2. His Novels. Sketches by Boz (1833), a series dealing with London life in the manner of Leigh Hunt, is interesting, but trifling when compared with The Pickwick Papers (1836), its successor. The plot of the latter book is rudimentary. In order to provide an occasion for Seymour’s sketches Dickens hit upon the idea of a sporting club, to be called the Pickwick Club. As the book proceeds this idea is soon dropped, and the story becomes a kind of large and genial picaresque novel. The incidents are loosely connected and the chronology will not bear close inspection, but in abundance of detail of a high quality, in vivacity of humor, in acute and accurate observation, the book is of the first rank. It is doubtful if Dickens ever improved upon it. Then, before Pickwick was finished, Oliver Twist (1837) appeared piecemeal in Bentley’s Miscellany; and Nicholas Nickleby (1838) was begun before the second novel had ceased to appear. The demand for Dickens’s novels was now enormous, and he was assiduous in catering for his public. For his next novels he constructed a somewhat elaborate framework, calling the work Master Humphrey’s Clock; but he sensibly abandoned the notion, and the books appeared separately as The Old Curiosity Shop (1840), which was an immense success, and Barnaby Rudge (1841), a historical novel. In 1842 he sailed to America, where his experiences bore fruit in American Notes (1843) and Martin Chuzzlewit (1843). These works were not complimentary to the Americans, and they brought him much unpopularity in the United States. A Christmas Carol (1843) and Dombey and Son (1848) appeared next, the latter being written partly at Lausanne. Then in 1849 he started David Copperfield, which contains many of his personal experiences and is often considered to be his masterpiece, though for many critics The Pickwick Papers retains its primacy.
From this point onward a certain decline is manifest. His stories drag; his mannerisms become more apparent, and his splendid buoyancy is less visible. Bleak House (1852) and Hard Times (1854) were written for his Household Words; Little Dorrit (1856) appeared in monthly parts; A Tale of Two Cities (1859) and Great Expectations (1860) were for All the Year Round. After producing Our Mutual Friend (1864) he paid his second visit to America, and was received very cordially. He returned to England, but did not live to finish The Mystery of Edwin Drood, which was appearing in monthly parts when he died.
3. Features of his Novels. (a) Their Popularity. At the age of twenty-six Dickens was a popular author. This was a happy state of affairs for him, and to his books it served as an ardent stimulus. But there were attendant disadvantages. The demand for his novels was so enormous that it often led to hasty and ill-considered work: to crudity of plot, to unreality of characters, and to looseness of style. It led also to the pernicious habit of issuing the stories in parts. This in turn resulted in much padding and in lopsidedness of construction. The marvelous thing is that with so strong a temptation to slop-work he created books that were so rich and enduring.
(b) His Imagination. No English novelist excels Dickens in the multiplicity of his characters and situations. Pickwick Papers, the first of the novels, teems with characters, some of them finely portrayed, and in mere numbers the supply is maintained to the very end of his life. He creates for us a whole world of people. In this world he is most at home with persons of the lower and middle ranks of life, especially those who frequent the neighborhood of London.
(c) His Humor and Pathos. It is very likely that the reputation of Dickens will be maintained chiefly as a humorist. His humor is broad, humane, and creative. It gives us such real immortals as Mr. Pickwick, Mrs. Gamp, Mr. Micawber, and Sam Weller—typical inhabitants of the Dickensian sphere, and worthy of a place in any literary brotherhood. Dickens’s humor is not very subtle, but it goes deep, and in expression it is free and vivacious. His satire is apt to develop into mere burlesque, as it does when he deals with Mr. Stiggins and Bumble. As for his pathos, in its day it had an appeal that appears amazing to a later generation, whom it strikes as cheap and maudlin. His devices are often third-rate, as when they depend upon such themes as the deaths of little children, which he describes in detail. His genius had little tragic force. He could describe the horrible, as in the death of Bill Sikes; he could be painfully melodramatic, as in characters like Rosa Dartle and Madame Defarge; but he seems to have been unable to command the simplicity of real tragic greatness.
(d) His mannerisms are many, and they do not make for good in his novels. It has often been pointed out that his characters are created not “in the round,” but “in the flat.” Each represents one mood, one turn of phrase. Uriah Heep is “’umble,” Barkis is “willin’.” In this fashion his characters become associated with catch-phrases, like the personages in inferior drama. Dickens’s partiality for the drama is also seen in the staginess of his scenes and plots.
(e) In time his style became mannered also. At its best it is not polished nor scholarly, but it is clear, rapid, and workmanlike, the style of the working journalist. In the early books it is sometimes trivial with puns, Cockneyisms, and tiresome circumlocutions. This heavy-handedness of phrase remained with him all his life. In his more aspiring flights, in particular in his deeply pathetic passages, he adopted a lyrical style, a kind of verse-in-prose, that is blank verse slightly disguised. We add a passage of this last type. It can be scanned in places like pure blank verse:
For she was dead. There, upon her little bed, she lay at rest. The solemn stillness was no marvel now.
She was dead. No sleep so beautiful and calm, so free from trace of pain, so fair to look upon. She seemed a creature fresh from the hand of God, and waiting for the breath of life; not one who had lived and suffered death.
Her couch was dressed with here and there some winter berries and green leaves, gathered in a spot she had been used to favour. “When I die, put near me something that has loved the light, and had the sky above it always.” Those were her words.