fail to suggest a kind of Dicky-Doyleian humour. Two characteristics of the man are brought out strongly in these letters; first, his humility as regards his own work (he was proud in other matters), and, secondly, his generosity as exhibited in his unaffected admiration for the work of Charles Dickens.
Occasionally we catch a glimpse of his religious tendencies, which are at one time influenced by J. H. Newman, at another by J. S. Mill; and it is interesting to read his naïve utterances about Scripture, showing that whatever lectures he may have attended at Cambridge, those on Divinity, or on the Greek Testament, could not have been among them. And this indeed is highly probable. His kindness of heart is evident throughout. His laughing at himself as a Snob when affecting the company of great people is delightful, though there seems to be in this self-ridicule something of the true word spoken in jest. He makes a burlesque flourish—so like him—about sending in "his resignation" to Mr. Punch. As a matter of fact, he remained an honorary member of Mr. Punch's Cabinet Council, and retained his seat at Mr. Punch's table, up to the time of his death. The present writer remembers William Makepeace Thackeray being frequently present in Mr. Punch's Council Chamber, Consule Marco. A most interesting, amusing, and instructive book, especially to literary men—(some novelists must be delighted at finding Thackeray reading over the previous portions of his own serial in order to recall the names of his characters, and his frantic joy at hitting on the title of Vanity Fair)—is this collection of Thackeray's Letters. To Mrs. Brookfield our heartiest thanks are due.
Like and Unlike. By Miss Braddon. Everybody who cares about a novel with a good plot so well worked out that the excitement is kept up through the three volumes and culminates with the last chapter of the story, must "Like" and can never again "Unlike," this the latest and certainly one of the best of Miss Braddon's novels. Miss Braddon is our most dramatic novelist. Her method is to interest the reader at once with the very first line, just as that Master-Dramatist of our time Dion Boucicault would rivet the attention of an audience by the action at the opening of the piece, even before a line of the dialogue had been spoken. This authoress never wastes her own time and that of her reader, by giving up any number of pages at the outset to a minute description of scenery, to a history of a certain family, to a wearisome account of the habits and customs of the natives, or to explaining peculiarities in manners and dialect which are to form one of the principal charms of the story. No: Miss Braddon is dramatic just as far as the drama can assist her, and then she is the genuine novelist. A few touches present her characters living before the reader, and the story easily developes itself in, apparently, the most natural manner possible. Like and Unlike will make many people late for dinner, and will keep a number of persons up at night when they ought to be soundly sleeping. These are two sure tests of a really well-told sensational novel. Vive Miss Braddon!
Your Own Book-Worm.