Though Becky knows that this blow shatters her
social edifice, she is still woman enough to admire her husband in the
very act that marks the beginning of the decadence of her fortunes.
_Vanity Fair_, read carefully a half-dozen times, is a liberal
education in life and in the art of the novelist.
Personally, I rank _Pendennis_ next to _Vanity Fair_ for the pleasure
to be derived from it. From the time when the old Major receives the
letter from his sister telling of young Arthur's infatuation for the
cheap actress, Miss Fotheringay, the story carries one along in the
leisurely way of the last century. All the people are a delight, from
Captain Costigan to Fowker, and from the French chef, who went to the
piano for stimulus in his culinary work, to Blanche Amory and her
amazing French affectations. But _Pendennis_ is not popular.
Nor is _Henry Esmond_ popular, although it is worthy to rank with _The
Cloister and the Hearth_, _Adam Bede_ and _Tess of the D'Urbervilles_.
There is little relief of humor in _Esmond_, but the story has a
strong appeal to any sympathetic reader, and it is the one supreme
achievement in all fiction in which the hero tells his own story.
Thackeray's art is flawless in this tale, and it sometimes rises to
great heights, as in the scenes following the death of Lord
Castlewood, the exposure of the Prince's perfidy, the selfishness of
Beatrice and the great sacrifice of Esmond.
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