VANITY FAIR

by William Makepeace Thackeray

BEFORE THE CURTAIN

As the manager of the Performance sits before the curtain

on the boards and looks into the Fair, a feeling of profound

melancholy comes over him in his survey of the bustling place.

There is a great quantity of eating and drinking, making love

and jilting, laughing and the contrary, smoking, cheating,

fighting, dancing and fiddling; there are bullies pushing about,

bucks ogling the women, knaves picking pockets, policemen

on the look-out, quacks (OTHER quacks, plague take them!)

bawling in front of their booths, and yokels looking up at

the tinselled dancers and poor old rouged tumblers, while the

light-fingered folk are operating upon their pockets behind.

Yes, this is VANITY FAIR; not a moral place certainly; nor a

merry one, though very noisy. Look at the faces of the actors

and buffoons when they come off from their business; and

Tom Fool washing the paint off his cheeks before he sits down

to dinner with his wife and the little Jack Puddings behind

the canvas. The curtain will be up presently, and he will be

turning over head and heels, and crying, "How are you?"

A man with a reflective turn of mind, walking through an

exhibition of this sort, will not be oppressed, I take it, by his

own or other people's hilarity. An episode of humour or kindness

touches and amuses him here and there--a pretty child

looking at a gingerbread stall; a pretty girl blushing whilst her

lover talks to her and chooses her fairing; poor Tom Fool,

yonder behind the waggon, mumbling his bone with the honest

family which lives by his tumbling; but the general impression

is one more melancholy than mirthful. When you come home

you sit down in a sober, contemplative, not uncharitable frame

of mind, and apply yourself to your books or your business.

I have no other moral than this to tag to the present story

of "Vanity Fair." Some people consider Fairs immoral altogether,

and eschew such, with their servants and families: very

likely they are right. But persons who think otherwise, and are

of a lazy, or a benevolent, or a sarcastic mood, may perhaps

like to step in for half an hour, and look at the performances.

There are scenes of all sorts; some dreadful combats, some

grand and lofty horse-riding, some scenes of high life, and

some of very middling indeed; some love-making for the

sentimental, and some light comic business; the whole

accompanied by appropriate scenery and brilliantly illuminated

with the Author's own candles.

What more has the Manager of the Performance to say?--

To acknowledge the kindness with which it has been received

in all the principal towns of England through which the Show

has passed, and where it has been most favourably noticed by

the respected conductors of the public Press, and by the Nobility

and Gentry. He is proud to think that his Puppets have given

satisfaction to the very best company in this empire. The

famous little Becky Puppet has been pronounced to be uncommonly

flexible in the joints, and lively on the wire; the Amelia

Doll, though it has had a smaller circle of admirers, has yet

been carved and dressed with the greatest care by the artist; the

Dobbin Figure, though apparently clumsy, yet dances in a very

amusing and natural manner; the Little Boys' Dance has been

liked by some; and please to remark the richly dressed figure

of the Wicked Nobleman, on which no expense has been

spared, and which Old Nick will fetch away at the end of this

singular performance.

And with this, and a profound bow to his patrons, the

Manager retires, and the curtain rises.

LONDON, June 28, 1848