SEYMOUR never originated or suggested an incident, a phrase, or a
word, to be found in this book. That, MR. SEYMOUR died when only twenty-four
pages of this book were published, and when assuredly not forty-eight were
written. That, I believe I never saw MR. SEYMOUR'S hand-writing in my life.
That, I never saw MR. SEYMOUR but once in my life, and that was on the night but
one before his death, when he certainly offered no suggestion whatsoever. That I
saw him then in the presence of two persons, both living, perfectly acquainted
with all these facts, and whose written testimony to them I possess. Lastly,
that MR. EDWARD CHAPMAN (the survivor of the original firm of CHAPMAN and HALL)
has set down in writing, for similar preservation, his personal knowledge of the
origin and progress of this book, of the monstrosity of the baseless assertions
in question, and (tested by details) even of the self-evident impossibility of
there being any truth in them. In the exercise of the forbearance on which I
have resolved, I do not quote MR. EDWARD CHAPMAN'S account of his deceased
partner's reception, on a certain occasion, of the pretences in question.
    »Boz,« my signature in the Morning Chronicle, and in the Old Monthly
Magazine, appended to the monthly cover of this book, and retained long
afterwards, was the nickname of a pet child, a younger brother, whom I had
dubbed Moses, in honour of the Vicar of Wakefield; which being facetiously
pronounced through the nose, became Boses, and being shortened, became Boz. Boz
was a very familiar household word to me, long before I was an author, and so I
came to adopt it.
    It has been observed of Mr. Pickwick, that there is a decided change in his
character, as these pages proceed, and that he becomes more good and more
sensible. I do not think this change will appear forced or unnatural to my
readers, if they will reflect that in real life the peculiarities and oddities
of a man who has anything whimsical about him, generally impress us first, and
that it is not until we are better acquainted with him that we usually begin to
look below these superficial traits, and to know the better part of him.
    Lest there should be any well-intentioned persons who do not perceive the
difference (as some such could not, when OLD MORTALITY was newly published),
between religion and the cant of religion, piety and the pretence of