Well-regarded British novelist (1811–1863) of such satirical classics as Vanity Fair. ALS signed “W. M. Thackeray,” one page, 4 x 6.25, no date. Thackeray writes to Mark Lemon, editor of Punch. In part: “Your friend must indeed be a strange individual and if I were you I should shut my ear against his vapid words. For my own part, I know of nothing more contemptible, unmanly or unwomanly, and craven than the everlasting sighing for ‘happiness.’ Those who have the most of it think the least about it. But in the thinking about and doing their Duty, happiness comes—because the heart and mind are occupied with earnest thought that touches at a thousand points the beautiful and sublime realities of the Universe! The heart and mind are brought (and reverently be it said) in contact with the Creator and Ruler and Father of All—the Perfect Bliss. Again with leisure: it is a very pleasant garment to look at, but it is a very bad one to wear. The ruin of thousands—aye, and millions may be traced to it.” In fine condition, with a hint of mild scattered soiling and wrinkling. COA John Reznikoff/PSA/DNA and R&R COA.
