  Thackeray as a Traveller—Journey in Youth from India to England—Little Travels at Home—Sojourn in Germany—French Trips—Residence in Paris—Studies in Rome—Sketches and Scribblings in Guide-Books—Little Tours and Wayside Studies—Brussels—Ghent and the BÉguines—Bruges—Croquis in Murray's 'Handbooks to the Continent'—Up the Rhine—'From Cornhill to Grand Cairo'—Journeys to America—Switzerland—'A Leaf out of a Sketch-Book'—The Grisons—Verona—'Roundabout Journeys'—Belgium and Holland. Another aspect in which it is agreeable to contemplate Thackeray is that of a traveller, for in this character he must have gone over a considerable portion of the more interesting parts of the world. From India to England, in his seventh year, with that memorable call at St. Helena, where the youngster caught a fugitive glimpse of the great Napoleon in his solitary exile. W. M. T. on his travels Little journeyings about England between boyhood and youth, then a stolen visit to Paris, in a college vacation. Then the residence at Weimar and Eberfeld, with rovings about Germany. Then to Paris to see the world, to study men, manners, and pictures; half art-student, half pursuing the art of amusing oneself. Then a more serious application to the earlier stages of Let us take up one of his travelling companions and pass a day with the easy-working, comfortably-provided, and satirically-observant young 'buck,' who found himself so pleasantly at home in Louis Philippe's slightly uncertain capital. 'Planta's Paris' is not the most familiar of travelling companions, its descriptions are not altogether modern, but the glimpse it affords us of the French capital is curious from the circumstance that it registers the swiftness of change in the Centre of Pleasure. It might be an amusing study to reproduce from its pages the attractions of Paris in 1827, the date of the fifteenth edition of this work; but the stout square little book possesses a stronger interest, as it had the advantage of belonging to Michael Angelo Titmarsh, and in his pocket it probably tumbled and tossed across the Channel. At Weimar It is rather difficult to connect Mr. Titmarsh with the stereotyped extracts of a guide-book, but the copy under consideration was fortunately selected as a repository for the occasional sketches suggested to the fancy of its proprietor. In those 'flying stage' days travellers booked their passage, per coach, from the Spread Eagle, Piccadilly, to Paris. On this service the journey from Calais to Paris was performed by the 'Hirondelle' in thirty hours. It was in this manner Mr. Pogson accomplished his eventful first journey, in the society of the fascinating 'Baronne de Florval Delval,' as set forth in the pages of Mr. Titmarsh's 'Paris Sketch-Book.' Mr. Titmarsh has probably contributed the pencilling of the 'old rÉgime' personage in the margin during the progress to the capital. Travelling caps of every order were assumed for comfort during the jolting on the road. Mr. Titmarsh had become a partial resident in Paris. He might have been seen mastering the contents of the Louvre, the Beaux Arts, and the Luxembourg; occasionally mounting an easel and copying a picture. Betweenwhiles he is, we may reasonably suppose, engaged on materials similar to his 'Paris Sketch-Book,' or transferring the thrilling thoughts of BÉranger into verses which preserve the vitality of that mighty songster. Here the young author and his fanciful double evidently commenced their daily promenade—we may vainly sigh for the pleasure of forming one of such a desirable party—but in spirit, assisted by the sketches which mark his progress, it is just possible to follow the humourist. 'Planta's Paris' is produced from his pocket to receive rapid pencil jottings, slight but graphic, as the subjects present themselves. First, the lolling ouvrier, common to Paris in all seasons and under every government, slow and shuffling, a lounger through successive rÉgimes. We recognise the reign of the 'Citizen King' in the person of one of his citizen soldiers, a worthy National Guard, hurrying from commercial allurements to practise the military duties of a patriot. At another time Mr. Titmarsh may refresh his pictorial tastes by the inspection of M. Phillipon's latest onslaught on 'the poire.' Here we confront M. Aubert's renowned collection of political cartoons in the Galerie Veron-Dodat, the head-quarters of that irrepressible army of caricaturists whose satiric shafts kept the stout Louis Philippe in a quiver of irritation, until he swept away the liberty of the press. Before us stands a stern dissentient from any expression assailing A Citizen Soldier The Army Here is a sketchy reminiscence of the Jardin Bullier, over the water, close by the BarriÈre d'Enfer. We may imagine that this recollection has been revived by some flaring affichÉ posted on the walls regarding a 'long night' and the admission of 'fancy costumes' at that traditional retreat. We next get a peep into a cabaret, while still in pursuit of the military train, and here the artist regales us These last drawings are executed with a pen, and cleverly shaded in Indian ink. Showers, sharp though short, are frequent enough in Paris. Mr. Titmarsh, in the shelter of a 'Passage'—possibly the 'Panoramas'—seizes Mr. Titmarsh has stepped for a moment into the shelter of a church, for we here find a life-like picture of a priest bearing the Elements. The shower is over: the sun shines brighter than ever, and Mr. Titmarsh is tempted to trudge over to the Luxembourg. After a few practical criticisms on the paintings, he wanders into the quaint gardens surrounding this palace of art. His active pencil These little sketches are full of familiar life. The barriÈre is passed, and Mr. Titmarsh takes a stroll in the environs. His pencil preserves for our amusement this record of his wanderings. We may here allude to his kindly feeling for children, whose romps so often employed his pen. Further down the shady groves the coco seller finds a customer in a militaire, whose tastes are simple, or whose means do not compass a more ambitious beverage. Before he dines, Mr. Titmarsh returns to his lodgings (possibly the very ones he occupied during the tragedy of Attwood's violent end, described in the 'Gambler's Death'), to 'wash-in' a few croquis in Indian ink; and there, we may assume, he traces on a loose scrap of paper the whimsical outline of 'An Eastern Traveller.' An Eastern Traveller Anon Mr. Titmarsh plunges deeper into the art career; his aspirations lead him to Rome; there, amidst galleries, artists, authors, models, canvases, and easels, he pursues his lively though somewhat desultory course. Who could be more at home in the head-quarters of the fine arts? who more popular than this kind-hearted, A Neapolitan 'Snob' Southern Italy A Water-carrier Southern Italy A Wayside Player Italian Sketches And Thackeray was no less at home in Belgium than he was in Germany, in Paris, and in Rome. Guide Indispensable du Voyageur en Belgique Germania A Family Jaunt On a Rhine Steamer MÂt de Coca Roadside Sketches His books carry us where we will at pleasure. We can dot about quaint Flanders with O'Dowd, Dobbin, and the English Little Travels Would you visit the chief sight of Ghent, who could better act as your kindly guide, philosopher, and friend than Thackeray? for one of the most delightfully fresh and picturesque descriptions of the BÉguine College or village at Ghent is due to the pen of Titmarsh. In following his sketches of this miniature city of nuns, which every worthy sightseer has visited in the early stage of his travels, the whole place is set out before one with charms In 1852 Thackeray paid his first visit to America. The generous reception accorded him throughout the States is sufficiently notorious. Mr. W. B. Reed, who enjoyed in Philadelphia the intimacy of the great novelist, has recorded how deeply sympathetic was the feeling of our transatlantic cousins for this sterling example of a thorough and honest English gentleman. A Wayside Sketcher A School Fight 'In our return journey to Philadelphia, Thackeray referred to a friend whose wife had been deranged for many years, hopelessly so; and never shall I forget the look, and manner, and voice with which he said to me, "It is an awful thing for her to continue so to live. It is an awful thing for her so to die. But has it never occurred to you, how awful a thing the recovery of lost reason must be without the consciousness of the lapse of time? She finds the lover of her youth a grey-haired old man, and her infants Ah me! how quick the days are flitting; I mind me of a time that's gone, When here I'd sit, as now I'm sitting, In this same place, but not alone. A fair young form was nestled near me, A dear, dear face looked fondly up, And sweetly spoke and tried to cheer me— There's no one now to share my cup! 'Thackeray left us (the Philadelphians) in the winter of 1853, and in the summer of the year was on the Continent with his daughters. In the last chapter of the "Newcomes," published in 1855, he says: "Two years ago, walking with my children in some pleasant fields near to Berne, in Switzerland, I strayed from them into a little wood; and, coming out of it, presently told them how the story had been revealed to me somehow, which, for three-and-twenty months, the reader has been pleased to follow." It was on this Swiss tour that he wrote me a kindly characteristic The last journey chronicled by Thackeray was a merry little 'Roundabout' trip over the old Netherlands ground, in which he indulged, without preparation, when overworked and suffering from the anxieties of editing the 'Cornhill Magazine;' the journal is filled in with the zest of a stolen excursion, and the writer mentions A Centurion Swiss Kine On the Road Dolce far niente Unruly Travellers Dutch Pictures Off to Market Dutch Pictures |
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