Too much for his horse
Upon this, and upon some little peculiarities of style in the review, such as a passage in which the learned critic compared the author's satirical attempts to 'the sardonic divings after the pearl of truth whose lustre is eclipsed in the display of the diseased oyster,' Thackeray replied in the preface to a second edition of the little book, published a few days later, and entitled an 'Essay on Thunder and Small Beer.' The style of the 'Times' critique, which was generally attributed to Samuel Phillips, afforded too tempting a subject for the satirical pen of the author of 'Vanity Fair,' to be passed over. The easy humour with which he exposes the pompous affectation of superiority in his critic, the tawdry sentences and droll logic of his censor, whom he likened not to the awful thunderer of Printing House Square, but to the thunderer's man, 'Jupiter Jeames, trying to dazzle and roar like his awful employer,' afforded the town, through the newspapers which copied the essay, an amount of amusement not often derived from an author's defence of himself from adverse criticism.
The essay was remembered long after, when work after work of the offending author was severely handled in the same paper; and the recollection of it gave a shadow of support to the theory by which some persons, on the occasion of Thackeray's death, endeavoured to explain the fact that the obituary notice in the 'Times,' and the account of his funeral, were more curt than those of any other journal; while the 'Times' alone, of all the daily papers, omitted to insert a leading article on the subject of the great loss which had been sustained by the world of letters.
CHAPTER IX.
Commencement of the Series of Early Essayists—Thackeray as a Lecturer—The 'English Humourists of the Eighteenth Century'—Charlotte Brontë at Thackeray's readings—The Lectures repeated in Edinburgh—An invitation to visit America—Transatlantic popularity—Special success attending the reception of the 'English Humourists' in the States—'Week-day Preachers'—Enthusiastic Farewell—Appleton's New York edition of Thackeray's works; the Author's introduction, and remarks on International Copyright—Thackeray's departure—Cordial impression bequeathed to America—The 'History of Henry Esmond, a story of Queen Anne's Reign'—The writers of the Augustan Era—The 'Newcomes'—An allusion to George Washington misunderstood—A second visit to America—Lectures on the 'Four Georges'—The series repeated at home—Scotch sympathy—Thackeray proposed as a candidate to represent Oxford in Parliament—His liberal views and impartiality.
In 1851 Thackeray appeared in an entirely new character, but one which subsequently proved so lucrative to him, that to this cause, even more than to the labours of his pen, must be attributed that easy fortune which he had accumulated before he died. In May he commenced the delivery of a series of lectures on the English Humourists. The subjects were—Swift, Congreve and Addison; Steele; Prior, Gay and Pope; Hogarth, Smollett and Fielding, and Sterne and Goldsmith. The lectures were delivered at Willis's Rooms. The price of admission was high, and the audience was numerous, and of the most select kind. It was not composed of that sort of people who crowd to pick up information in the shape of facts with which they have been previously unacquainted, but those who, knowing the eminence of the lecturer, wished to hear his opinion on a subject of national interest. One of the two great humourists of the present age was about to utter his sentiments on the humourists of the age now terminated, and the occasion was sufficient to create an interest which not even the attractive power of the Great Exhibition, then open, could check. The newspapers complained slightly of the low key in which the lecturer spoke, from which cause many of his best points were sometimes lost to the more distant of his auditors. 'In other respects,' says a newspaper report, 'we cannot too highly praise the style of his delivery.' Abstaining from rant and gesticulation he relied for his effect on the matter which he uttered, and it was singular to see how the isolated pictures by a few magic touches descended into the hearts of his hearers. Among the most conspicuous of the literary ladies at this gathering was Miss Brontë, the authoress of 'Jane Eyre.' She had never before seen the author of 'Vanity Fair,' though she had dedicated the second edition of her own celebrated novel to him, with the assurance that she regarded him 'as the social regenerator of his day—as the very master of that working corps who would restore to rectitude the warped state of things.' Mrs. Gaskell tells us that, when the lecture was over, the lecturer descended from the platform, and making his way towards her, frankly asked her for her opinion. 'This,' adds Miss Brontë's biographer, 'she mentioned to me not many days afterwards, adding remarks almost identical with those which I subsequently read in "Villette," where a similar action on the part of M. Paul Emanuel is related.' The remarks of this singular woman upon Thackeray and his writings, and her accounts of her interviews with him, are curious, and will be found scattered through Mrs. Gaskell's popular biography. Readers of the 'Cornhill Magazine' will not have forgotten Thackeray's affectionate and discriminating sketch of her, which appeared some years later in that periodical.
The course was perfectly successful, and the Lectures, subsequently reprinted, rank among the most masterly of his writings. They were delivered again soon afterwards in some of the provincial cities, including Edinburgh. A droll anecdote was related at this period in the newspapers, in connection with one of these provincial appearances. Previously to delivering them in Scotland, the lecturer bethought himself of addressing them to the rising youth of our two great nurseries of the national mind; and it was necessary, before appearing at Oxford, to obtain the licence of the authorities—a very laudable arrangement, of course. The Duke of Wellington was the Chancellor, who, if applied to, would doubtless have understood at once the man and his business. The Duke lived in the broad atmosphere of the every-day world, and a copy of 'Vanity Fair' was on a snug shelf at Walmer Castle. But his deputy at Oxford, on whom the modest applicant waited, knew less about such trifles as 'Vanity Fair' and 'Pendennis.' 'Pray what can I do to serve you, sir?' enquired the bland functionary. 'My name is Thackeray.' 'So I see by this card.' 'I seek permission to lecture within the precincts.' 'Ah! you are a lecturer; what subjects do you undertake—religious or political?' 'Neither; I am a literary man.' 'Have you written anything?' 'Yes; I am the author of "Vanity Fair."' 'I presume a dissenter—has that anything to do with John Bunyan's book?' 'Not exactly; I have also written "Pendennis."' 'Never heard of these works; but no doubt they are proper books.' 'I have also contributed to "Punch."' '"Punch!" I have heard of that; is it not a ribald publication?'
An invitation to deliver the lectures in America speedily followed. The public interest which heralded his coming in the United States was such as could hardly have been expected for a writer of fiction who had won his fame by so little appeal to the love of exciting scenes. His visit (as an American critic remarked at the time) at least demonstrated that if they were unwilling to pay English authors for their books, they were ready to reward them handsomely for the opportunity of seeing and hearing them.
At first the public feeling on the other side of the Atlantic had been very much divided as to his probable reception. 'He'll come and humbug us, eat our dinners, pocket our money, and go home and abuse us, like Dickens,' said Jonathan, chafing with the remembrance of that grand ball at the Park Theatre, and the Boz tableaux, and the universal speaking and dining, to which the author of 'Pickwick' was subject while he was their guest. 'Let him have his say,' said others, 'and we will have our look. We will pay a dollar to hear him, if we can see him at the same time; and as for the abuse, why it takes even more than two such cubs of the roaring British lion to frighten the American eagle. Let him come, and give him fair play.' He did come, and certainly had fair play; and as certainly there was no disappointment with his lectures. Those who knew his books found the author in the lecturer. Those who did not know the books, says one enthusiastic critic, 'were charmed in the lecturer by what is charming in the author—the unaffected humanity, the tenderness, the sweetness, the genial play of fancy, and the sad touch of truth, with that glancing stroke of satire which, lightning-like, illumines while it withers.' He did not visit the West, nor Canada. He went home without seeing Niagara Falls. But wherever he did go, he found a generous social welcome, and a respectful and sympathetic hearing. He came to fulfil no mission; but it was felt that his visit had knit more closely the sympathy of the Americans with Englishmen. Heralded by various romantic memoirs, he smiled at them, stoutly asserted that he had been always able to command a good dinner, and to pay for it, nor did he seek to disguise that he hoped his American tour would help him to command and pay for more. He promised not to write a book about the Americans, and he kept his word.