Spirit of Jefferson. [volume] (Charles Town, Va. [W. Va.]) 1844-1948, 1870-07-05
Charles Dickens.

Maryland, has attracted our attention as tho
best obituary notice of the Great Novelist
which we have seen. We commend its careful
perusal to our readers =
A star has fallen from the armament, and
the name of Dickens has become memory.
Like the soldier who slew Archimedes, death
overlook him at his work. and carried him off
before it was finished. 'sThe mystery of
Edwin Drood," the name of the story upon
which he was engaged at the time of his
decease, has become a prophetic title-a
mystery which none but the great enchanter
himself could have unravelled, and we will
look in vain in all the whole world of letters
for the weird magician that remains to snatch
the tangled thread from the labyrinth of that
imperial fancy which was won't to delight us,
and revivify the page which Death has left
blank.
The mighty changes whioh have been
wrought through the agency of modern dis
coveries-the printing press, steam and cleo
tricity--have had their influence upon letters
no less than upon society and government
The famous idea of Aristotle, that tragedy af-
forded the finest field for the display of genius,
and for impressing mankind to the latest pos
terity, was undoubtedly true at the time in
which Aristotle lived, and for ages after. Its
truth has been modified only in the nineteenth
century, and almost within the past genera.
tion. When printing was unknown, the stage
did exert an influence upon men which made
Roscius at Rome second only to Cicero, and
Garrick, in England, even after its discovery,
but before the era of steam aud the telegraph,
second only to Burke. Ripid, easy, and
thorough communication, which modern dis
coveries have effected, has changed all this,
and to- day the Novel has become the instru-
mentality in the hands of the poet and artist
through which they speak to mankind. Charles
Dickens is as much part-and gorlo US
part-of the nineteenth century as Shakes
peare was of the sixteenth. No other writer,
unless it be Shakespeare himself, possessed as
deep an insight into character, as thorough a
sympathy with his fellow man, as complete a
power of impersonation,, as large gift Of hu-
NOR and pathos as great hold upon the uni
versaI heart of the world, as he whose fresh
made grave excites the grief Of two hcmis-
pheres to-day. The author of David Cop
perfeld" was one TO whom our age owes more
than our childrcn's children can repay. His
books are so many new footprints in the field
of art so many advances in the sublime work
of turning philosophy's eye inward upon the
soul, and Of compOunding the best elements
of its spiritual powers with tho Ingredients Of
everyday life. His life was daily. round for
human hctterment, acircuBInavigatiOn of char
ity and love, and had for its object the suG>
cessiul discovery of richer tracts than Fasco
de Cana opened unto Europe, whose value
is not in their spices, and their pearls, and
their barbaric gold, but in regions of human
ity unexplorcd, III mines long unwrought Of
native wisdom, in treasures deeply buried in
the bosoms of men, and in sentiments, long
hidden, of Incompatible beauty and universal
application.
Dishaeli, Bulwer, Collins, and tho rest,
have undoubtedly proved their title to bril-
liant powers of intellect; but Dickens stands
alone, the companion author of men, women
and children, throughout the English read
ing world. Mr.. Micawber. Sam Weller, and
the evcr>memorable Mr.. Pickwick; Fagin,
Uriah Hccp and Quilp, are as well known
characters and acquaintanceS of every one of
us as though they lived in the next house to
us passed US and re passed US twenty times a
day; and once knowing them, we would as
soon be able to forget them as to forget our
own names. If we were called upon to point
to the distinguishing excellence of Dickens,
perhaps his incxhaustible humor would at
tract our attention first; but to us his pathos,
aud wonderful power to move the feelings of
pity, grief, sorrow, tenderness, and the finest
chords that weave their delicate fbres about
acteristics of his genius most worthy of ad-
miration. It was this power which made
Thackery (the onl y man of this age who at
all compares with him)decarc him to be in
comparable, and that his genius was n gift
from Heaven. bequeathed as n blessing to the
world. AS an illustration of this marvellous
power and energy of pathos, who ever read
the account of the Chancery Prisoner, who
had passed twenty years i'll q cell, and with
whom Mr.. Pickwick so humauely sympathized
during the dear old gentleman's own incar>
ceration within the walls of the Debtors Prj-
son, and did not feel himself or herself, melt
ed to tears? What could be moro eloquent
than the Chancery Prisoners reply to Dir.
PickWick, when the latter rented his room
and assured him that he would always be vel
come to come there to seek quiet to see
his friends
lam afraid, sir" said Mr.. Pickwick, lay
ing his hand gently and compassionately on
his arm, 81 am afraid you will have to live in
some noisy, crowded place. Now pray con-
slider this room your own when you want
quiet, or when any of your friends como to
see you"
Friends !" iuterposed the man in a voice
which ratified in his throat. eff [ lay dead
at the bottom of the deepest mine in the
world, tight screwed down and soddered in
my coffin, rotting in the dark and filthy ditch
that drags its slime along the foundation of
this prison, could not be more forgotten than
am here. 1 am dead man-dead tosociety,
without the pity they bestow on those whose
souls have passed to judgment. Friends to
see me My God have sunk from the
prime of life into old age in this place, and
there is not one to raise his hand above my
bed when lie dead upon it, and say, 1T is
blessing he is gone
There is an oratorical climax in this sad and
terrible speech which has always called to our