The great event of the last few years of Thackeray's life was the starting of the 'Cornhill Magazine,' the first number of which, with the date of January 1860, appeared shortly before Christmas in the previous year. The great success which Charles Dickens had met with in conducting his weekly periodical perhaps first suggested the project of this new monthly magazine, with Thackeray for editor. But few expected a design so bold and original as they found developed by the appearance of Number 1. The contents were by contributors of first-rate excellence; the quantity of matter in each was equal to that given by the old-established magazines published at half-a-crown, while the price of the 'Cornhill,' as everyone knows, was only a shilling. The editor's ideas on the subject of the new periodical were explained by him some weeks before the commencement in a characteristic letter to his friend, G. H. Lewes, which was afterwards adopted as the vehicle of announcing the design to the public.
The first number contained the commencement of that series of 'Roundabout Papers' in which we get so many interesting glimpses of Thackeray's personal history and feelings, and also the opening chapters of his story of 'Lovel the Widower.' The latter was originally written in the form of a comedy, entitled 'the Wolf and the Lamb,' which was intended to be performed during the management of Wigan at the Olympic Theatre, but was finally declined by the latter. Thackeray, we believe, acquiesced in the unfavourable judgment of the practical manager upon the acting qualities of his comedy, and resolved to throw it into narrative form, in the story with which his readers are now familiar. This was not the first instance of his writing for the stage. If we are not mistaken, the libretto of John Barnett's popular opera of the 'Mountain Sylph,' produced nearly forty years since, was from his pen. In the 'Cornhill' also appeared his story of 'Philip on his Way through the World.' The scenes in this are said to have been founded in great part upon his own experiences; and there can be no doubt that the adventures of Philip Firmin represent, in many respects, those of the Charterhouse boy who afterwards became known to the world as the author of 'Vanity Fair.' But in all such matters it is to be remembered that the writer of fiction feels himself at liberty to deviate from the facts of his life in any way which he finds necessary for the development of his story. Certainly the odious stepfather of Philip must not be taken for Thackeray's portrait of his own stepfather, towards whom he always entertained feelings of respect and affection.
We may also remind our readers that the 'Lectures on the Four Georges' first appeared in print in the 'Cornhill.' The sales reached by the earlier numbers were enormous, and far beyond anything ever attained by a monthly magazine; even after the usual subsidence which follows the flush of a great success, the circulation had, we believe, settled at a point far exceeding the most sanguine hopes of the projectors.
These fortunate results of the undertaking were, however, not without serious drawbacks. The editor soon discovered that his new position was in many respects an unenviable one. Friends and acquaintances, not to speak of constant readers and 'regular subscribers to your interesting magazine,' sent him bushels of manuscripts, amongst which it was rare indeed to find one that could be accepted. Sensitive poets and poetesses took umbrage at refusals, however kindly and delicately expressed. 'How can I go into society with comfort?' asked the editor of a friend at this time. 'I dined the other day at ——'s, and at the table were four gentlemen whose masterpieces of literary art I had been compelled to decline with thanks.' Not six months had elapsed before he began to complain of 'thorns' in the editorial cushion. One lady wrote to entreat that her article might be inserted, on the ground that she had known better days, and had a sick and widowed mother to maintain; others began with fine phrases about the merits and eminent genius of the person they were addressing. Some found fault with articles, and abused contributor and editor. An Irishman threatened proceedings for an implied libel in 'Lovel the Widower' upon ballet-dancers, whom he declared to be superior to the snarlings of dyspeptic libellers, or the spiteful attacks and brutum fulmen of ephemeral authors. This gentleman also informed the editor that theatrical managers were in the habit of speaking good English, possibly better than ephemeral authors.
It was chiefly owing to these causes that Thackeray finally determined to withdraw from the editorship of the magazine, though continuing to contribute to it and take an interest in its progress. In an amusing address to contributors and correspondents, dated March 18, 1862, he made known this determination; and in the same address he announced that, while the tale of 'Philip' had been passing through the press, he had been preparing another, on which he had worked at intervals for many years past, and which he hoped to introduce in the following year.
Falling foul of the Skirts
In a pecuniary sense the 'Cornhill Magazine' had undoubtedly proved a fortunate venture for its editor. It was during his editorship that he removed from his house, No. 36 Onslow Square, in which he had resided for some years, to the more congenial neighbourhood of the Palace at Kensington, that 'Old Court Suburb' which Leigh Hunt has gossiped about so pleasantly. Thackeray took upon a long lease a somewhat dilapidated mansion, on the west side of Kensington Palace Gardens. His intention was to repair and improve it, but he finally resolved to pull it down and build another in its stead. The new house, a handsome, solid mansion of choice red brick with stone facings, was built from a design drawn by himself; and in this house he continued to reside till the time of his death. 'It was,' says Hannay, 'a dwelling worthy of one who really represented literature in the great world, and who, planting himself on his books, yet sustained the character of his profession with all the dignity of a gentleman. A friend who called on him there from Edinburgh, in the summer of 1862, knowing of old his love of the Venusian, playfully reminded him of what Horace says of those who, regardless of their sepulchre, employ themselves in building houses: