Victorian solipsists - a series. This week we examine, with no originality whatsoever, the career of Dickens.
Dickens has never been a hero of mine. Our history is erratic: when I was a child there were often Sunday teatime dramas based on his works (D. Copperfield, N. Nickleby, Dombey & Son, Tale of Two Cities spring to mind). These usually starred Martin Jarvis - but I digress. At school I was forced to read David Copperfield as a Boy when I was 11. It was all right - already I had images of Little Emily and Barkis from the TV programme. At some point I read A Christmas Carol - and an abridged version of Oliver Twist. When I met Jeremy at the National Theatre (fresh from doing English at Cambridge) we had a lot of discussions about Dickens and I felt prejudiced and ignorant and began to read him. I enjoyed Little Dorrit, Bleak House, Dombey, Nickleby, Gt. Expectations, Copperfield... with reservations. The chief reservation being his depiction of women. Claire Tomalin describes his heroines as "vapid" - the perfect word. But it is the attitude of his heroes to the women that is so distressing - horribly paternalistic and patronising - what C21st woman would love any of them. And of course half the women are not really women at all - they are effectively children... The adult women are usually grotesque caricatures and while remarkable in their descriptions and memorable in their phraseology are not quite human beings. He performs a terrible trick of letting us know his heroes as cruelly-treated children and making us sympathise with them, so that we are on their side and thus lulled into accepting their rather priggish and chauvinistic behaviour without further comment.
Gradually I worked my way through the canon - and have now read just about all of them except Edwin Drood - my opinion hasn't improved, but I thought, "Oh well, he's just another of these good-hearted, jovial Victorian types, doing good works, performing theatricals, campaigning journalism etc. etc." This was because I had failed to ever read a biography of him. At present I am reading Clair Tomalin's The Invisible Woman. To say that one sees Dickens at his worst is the least of it. In many ways it is only when you see someone at their worst that you really know them - and you see the truth about them. All Dickens' morality turns out to be humbug - Tomalin says he had some Regency rake in him
Dickens has never been a hero of mine. Our history is erratic: when I was a child there were often Sunday teatime dramas based on his works (D. Copperfield, N. Nickleby, Dombey & Son, Tale of Two Cities spring to mind). These usually starred Martin Jarvis - but I digress. At school I was forced to read David Copperfield as a Boy when I was 11. It was all right - already I had images of Little Emily and Barkis from the TV programme. At some point I read A Christmas Carol - and an abridged version of Oliver Twist. When I met Jeremy at the National Theatre (fresh from doing English at Cambridge) we had a lot of discussions about Dickens and I felt prejudiced and ignorant and began to read him. I enjoyed Little Dorrit, Bleak House, Dombey, Nickleby, Gt. Expectations, Copperfield... with reservations. The chief reservation being his depiction of women. Claire Tomalin describes his heroines as "vapid" - the perfect word. But it is the attitude of his heroes to the women that is so distressing - horribly paternalistic and patronising - what C21st woman would love any of them. And of course half the women are not really women at all - they are effectively children... The adult women are usually grotesque caricatures and while remarkable in their descriptions and memorable in their phraseology are not quite human beings. He performs a terrible trick of letting us know his heroes as cruelly-treated children and making us sympathise with them, so that we are on their side and thus lulled into accepting their rather priggish and chauvinistic behaviour without further comment.
Gradually I worked my way through the canon - and have now read just about all of them except Edwin Drood - my opinion hasn't improved, but I thought, "Oh well, he's just another of these good-hearted, jovial Victorian types, doing good works, performing theatricals, campaigning journalism etc. etc." This was because I had failed to ever read a biography of him. At present I am reading Clair Tomalin's The Invisible Woman. To say that one sees Dickens at his worst is the least of it. In many ways it is only when you see someone at their worst that you really know them - and you see the truth about them. All Dickens' morality turns out to be humbug - Tomalin says he had some Regency rake in him
... which is true - but the idea that the Regency rake was a different character from the Victorian hypocrite is perhaps untrue. The difference was that allowances were made for people's weaknesses in the earlier period to some extent - while they could not be acknowledged later on - except perhaps at one's club (if one hadn't resigned from it again after a row with Thackeray). Actually D had all the weaknesses, and the social and media influence to silence his critics. He was unbelievably rich and powerful - I don't think any modern writer could command that sort of stature - although Jeffrey Archer has clearly always aspired to it. So, in short, the story of how he sent his long-suffering wife away, in favour of a young actress, is not a new one. However it is the lies and deceit he practised in the process that make him so despicable.
I know for some writers there is a thin line between creativity and reality - CD may very well have come to believe the lies he told about his wife and about his relationship with Nelly Ternan, but on the whole it looks like another lamentable case of Victorian Great Man solipsism - "this is what I believe - I shall ignore all evidence to the contrary" which allowed him to be utterly cruel, while feeling apparently completely satisfied with himself. That said, I have not finished the book - he may well die in a penitential mood.deeply regretting his wickedness.
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