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A
Beautiful Vein of Genius: Vanity Fair, by William Makepeace Thackeray
Thackeray’s comic
masterpiece shows us our imperfections while quietly encouraging
us to strive for something higher.
by Marilyn
Green Faulkner
Vanity Fair, by William Makepeace Thackeray, was published in installments
in 1847-8: the same year that saw the publication of Jane Eyre,
by Charlotte Bronte, and the year before David Copperfield, by Charles
Dickens. All three authors were keenly aware of each other. Dickens
was the undisputed master of English novelists; for a decade his
novels had appeared in quick succession and had been wildly popular.
Bronte idolized Thackeray, to whom she dedicated the second edition
of Jane Eyre. Thackeray, trained as a critic and essayist, wrote
in the serial form popularized by Dickens but in a very different
style. Where Dickens was sentimental and even pedantic, Thackeray
maintained a cool, ironic stance that both infuriated and delighted
readers. Vanity Fair represented a new kind of novel in English.
It was a book that portrayed human nature with all its weaknesses,
yet did so against the backdrop of a high moral idealism. Subtitled,
“A Novel Without a Hero,” Vanity Fair shows us our imperfections
while quietly encouraging us to strive for something higher.
Becky Sharp, the aptly
named “heroine” of Vanity Fair, is a surprising, entertaining,
and rather unsettling character. Of lowly birth, she is brought
up at Miss Pinkerton’s fashionable boarding school where her
father was once the drawing master. She hates the place, and particularly
the snobbish Miss Pinkerton, and the narrative opens with her gleeful,
bitter escape. (We could write an essay about the moment that Becky
flings Johnson’s dictionary out the window as she goes; an
ingenious symbol of her rejection of civilized society and its restrictions.)
Vanity Fair may be a novel without a hero, but it has two heroines,
for Becky has one friend at Pinkerton’s, her alter ego, Amelia
Sedley. Sweet, timid, and demure, she is Becky’s polar opposite.
It is the genius of Thackeray to bring these two characters into
all sorts of trying situations where the reader may see their true
characters revealed, and never truly to take the side of either.
Becky is nearly always bad, though she has many endearing qualities.
Amelia is nearly perfect, and rather irritating! Rather than offering
us the standard fare of good characters in conflict with evil ones,
Thackeray offers us a complex, realistic cast of people who struggle
to choose right in a confusing world.
To further anchor his
characters Thackeray places them against the backdrop of the Napoleonic
Wars. His version of the historical novel is different from Tolstoy’s
War and Peace, or Hugo’s Les Miserables, however. In those
books the battles are gritty and realistically drawn, and the people
are idealized, either good or evil. In Thackeray, the battles are
largely ignored, history is merely touched upon, but the everyday
struggles in the drawing room, in the nursery, the schoolroom, or
at the dinner table, are shown to be where the real victories and
defeats of life take place. Thus, though his story is placed in
a historical setting, it would perhaps be more accurate to call
Thackeray a moral realist, since ethical behavior is his chief concern.
One quickly gets the impression that it matters little to Thackeray
who wins the battle of Waterloo: what is important is whether George,
the young soldier destined to fight and die there, will be faithful
to his young wife on the eve of that battle. And the disastrous
losses suffered by businessmen who speculated on that war are less
important than whether George’s father, who profited thereby,
will be merciful to those less fortunate than himself. Sometimes
his characters succeed, and sometimes they fail, but Thackeray never
blinks; we see the whole heart revealed in his masterful prose.
A fine example of this
moral realism is the character of George Osbourne, the dashing soldier
beloved by Amelia since girlhood. George is handsome but weak, charming
but spoiled, and nearly abandons Amelia when her family’s
financial ruin causes George’s father to turn against the
match. The one, great, honorable character in the novel, George’s
friend Dobbin, persuades him that he must go ahead with the marriage.
George is constantly disappointing us, yet by showing him to us
through the adoring Amelia’s eyes and the worshipful eyes
of the other soldiers, we come to love George in spite of his weakness
and mourn his loss. Only Becky sees him without sentimentality,
as she sees everyone, just as they are and in terms of how they
might benefit her schemes.
We all know a George
Osbourne. We know an Amelia, a Becky, and if we are lucky, we may
meet one or two men of Dobbin’s caliber in the course of our
lives. Each character represents a type of person, and yet each
character has an endearing individuality that renders them unforgettable.
Thackeray has the knack of identifying his characters by certain
material objects that surround them. Dobbin’s cloak, Amelia’s
miniatures, and Becky’s special little box that hides her
treasures and will contain the resolution of novel’s plot;
these physical clues to inner character abound in Thackeray and
are part of the pleasure of his style. For Thackeray, actions often
speak louder than words: in a moment of crisis he may say little
about how a character feels and instead shows what they do. Here,
for example, is the scene where George’s father reacts to
the news of his son’s marriage, a union he once promoted but
now opposes for purely selfish reasons:
“He opened the
book-case, and took down the great red Bible we have spoken of –
a pompous book, seldom looked at, and shining all over with gold.
There was a frontispiece to the volume, representing Abraham sacrificing
Isaac. Here, according to custom, Osborne had recorded on the fly-leaf,
and in his large clerk-like hand, the dates of his marriage and
his wife’s death, and the births and Christian names of his
children…. Taking a pen, he carefully obliterated George’s
names from the page; and when the leaf was quite dry, restored the
volume to the place from which he had moved it.” (p. 272)
Every phrase here is
full of emotional information: from the gilded, seldom-read Bible,
the reference to Abraham and Isaac (George is sacrificed, not on
the altar of God through obedience, but on the altar of Mammon through
pride) to his “clerk-like” hand, which reminds us that
Osbourne Sr. is not a gentleman, but only a small man with a large
amount of money. The crowning irony, of course, is that in his most
evil moment this father takes his son’s name out of the Bible,
(and by doing so ensures that his own name is struck from the Lamb’s
Book of Life). Though Thackeray did not espouse religion, he was
committed to the idea that the true mark of a “gentleman”
was not birth or wealth, but integrity and morality. This notion
of the true gentleman looms large in Vanity Fair. When young George
Jr. comes to know his godfather, Major Dobbin, he realizes that
Dobbin is in a different class from the fashionable, shallow people
that surround him:
“He was a clever
lad and afraid of the Major. George could not help admiring his
friend’s simplicity, his good-humour, his various learning
quietly imparted, his general love of truth and justice. He had
met no such man as yet in the course of his experience, and he had
an instinctive liking for a gentleman.” (713)
William Thackeray was
born in India and, after losing his father at an early age, was
sent back to England to school, where he was miserable and lonely.
After his mother remarried and returned to England he was reunited
with her, but spent most of his formative years in the often brutal
English school system. Though possessed of an inheritance he squandered
his means like the prodigal son, and eventually was forced to earn
a living as a writer. Thus, he was able to observe both sides of
the social scene; the privileged life of the gentleman and the scramble
for existence faced by the average fellow. Becky Sharp, thrown on
her own resources, is much like the young Thackeray. Her firm belief
that she would have been a moral, upright woman if she had possessed
five thousand pounds a year comes right out of a letter Thackeray
once wrote to his mother about his own circumstances. Juxtaposed
against this kind of cynicism was a deep idealism about human nature;
Thackeray believed that people could be better than they were. William
Lilly said that he found irony, but no cynicism in Thackeray; rather
an appeal to the higher ideals within us. “To those sympathies,
beliefs, instincts, I say, Thackeray ever appealed, to recall us
from the worship of Mammon, the worship of rank, the worship of
notoriety, to the worship of goodness, and truth and love.”(Wm.
Samuel Lilly, Criticism and Interpretations, Harvard Classics Shelf
of Fiction.)
Though he knew he wanted
to write a long tale about the world of fashion and society, Thackeray
could not think of an appropriate title for his first novel. One
night it came to him, and he wrote to a friend that he jumped out
of bed in excitement and ran around the room shouting, “Vanity
Fair, Vanity Fair, Vanity Fair!” The title, of course, is
taken from the verse in Ecclesiastes which reads, “Vanity
of vanities, saith the preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity.”
(Eccles. 1:2) It was a title worth celebrating, for it cleverly
refers not only to the vain nature of worldly things, but the entertaining,
attractive nature of them. Yes, the world is vain, but it is fair,
and it is also a fair, a roiling, exciting, fun place to be. G.K
Chesterton said of the book that its principle character was the
world. “It produces on the mind,” he said, “the
same impression of mixed voices and almost maddening competition
as a crowded square on market day” (G.K. Chesterton, Criticism
and Interpretations, Harvard Shelf of Classics.) Thackeray loved
entertainments of all sorts - gambling, the theater, good food and
drink - and struggled to become a serious, responsible adult. His
own life held many sorrows; chief among them the insanity of his
wife Isabella, who grew more unstable with the birth of each child
and was finally placed in a mental institution in 1844. In Vanity
Fair we have Becky’s intelligence and energy juxtaposed upon
Amelia’s virtue and passivity, yet we are never forced to
choose between them. We are allowed to see how each suffers as a
result of her failings and enjoys happiness as a result of good
choices. Like we do, these characters feel envy, grief, lust, pride,
sorrow and repentance. Thackeray brings us along, inserting himself
jovially into the narrative now and then to comment on their trials
and triumphs, and then retreating to allow us to form our own conclusions.
This is a wonderful book;
funny, enlightening and ultimately uplifting. If you prefer sentimental
stories, romance novels, and larger than life heroes, you might
not like Vanity Fair. But if, like me, you rejoice in knowing fully-realized
fictional characters that stay with you forever, and if you love
to see the human heart mapped honestly and compassionately, you
will find a masterpiece in Vanity Fair. As Carlyle said of Thackeray,
“a beautiful vein of genius lay struggling about in him.”
That genius is evident here, and I’ll be interested to hear
your impressions of Becky Sharp and her companions.
Vanity Fair is the August
selection of the Best Books Club. I welcome your comments on this
or any other books you enjoy. Write me at Meridian, or log on to
my website www.thebestbooksclub.com and join our mailing list. Our
selection for September 2003 is Lost Horizon, by James Hilton.
* * * * *
In June I sent an email
to the members of the Best Books Club inviting them to read Watership
Down. Here are some of their responses:
Thanks for your review of Watership Down. You brought back many
fond memories of the book to me. However, I have never been able
to figure out why this is considered a children's book. I was about
30 when I read it; my children have usually read it while in high
school. They're all bright, gifted writers themselves and have unanimously
loved and treasured it, but I doubt if one would recommend it to
a child younger than a teenager. And I'm not just talking about
how much children miss reading something like the Narnia books--this
is deep reading and most of that depth would be lost on young children.
Just a note about Richard
Adams: Even though Watership Down portended wonderful things in
the future from him, I have been extremely disappointed. I did enjoy
Plague Dogs and Shardik, but they were certainly not in the same
league as WD. The Girl in the Swing and Maia are progressively worse,
with Maia being frankly pornographic. Soon after I returned Maia
to the library 95% unread, I saw it for sale at Deseret Book. I
have wondered if that was the start of the eventual decision to
"censor" (or choose more prudently) the books that are
sold there. So, beware of anything by him--look for a recommendation
or review before you start. Anyway, happy reading to any who haven't
had the pleasure of Watership Down yet. Now there is a BOOK!
Nancy
-----
I believe we'll read
Little Women and Watership Down this summer. I was just telling
one daughter about W.D. a few days ago - about what a brilliant
author Richard Adams must be to create an entire language. Great
picks, thank you.
Denise
-----
Your invitation conjures
up an image of a tranquil summer afternoon slipping into dusk. The
light is low and reaches like a magic hand with delicate golden
fingers across the tiled deck of the pool to play with the tiny
white hairs on my leg.
A cool breeze blows in
from the coast and the temperature is perfect. I am floating on
the expensive cushions of my favorite chair catching the tinkling
spray of the ornate fountain.
The shade of our magnificent
magnolia in lustrous white bloom hovers over me like a worried hen.
I sip a cool drink - with no sugar, or calories of course -- and
breathe in pulsing rhythm to the crushing hands massaging my bare
feet. I am without a worry in the world. I am consumed by my passion
for Watership Down. I am transfixed by the words that rise from
the page, dash into my eyes and play "catch me if you can"
inside my head.
Wouldn't I LOVE to be
there?
Wouldn't I LOVE to be with out distractions"
Wouldn't I LOVE such peace of mind?
Maybe in the next life...
No -- that's too soon.
Like never in eternity.
Alas
Kieth Merrill
-----
I can hardly wait to
share my comments with Best Books Club online. When I read Jim Trelease's
Read Aloud Handbook, it changed the way I looked at reading to children,
and because I had young children at the time, changed my life. I
recommend it to people all the time. I only regret not reading it
earlier in my parenting career. I dread the time when I have no
child to read with.
Patsy
-----
Actually I read your
review in Meridian and thought it was excellent. I have seen the
movie several times and it dawned on me that it would be excellent
to read with my ten year old so, and so I got a great deal on a
used hardbound from Amazon for about $9 total. Thanks for your review!
Harry
-----
Thank you for your referral.
YES I have read and loved Watership Down. I also am a great fan
of Vanity Fair. Both excellent books that many have not read. I
am sure many will enjoy these novels - Funny you should say that
book since I bought it a few months ago and haven’t started
it yet......now I will........
Judy
-----
Here is a comment from
a concerned Mom who could use suggestions for High School Literature.
I’ll print your responses in next month’s column:
Hi. I have finally reached
an agreement with my son's high school English department that we
can ask for alternate assignments when a book is objectionable.
They are even willing to let me (MOM!) pick the book.
Do you know of web sites
where books are listed by theme? Such as: coming of age, relationships,
etc. so I can match a book to the theme the teacher wants covered.
I would also be interested
in high school literature lists from the 1950s or 1960s. Do you
know of any of these.
Thank you for your help
in raising Mormon teenage boys in the San Francisco/Bay Liberal
area!
Marilyn W
Comments on our selection
for May, Cry, the Beloved Country:
I loved Cry The Beloved
Country and suggested it for my LDS book club about a year ago.
But I was shocked at some of the responses to it when we met to
discuss it! It was called a pathetically depressing book. "Look
at how little has changed" they said. They hated it for the
description of the city where they found the unwed daughter-in-law.
They hated the fact that she left her child and returned to the
city. On and on it went!
I on the other hand,
remember so clearly when Steven returned and told his dear friend
who met him on the road of what he had discovered. And how his friend
told him of his testimony of Christ.
My Ideas for Books for
the Next Six Months:
The Silver Chalice, by
Thomas Costain
Skipping Christmas, by John Grisham
Persian Pickle Club, by Sandra Dallas
The Poisonwood Bible, by Barbara Kingsolver
Love your articles!
Jan
-----
Very much enjoyed your review of Cry, the Beloved Country by Alan
Paton. I read the novel several years ago while I was unemployed.
My wife purchased a large print version at a yard sale for 25 cents.
At the same sale, she also purchased another book by Paton entitled,
For You Departed. I highly recommend this wonderful diary-like work,
describing his anguish over losing his wife to cancer. It is excellent.
I also wish to make a comment about the Savior's words, "Resist
not evil." An excellent commentary on the subject is a chapter
in Emmett Fox's enlightening book, The Sermon on the Mount.
Mike
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