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SUPPRESSED PLATES




AGENTS

 AMERICA      THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
                64 & 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK

 CANADA       THE MACMILLAN COMPANY OF CANADA, LTD.
                27 RICHMOND STREET WEST, TORONTO

 INDIA        MACMILLAN & COMPANY, LTD.
                MACMILLAN BUILDING, BOMBAY
                309 BOW BAZAAR STREET, CALCUTTA

[Illustration: The title-page of the unwritten “Death in London”]

 SUPPRESSED PLATES WOOD ENGRAVINGS, &c.
 TOGETHER WITH OTHER CURIOSITIES GERMANE THERETO

 BEING
 AN ACCOUNT OF CERTAIN MATTERS
 PECULIARLY ALLURING TO
 THE COLLECTOR

 BY
 GEORGE SOMES LAYARD

 [Illustration: (colophon)]

 LONDON
 ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK
 1907

_Published November 1907_

 I DEDICATE THIS BOOK
 TO
 MY TWO BOYS
 JOHN AND PETER
 WHO
 I SINCERELY HOPE, WILL NOT HAVE SO MANY
 _USELESS_ HOBBIES
 AS
 THEIR AFFECTIONATE
 FATHER




CONTENTS


 1. INTRODUCTORY. . . 1

 2. “THE MARQUIS OF STEYNE”. . . 7

 3. THE SUPPRESSED PORTRAIT OF DICKENS, “PICKWICK,” “THE BATTLE OF
 LIFE,” AND “GRIMALDI”. . . 26

 4. DICKENS CANCELLED PLATES: “OLIVER TWIST,” “MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT,”
 “THE STRANGE GENTLEMAN,” “PICTURES FROM ITALY,” AND “SKETCHES BY BOZ”
. . . 43

 5. ON SOME FURTHER SUPPRESSED PLATES, ETCHINGS, AND WOOD ENGRAVINGS BY
 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. . . 59

 6. HOGARTH’S “ENTHUSIASM DELINEATED,” “THE MAN OF TASTE,” AND “DON
 QUIXOTE”. . . 82

 7. CANCELLED DESIGNS FOR “PUNCH” AND “ONCE A WEEK” BY CHARLES KEENE
 AND FREDERICK SANDYS. . . 127

 8. MISCELLANEOUS. . . 149

 9. THE SUPPRESSED OMAR KHAYYAM ETCHING. . . 179

 10. ADAPTED OR PALIMPSEST PLATES. . . 192

 11. ADAPTED OR PALIMPSEST PLATES (_continued_). . . 226




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

 _Printed Separately_

 The Title-page of the unwritten “Death in London”. . . _Frontispiece_

 The Third Marquis of Hertford. (_From the engraving by W. Holl, of
     the painting by Sir Thomas Lawrence_). . . _Between pages_ 20
     _and_ 21

 The Fourth Marquis of Hertford. (_From a photograph_)
    . . . _Between pages_ 20 _and_ 21

 The Third Marquis of Hertford when Lord Yarmouth. (_From the 
     caricature by Richard Dighton_). . . _Facing page_ 24

 The suppressed portrait of Charles Dickens. . . _Facing page_ 28

 The “Pickwick” suppressed plate: “The Cricket Match.” (_By R. W.
     Buss_). . . _Facing page_ 30

 The “Pickwick” suppressed plate: “Tupman and Rachel.” (_By R. W.
     Buss_). . . _Between pages_ 32 _and_ 33

 “Tupman and Rachel.” (_By H. K. Browne_). . . _Between pages_ 32
     _and_ 33

 “The Last Song,” with the suppressed border (_By George Cruikshank_)
    . . . _Facing page_ 40

 The suppressed plate from “Oliver Twist”. . . _Facing page_ 48
         1. “The Fireside Scene”
         2. “The Fireside Scene,” as worked upon by Cruikshank

 The suppressed plate from “Sketches by Boz”. . . _Facing page_ 56

 “A Financial Survey of Cumberland or the Beggar’s Petition.” (_From
     the only known uncoloured impression of the plate_). . . _Between
     pages_ 64 _and_ 65

 “A Financial Survey of Cumberland or the Beggar’s Petition.” (_From
     a  impression of the plate, with the figure of the valet
     obliterated with lamp-black_). . . _Between pages_ 64 _and_ 65

 “Enthusiasm Delineated. (Humbly dedicated to his Grace the Arch Bishop
     of Canterbury by his Graces most obedient humble Servant _Wm.
     Hogarth_”). . . _Between pages_ 88 _and_ 89

 “Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism. A Medley”. . . _Between
     pages_ 88 _and_ 89

 Portrait of Hogarth with his Dog Trump. . . _Facing page_ 112

 _The plate reversed and in its last state, now entitled_ “The Bruiser”
    . . . _Facing page_ 112

 The Cancelled Cartoon. (_By Charles Keene_). . . _Facing page_ 128

 The Cancelled “Social.” (_By Charles Keene_). . . _Facing page_ 136

 Suggestion by Joseph Crawhall for the Cancelled “Social”. . . _Facing
     page_ 136

 “The Painted Chamber.” (From _Antiquities of Westminster_, 1807)
    . . . _Facing page_ 150

 The suppressed portrait of “John Jorrocks, Esq., M.F.H., etc.” (_By
     Henry Alken, the younger_). . . _Facing page_ 160

 The suppressed frontispiece for “Omar Khayyam.” (_By Edwin Edwards_)
    . . . _Facing page_ 188

 “L’Europe alarmée pour le Fils d’un Meunier.” (_The plate in its first
     state_). . . _Between pages_ 204 _and_ 205

 _The plate in its second state, now entitled_ “La Cour de Paix
     solitaire, entre les Roses piquantes et les Lis”. . . _Between
     pages_ 204 _and_ 205

 Queen Anne presiding over the House of Lords. (_The plate in its first
     state_). . . _Between pages_ 236 _and_ 237

 _The plate in its second state, now representing_ George I. presiding
     over the House of Lords. . . _Between pages_ 236 _and_ 237

 “The Races of the Europeans, with their Keys.” (_The plate in its
     first state_). . . _Between pages_ 238 _and_ 239

 “A Skit on Britain.” (_The plate in its second state_). . . _Between
     pages_ 238 _and_ 239

 The Headless Horseman. (_The plate with the head burnished out_)
    . . . _Facing page_ 240

 The plate with Cromwell’s head. . . _Between pages_ 242 _and_ 243

 The plate with Charles I.’s head. . . _Between pages_ 242 _and_ 243

 Undescribed palimpsest plate. (_First state and second state_)
    . . . _Facing page_ 244

 Undescribed palimpsest plate. (_First state and second state_)
    . . . _Facing page_ 246


 _Printed in the Text_

 1. The Suppressed Portrait of the Marquis of Steyne. . . 15

 2. The Battle of Life. “Leech’s Grave Mistake”. . . 35

 3. Rose Maylie and Oliver at Agnes’s Tomb. (_The substituted plate in
     two states_). . . 51

 4. The Strange Gentleman. . . 55

 5. “A Trifling Mistake”—Corrected—. . . 71

 6. Philoprogenitiveness. . . 77

 7. “Drop it!”. . . 79

 8. Enlarged detail of Hogarth’s “Enthusiasm Delineated”. . . 85

 9. The Chandelier in “Enthusiasm”. . . 95

    The Chandelier in “Credulity”. . . 95

 10. The Man of Taste. . . 105

 11. Burlington Gate as it appeared prior to 1868. . . 109

 12. Don Quixote, No. 1.—The Innkeeper. . . 115

 13. Don Quixote, No. 2.—The Funeral of Chrysostom. . . 117

 14. Don Quixote, No. 3.—The Innkeeper’s Wife and Daughter. . . 119

 15. Don Quixote, No. 4.—Don Quixote seizes the Barber’s Basin
    . . . 120

 16. Don Quixote, No. 5.—Don Quixote releases the Galley Slaves
    . . . 122

 17. Don Quixote, No. 6.—The First Interview. . . 123

 18. Don Quixote, No. 7.—The Curate and the Barber. . . 125

 19. Danaë in the Brazen Chamber. . . 143

 20. Suppressed Illustration from _The Vicar of Wakefield_. . . 172

 21. Het beest van Babel, etc. (_The plate in its first state_)
    . . . 218

 22. Het beest van Babel, etc. (_The plate in its second state_)
    . . . 219

 23. Aan der Meester Tonge-Slyper. (_The plate in its first state_)
    . . . 229

     Aan der Meester Tonge-Slyper. (_As adapted by the Anti-Jesuits_)
    . . . 229

 24. The Stature of a Great Man, or the English Colossus. . . 234

 25. The Stature of a Great Man, or the Scotch Colossus. . . 235

 26. Aan den Experten Hollandschen Hoofd-Smith. (_The plate in its
     first state_). . . 245

 27. Aan den Experten Hollandschen Hoofd-Smith. (_As adapted by the
     Anti-Jesuits_). . . 245

 28. An adapted Copperplate. (_First state_). . . 247

 29. An adapted Copperplate. (_Second state_). . . 247

 30. A History of the New Plot. (_First state_). . . 249

 31. A History of the New Plot. (_Second state_). . . 249




SUPPRESSED PLATES, ETC.

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTORY


No one who has the itch for book-collecting will deny that suppressed
book illustrations are, what the forbidden fruit was to our mother Eve,
irresistible. Whether such appetite represents the very proper ambition
to have at his elbow the earliest states of beautiful or interesting
books, of which the subsequently suppressed plate or wood engraving
is in general a sort of guarantee, or the less defensible desire to
possess what our neighbour does not, must be settled by the conscience
of each. The fact remains that such rarities are peculiarly alluring to
those whom Wotton calls “the lickerish chapmen of all such ware.” {2}

There are, of course, ridiculous[1] people who value such books as
the first issue of the first edition of Dickens’s _American Notes_
just because there is a mistake in the pagination; or a first edition
of Disraeli’s _Lothair_ because the prototype of “Monsignor Catesby”
is divulged by misprinting the name “Capel”; or _Poems_ by Robert
Burns, first Edinburgh Edition, because in the list of subscribers
“The Duke of Roxborough” appears as “The Duke of Boxborough”; or
Barker’s “Breeches” Bible of 1594, because on the title-page of the New
Testament the figures are transposed to 1495; or the first edition in
French of Washington Irving’s _Sketch Book_, because the translator,
maltreating the author’s name, has declared the book to be “traduit de
l’Anglais de M. Irwin Washington,” and in the dedication has labelled
Sir Walter Scott, _Barronnet_; or indeed a book of my own, in which I
described as “since dead” a gifted and genial gentleman who I am glad
to think still gives the lie to my inexcusable carelessness. {3}

 [1] I am quite aware that “ridiculous” is a dangerous stone to throw,
 when one lives in a glass house oneself.

But it is not _because_ of such errors that a true book-lover desires
to own _editiones principes_ of famous works. That ambition is
legitimate enough, but its legitimate reason is otherwhere to seek.

In the case of such a book as Rogers’s _Italy_, with the Turner
engravings, the matter is very different. Here the fact that the plates
on pp. 88 and 91 are transposed is a guarantee that the impressions of
the extraordinarily delicate engravings are of the utmost brilliancy,
for the error was discovered before many impressions had been taken.
The same applies, though in lesser degree, to such a book as Mr. Austin
Dobson’s _Ballad of Beau Brocade_, illustrated by Mr. Hugh Thomson, in
the earliest edition of which certain of the illustrations are also
misplaced.[2] There is reason in wishing to possess these. See what
Ruskin himself has said of the omission of the two engravings which
had appeared in the first edition of _The Two Paths_. He writes in the
preface to the 1878 reissue: {4}

 [2] Compare also the early issues of the first edition of Ainsworth’s
 _Tower of London_, in which the plates at pp. 28 and 45 vary from those
 in the later issues.

“I own to a very enjoyable pride in making the first editions of my
books valuable to their possessors, who found out, before other people,
that these writings and drawings were good for something. . . and the
two lovely engravings by Messrs. Cuff and Armytage will, I hope, render
the old volume more or less classical among collectors.” From this we
gather that “the Professor” was of the right kidney.

It is hardly necessary to say that it is not my intention to make
this book a devil’s directory to illustrations which have been
suppressed because of indecency, and are referred to in the catalogues
of second-hand booksellers, whose cupidity is stronger than their
self-respect, as “facetiæ” or “very curious.” Indeed, this book
would itself in that case also very properly be put on the index
expurgatorius of every decent person. My purpose is to gather together,
correct and amplify the floating details concerning a legitimate class
of rarities, and to put the collector on his guard, where necessary,
against imposition.

By its very nature this treatise cannot be complete, but I have
included most of the {5} examples of any importance which, during many
years of bibliomania, have come under my observation. To these I have
added certain re-engraved or palimpsest plates, which are germane to
the subject.

As to these last I find amongst my papers a curious note from the
pen of R. H. Cromek, the engraver, who flourished at the end of the
eighteenth century.

“One of these vendors,” he writes (publishers of Family Bibles),
“lately called to consult me professionally about an engraving he
brought with him. It represented Mons. Buffon seated, contemplating
various groups of animals surrounding him. He merely wished, he said,
to be informed whether, by engaging my services to unclothe the
naturalist, and giving him a rather more resolute look, _the plate
could not, at a trifling expense, be made to do duty for ‘Daniel in the
lions’ den’_”!

That would be a palimpsest well worth possessing, if ever it were
carried into effect. It would be as fascinating an object of
contemplation as the Stothard designs for _Clarissa Harlowe_, {6}
which the same authority informs us were later used to illustrate the
Scriptures! But the history of the _cliché_, pure and simple, has yet
to be written. Our concern is with higher game than that.

{7}




CHAPTER II

“THE MARQUIS OF STEYNE”


Perhaps the most celebrated of suppressed book illustrations is the
wood-engraved portrait of the “Marquis of Steyne,” drawn by Thackeray
as an illustration to _Vanity Fair_, for which, if we are to believe
the statement of a well-known bookseller’s catalogue, “libellous
proceedings (_sic_) were threatened on account of its striking likeness
to a member of the aristocracy.” With the accuracy of this statement I
shall deal in due course.

Before, however, proceeding to the consideration of the suppressed
illustration itself, it will be as well to pause for a moment to
consider what antecedent probability there was that Thackeray would
pillory a well-known _roué_ of the period in terms that would make
the likeness undoubted and undeniable. And in pointing out what the
great {8} novelist’s practice was in this respect I would guard
myself against the charge of presuming to censure one who is not
here to answer for himself, and whose nobility of character was
sufficient guarantee of good faith and honourable intention. Let it
always be remembered that, if Thackeray flagellated others, he never
hesitated to taste the quality of his own whip first. Even in his book
illustrations, as I have pointed out elsewhere, he was as unsparing
of his own feelings as he was in his writings. And, in using himself
as a whipping-boy for our sins, he probably believed that he was
making himself as despicable as a Rousseau. Hence he came to the like
treatment of other real personages not with unclean hands.

Some of us may have seen, though very few of us can possess, a very
rare pamphlet, which was sold for as much as £39 on one of its
infrequent appearances in the auction-rooms, entitled _Mr. Thackeray,
Mr. Yates, and the Garrick Club_. In it was published a never-sent
reply to a letter written by Thackeray remonstrating with Yates on
the contents of a “pen-and-ink” sketch published by the latter in No.
6 of a periodical called _Town {9} Talk_, which resulted in Yates’s
expulsion from the Garrick Club.

In this unsent letter he charged Thackeray with having unjustifiably
introduced portraits both in his letterpress and illustrations. Mr.
Stephen Price appeared as Captain Shindy in the _Book of Snobs_. In
the same book Thackeray drew on a wood block what was practically a
portrait of Wyndham Smith, a fellow-clubman. This appeared amongst
“Sporting Snobs,” Mr. Smith being a well-known sporting man. In
_Pendennis_ he made a sketch of a former member of the Garrick Club,
Captain Granby Calcraft, under the name of Captain Granby Tiptoff. In
the same book, under the transparent guise of the unforgettable Foker,
he reproduced every characteristic, both in language, manner, and
gesture, of Mr. Andrew Arcedeckne, and even went so far as to give an
unmistakable portrait of him, to that gentleman’s great annoyance.

Besides the examples given by Yates, who was himself recognisable
as George Garbage in _The Virginians_, we know, too, that in the
same novel Theodore Hook appeared as Wagg, just as he did {10} as
Stanislaus Hoax in Disraeli’s _Vivian Grey_, and that Alfred Bunn
was the prototype of Mr. Dolphin. Archdeacon Allen was the original
of Dobbin, Lady Langford of Lady Kew; and last, but not least, we
have lately learned from Mrs. Ritchie that the inimitable Becky had
undoubtedly her incarnation.

So we see that the antecedent improbability is as the snakes in
Iceland; for the above examples, which no doubt could be largely added
to, prove that Thackeray did not hesitate to draw direct from the model
when it suited his purpose.

So far so good. Let us now proceed to inquire into the identity of the
“Marquis of Steyne.”

That his prototype was _a_ Marquis of Hertford is axiomatic with all
those who have ever taken any interest in the subject; but when we come
to inquire which marquis we find that opinions are astonishingly at
variance. It would seem almost as though any Marquis of Hertford would
serve, whereas in point of fact the portrait would be the grossest
libel upon each of that noble line save one; and so incidentally we
shall, by making the matter clear, rescue from calumny an honourable
{11} race, which has hitherto through heedlessness been tarred with
the same brush as its least honourable representative.

To show that this is not a reckless charge of inaccuracy, I quote from
four letters in my possession written by four persons most likely to
have special knowledge upon the subject.

The first, which is from a well-known printseller, informs me “that
the Marquis of Steyne in _Vanity Fair_ was Francis, second Marquis of
Hertford, who died in 1822.”

The second, which is from one more intimately acquainted with the
family than any other living person, says, “Unquestionably Francis,
third Marquis of Hertford, the intimate friend of George IV., was the
prototype of the Marquis of Steyne in Thackeray’s _Vanity Fair_.”

The third letter, which is from a well-known London editor, in general
the best-informed man I have ever met, says, “It was the fourth Lord,
who died in 1870.”

The last of the four letters supports this view and says: “It was the
fourth, not the third, Marquis of Hertford who was supposed to be the
prototype {12} of Thackeray’s Marquis of Steyne.. . . He was Richard
Seymour Conway, who was born in 1800 and died in 1870.”[3]

Now, considering that these are the only opinions for which I have
asked, and that they are so curiously divergent, it will, I think, be
clear that it is time an authoritative declaration were forthcoming,
based upon independent inquiries.

It may as well, then, be stated once for all that no one who has taken
the trouble to investigate the lives of the three marquises above
mentioned can hesitate for a moment in identifying the “Marquis of
Steyne” with the third Marquis of Hertford. To those who are curious
to know very full particulars about these noblemen I would recommend
the perusal of an interesting article entitled “Two Marquises” in
_Lippincott’s Magazine_ for February 1874. Nor should they fail to read
Disraeli’s _Coningsby_, and compare “Lord Monmouth” and his creature
“Rigby,” whose prototypes were the same Marquis of Hertford and _his_
creature Croker, with the {13} “Marquis of Steyne” and _his_ managing
man

 [3] As I write, a great daily newspaper informs the world that it was
 the _first_ Marquis. “
 Wenham.”

And, whilst we are identifying the third Marquis in _Coningsby_ and
_Vanity Fair_, reference may be made to another most unflattering
portrait of that notorious nobleman in a book published anonymously in
1844, which was _immediately_ suppressed, but is now not infrequently
to be found in second-hand book catalogues. The book was (I believe)
written by John Mills, and had ten clever etched plates by George
Standfast (probably a _nom de plume_). Copies in the parts as
published are excessively rare. The title of the book is _D’Horsay;
or the Follies of the Day, by a Man of Fashion_.[4] It dealt with the
escapades, vices, and adventures of well-known men of the day under
the following transparent pseudonyms: Count d’Horsay, the Marquis of
Hereford, the Earl of Chesterlane, Mr. Pelham, General Reel, Lord
George Bentick, Mr. George Robbins, auctioneer, the Earl of Raspberry
Hill, Benjamin D——i, Lord Hunting-Castle, and others. The {14}
account of the “closing scene in the life of the greatest debauchee
the world has ever seen, the Marquis of Hereford,” is too horrible to
repeat.

 [4] This scurrilous and poorly written book has lately been thought
 worthy of resurrection and republication.

So much for the identity of the “Marquis of Steyne” as described in
Thackeray’s letterpress, which need not be dwelt upon here at greater
length, seeing that the immediate object of this chapter is to deal
with the accompanying engraving and its history. And in proceeding
to this examination it should not be forgotten, in fairness to the
novelist, that Thackeray has explained that his characters were made up
of little bits of various persons. This is no doubt true enough. At the
same time, we cannot but be aware that, although the details may have
been gathered, the outline has been drawn direct from the life.

[Illustration: The Suppressed Portrait of the Marquis of Steyne]

_Vanity Fair_ was issued originally in monthly parts. Its first title
was _Vanity Fair: Pen and Pencil Sketches of English Society_. Its
first number was dated “January 1847,” and had “illustrations on steel
and wood by the Author.” On p. 336 of the _earliest issue_ of this
first edition appeared the wood engraving of the Marquis of Steyne,
wanting which a first edition is, to the {15} bibliomaniac, _Hamlet_
with Hamlet left out. In the later issues, the engraving (which I
here reproduce) was omitted, as also was the “rustic type” in which
the title appeared on the first page.[5] The publishers were Messrs.
Bradbury and Evans, {16} as was natural, Thackeray being at this time
on the staff of _Punch_. In later editions of the novel, published by
Messrs. Smith, Elder and Co., the engraving reappears—viz. on p. 22
of vol. ii. in the standard edition, and on p. 158, vol. ii., of the
twenty-six-volume edition.[6]

 [5] To the rabid bibliophile I here present another variation, which
 has hitherto escaped the bookseller. In the first edition, on p. 453,
 will be found the misprint “Mr.” (for “Sir”) Pitt and Lady Jane Crawley.

 [6] It does not appear amongst the illustrations to the biographical
 edition, which are restricted to the full-page plates.

What was the reason for its sudden removal immediately after
publication? As I have said above, it is commonly stated to have been
in consequence of a threatened action for libel, of course on account
of the undoubted likeness of the “Marquis of Steyne” to the third
Marquis of Hertford. But how does this tally with facts? Lord Hertford
had died in 1842, whilst the first number of _Vanity Fair_ did not
appear until 1847. Now every lawyer knows that you cannot libel a dead
man. This was made clear some few years ago (I think) in the case
of the Duke of Vallombrosa against a well-known English journalist.
Therefore it is quite certain that, although legal proceedings might
have been threatened, they would certainly have collapsed. {17}
Further than that, those who knew the fourth Marquis are aware that
he was the last man in the world to embark upon a lawsuit or court
publicity in any way. And if any doubt upon the matter should still
remain, I am able to state positively that no trace is to be discovered
amongst the Hertford family papers of any action threatened or brought
against Thackeray on any grounds whatsoever. I think, then, that we may
dismiss once for all this aspect of the case.

At the same time it is not impossible that some hint may have reached
the novelist’s ears that the illustration gave pain to persons then
living, and that he promptly had it removed. But against this view
there is a very strong presumption. If we turn the leaves of our
original issue of _Vanity Fair_, we shall, on p. 421, find another
wood engraving, and opposite p. 458 a full-page steel engraving, “The
Triumph of Clytemnestra,” both containing portraits of “The Marquis
of Steyne.” Now, considering that that nobleman’s august features are
as recognisable in these as in the suppressed engraving, it seems
unreasonable to suppose that the one would have been removed {18}
without the others, in consequence of family representations.

Possibly the real truth of the matter is a very much simpler one. It
may have been either that Thackeray was himself disgusted with the
brutal frankness of the picture when he saw it printed, and insisted
on its removal, or that the block met with some accident. Indeed, I
am inclined to think, judging from my memory of the subject, that the
idea of an action for libel is one that has only found expression in
more modern booksellers’ catalogues. If I am not mistaken, the older
booksellers used to speak of the engraving not as “suppressed,” but as
“extremely rare,” and that it was supposed to have disappeared from
later issues because it was broken before many impressions were taken.
Of course, a threatened action for libel, on account of its striking
likeness to a member of the aristocracy, added piquancy to the affair,
and so redounded to the benefit of the vendor of the earliest issue of
a first edition; and the identification of Lord Steyne’s prototype, in
the letterpress, gave colour to the idea. Once set going, we may be
certain that {19} the legend would not be allowed to lapse for lack of
advertisement. To adapt what Dr. Johnson said of the “Countess,” “Sir,”
said he to Boswell, “in the case of a (marquis) the imagination is more
excited.”

The accompanying portraits of the third and fourth Marquises of
Hertford give the reader an opportunity of forming his own opinion in
the matter of identity. That of the third Marquis is from the engraving
by William Holl of the painting by Sir Thomas Lawrence, and certainly
seems to suggest, in the prime of life, the features and expression
which Thackeray has portrayed in old age. The bald head, and the
arrangement of the whiskers—which are allowed to approach the corners
of the mouth—are incontestable points of resemblance; and if the old
voluptuary is somewhat more battered than Lawrence’s rather spruce
model, we must remember that his portrait was painted by the courtly
President of the Royal Academy many years before the period of life at
which he is introduced to us by the novelist. Certainly he is not an
attractive object; and I was amused to receive a letter from a member
of the family to whom I first showed the wood {20} engraving in which
these words occur: “I find we have no portrait whatever of the Lord
Hertford in question, and am not surprised at it if he at all resembled
that of the Marquis in _Vanity Fair_!”[7]

As regards the fourth Mar