Charles Dickens: A critical studyChesterton, G. K. (Gilbert Keith)
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Charles Dickens: A critical study
Chesterton, G. K. (Gilbert Keith)
Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870
In connection with the accusation of vulgar optimism, which I have
taken as a text for this chapter, there is another somewhat odd thing
to notice. Nobody in the world was ever less optimistic than Dickens in
his treatment of evil or the evil man. When I say optimistic in this
matter I mean optimism, in the modern sense, of an attempt to whitewash
evil. Nobody ever made less attempt to whitewash evil than Dickens.
Nobody black was ever less white than Dickens’s black. He painted
his villains and lost characters more black than they really are. He
crowds his stories with a kind of villain rare in modern fiction--the
villain really without any “redeeming point.” There is no redeeming
point in Squeers, or in Monck, or in Ralph Nickleby, or in Bill Sikes,
or in Quilp, or in Brass, or in Mr. Chester, or in Mr. Pecksniff, or
in Jonas Chuzzlewit, or in Carker, or in Uriah Heep, or in Blandois,
or in a hundred more. So far as the balance of good and evil in human
characters is concerned, Dickens certainly could not be called a vulgar
optimist. His emphasis on evil was melodramatic. He might be called a
vulgar pessimist.
Some will dismiss this lurid villainy as a detail of his artificial
romance. I am not inclined to do so. He inherited, undoubtedly,
this unqualified villain as he inherited so many other things, from
the whole history of European literature. But he breathed into the
blackguard a peculiar and vigorous life of his own. He did not show
any tendency to modify his blackguardism in accordance with the
increasing considerateness of the age; he did not seem to wish to make
his villain less villainous; he did not wish to imitate the analysis
of George Eliot, or the reverent scepticism of Thackeray. And all this
works back, I think, to a real thing in him, that he wished to have
an obstreperous and incalculable enemy. He wished to keep alive the
idea of combat, which means, of necessity, a combat against something
individual and alive. I do not know whether, in the kindly rationalism
of his epoch, he kept any belief in a personal devil in his theology,
but he certainly created a personal devil in every one of his books.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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