The Third Marquis of Hertford when Lord Yarmouth.(From the coloured caricature by Richard Dighton)
It is, however, only fair to state that Lord Hertford was probably by no means the unmitigated scoundrel that those familiar with the “Marquis of Steyne” might be led to suppose. That he participated in all the amusements and most of the follies of a notorious society there can be little doubt. At the same time, we have it on record (in the somewhat pompous diction of the period) that he was extensively read in ancient and modern literature, that his judgment was remarkable for its solidity and sagacity, and that his {25} conversation was enlivened by much of that refined and quaint pleasantry which distinguished his near relative, Horace Walpole. He was a distinguished patron of all the arts; and those who were more intimately acquainted with his private life gave him the still higher praise of being a warm, generous, and unalterable friend. “It is but justice to add,” to quote the final words of the notice referred to, “that the writer has accidentally become acquainted with instances of his Lordship’s benevolence, the liberality of which was equalled only by the delicacy with which it was conferred, and the scrupulous care with which he endeavoured to conceal it.”
The caricature portrait of the third Marquis here reproduced was etched, as will be seen, by Richard Dighton in 1818, when this Marquis’s father was alive, and he was only the Earl of Yarmouth. The watermark on the paper is 1826, which explains the inscription “Marquis of Hertford,” evidently a later addition—an ex post facto puzzle which proved insoluble until it occurred to me to hold the portrait up to the light.
CHAPTER III THE SUPPRESSED PORTRAIT OF DICKENS, “PICKWICK,” “THE BATTLE OF LIFE,” AND GRIMALDI
HAVING dealt in the last chapter with the suppression of the well-known Thackeray wood-cut of the “Marquis of Steyne,” we naturally turn next in order to the other great Victorian novelist, Charles Dickens. Much, of course, has been written about the Buss plates in Pickwick, and much about the “Fireside Scene” in Oliver Twist. All readers of Forster’s Life of Charles Dickens know something of the wood engraving in The Battle of Life which ought to have been, but never was, cancelled; and some know what to look for in the vignette title of Martin Chuzzlewit. It is, however, time that the scattered details should be grouped, that reproductions of the plates themselves should make reference easy to those {27} who would identify their possessions, and that the additional information which is in some cases scattered about in various impermanent writings of my own and others should be focussed for the greater convenience of the collector.
In the first place, I shall present to the reader a suppressed portrait of the great novelist, which has, I believe, never since been reproduced. It was published about the year 1837 by Churton, but as to the name of the artist by whom it was etched there is a mystery which yet awaits solution. The plate is, as will be noticed, signed with the familiar pen-name “Phiz,” but was almost immediately repudiated by the chartered bearer of that title, H. K. Browne. It was promptly withdrawn from publication, and is now, as a necessary consequence, much sought after by the collector.[10] Of it the author of Charles Dickens, the Story of his Life, writes:
A very remarkable [portrait] was etched about 1837 with the name “Phiz” at the foot. It represents Dickens {28} seated on a chair and holding a portfolio. In the background a Punch-and-Judy performance is going on. The face has none of that delicacy and softness about it which are observable in the Maclise portrait. It looks, however, more like the real young face of the older man, as revealed in the photograph now publishing [i.e. just after Dickens’s death]. This portrait is very rare, and it is understood that it was withdrawn from publication soon after it appeared. Mr. Hablot K. Browne, the genuine “Phiz,” denies all knowledge of it.
[10] Since writing this, I have experienced a piece of scurvy luck. Entering a shop in the outskirts of Birmingham, I saw an impression of the etching lying on a table. I inquired its price and was met by the answer that it had just been sold to a lady for eighteenpence!
The Hotten memoir thus whets the appetites of its readers, but does not offer to satisfy them by a reproduction. This obvious duty I therefore here take the opportunity of discharging, and would advise the book-hunter to make a mental note of the etching in that pix of the brain where is secreted the reagent which separates the rare gold of the bookseller’s threepenny box from its too ordinary dross. The reproduction here given is about the size of the original etching.