t. Here everything was right, and accordingly it "went
for" everything. A greater novel than _Esmond_ I do not know; and I do not
know many greater books. It may be "melancholy", and none the worse for
that: it is "grand".

For though there may not be much humour of the potato-throwing sort in
_Esmond_, it will, perhaps, be found that in no book of Thackeray's, or of
any one else's, is that deeper and higher humour which takes all life for
its province--which is the humour of humanity--more absolutely pervading.
And it may be found likewise, at least by some, that in no book is there
to be found such a constant intertwist of the passion which, in all
humanity's higher representatives, goes with humour hand in hand--a loving
yet a mutually critical pair. Of the extraordinarily difficult form of
autobiography I do not know such another masterly presentment; nor is it
very difficult to recognize the means by which this mastery is attained,
though Heaven knows it is not easy to understand the skill with which they
are applied. The success is, in fact, the result of that curious
"doubleness"--amounting, in fact, here to something like _triplicity_--which
distinguishes Thackeray's attitude and handling. Thus Henry Esmond, who is
on the whole, I should say, the most like him of all his characters
(though of course "romanced" a little), is himself and "the other fellow",
and also, as it were, human criticism of both. At times we have a
tolerably unsophisticated account of his actions, or it may be even his
thoughts; at another his thoughts and actions as they present themselves,
or might present themselves, to another mind: and yet at other times a
reasoned view of them, as it were that of an impartial historian. The
mixed form of narrative and mono-drama lends itself to this as nothing
else could: and so does the author's well-known, much discussed, and
sometimes heartily abused habit of _parabasis_ or soliloquy to the
audience. Of this nothing has yet been directly said, and anything that is
said would have to be repeated as to every novel: so that we may as well
keep it for the last or a late example, _The Virginians_ or _Philip_. But
its efficacy in this peculiar kind of double or treble handling is almost
indisputable, even by those who may dispute its legitimacy as a constantly
applied method.

One result, however, it has, as regards the hero-spokesman, which is
curious. I believe thoroughly in Henry Esmond--he is to me o