the
way," he wrote to me of its two most prominent figures, as soon as all
their capabilities were revealed to him, "As to the way in which these
characters have opened out, that is, to me, one of the most surprising
processes of the mind in this sort of invention. Given what one knows,
what one does not know springs up; and I am as absolutely certain of its
being true, as I am of the law of gravitation--if such a thing be
possible, more so." The remark displays exactly what in all his
important characters was the very process of creation with him.

Nor was it in the treatment only of his present fiction, but also in
its subject or design, that he had gone higher than in preceding
efforts. Broadly what he aimed at, he would have expressed on the
title-page if I had not dissuaded him, by printing there as its motto a
verse altered from that prologue of his own composition to which I have
formerly referred: "Your homes the scene. Yourselves, the actors, here!"
Debtors' prisons, parish Bumbledoms, Yorkshire schools, were vile
enough, but something much more pestiferous was now the aim of his
satire; and he had not before so decisively shown vigour, daring, or
discernment of what lay within reach of his art, as in taking such a
person as Pecksniff for the central figure in a tale of existing life.
Setting him up as the glass through which to view the groups around him,
we are not the less moved to a hearty detestation of the social vices
they exhibit, and pre-eminently of selfishness in all its forms, because
we see more plainly than ever that there is but one vice which is quite
irremediable. The elder Chuzzlewits are bad enough, but they bring their
self-inflicted punishments; the Jonases and Tigg Montagues are
execrable, but the law has its halter and its penal servitude; the
Moulds and Gamps have plague-bearing breaths, from which sanitary wisdom
may clear us; but from the sleek, smiling, crawling abomination of a
Pecksniff, there is no help but self-help. Every man's hand should be
against him, for his is against every man; and, as Mr. Taine very wisely
warns us, the virtues have most need to be careful that they do not make
themselves panders to his vice. It is an amiable weakness to put the
best face on the worst things, but there is none more dangerous. There
is nothing so common as the mistake of Tom Pinch, and nothing so rare
as his excuses.

The art with which that delightful character is placed at Mr.
Pecksnif