"To parents who wish to lead a quiet life I would say: Tell your children that they are very naughty—much naughtier than most children. Point to the young people of some acquaintances as models of perfection and impress your own children with a deep sense of their own inferiority. You carry so many more guns than they do that they cannot fight you. This is called moral influence, and it will enable you to bounce them as much as you please. * * * Say that you have their highest interests at stake whenever you are out of temper and wish to make yourself unpleasant by way of balm to your soul. Harp much upon these highest interests."
Thackeray is placed in the group of dyed-in-the-wool
ironists mainly because he does not belong in the other.
One somehow acquires the impression that ironic sayings
will be plentiful as blackberries; but when one actually
goes berrying, he finds the crop strangely vanished. Lacking
the grave, dry, imperturbable manner and the consistently
preserved attitude, he cannot avoid the temptation
of relapsing into the literal and giving self-conscious
explanations, as in Barry Lyndon, and Catherine.
This produces something of the effect of Lydgate's ironic
titles,—So as the Crabbe goeth forward, and As Straight as
a Ram's Horn,—followed by perfectly serious moralizing.
Probably nothing would astonish or distress Thackeray
more than to have his humor rated as the humor of Lytton,
Reade, or Kingsley; nor would this indeed be quite fair to
him. Yet his lack of real spontaneity classifies him with
them rather than with Dickens or Trollope, and his lack of
finish and subtlety prevents him from being ranked with
Peacock, Eliot, Meredith or Butler. His ironic phrasing
has too often the flat, shallow sound of the man determined
to be clever. Such, for instance, is the comment on the
plutocratic Miss Crawley:[1]
- ↑ Vanity Fair, I, 115.
