The fact would seem to be that his voice was discordant with that of his age. For the Victorians, however much we may respect them, as we now do (the pendulum is perhaps swinging a little too far from the derisive contempt of a generation ago), did, we feel, too much like to look at the rosy side of things-at least where the average middle-class person was concerned. You could reveal 'the tradition of the people', after the manner of Kingsley and Mrs. Gaskell, or even of Dickens, if you were either evangelistic or pitiful enough, but not the moral condition of the ruling classes. How otherwise could Trollope, again, have written in a rather happy redressing of the balance in favour of the Thackeray family: 'Miss Broughton's novels are not so sweet-savoured as those of Miss Thackeray, and are, therefore, less true to nature.' It is clear, however, that there was something about Thackeray which annoyed his contemporaries, just as there is something which annoys people now. Yet it would be difficult for anyone to read his letters and not at least relent: many will feel warmly towards the man whatever they think of the author.