status as certain. While performing much of the best of his life's work
he was not sure of his market, not certain of his readers, his
publishers, or his price; nor was he certain of himself.

It is impossible not to form some contrast between him and Dickens as to
this period of his life,--a comparison not as to their literary merits,
but literary position. Dickens was one year his junior in age, and at
this time, viz. 1837-38, had reached almost the zenith of his
reputation. _Pickwick_ had been published, and _Oliver Twist_ and
_Nicholas Nickleby_ were being published. All the world was talking
about the young author who was assuming his position with a confidence
in his own powers which was fully justified both by his present and
future success. It was manifest that he could make, not only his own
fortune, but that of his publishers, and that he was a literary hero
bound to be worshipped by all literary grades of men, down to the
"devils" of the printing-office. At that time, Thackeray, the older man,
was still doubting, still hesitating, still struggling. Everyone then
had accepted the name of Charles Dickens. That of William Thackeray was
hardly known beyond the circle of those who are careful to make
themselves acquainted with such matters. It was then the custom, more
generally than it is at present, to maintain anonymous writing in
magazines. Now, if anything of special merit be brought out, the name of
the author, if not published, is known. It was much less so at the
period in question; and as the world of readers began to be acquainted
with Jeames Yellowplush, Catherine Hayes, and other heroes and heroines,
the names of the author had to be inquired for. I remember myself, when
I was already well acquainted with the immortal Jeames, asking who was
the writer. The works of Charles Dickens were at that time as well known
to be his, and as widely read in England, as those almost of
Shakespeare.