In the eighteenth number of the 'National Standard' (May 4) we recognise Thackeray's pencil in a very fair cut of Louis Philippe—quite in the style of his contributions to 'Punch' some ten years later. The likeness is undoubtedly good and characteristic. Le roi des Français is straddling in an undignified attitude—the fair lily of France is trodden under one of his clumsy feet; he wears an ill-fitting plain citizen suit; one hand is in his pocket, 'counting his money;' the other rests on his redoubtable umbrella, the favourite target of satirists.
In his beaver he sports the tricolor badge, 'like an overgrown pancake,' as the verses below declare. His face wears a truculent, soured, dissatisfied twist; 'no huzzas greet his coming,' we are informed.
'He stands in París as you see him before ye,
Little more than a snob. There's an end of the story.'
Number 19 of the journal opens with an address of decidedly Titmarshian turn, which tells the story of the new state of things pretty lucidly, and with a fine flush of spirits.
Under the heading of this 'National Standard' of ours there originally appeared the following: 'Edited by F. W. N. Bayley,[6] Esq., the late Editor and Originator of "The National Omnibus," the first of the cheap Publications: assisted by the most eminent Literary Men of the Day.'
'Now we have changé tout cela: no, not exactly tout cela, for we still retain the assistance of a host of literary talent; but Frederick William Naylor Bayley has gone. We have got free of the Old Bailey and changed the governor. Let it not be imagined for a moment that we talk in the slightest disparagement of our predecessor in office; on the contrary, we shall always continue to think him a clever fellow, and wish him all kinds of success in the war he is carrying on against Baron Dimsdale. He apparently has exchanged the pen for the sword.
'Having the fear of the fate of Sir John Cam Hobhouse before our eyes, we give no pledges, expressed or understood, as to the career which it is our intention to run. We intend to be as free as the air. The world of books is all before us where to choose our course. Others boast that they are perfectly independent of all considerations extraneous to the sheet in which they write, but none we know of reduce that boast to practice: we therefore boast not at all. We promise nothing, and if our readers expect nothing more, they will assuredly not be disappointed.'
A remarkably well-executed portrait of Braham, the singer, appears in the number. The eminent vocalist's rotund figure is dressed in stage-nautical fashion, with a tremendously striped shirt, rolling collar, sailor's knot, no waistcoat, jacket and short trousers, hose, and pumps with buckles; his somewhat coarse Israelitish caput is hit off with truth and spirit; over his head is a glory formed of a jew's-harp encircled in bays; he is before a theatrical background. A dealer in old clo', of the singer's nationality, crowned with triple hats, and carrying the professional bag, is introduced beneath a feudal castle. Below the portrait is a sonorous parody of one of Wordsworth's sonnets, attributing to Braham the 'majesty and loveliness' by which he originally captivated the world and the ears of Sovereign Anne, in whose benign reign, according to a footnote, this 'Lion of Judah' 'made his first appearance in England.' The jew's-harp, circled with blooming wreath, is seen of verdant bays; and thus are typified—
'The pleasant music and the baize of green,