of his own life before I knew him, his marriage
and the first appearance of his Pickwick; and it turned out after all
that I had some shadowy association with both. He was married on the
anniversary of my birthday, and the original of the figure of Mr.
Pickwick bore my name.[10]

The first number had not yet appeared when his _Sketches by Boz,
Illustrative of Every-Day Life and Every-Day People_, came forth in two
duodecimos with some capital cuts by Cruikshank, and with a preface in
which he spoke of the nervousness he should have had in venturing alone
before the public, and of his delight in getting the help of Cruikshank,
who had frequently contributed to the success, though his well-earned
reputation rendered it impossible for him ever to have shared the
hazard, of similar undertakings. It very soon became apparent that there
was no hazard here. The _Sketches_ were much more talked about than the
first two or three numbers of _Pickwick_, and I remember still with what
hearty praise the book was first named to me by my dear friend Albany
Fonblanque, as keen and clear a judge as ever lived either of books or
men. Richly did it merit all the praise it had, and more, I will add,
than he was ever disposed to give to it himself. He decidedly underrated
it. He gave, in subsequent writings, so much more perfect form and
fullness to everything it contained, that he did not care to credit
himself with the marvel of having yet so early anticipated so much. But
the first sprightly runnings of his genius are undoubtedly here. Mr.
Bumble is in the parish sketches, and Mr. Dawkins the dodger in the Old
Bailey scenes. There is laughter and fun to excess, never misapplied;
there are the minute points and shades of character, with all the
discrimination and nicety of detail, afterwards so famous; there is
everywhere the most perfect ease and skill of handling. The observation
shown throughout is nothing short of wonderful. Things are painted
literally as they are, and, whatever the picture, whether of every-day
vulgar, shabby-genteel, or downright low, with neither the condescending
air which is affectation, nor the too familiar one which is slang. The
book altogether is a perfectly unaffected, unpretentious, honest
performance. Under its manly, sensible, straightforward vein of talk
there is running at the same time a natural flow of sentiment never
sentimental, of humor always easy and unforced, and of pathos for the
most part dr