Sir,--It has been said that every man is born a Platonist or an Aristotelian,though the enormous majority of us,to be sure,live and die without being conscious of any invidious philosophic partiality whatever.With more truth (though that does not imply very much)every Englishman who reads may be said to be a partisan of yourself or of Mr.Thackeray.Why should there be any partisanship in the matter;and why,having two such good things as your novels and those of your contemporary,should we not be silently happy in the possession?Well,men are made so,and must needs fight and argue over their tastes in enjoyment.For myself,Imay say that in this matter I am what the Americans do NOT call a "Mugwump,"what English politicians dub a "superior person"--that is,I take no side,and attempt to enjoy the best of both.
It must be owned that this attitude is sometimes made a little difficult by the vigour of your special devotees.They have ceased,indeed,thank Heaven!to imitate you;and even in "deive articles"the touch of Mr.Gigadibs,of him whom "we almost took for the true Dickens,"has disappeared.The young lions of the Press no longer mimic your less admirable mannerisms--do not strain so much after fantastic comparisons,do not (in your manner and Mr.
Carlyle's)give people nick-names derived from their teeth,or their complexion;and,generally,we are spared second-hand copies of all that in your style was least to be commended.But,though improved by lapse of time in this respect,your devotees still put on little conscious airs of virtue,robust manliness,and so forth,which would have irritated you very much,and there survive some press men who seem to have read you a little (especially your later works),and never to have read anything else.Now familiarity with the pages of "Our Mutual Friend"and "Dombey and Son"does not precisely constitute a liberal education,and the assumption that it does is apt (quite unreasonably)to prejudice people against the greatest comic genius of modern times.
On the other hand,Time is at last beginning to sift the true admirers of Dickens from the false.Yours,Sir,in the best sense of the word,is a popular success,a popular reputation.For example,I know that,in a remote and even Pictish part of this kingdom,a rural household,humble and under the shadow of a sorrow inevitably approaching,has found in "David Copperfield"oblivion of winter,of sorrow,and of sickness.On the other hand,people are now picking up heart to say that "they cannot read Dickens,"and that they particularly detest "Pickwick."I believe it was young ladies who first had the courage of their convictions in this respect."Tout sied aux belles,"and the fair,in the confidence of youth,often venture on remarkable confessions.In your "Natural History of Young Ladies"I do not remember that you describe the Humorous Young Lady.{1}She is a very rare bird indeed,and humour generally is at a deplorably low level in England.
Hence come all sorts of mischief,arisen since you left us;and it may be said that inordinate philanthropy,genteel sympathy with Irish murder and arson,Societies for Badgering the Poor,Esoteric Buddhism,and a score of other plagues,including what was once called AEstheticism,are all,primarily,due to want of humour.
People discuss,with the gravest faces,matters which properly should only be stated as the wildest paradoxes.It naturally follows that,in a period almost destitute of humour,many respectable persons "cannot read Dickens,"and are not ashamed to glory in their shame.We ought not to be angry with others for their misfortunes;and yet when one meets the cretins who boast that they cannot read Dickens,one certainly does feel much as Mr.Samuel Weller felt when he encountered Mr.Job Trotter.
How very singular has been the history of the decline of humour!Is there any profound psychological truth to be gathered from consideration of the fact that humour has gone out with cruelty?Ahundred years ago,eighty years ago--nay,fifty years ago--we were a cruel but also a humorous people.We had bull-baitings,and badger-drawings,and hustings,and prize-fights,and cock-fights;we went to see men hanged;the pillory and the stocks were no empty "terrors unto evil-doers,"for there was commonly a malefactor occupying each of these institutions.With all this we had a broad-blown comic sense.We had Hogarth,and Bunbury,and George Cruikshank,and Gilray;we had Leech and Surtees,and the creator of Tittlebat Titmouse;we had the Shepherd of the "Noctes,"and,above all,we had YOU.
