The yellow book, an illustrated quarterly. Vol. 3, October, 1894
General
The yellow book, an illustrated quarterly. Vol. 3, October, 1894
English literature -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Great Britain -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
his pipe, and words came tripping round him, like children, like pretty
little children who are perfectly drilled for the dance, or came, did
he will it, treading in their precedence, like kings, gloomily. And I
think it is to the credit of the reading mob that, by reason of his
beautiful style, all that he said was taken for the truth, without
questioning. But truth after all is eternal, and style transient, and
now that Thackeray’s style is becoming, if I may say so, a trifle
1860, it may not be amiss that we should inquire whether his estimate
of George is in substance and fact worth anything at all. It seems
to me that, as in his novels, so in his history of the four Georges,
Thackeray made no attempt at psychology. He dealt simply with types.
One George he insisted upon regarding as a buffoon, another as a yokel.
The Fourth George he chose to hold up for reprobation as a drunken,
vapid cad. Every action, every phase of his life that went to disprove
this view, he either suppressed or distorted utterly. “History,”
he would seem to have chuckled, “has nothing to do with the First
Gentleman. But I will give him a niche in Natural History. He shall
be king of the Beasts.” He made no allowance for the extraordinary
conditions under which any monarch finds himself, none for the
unfortunate circumstances by which George was from the first hampered.
He judged him as he judged Barnes Newcome and all the scoundrels he
created. Moreover, he judged him by the moral standard of the Victorian
Age. In fact he applied to his subject the wrong method in the wrong
manner, and at the wrong time. And yet every one has taken him at his
word. I feel that my essay may be scouted as a paradox; but I hope that
many may recognise that I am not, out of mere boredom, endeavouring to
stop my ears against popular platitude, but rather, in a spirit of real
earnestness, to point out to the mob how it has been cruel to George. I
do not despair of success. I think I shall make converts. For the mob
is notoriously fickle, and so occasionally cheers the truth.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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