first libel action. The object of its criticism was, of course,
Samuel Carter Hall, who, tradition says, was the origin of Dickens's
immortal conception. This creation--the symbol of cant and
hypocrisy--was after Jerrold's own heart, and, thinking less of charity
this time than of justice, he smote the luckless editor of the "Art
Journal" hip and thigh, and revelled in his attacks. Hall's articles on
the industrial art of England were supposed to be dictated more by the
complacency and generosity of manufacturers than by the artistic
excellence of their wares. Sometimes Jerrold would use the image of
"Pecksniff" for other and more serious purposes than the baiting of Mr.
Hall and his little ways, as when, in 1844, he made this biting
onslaught on the Prime Minister, Sir Robert Peel:

"We have heard that Mr. Charles Dickens is about to apply to the Court
of Chancery for an injunction to prevent Sir Robert Peel continuing any
longer to personate, in his character of Premier, the character of Mr.
Pecksniff, as delineated in _Martin Chuzzlewit_, that character being
copyright. We hope this rumour is unfounded, as the injunction would
certainly be refused. Sir Robert Peel is in a condition to prove that
the part in question has been enacted by him for a long series of years,
and was so long before any of Mr. Dickens's works appeared; in short,
that he, Sir Robert Peel, is the original Pecksniff."

The year 1843 was a notable one in _Punch's_ calendar, for in it Jerrold
struck that note of sympathy and tenderness that was almost immediately
to culminate in Hood's tragic poem. "The Story of a Feather" was begun,
and was the greatest success the paper had scored up to that time, with
the exception of the first Almanac. Dickens, who watched for it and read
it as it came out, wrote privately to him that it was "a beautiful
book," and his verdict was endorsed by the ever-increasing circle of
_Punch's_ readers. "Our Honeymoon" was Jerrold's last series of the
year--a year which drew from him plenty of outside work. He edited Mr.
Herbert Ingram's admirable but short-lived "Illuminated Magazine," and
wrote for it the "Chronicles of Clovernook" and the "Chronicles of a
Goosequill." It is astonishing, in looking back at Jerrold's remarkable
work at this period, to think that the public reads his books no more,
and prefers to ruin its literary taste on fifth-rate romances rather
than on the virile novels of a recent past.

For a littl