The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1870-06-18 00:00:00

citourfiribge 44sertur.

SATURDAY, JUNE 18, 1870.

CHARLES DICKENS.

England, and indeed the whole civilized world,
has to lament the loss of another great man of
letters. Where so much has been said and writ-
ten in praise of a 0.50, it may be thought need
less to add our small quota to the mass, but it
is not going too fr to say that DO amount of
yam gyric can do justice to the genius a such
a oue as tie 'Lose loss we so sincerely deplore ;
and even in these pages it will not be out of
place to give our readers some few words on the
life of so celebrated a giant in literature.
It would be difficult to describe, touch less to
criticise, the varied channels of his versatile
genius, and when we say that he cue ~s it
were, to till the gap whiso the death of th. great
Waverley novdist tool lef , id th.:t h file. .t
—we have said much.

Comparisons between his writings and the
mass of his imitators would be a futile and
lomposeless employment. Thackeray, his great
contempordry, had given to the world pictures of
society and character with great skill in mental
analysis, extraordinary at ittenc 53 of observa-
tion, and a sarcasm unrivalled for firmness and
formidable strength; but he never succeeded, if
leaked he ever attempted, to excite the contin-
ual and lively sympathy always called forth and
sustained trout the commencement to the end of
all the works of Charles Dickna. in the exhi-
bition of deep passion—vehement and -pathetic
—he stood unrivalled. His painting of charac-
ter is inimitably vigorous and natural; his sto-
ries are always interesting, and his power of ix•
citing emotion ranged with equal succeria from
horror (sometimes too intense) to melting pa-
thos—thence to a breadth of humour narrowly
escaping caricature. He never soared into the
higher worid of imagination, awl his tread ap-
peered to be too heavy even for the secluded
field of romantic or poetic meditation, but he
li,reatile strong and inventive the moment his
fit touched the firm ground ,4 rca:ity, and, in
S :mica whose meanness might have sppalled, or
whose foulness might have di gusted, he is at
e Ise, with lively sympathy and sharp observa-
tion.
Now he Ilan been tiken from 113 the lights and
shades of the character of the matt stand out in
bolder relief, and we seem, with our regret for
his loss, to naderstand him more thoroughly.
His last letter, alach moat have 'iry this time
read, is a model rebuke to questionable taste,
HULA an unanswer.rble protest against what he has
always iiitterly deplored in his writings—" the
proclamation froa the house-tops " of an intole-
rant

It is ss-ying wuoh,bt not too much, to declare
that no tribute is too cmed for his memory ; and
he his receiv..d la his lib., sod sleet his death,
the ready marks of sinction front sil sources;
from his foreign coutem? Jr:tries, front Royalty,
and from the people for whom he wrote. Even
his own express wishes could not over-rule the
desire of a nation to do hiss honour. Poets'
corner claimed hint, and he lies in Westminster
Abbey amid the remains of his litmary fitrerutt-
ners and bret •ti. /Ls frH .t
bost looks on ido n
tiii: ge_at Was:XL' •. . . . .... .
monument near; u lit resting place for a great

The cause of his death was apoplexy, brought
about by an over-straining of the system with
incessant work He died as he had lived—in
harness; his last work remaining, unfortunately,
unfinished, and, when the mass of the literature
of the present age is forgotten and buried with
the irrevocable past, Cnarles lk-kens's name
will still stand as a master to he studied and
loved.