But my uncle Milton used to come to
Hadley full of "the last _Pickwick_," and swearing that each number
out-Pickwicked Pickwick. And it was with the greatest curiosity and
interest that we saw the creator of all this enjoyment enter in the
flesh.
We were at first disappointed, and disposed to imagine there must be
some mistake! No! _that_ is not the man who wrote _Pickwick_! What we
saw was a dandified, pretty-boy-looking sort of figure, singularly
young looking, I thought, with a slight flavour of the whipper-snapper
genus of humanity.
Here is Carlyle's description of his appearance at about that period
of his life, quoted from Froude's _History of Carlyle's Life in
London_:
"He is a fine little fellow--Boz--I think. Clear blue, intelligent
eyes, eyebrows that he arches amazingly, large, protrusive, rather
loose mouth, a face of most extreme mobility, which he shuttles
about--eyebrows, eyes, mouth and all--in a very singular manner when
speaking. Surmount this with a loose coil of common-coloured hair,
and set it on a small compact figure, very small, and dressed _a la_
D'Orsay rather than well--this is Pickwick. For the rest, a quiet,
shrewd-looking little fellow, who seems to guess pretty well what he
is and what others are."
One may perhaps venture to suppose that had the second of these
guesses been less accurate, the description might have been a less
kindly one.
But there are two errors to be noted in this sketch, graphic as it
is.
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