of 1837—­“Pickwick,” it will be remembered, going on all the while—­he entered upon the duties of editor of Bentley’s Miscellany, and in the second number began the publication of “Oliver Twist,” which was continued into the early months of 1839, when his connection with the magazine ceased.  In the April of 1838, and simultaneously, of course, with “Oliver Twist,” appeared the first part of “Nicholas Nickleby”—­the last part appearing in the October of the following year.  Three novels of more than full size and of first-rate importance, in less than four years, besides a good deal of other miscellaneous work—­certainly that was “good going.”  The pace was decidedly fast.  Small wonder that The Quarterly Review, even so early as October, 1837, was tempted to croak about “Mr. Dickens” as writing “too often and too fast, and putting forth in their crude, unfinished, undigested state, thoughts, feelings, observations, and plans which it required time and study to mature,” and to warn him that as he had “risen like a rocket,” so he was in danger of “coming down like the stick.”  Small wonder, I say, and yet to us now, how unjust the accusation appears, and how false the prophecy.  Rapidly as those books were executed, Dickens, like the real artist that he was, had put into them his best work.  There was no scamping.  The critics of the time judged superficially, not making allowance for the ample fund of observations he had amassed, for the genuine fecundity of his genius, and for the admirable industry of an extremely industrious man.  “The World’s Workers”—­there exists under that general designation a series of short biographies, for which Miss Dickens has written a sketch of her father’s life.  To no one could the description more fittingly apply.  Throughout his life he worked desperately hard.  He possessed, in a high degree, the “infinite faculty for taking pains,” which is so great an adjunct to genius, though it is not, as the good Sir Joshua Reynolds held, genius itself.  Thus what he had done rapidly was done well; and, for the rest, the writer, who had yet to give the world “Martin Chuzzlewit,” “The Christmas Carol,” “David Copperfield,” and “Dombey,” was not “coming down like a stick.”  There were many more stars, and of very brilliant colours, to be showered out by that rocket; and the stick has not even yet fallen to the ground.[13]

Naturally, with the success of “Pickwick,” came a great change in Dickens’ pecuniary position.  He had, as we have seen, been glad enough, before he began the book, to close with the offer of L14 for each monthly part.  That sum was afterwards increased to L15, and the two first payments seem to have been made in advance for the purpose of helping him to defray the expenses of his marriage.  But as the sale leapt up, the publishers themselves felt that such a rate of remuneration was altogether insufficient, and sent him, first and last, a goodly number of supplementary cheques, for sums amounting in the aggregate, as they