The Whole Meaning of Dickens

The King of Paradox, ever standing on his head to gain fresh perspective. At the end of his threads I always find myself seeing more on a subject than I had before. (Spoiler alert: This is a criticism on Dicken’s David Copperfield, and gives away the ending and other story elements. But if chances are you’re not likely read David Copperfield in the next 5 years, this piece is definitely a worthwhile read.)

This element which is represented by the colonial optimism at the end of David Copperfield is a moral element. The truth is that there is something a little mean about this sort of optimism. I do not like the notion of David Copperfield sitting down comfortably to his tea-table with Agnes, having got rid of all the inconvenient or distressing characters of the story by sending them to the other side of the world. The whole thing has too much about it of the selfishness of a family which sends a scapegrace to the Colonies to starve with its blessing. There is too much in the whole thing of that element which was satirised by an ironic interpretation of the epitaph “Peace, perfect peace, with loved ones far away.” We should have thought more of David Copperfield (and also of Charles Dickens) if he had endeavoured for the rest of his life, by conversation and comfort, to bind up the wounds of his old friends from the seaside. We should have thought more of David Copperfield (and also of Charles Dickens) if he had faced the possibility of going on till his dying day lending money to Mr. Wilkins Micawber. We should have thought more of David Copperfield (and also of Charles Dickens) if he had not looked upon the marriage with Dora merely as a flirtation, an episode which he survived and ought to survive. And yet the truth is that there is nowhere in fiction where we feel so keenly the primary human instinct and principle that a marriage is a marriage and irrevocable, that such things do leave a wound and also a bond as in this case of David’s short connection with his silly little wife. When all is said and done, when Dickens has done his best and his worst, when he has sentimentalised for pages and tried to tie up everything in the pink tape of optimism, the fact, in the psychology of the reader, still remains. The reader does still feel that David’s marriage to Dora was a real marriage; and that his marriage to Agnes was nothing, a middle-aged compromise, a taking of the second best, a sort of spiritualised and sublimated marriage of convenience. For all the readers of Dickens Dora is thoroughly avenged. The modern world (intent on anarchy in everything, even in Government) refuses to perceive the permanent element of tragic constancy which inheres in all passion, and which is the origin of marriage. Marriage rests upon the fact that you cannot have your cake and eat it; that you cannot lose your heart and have it. But, as I have said, there is perhaps no place in literature where we feel more vividly the sense of this monogamous instinct in man than in David Copperfield. A man is monogamous even if he is only monogamous for a month; love is eternal even if it is only eternal for a month. It always leaves behind it the sense of something broken and betrayed.

But I have mentioned Dora in this connection only because she illustrates the same fact which Micawber illustrates; the fact that there is at the end of this book too much tendency to bless people and get rid of them. Micawber is a nuisance. Dickens the despot condemns him to exile. Dora is a nuisance. Dickens the despot condemns her to death. But it is the whole business of Dickens in the world to express the fact that such people are the spice and interest of life. It is the whole point of Dickens that there is nobody more worth living with than a strong, splendid, entertaining, immortal nuisance. Micawber interrupts practical life; but what is practical life that it should venture to interrupt Micawber? Dora confuses the housekeeping; but we are not angry with Dora because she confuses the housekeeping. We are angry with the housekeeping because it confuses Dora. I repeat, and it cannot be too much repeated that the whole lesson of Dickens is here. It is better to know Micawber than not to know the minor worries that arise out of knowing Micawber. It is better to have a bad debt and a good friend. In the same way it is better to marry a human and healthy personality which happens to attract you than to marry a mere housewife; for a mere housewife is a mere housekeeper. All this was what Dickens stood for; that the very people who are most irritating in small business circumstances are often the people who are most delightful in long stretches of experience of life. It is just the man who is maddening when he is ordering a cutlet or arranging an appointment who is probably the man in whose company it is worth while to journey steadily towards the grave. Distribute the dignified people and the capable people and the highly business-like people among all the situations which their ambition or their innate corruption may demand; but keep close to your heart, keep deep in your inner councils the absurd people. Let the clever people pretend to govern you, let the unimpeachable people pretend to advise you, but let the fools alone influence you; let the laughable people whose faults you see and understand be the only people who are really inside your life, who really come near you or accompany you on your lonely march towards the last impossibility. That is the whole meaning of Dickens; that we should keep the absurd people for our friends.

And here at the end of David Copperfield he seems in some dim way to deny it. He seems to want to get rid of the preposterous people simply because they will always continue to be preposterous. I have a horrible feeling that David Copperfield will send even his aunt to Australia if she worries him too much about donkeys.

I repeat, then, that this wrong ending of David Copperfield is one of the very few examples in Dickens of a real symptom of fatigue. Having created splendid beings for whom alone life might be worth living, he cannot endure the thought of his hero living with them. Having given his hero superb and terrible friends, he is afraid of the awful and tempestuous vista of their friendship. He slips back into a more superficial kind of story and ends it in a more superficial way. He is afraid of the things he has made; of that terrible figure Micawber; of that yet more terrible figure Dora. He cannot make up his mind to see his hero perpetually entangled in the splendid tortures and sacred surprises that come from living with really individual and unmanageable people. He cannot endure the idea that his fairy prince will not have henceforward a perfectly peaceful time. But the wise old fairy tales (which are the wisest things in the world, at any rate the wisest things of worldly origin), the wise old fairy tales never were so silly as to say that the prince and the princess lived peacefully ever afterwards. The fairy tales said that the prince and princess lived happily ever afterwards: and so they did. They lived happily, although it is very likely that from time to time they threw the furniture at each other. Most marriages, I think, are happy marriages; but there is no such thing as a contented marriage. The whole pleasure of marriage is that it is a perpetual crisis. David Copperfield and Dora quarrelled over the cold mutton; and if they had gone on quarrelling to the end of their lives, they would have gone on loving each other to the end of their lives; it would have been a human marriage. But David Copperfield and Agnes would agree about the cold mutton. And that cold mutton would be very cold.

– G.K. Chesterton, Appreciations and Criticisms on the Works of Charles Dickens


– Watergirl

Deconstructing Popular Posts

I am enough

I have been finding since a simple intro to the idea of logic & reason that many of those cute little posts I see everywhere now bug me; I cannot simply” feel good” to their tune anymore. Now they have to go and make me think. But since it’s no use going back to simpler days, I’ve made it an interesting exercise  to unpack these ideas and ask myself “What does this mean, and does it work?” (a.k.a., is it true?)

“I am enough.” Interesting thought… But what do people mean when they say that? “I am enough” for what? Do people mean when they say “I am enough” that we should regard ourselves with dignity and not have low self esteem? I have the impression that most people get this  feeling when they say “I am enough.” That is a good idea and true, because we all have value. (Probably infinitely more than we know or can see now; the image of a little baby cooing and gurgling comes to mind, who then grows up to be an incredible and amazing man – who would have known that by looking at a drooling infant.)  But that idea is not expressed very well by the statement of “I am enough,” as the thought “I am enough” simply does not actually mean “I have worth” or “I have value.”

Does it mean “I am who I am supposed to be?” Maybe.  It would be very dangerous for a baby who cannot walk or talk  yet to say that, as it might be dangerous for me to say this to myself; because I have not yet achieved perfection, or the completion of who I am supposed to be. I can know this because I find I am often frustrated with myself, my actions or with the outcomes I get. If I find I am frustrated, it implies that there must be more, or something better to be attained; if things were perfect or just right I would then be content, not frustrated.

Or does it mean “all I need is within me now?” If I saw this principle working in my everyday life, then I could accept it. If everything I (or anyone I know)  wanted came true simply because I snapped my fingers, if I got everything I asked for, and if I could instantly make all my  troubles vanish, then I would be able to truly say, “I am enough.” Problem is, that does not happen; even when I set out with all the best intentions I still sometimes say things I don’t mean, do things I later wish I hadn’t, and  find I have to deal with all kinds of problems, challenges and surprises that I was not expecting. On a daily basis I encounter things and situations that are out of my control. The people that surround me are also, I find (sometimes frustratingly so) out of my control. And I find my body functions without my intent or command; I may die at any moment, and that is also out of my control. (Thankfully it is in my control to not worry about it, as I have a feeling this list goes on and on.)

As my life runs today, I find that I can do what I need to do, with a little help from outside “me”. Because I need strength, I need love, I need encouragement; I need courage to fight the good fight, and to persevere in my calling and responsibilities, and I find I need… Perhaps even more things than I care to admit. And these are things that I do not find within myself. (Like my husband recently commented, “I would like to find French within myself.” – I’m on that boat in a heartbeat.) Chesterton said,

“I do not, in my personal capacity, believe that a baby gets his best physical food by sucking his thumb; nor that a man gets his best moral food by sucking his soul, and denying its dependence on God or other good things.”

We, like all plants and animals must receive our physical and spiritual nourishment (from which we derive sustenance and strength) from outside ourselves, because we are simply not born self-sufficient as some would like to imagine. I can do all things that I am called to do every day. (Through Christ which strengtheneth me.)